“The bell?”
Nick glanced around and realized the room was empty. Kody and Caleb were standing beside him with worried frowns.
What the heck? He’d just been looking at Stone …
Hadn’t he?
“Something’s wrong. I was trying to talk to you both with telepathy. Didn’t you hear me?”
“No.” Kody knelt by his side and brushed the hair back from his forehead so that she could press her hand against his skin to test for a fever. “You are flushed and clammy.” Biting her lip in an adorable manner, she glanced up at Caleb. “Can a Malachai get sick?”
Caleb shook his head. “Not once his powers come in.”
Grateful for her concern, Nick caught her hand and kissed her fingers. “Could it be the Eye messing with me?”
She grimaced at Nick. “Please tell me you left that thing at home.”
“It’s in my pocket. I was going to use it to play the lottery after school.”
She said something under her breath he was pretty sure was a major curse in one of her parents’ native tongues.
“Why?” Now there was the tone an impatient parent used when their kid did something exceptionally bright, like stick tweezers in an outlet.
“It wasn’t good for anything else. I figured it owed me a Powerball for the trauma it’s put me through.”
Spreading her fingers wide, she had an expression on her face that said if she held his Malachai powers, she’d be Force-choking him right now.
Caleb placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Remember, you loooove him, Kody.”
“Wondering why.”
“I ask myself that every time you say it out loud.”
“Way to prop up my ego there, buddy.” Nick brushed his hand against his forehead and squinted in an attempt to clear his vision. “You think the Eye’s messing with me?”
“No.” Caleb picked Nick’s backpack up to carry it for him. “But you look weak … like your father used to get right after you’d visit him in prison.”
Kody’s jaw went slack. “What are you saying?”
“I said what I’m saying.” Caleb held his hand out to Nick. “Give me your fist.”
“Why?”
“Just do it and stop whining!”
Suspicious of what he intended, Nick didn’t like that tone. Talk about things that didn’t bode well. And when he obeyed and Caleb used his claw to slice open part of his hand, he knew why. Sheez!
“Hey! They hurt, you dick!”
Caleb ignored his words and cursed as he released Nick’s bleeding hand. “You think that hurts? You’ve got no idea. And we have a massive problem.”
His breathing labored, he retracted his claws and narrowed his gaze on Kody. “You know the cosmic laws. He’s my master. I shouldn’t have been able to harm him, at all. The only way for me to do that…” He jerked his chin toward the blood on Nick’s hand. “Something’s draining the Malachai out of him.”
“How’s that possible?” Kody breathed.
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it before.”
The color faded from Kody’s cheeks. “Caleb … if anyone finds out about this…”
“Believe me, Nyria, I know.… He’s dead.”
CHAPTER 4
Aeron pressed the heel of his hand to his eye as he tried to keep his skull from splitting apart. Though to be honest, he wouldn’t mind it breaking open so long as it stopped aching like this. Please, anything, just stop hurting …
He blinked open his other eye to see if he could figure out where in the blessed bog he might be, ’cause he had a bad feeling he wasn’t at home in Caleb’s house.
By the crappy, moldy, pungent, stale stench of the place, it wasn’t St. Richard’s, unless he’d somehow gotten locked in the bottom of the boys’ dirty laundry chute.
And no one had bothered to do laundry in a few dozen decades.
Maybe longer.
“Gah, I’ll never complain about the Daeve’s smell again.” To be honest, he’d rather bury his nose in the smoking pits of Caleb’s hairy arms after his football practice in August than inhale this wretched stench. It smelled worse than the Dagda’s boots after he’d been chasing the Mórrígan around the bend.
The moment he sat up, he froze. Two inches from his nose was the ugliest dog he’d ever seen. It made the C?n Annwn look like a swan. All it needed was to have red ears and be howling and he’d know his death was imminent. “Here now, puppy. I’m sure I can find a nice slipper for you to chew on, eh?”
If you hand me a shoe, I’ll shove it up where the sun don’t shine, Irishman.
Dropping his hand, Aeron cracked a grin at the snide tone. “Not Irish, if you want to be technical. And who are you, Scooby?”
Not Scooby …
“Hellhound?”
Mostly … if you want to be technical.
“Snotty little bastard, aren’t you?”
You stay here any length of time and you will be, too.
“And here would be . .?” Aeron let his voice trail off meaningfully.
Azmodea.
Of course it was. Aeron groaned out loud. “I’m assuming we’re on the bad side of the fence?”
Is there a good side?
“Thorn’s.”