“She’s got a little time. The goddess hasn’t asked me to bring her home. Not yet.”
It’s an odd position to be placed in—working between life and fate. Before Morgan knew her true destiny, I felt torn between the two; preserving her innocence while championing her future. From the look of Andi’s translucent skin and gray lips, I don’t see much of a future here.
“How’s Morgan?” Hildi asks, obviously wanting to change the subject.
“She’s struggling,” I admit. “Probably more than I understand. She’s carrying a lot of guilt and anger.”
I don’t reveal the details of our intimacy but there’s no doubt what transpired between us earlier was an act caught somewhere between hunger and control. I’m attuned to Morgan’s needs and I will comply with my duties as her guardian and mate, regardless of her motives, but I’m worried.
“She’s impatient,” Hildi says. “But she hasn’t had centuries to understand that although today is a crisis, it’s just one of many days to come.”
I smile at the Valkyrie. Behind the beauty and brawn, she’s wise.
“She cares for you a great deal, and Andi’s illness is weighing on her. What can we do to help you?”
“I think there may be one thing,” she replies. Her fingers tug at the hem of her shirt. “But it may be asking too much.”
“There’s no such thing. Tell me, and we’ll make it happen.”
*
With Davis’ help, we move Andi from the apartment to The Nead. What Hildi needed was assistance. With the looming battle and hospitals being out of the question, she’s afraid she will be called into service with no one left to take care of her partner.
Davis arrived in a windowless black van, often used by Clinton for his instruments. The unconscious woman is light as a feather and we gently carry her into the back. The neighbors watch, surely wondering if we’re loading up a dead body.
Not yet, but it’s a reasonable conclusion.
Sue waits at The Nead, directing us to a small suite on the main floor. The bed has fresh linens. The shades are drawn. Andi can rest here peacefully and Hildi can have the support she needs while remaining on the front lines of the war.
“Are you sure Morgan will be okay with this? That it won’t just be another reminder of what’s happening?”
I look across the room at the dying woman. Sue is fussing with her blankets. “Trust me, I think she’ll be pleased.”
“Maybe you guys can toss some of that healing energy down here.”
I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Gods, don’t even pretend like the whole place doesn’t shudder when you two go at it. Even I get a little bit of a high.”
“I don’t think the healing powers are transferable.”
She stares at me blankly and it takes a second for it to click that she’s telling a joke.
“Oh, you were kidding. Well, right.” I look down the hall. “I’m surprised she hasn’t come up here yet. She went downstairs to relieve Marcus for a few hours.”
“I’ll go, if you want. I can explain why I’m here but give you all the credit for being kind and generous with your home,” Hildi says.
“No, stay here.” I frown. “Why would I need credit?”
Hildi leans against the door, her eyes skimming from my head to my toes. “Because you’re made of stone and even though that girl has spent months chipping it away, there’s a long way to go. Doing something like this? Even if it is just to make her feel better, it’s a step in the right direction.”
“What direction?” I ask, still a little confused.
“To becoming a real man.”
Chapter 23
Morgan
I don’t know what to expect when I open my eyes, but this isn’t it. The room is still freezing, but it’s a room, not a cell. I’m propped on a bed made of the softest down, a blood-red canopy overhead.
My throat aches, sore from whatever Casteel had done to me. Magic, I suppose, a level I’d never encountered before. He never hesitated—never even thought about how to use it.
Rubbing the tender flesh around my throat, I sit, taking in the room. It’s opulent, like something out of a gothic fairy tale. Gilded mirrors, velvet fabric. Candles and lanterns cast the room in a shiny glow.
A movement catches my attention and I look to my left, both hands reaching for the blades stuffed in the pockets of my suit.
“I removed all the weapons,” Casteel says from the chair next to the bed. His blond hair glints in the candlelight. Two bandages cover the wounds I’d given him on his neck. I’d suggest we’re even, but from the angry spark in his eye I suspect he doesn’t feel the same.
I swing my legs over the bed. “I don’t need weapons to fight back.”
“I’m aware,” he says. His voice is a slow drawl. Not the harsh tone he’d used in my dream about Bunny. “You’re quite resourceful.”
I stare at the scar under his jaw. “I learned from the best.”
The snarl in response is faint—but there—the beast is just beneath the surface. I have no doubt picking just a little will bring him out. I restrain myself. I’m not ready to fight him. Not yet.
“Why the finery?” I ask, gesturing to the room. “I thought I’d wake in a cell.”
“Contrary to your beliefs, Morgan, you are not an enemy of the Queen. She’s been trying to get you to come here for a very long time. She gave you the key as a child, she sent guides in the form of the cat and prince to guide you through the gates. She opened portals, giving you the chance. And you almost took them—all of them—but your little flock thwarted you every step of the way.”
“You make it sound so peaceful. So easy.”
“Ultimately, she had to get extreme. Take what you cared for the most to get you here.” He smiles, two rows of perfect, white teeth. “It worked.”
“If I’m not the enemy of the Darkness, then what am I?” The question is na?ve and I know the answer. I’ve felt her tug for months—if not years. The way it felt to spread the virus to Xavier. The loss I felt after we performed the spell and split from one another.
Casteel doesn’t answer anyway. He just stands and says, “You’re to stay here. There’s a servant here for your needs. Food, clothing, entertainment. She’ll get it for you.”
“And what if I don’t?” I didn’t come here to be a guest of the Morrigan. I came to find my Guardians.
With barely concealed restraint he steps forward and reaches for my chin. I bat his hand away, which raises his ire, and he clamps both of his hands around my wrists. “Dangerous things live in this castle, Morgan. I’m only one of them. Don’t stray from your rooms, do you understand?”
It’s a thinly veiled threat, letting me know exactly how much he would enjoy paying me back for the wounds to his neck. I’m not afraid of him; he’s nothing but an obstacle between me and my mission.
I nod anyway, letting him know I heard him, and watch him walk out the door.
Chapter 24
Bunny