dying and the Flayer of Mithrans, Shimon, has Ed. I need you to heal me if you can, and help me save Edmund.”
“You should have asked much sooner. You are dying and your body is beyond my gifts.”
My heart fell. With everything else not working, I had placed all my healing hopes on Gee.
He fluffed his wings and made a sound that might have been pain. “I am not refusing assistance out of pique or stubbornness. I cannot fly. I am healing from battle, little goddess. In addition to all that, I owe you an answer to one question, not a boon, thus I will not come to you now. I will bide here until I am well enough to fly, and then I shall come, as a favor to my mistress, whom I serve. A favor to evaluate her death throes and determine if some help is yet available. I am not optimistic about your chances for continued life on this plane.”
He was still snide, but I could live with it. He was also splitting hairs, like in vamp parley, but he was making important distinctions.
“I accept that,” I said.
“For now, take up the blue feather and hold it when you are in pain. It will help.”
Being pain-free was enough for now. “Blue feather, no pain,” I said. “Got it. Who are you fighting? Are you in Yellowstone?”
“Not all of my battles are the battles of the little goddess. Fewer are for my mistress. Even fewer than that are your concern.”
Which told me to mind my own business. Gotcha.
He lifted a wing and shut off communication. But not before I saw the bright blue blood on the feathers of his chest. And the sliver of steel sticking from the wound. Gee was lethally allergic to anything made of iron.
I was back in the circle. I whispered, “Well, that sucked.” And I passed out.
* * *
* * *
I woke up outside of the circle, on the recliner in the TV room. The chair was warm. I felt oddly pain-free, and raised a hand, touching my middle, fiercely hopeful that the thing inside me might be gone. Nope. Still there. But my fingers closed on something. A feather. That had to mean I had been talking in my . . . trance? Whatever. Aloud.
I opened my eyes to see Bruiser standing guard over me, a fierce expression on his face, the beard making him look like a knight from some olden times. Alex was at his screens. The outside cameras showed the whiteout of blizzard snow. Eli was at the fireplace, guarding the grounds and house and everyone inside it, armed to the teeth and wearing his newest possession—lightweight military armor—over his clothing. His head and eyes moved from windows to doors to useless screens. Molly and Big Evan weren’t in the room. Everyone remaining seemed way too tense.
To Bruiser, I asked, “Y’all didn’t kill my bestie when I fainted, did you?” My voice was ragged and raw.
“No,” Eli answered for him, sounding unamused, “but it was a close thing.”
“Okeydoke,” I said. “First things first. Thanks for the feather.”
Bruiser nodded. “It was in the plastic bin in your closet.”
“It helps,” I said, surprised. “Like, a lot.” Feeling hopeful for the first time in months, I said, “So. What do we do about Shiloh?”
Bruiser said, “I updated Clan Shaddock. Lincoln is sending us two Mithrans and blood-servants capable of running an inn. Or the Official Winter Court of the Dark Queen of the Mithrans.”
I let that settle through me for a moment. Two unknown vamps here, at my home. With the kiddos. No way. They would be housed in the cottages. In fact, that was where Shiloh would go as soon as help arrived. If Shiloh hadn’t needed vamp blood to heal I would refuse the help, but I couldn’t do that either. Rock, meet hard place.
To occupy my hands so they didn’t betray my shock, I tucked the feather into my waistband, under my shirt and resting against my skin. The pain, now at a safe distance, felt almost like a remembered wound, an old bruise. “These vamps—”
“Vetted. Old, powerful, and not witch haters,” Bruiser said.
“Okay. But . . . Official Winter Court of the Dark Queen.” I looked up at him. “I’d prefer Yellowrock Appalachia, but I’m not going to able to avoid that DQ stuff, am I? All the pomp and circumstance and bloodletting.”
Bruiser’s brown eyes bored into mine, as if he was trying to find a way to