Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown #2) - Keri Arthur Page 0,28
not for luck and the storm that had surged through me, I might well have ended up in the same bloody mess as this poor woman.
The little girl lay in a crumbled heap behind the woman—a position that suggested the older woman had tried her best to protect the child. There was a red welt across her cheek, and blood dribbled from her nose and lip. She wasn’t moving, and I couldn’t immediately see any sign of breathing.
I carefully walked over, doing my best to avoid the splatters of blood and bone and brain matter, and pressed my fingers against the child’s neck. Her pulse was light and erratic, but at least it existed. Relief hit, and tears stung my eyes. I sucked in air, trying to control my emotions, knowing the situation might yet change and that I needed to get help here fast.
I dragged my phone out and called Luc.
“Everything okay?” Though his voice was clear, the roar of his motorbike was evident in the background.
“No. I need you to call Jason and ask him to get his medics and a team here ASAP.”
The Preternatural Investigations Team not only had their own team of medics who specialized in treating demon- and elf-related injuries, but also owned several high-security private hospitals—though I wasn’t entirely sure they’d be the best option for this little girl. The high-security nature of the one Henry had been in certainly hadn’t hindered Darkside in any way. Their attack on the place had been swift and violent, though just how they’d known he was there was a question that had yet to be answered. It did mean the girl might be no safer there than at any regular hospital.
Not that we could risk that, either.
“What’s happened?” Luc said. “Are you okay?”
The tension and concern in his voice came through loud and clear, and it made me smile. He might not want anything long-term but he did care, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it.
“I’m fine, but there’s a dead woman and an unconscious kid here.”
“I’ll get on to Jason now. Be there in ten.”
Meaning he wasn’t that far away. Relief stirred, and I closed my eyes against the sting of more tears. Which was utterly unlike me and spoke to just how physically draining that storm burst had been.
I slid down the wall next to the little girl and lightly gripped her wrist to check her pulse again. It remained thready, but I couldn’t see any external sign of major injury. Hopefully, it meant she’d simply been knocked out.
Her face was Okoro in shape, her features almost ethereal, and her short hair thick and a rich burnished gold color. Her skin was on the pale side, but it was hard to tell if it held a gray tint or not. Her hands certainly didn’t. Nor were they clawed.
Her build was on the wiry side, but her limbs were sturdy. She didn’t in any way resemble the Aranea, and I very much doubted he was her father. I glanced at the woman. It was impossible to tell if she was the mother or merely a caretaker, but she had the same wiry build, and the bits of hair that weren’t gore-covered were burnished gold.
Aquitaine, an inner voice whispered. Whether she was a halfling or a full blood wasn’t immediately obvious.
So why did the Aranea want them dead?
Or had someone else given the order and he’d been forced to pass it on? He’d certainly spent some time in the car arguing with whoever had been on the other end of the phone—had he been trying to protect these two and been overridden?
Maybe.
Until we knew more about the woman and the child, it really wasn’t a question we could answer.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, given I was in a house that might be connected to Darkside in more ways than just these two, but the light streaming in from the window was hurting my already aching eyes.
Time ticked by. Eventually, the approaching roar of a motorbike broke the hush surrounding the house. It stopped outside, and a few seconds later, Luc said, “Gwen? You still here?”
“Upstairs.” It came out croaky, and I swallowed heavily. My throat felt like a desert. “Can you grab me a glass of water before you come up?”
“Will do.” He moved away, and pipes rattled as he turned on a tap. Then he was back and coming up the stairs.