Micah groaned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Deven flung his sword and, groaning, Micah deflected it with his dagger. The impact caused him to drop it, leaving him weaponless.
“Don’t I? I did the same thing you did. Eklan and Chael too. We joined Imha. We work for her.” Deven circled Micah, taunting him with his movements and words. “We were always watching over the other Death Lords. When we overheard Dane telling the others about an important meeting, we passed the information to Imha. She didn’t think it was important at the time but asked us to spy on them. Then, at the meeting you revealed you’re Lord Mitrus! I couldn’t believe it, but I knew we had to come with you and contact Imha later.”
Micah’s stance changed as he gaped at Deven. “Then she’s here?”
“She’s on her way.”
“Fuck,” Micah muttered.
When Deven swung his sword at him again, Micah ducked, stepping around his opponent.
Using the wall as support, I stood up and held my sword by the blade. “Deven!” I called.
He turned to me reflexively, and I threw the sword to Micah. He closed his hand over the hilt and buried it in Deven’s back, much like Chael had done to Victor. However, Micah wasn’t taking any chances. He pulled the sword out and plunged it in again.
Deven fell, his head a few inches from my feet, before his body erupted in black smoke.
His eyes on mine, Micah took a deep breath. He had a couple of bruises and superficial cuts but no visible or grave wounds.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded, glancing to the side. I was okay, but Victor didn’t seem to be. Beside him, Ceris ripped the end of her dress as she fought back tears. Morgan and Izaera held Victor’s shoulders up, and Ceris wrapped the ripped cloth around him, using it as an improvised bandage.
Sweating and too pale, Victor didn’t utter one sound, didn’t move one muscle.
With his arm around Keisha, Zelen approached us. “They know where we are. We need to leave before more arrive.”
“Can someone help me carry him?” Ceris asked.
Micah knelt beside Victor. “I can carry him.” He passed an arm under Victor’s shoulders and another under his knees and pulled him up.
“Come on,” Izaera said, beckoning us to the exit.
I started following as everyone was exiting but then paused. I shouldn’t but I couldn’t help it. I ran to my bedroom, jumping over the bodies, slipping on gooey blood, and breathing through my mouth—the place reeked. The door was open, but apparently they hadn’t done more than look inside. Thankfully, I found Pinky on my bed. I tucked it under my arm and rushed out before they left without me.
I ran up the stairs and met them outside, shivering in the cold.
“Where were you?” Micah asked, his eyes accusative.
I shrugged, but he glanced at the stuffed bunny in my arms and the knot between his brows smoothed.
Shrieks echoed through the frigid air. The sky was dark, but the white snow reflected enough that it was easy to see the black cloud of Akuma coming toward us. A similar wave of Ornek and Arak appeared on the horizon.
“Get us out of here,” Morgan said, as the winged demons began their descent, flying too fast toward us.
Ceris extended her arm, and her scepter appeared in her hand. She closed her eyes, and the pink orb of her scepter shone brighter and brighter. I squinted against the light, looking through it. A ray shot out of it, crossing the dark sky in half a second, illuminating it with a baby pink glow until it hit the wave of bats and spread out like lightning. The bats shrieked.
“What the hell?” Micah snapped. “Get us out of here.”
Ceris pulled her scepter back. A silver line danced inside the orb. I took a step closer to it, but the scepter disappeared from her hand.
Morgan grabbed my hand as Ceris closed her eyes and transported us out of there.
27
Ceris took us directly to the shack on the Croatian island.
Micah carried Victor inside and placed him on one of the beds while I grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet. Ceris stood beside the bed, looking like she would break down at any moment, and I was thankful the others stayed in the living room. This place was too small for all of us.
Micah turned Victor on his side, and I knelt beside the bed. I peeked under the cloth she had tied around him. It wasn’t pretty. The sword had pierced him on the left side, half an inch from his heart.
“I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do,” I said, watching Ceris.
“I know,” she said, sounding too calm. “But I need you to try something. Anything.”
I nodded, believing it was best not to argue with her. As I cleaned the wound, Victor shook.
“Is he convulsing?” Ceris asked, leaning over the bed, her eyes wide in terror.
“I don’t think so.” I nudged Micah. “Hold him, please.”
Micah held his shoulders, and I stitched the cut the best I could with him trembling. Done. It was clean and closed. That was all I could do.
Micah positioned Victor on his back, and the tremors increased.
I had seen him trembling this way before, when I first saw him in the parking lot of Langone, and when he came to see me a few weeks ago.
I rested my hands on his cheeks, and he gasped. A warm jolt prickled my palms as my energy seeped into him. With each second, the tremors lessened, until the transfer of energy was done and the trembling gone.
Removing my hands, I stood. A wave of dizziness assaulted me, and I staggered back. Micah rushed to my side and held my elbow.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. He just took more than usual.”
Ceris looked at me, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “Thank you.”
I nodded.
I thought about telling her I didn’t know what was going to happen, if my healing had saved him, if it had bought him time, if the wound was too deep, if it had ripped something of importance, but she seemed so sorrowful, I decided to give her time to recover.
Micah followed me out of the bedroom and closed the door behind us.
Watching me with hooded eyes, he crossed his arms. “I don’t understand. I thought they were on our side. I-I can’t believe I fell for it.”
“Shhh.” I stepped into him, uncrossed his arms, and placed them around my waist. I didn’t care if he didn’t really like me; I didn’t care about the push and pull of our relationship. “Just let me hold you,” I whispered, hooking my arms around his neck.
His hands splayed on my back, pulling me tighter against him. I buried my face in his neck, savoring his familiar sandalwood scent and the feeling of safety. I kissed his warm skin on his neck, and he shivered.
Tilting his head to mine, Micah rested his chin on my cheek. “You can hold me any time you want, darling.” His voice was sincere.
I pulled back, expecting to see the smug grin on his face, but it wasn’t there. His face was solemn, his eyes intent on mine. My gaze flickered to his full lips. He leaned into me, and I held my breath, certain he was going to kiss me again.
Then, he pulled back, clearing his throat.
“I’ve gotta …” He pointed to the living room. “Yeah.”
And he marched away.