Soulceress (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 2) (15 page)

“Aye,” Warren said, and within moments, he had the Range Rover back on the main road.

“What about the boat? Isn’t it Cadan’s?”

“I’ll buy him a new one. How’s she doing?”
 

“Poorly. How far to shelter?”

“About thirty minutes to Cadan’s house. There’s no decent shelter between here and there.”
 

He tried his damnedest to avoid potholes and bumps in the road, but every time Esha moaned, it cut through him like a blade of fire. A deer jumped into the road. When he swerved to avoid it, Esha’s damned feline yowled as if it could feel her pain.

“Do something for her, damn it,” he said.

“I am. Just get us there.”

The miles to Cadan’s house were the longest he’d ever traveled. He was a bastard for dragging Esha into this. Though it had seemed necessary at the time, every sound of pain stabbed him with regret.

Finally, after half an hour of cold fear, they arrived. Warren carefully carried Esha’s limp body into the house, desperate not to hurt her any more.

“What’d you do to her?” he asked the healer as he climbed the stairs to one of the bedrooms. A faint blue glow surrounded Esha, and though she was pale, her face was no longer twisted with pain.

“The blue glow is a halting spell. There’s poison in the wound. Now it won’t travel any farther. But she’s in less pain because of her familiar.”

“The cat?”

“Yeah, he can lend some of his strength to her. All familiars can.”

Warren looked down at the cat, who ignored him. Maybe the beast wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, he’d be thawing a tuna filet for him at the first opportunity.

“But you’ve stopped the poison. You’ll be able to heal her.” It was more a statement than a question as he laid her upon the bed. Esha would get better. She had to.

“I don’t know.”

Somebody was torturing her, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Esha tried to lift an arm to push away the person who was dragging sandpaper across her cheek, but the arm weighed a million pounds.
 

Or had someone tied her down? A chill crept along her skin, and her breath grew short. She couldn’t move. Someone had tied her up.
No.
Her muscles burned as she tried to struggle, but she could barely move her limbs. Though it hurt like a bitch, she dragged her eyes open.
 

And stared into the furry face of the Chairman. She exhaled.
 

“Go away, tuna breath,” she gasped.
 

When the cat settled by her side, her heart rate slowed, and her breathing calmed. If the Chairman was corporeal and sleeping next to her, they were safe. Had they been in danger, he’d have turned to smoke to protect himself until he could help her. Still, being weakened like this, unable to protect herself, made a cold sweat break out on her skin.

Soft sheets were smooth against her palms, the light in the room pleasantly dim. Enough to see by, but not enough to irritate her pounding head. It was warm as well, and contrary to her previous fear, she was held down only by a light blanket.
Safe.
 

Relatively.

She turned her head and caught sight of the door to the room just as a large figure walked through it.
 

“Esha.” Relief was strong in Warren’s voice. “How do you feel?”

He knelt by the bed, his eyes searching her face. He looked... tired. Handsomely rumpled. Golden hair, normally at least somewhat neat, stuck out and a frown seemed permanently etched on his face.

“Water.” Her voice scratched in her throat as though she were trying to swallow a burr.
 

He nodded, his lips tight. When he returned to the bed with a small glass of water, he lifted her head gently and held the glass up to her lips.

“What... happened?” she asked when she finished.

Her eyes drifted closed as he recounted the attack at the cave, memories of which came to her in hazy bits and pieces, and the healer who had fixed her up. “You should be back on your feet within a few days. Whatever poison was in those claws is out of your system, but it weakened you. The healer had never seen the like.”

“Not poison. Magic.”
 

It had been her penance for removing the letter from the cave. But she’d lived, hadn’t she? Had she been alone, she would have died. Warren had saved her life. It put a bitter taste in her mouth. That was
her
job.

“My letter?” Just saying the words sapped what little strength she had.

“Later. Rest,” he said.

She wanted to argue, but was too weak to speak. She swore she felt his hand brush her hair away from her face, but she didn’t have the strength to open her eyes to look. He’d saved her, she thought, as she drifted off to sleep. And now he was taking care of her. Though she hated relying on anyone, it was… nice… to have someone take care of her.
 

Unusual, but nice.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Warren stared blindly into the refrigerator. He’d come down to the kitchen for something, but he had no idea what.
 

Gods, he was tired. In the two days since Esha had been wounded, he’d done nothing but sit by her bed and stare at her—unusual behavior for someone who didn’t care. He dragged a hand through his hair, disgusted with himself. For getting her into this situation. For being unable to leave her side.

What if he had lost her? He stared blindly into the refrigerator as memories of her bravery flashed across his mind. She’d never let anyone take the hard job from her. Wouldn’t trust them enough to do so. He’d never met anyone as mistrusting yet fearlessly brave as Esha. And he’d nearly gotten her killed.

A demanding meow caught his attention. He looked down to see Esha’s cat at his feet. Normally, he’d think that the cat wanted to be fed. But after walking downstairs last night and seeing the cat devouring a piece of salmon he’d dragged out of the newly stocked refrigerator—courtesy of the healer, since Warren wouldn’t leave Esha’s side—it was clear that the cat could take care of food for himself.
 

That meant he was now
doing a Lassie for Esha.

At least, he wanted to assume that the cat was here to tell him that Esha had awakened. Unless something was wrong.

Forgetting all about lunch, he took the stairs two at a time to her room. The iron bands around his heart eased just slightly at the sight of her in bed. The glow had returned to her ivory skin, as had the red to her lips. She was on the mend.
 

“How are you feeling?”

“Starving.”

Thank gods, she was feeling better. He nodded. “I’ll be back.”

Down in the kitchen, he threw together some sandwiches and tea, along with a bit of broth in case
 
she wasn’t feeling up to a heartier meal, and returned to her room.

“Here.” The awkwardness in his voice was painful to hear as he set the tray down on her lap. She’d managed to scoot herself up in bed until she was almost sitting upright. “Do you need help?”

“I’ve got it.” She dug into the sandwiches with gusto, then sighed with pleasure over the tea. When she finished eating, she looked up at him. “How long have I been out?”

“It’s been a couple of days since you woke last.”

When she stretched, his eyes followed her movements like those of a wolf. He looked away quickly, embarrassed. She was sick, damn it. He wasn’t an animal.
 

“Is that all?”

“Aye. Do you need to, ah...” he gestured toward the door leading to the bathroom.
 

She shook her head.

He nodded. Maybe she was well enough now to answer the question that had been burning in his mind. “Why did everything go wrong back at the cave?”

She looked away, reaching out for her cat. Once she’d sunk her fingers into its fur, she looked back at him, guilt etched on her face. “I broke the rules. I spent so much of my time searching for a clue that by the time I found it, I didn’t have time to read it. When I removed something from the
howf
, the magic activated to stop me. If you hadn’t been there, I never would have made it out with what I’d taken. I’d have... died.” She glared at him, her fine black brows drawn over gleaming eyes.

“Hey. Doona be mad at me. I was just trying to help.”

“I know. But protecting myself is my job and I failed. I did something stupid and nearly died for it.” She looked down at her cat, but the fierceness of her disappointment radiated from her. “I’ve always been smarter than that.”

He had a feeling that this might be the first time someone had ever stepped in and saved her ass. But if he asked, she’d bite his head off.
 

“Thanks for saving me.” She looked up. She’d managed to swallow most of her disappointment and gratitude showed through.
 

He felt his chest swell, but he just nodded, then looked away from her. Toward the window, the door. Anywhere but at her.

She sighed dejectedly, then leaned back on the pillow. “I lost our only clue. And I don’t even know what it said.”

“The letter?”

Her eyes brightened, and she sat up a bit straighter. “You have it? I thought I lost it.”
 

“Aye, you had a death grip on it when you collapsed in the boat. I saved it. Figured it was important.”

“Thank gods.” She collapsed back on the bed, relief evident in her face. Then she lifted her head, looking at him suspiciously. “Did you read it?”

He shook his head. He’d wanted to. Gods, how he’d wanted to know what was within the crumpled envelope bearing her name. But guilt over getting her into this situation had hounded him, and he’d been unable to open it. His desire to do right by Esha now warred with his rage against Aurora.

He still had to kill Aurora, there was no choice in that. Who was to say that she wouldn’t repeat her past, threatening mortals and Mytheans alike? There was more at stake here than just his soul or the soulceress who had started to work her way into his head.

“You should rest,” he said.

“I want my letter.”

“After you rest. There’s nothing that can be done now, with you in this state.”

“Might I remind you that you owe me? The least you can do is give me that letter, since I’m in this state
because I’m trying to help you.”

“I know that. But you need to rest.”

“You don’t know what I need.” Her eyes flashed at him, stronger than the rest of her body—an eerie reminder that she didn’t need to be physically strong to fuck with him. Her magic would do that just fine.

“Aye, I do. The healer told me. Nothing that will set back your progress. And how do you know the letter isn’t enchanted to cause problems when it’s opened?”

She frowned. He could tell from her face that what he’d said had hit home.
 

She pursed her lips, and her brows drew together over her eyes. “Fine. Tomorrow. But what am I supposed to do until then?”

“Rest. Get your strength up.”

“By staring at the wall? I’ve been sleeping for more than a day. I’m getting out of bed.” With a determined look on her face, she heaved herself up off the pillows.
 

“Doona!” He stepped forward, arms outstretched to stop her.

“Ow!” Grimacing, she lowered herself gingerly back onto the pillows. “Damn, that creepy stone claw did a number on me, didn’t it?”

“Aye. You’ll be out for at least another day. Should be able to walk by tomorrow morning.”

She frowned at him. “I should be healed by now. What kind of cut-rate healer did you hire, anyway?”

How could she think he wouldn’t make sure she had the best? But the sight of her laid out in bed, still pale and drawn from the pain, nearly made him bark out a cynical laugh. Of course she didn’t trust him to take care of her. He’d gotten her into this mess. Hounded her until she’d given in and put her life in danger to help him.

“I’m sorry, lassie. She was one of the best, but your injuries are unusual. You won’t heal as fast as you normally would, but she did the best she could.”

“Oh, that just sucks.” Her eyes rolled back in her head. It was obvious she hated being confined like this. Inactivity was as familiar to her as the moon.