“Do it now. That’s an order!”
Conditioned to following orders, Valek gathered the magic and concentrated on the pulsing fury of pain in his chest, projecting his awareness into his body, sensing the injury. His heart struggled to beat as blood spurted from an inch-long tear. Fear gripped him. The injury was too severe to repair.
“Valek, do it for your child.”
The memory of the baby’s movements caressed his mind as gently as the baby inside her had caressed his fingers. Using the magic in the messenger to strengthen him, Valek pulled a thread of power and stitched the tear in his heart.
Lightheaded with the effort, he drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t done. Blood had pooled in his chest. Too much. He guided it back through the cut arteries in his back before working on repairing the muscles and tissues, looping tiny, neat stitches. He rested for a moment. Yelena’s voice roused him again, goading him into action.
Feeling a bit stronger, he drew more power from the blanket, since a part of him knew to avoid draining the messenger. By the time he finished knitting the skin together, he shook with fatigue. The temptation to pull in more power throbbed.
Resisting the lure of unlimited energy, Valek let go. He hoped he’d done enough to quiet that insistent voice, so he could rest in peace.
*
He woke in snatches. Faces came and went. Fisk. Phelan. Yelena. Valek reached for his wife, but she wouldn’t touch his skin. Liquids burned down his throat, and he shivered under a thousand pounds of blankets until fire raced over his skin and he flung them off. Pulling in a breath became a struggle. Oblivion was far easier.
But the voice returned. “You missed something. Look again,” it ordered. He tried ignoring that voice. It demanded too much. However, it refused to give up and it sawed into his mind, cleaving its way into his core. “Fight or die,” it challenged him.
And that voice saved him. Again. He’d never backed down from a fight. Valek connected to the blanket of power and sought the injury with his awareness, seeking what he’d missed. A sliver of metal was lodged in his rib. Red inflammation and green pus hovered around it. A hole in his right lung leaked air. Sewing the hole was second nature. Once completed, his breathing returned to normal.
The shard, however, would have to be removed. He needed help and another pair of hands. When he built up enough strength, he asked for a volunteer who wouldn’t faint at the sight of blood. And who would allow Valek to invade his or her mind.
Fisk volunteered. Yelena’s strained face softened with surprise. Valek wondered why, until he encountered the damage in Fisk’s thoughts. Another had invaded, and she had a heavy touch. Like a bully, she had taken what she wanted and left a mess behind.
Valek kept a light connection with Fisk, being a mindful guest. He showed the young man what Valek needed him to do.
Fisk cursed. “I’ve gotten some strange requests from clients before, but this one beats them all.” He glanced at Yelena. “He wants me to cut into his back.”
“Why?”
“Metal shard left behind.”
“Oh. No need, Valek. Push it from your body. It will cut through muscles and skin, but you can repair the tears as it travels. That will cause much less damage.” She frowned at him. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”
He gave her an apologetic smile. “Baby brain.”
She relaxed. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to you being...” Yelena drew in a breath. “Let me do the thinking for you until you’re recovered. Okay?”
“Yes, love.” He rolled onto his stomach and worked on evicting the unwelcome visitor. Pain once again sliced through his back, but he managed to wiggle it out. Blood and pus poured from the new wound. He let the pus drain before stitching up the cut. Yelena wiped the fluids up with a towel, being careful not to touch his skin with her own.
Too exhausted to move, Valek closed his eyes, but he vowed to get better just so he could hold his wife again.
*
The days passed in blurs of activity. Waking, eating, talking and sleeping. He explained to Yelena and Fisk how he’d drawn the bulk of the guards away from the gate. A smile at the memory. Janco would be proud of the taunt he’d used to goad them into action. Valek had led them on a merry chase throughout the Citadel and well away from the distraction at the Council Hall.
Then the smile faded. They’d been harder to shake than expected. A magician had accompanied them, and she’d tracked him with her magic. By the time he looped back to the gate, the soldiers had recovered from their surprise. And behind him, the Council Hall guards had arrived, charging toward the exit, trapping him between the two.