“I gotta talk to Leo. Then I’ll check in with Gelman, see if she got hold of Tessa.”
I lay in bed a bit longer after hearing the front door close and the Shelby drive off. I texted Leo asking if I could come over and got a thumbs up emoji. Got my word of the day as well: indomitable. Why yes, I was, thanks.
As I hopped out of bed and grabbed my headboard, the room swung sideways, my vision blurring at the edges. I’d stood up too fast. Coffee would fix that. Hmm. Since I was going downtown to Leo’s anyways… I sent her another text and grabbed a clean towel for the shower.
If I was going to convince my bestie to dump the best sex of her life, a Belgian waffle bribe was in order.
21
Leo stabbed her Liege-style waffle in the pool of syrup on her plate. “Was this supposed to be a bribe?”
“Think of it as an offering. Well? Ready to cut loose from the Italian Stallion?”
“For the last time, and I do mean last, I’ll take my chances.” She chowed down, oblivious to how much danger she was in.
I gripped her hand. “I don’t think you understand. He’ll find out at some point and then he’ll kill you. Very slowly and painfully, because he hates people who betray him only slightly less than he hates demons and you’re both.”
Leo tried to pry herself loose but I had to impress on her how serious this was. I tightened my hold.
“Are you insane?” she hissed. “Let go of me.” She picked up a fork, raising it over my forearm.
“Stab me. I’m not walking away until I get your promise.”
“Then you’ll shrivel and grow old here. I’m not ending things with him.” She pressed the fork into me until I released her. “The sex is phenomenal.”
“He wants to date you. This is getting serious.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “I’m worth being serious about.”
“No shit, but that isn’t the issue. I’m sorry, Leo, and I wish I was wrong, but there is no happily-ever-after for you two. For whatever reason, he won’t be able to get past this. Please, please break up with him. It might hurt, but at least you won’t be dead.”
Leo flung her fork down. “Back. Off.” She pushed her plate away and marched out of the restaurant without a look back.
I called after her, but she ignored me. This was a disaster of epic proportions. Leo had fallen for him. Fuck.
I called for the bill. My Eggs Benny quivered uneaten on the English muffin, all of it drowned in Hollandaise sauce. Poached yellow vomit. My stomach twisted and sweat beaded my neck. I dragged myself to my car, fanning myself with the front of my shirt, wobbled into the driver’s seat, and lay my head on the steering wheel, ignoring the honks of the car wanting my parking spot.
Driving home was a bitch. I swear my brain was stuffed with cotton. I pretended I was in a video game and had to exactly follow the car in front of me, because I kept veering sideways.
What a time to get sick. How long would it take my healing to knock this flu out of my system? My entire body ached, my skin hot and itchy. I’d have taken an oshk drug freak-out over this, but the flop sweats that punctuated my drive home, while extreme, hadn’t ever been a side effect of Sweet Tooth. Plus, my generous tip back at the restaurant had been the opposite of punching the waitress and wrestling her for the maple syrup jug to drink from until I fell into a sugar coma, so this wasn’t caused by the drop of oshk secretion I’d gotten on my skin.
I blacked out briefly waiting for the scanner at the chapter house gate to identify my car and let me onto the grounds, barely managing to throw the car in park, and stagger up the front stairs into Ro’s bed, where I passed out into a restless sleep.
“Nava.” Drio shook me. “Wake up!”
Wincing, I sat up. My stomach muscles screamed in protest. “Was I doing ab curls?” Why was Ro asleep next to me? “Is it night?”
“Are you drunk? Look at him.”
Ro’s face, the one part of him not wrapped in blankets, was blue. His eyelids were closed, fluttering madly, his jaw was badly bruised, and he had an angry red scrape across his forehead. Ice crystals dotted his hair, melting and running in tiny pearl droplets down the side of his head.
My heart slammed into my throat. I burrowed my hands under his covers, frantically searching for a pulse.
Drio pulled me off. “He’s breathing.” He lay his hand on Ro’s head. “He’s breathing,” he said, quieter.
I beat on Drio’s chest, lost to the wild fury whipping through my blood. “Why didn’t you have his back?”
“Cosa?”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I snarled. “You and him. You screwed up with him before and he got hurt.”
Drio grabbed my wrists and pushed me away. “You–” He dropped his head, almost deflating, then shook himself off and picked up one of the hand warmers that he’d thrown on the bed, kneading and cracking it to activate it. He tucked the warmer inside Ro’s blanket.
Magic flared off my skin, flinging Drio sideways. “Don’t. Touch. Him.”
I didn’t hear him leave, busy inserting the rest of the warmers in key points between Rohan’s skin and his blankets and checking every few seconds that he was still breathing. When that was done, I reswaddled him, needing something to keep busy with, to keep my choking panic at bay.
I couldn’t tell. Oh, God. I couldn’t tell if he was getting better.
I rubbed my hands together to warm them, then placed them on either side of his head. I’d made the azalea sprig bud; I could heal Ro. I visualized a bright white light emanating from my palms, burning away all other magic in his system.
My hands tingled and even though I kept it up until I shook with the strain and my vision fogged, I didn’t feel any magic pouring out of me. I grabbed the lamp on his bedside table, thrusting it close to his face to check. He was so cold. So still.
Time blurred. I changed the IV that Dr. Sousa had set up, sleeping in fits and starts between my repeated attempts to heal him, terrified I’d miss him waking up, or worse, him taking a turn for the worse.
Rabbi Abrams brought me food and water. I think I drank a bit. Food held no appeal.
Drio darkened Ro’s doorway. He was shirtless, gauze taped over some white ointment smeared on his side. “How is he?”
I gave up trying to wrestle Ro out of his shirt myself to sponge him down. “Make yourself useful and then get out.”
We stripped him. I fished in the bowl of warm water for the sponge, gently wiping away the sweat glistening on Ro’s forehead.
“You need to hear me out,” Drio said. “Ilya’s alive. Ferdinand ambushed us when we left Mischa’s.”
“Yet here you stand unscathed.”
Drio flashed up, grabbing my throat. The sponge hit the floor with a splat.
I jutted my chin up, meeting his eyes. “Try it.”
“Rohan is the last person I’d ever hurt,” he said, his expression pleading. He stepped back, raking a hand through his hair. “The fight was nothing. Barely started. Ferdinand hadn’t used his magic on us yet, but we were swarmed by shedim.”