Caleb slung Falin onto my bed, careless of the other man’s injuries. Then he stepped back as I made a hasty job of trying to get Falin’s limbs into positions that looked comfortable—or at least natural. I peeled his shirt away from his chest, wincing in sympathetic pain as the fabric stuck to the tacky blood.
Drying blood caked Falin’s torso, but dark, wet blood stil glistened along a long gash that started just under his ribs and disappeared into the top of his pants. Blood oozed from the deep laceration, and my breath caught in my chest.
“We need to get him to a hospital, or a healer, or . . .” I turned to face Caleb. “Where do fae go when they’re injured?”
injured?”
Caleb didn’t answer. He just stared at the man on my bed. Not moving.
Okay, Caleb was obviously limited help. Very limited. So it’s up to me. “Hospital,” I said. After al , the hospital in the Quarter would be up-to-date, with al the most current healing magics. I reached for my purse and my cel phone, but Caleb grabbed my wrist.
“Leave him. He’l be fine.”
“F i ne ? Fine? Caleb, I’m pretty sure he’s mortal y wounded!”
“Yes. If he were mortal.”
Oh, right. I glanced at the bed. I didn’t know a lot about injuries, but this one looked bad. Definitely hospital bad.
Maybe morgue bad. But I also didn’t know a lot about fae healing abilities.
Was Caleb right? Could he heal from this on his own? Or was Caleb’s personal dislike clouding his judgment?
I sank onto the mattress beside Falin and swiped a strand of blood-crusted hair from his face. His cheek twitched as the hair pul ed away, but he gave no other response.
“You’re sure?” I asked without looking up.
Caleb rested his hands on my shoulders and squeezed lightly in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture. The heat of his palms blistered against my skin, but only one part of my brain registered the pain as the remainder focused on the prone form in front of me.
“Let him rest,” Caleb whispered. “I was making spaghetti.
You should come downstairs and have some dinner.”
“I can’t leave him here alone. What if he wakes and doesn’t know where he is?”
Caleb’s grip tightened. “Exactly.”
Huh?
I shrugged him off and turned to face him. He frowned at me.
“If he wakes up confused and uncertain . . .” His voice
“If he wakes up confused and uncertain . . .” His voice trailed off. “You shouldn’t be here with him alone.”
“He’s injured.”
“He’s lethal.”
I scowled at Caleb and he sighed. Then he stepped back, shaking his head at me.
“Think about it, Al. Where has he been this past month?
What has he been doing? Who did this to him?”
“I don’t know.” I sounded miserable, and I hated it, but it was true. I didn’t know why he’d up and disappeared two days after Coleman’s death, or why he hadn’t made any attempt to contact me since then. I didn’t know what had happened that he’d ended up in this condition in my front yard, or why he’d come to me at al . I just didn’t know.
“Dinner, Al. Then you can check on him.”
I nodded reluctantly. There wasn’t much I could do for Falin besides sit and fret, and I needed food. Pushing myself away from the mattress took more effort than I’d expected. My adrenaline had final y stopped rushing and the absence left me drained. Shuffling to my nightstand, I opened the tiny drawer and dug out the few healing charms I owned. I’d made them myself, and my spel casting being the dismal thing it was, they weren’t al that potent, but they couldn’t do any harm. I’d focused the spel into smal wooden disks, and I placed the three of them on Falin’s chest. There was no shortage of blood to activate them, and they hummed slightly as the spel sprang to life.
Turning, I found Caleb already at the door leading down to the main portion of the house. He didn’t comment on the charms, but held the door for me. PC had already trotted down the stairs, so with an unconscious and half-dead fae in my bed, I abandoned my apartment.
“Is someone planning to tel me what’s going on?” Holy asked as I pushed spaghetti around my plate.
I looked up, and Caleb lifted his eyebrow but said nothing I looked up, and Caleb lifted his eyebrow but said nothing as he poured himself a second glass of wine. Guess it was up to me, but how was I supposed to explain a mortal y injured man Hol y hadn’t even seen? Of course, there were plenty of invisibility spel s on the market, and Hol y knew Falin was FIB. Guessing he was fae wasn’t a far leap.
“Falin’s back,” I said, my voice flat as if it didn’t matter.
Hol y dropped her fork. “Outside?”
“He was glamoured. He’s hurt. Pretty badly. He’s unconscious upstairs.”
She looked from me to Caleb and then back. “And we’re here eating spaghetti?”
I cringed. Yeah, that’s pretty much the situation. I rol ed a meatbal from one side of my plate to the other.