Authors: Calista Fox
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t.” His temper flared again as anger flashed in
his eyes. “What are you doing all day, Jade? Wearing around the cottage a gift
you can’t show to anyone else, while you pine after someone you can’t have?
A
demon
. And not just any demon. No, you had to choose the
king
of
demons.”
Her own agitation simmered. “I didn’t choose anything,
Michael. It just happened. From the moment I saw him.”
She didn’t bother mentioning the dream. He’d never
comprehend the connection she shared with Darien. “Look, you can think I’m a
complete idiot, that’s fine. I’ve felt that way myself a time or two lately.
But the fact still remains—something exists between us. I can’t explain it. I
don’t even think Darien can explain it. All I know is that—”
“Wait,” he lifted his hand to cut her off. “
Darien
?”
Her sigh sounded decidedly long-suffering. “That
is
his name.”
“You’re on a first-name basis with the Demon King. I can’t
believe this!”
“Let’s drop the subject and have the wine.”
His head jerked from side to side. “What else, Jade? You had
to do something to motivate him to give you all those diamonds.”
Her teeth ground together. “Don’t push me, Michael.”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“No.” He hadn’t been in her bed for almost a month, after
all.
“Let me rephrase that. Did you fuck him?”
Her anger exploded. Her arm snapped up and she pointed to
the door. “Get out.”
“This is serious, Jade.”
“
Get out
!”
He stalked to the door as her fury raged. She wouldn’t allow
him—or anyone—to belittle her association with Darien or make it seem tawdry.
She had feelings for the king, there was no disputing that fact. And while they
were difficult to reconcile, they weren’t crude or tawdry. Or fleeting.
Before leaving, Michael said, “Think about what you’ve
gotten yourself into, Jade. It could turn out deadly for you.”
She wanted to throw something at the door he closed behind
him, but the other indisputable fact was that her best friend was right. She
continued to fume over the situation when it dawned on her that Michael
shouldn’t be this far outside the village on his own. Grabbing the sword, she
raced out of the cottage.
“Michael, wait!” she called after him. “Let me get my coat
and I’ll walk with you.” He didn’t slow down. “Michael! You stubborn ass—”
A sudden burst of flames made them both jump back. But Jade
immediately regained her footing, thanks to her work with Tanner. She rushed
forward as the fire wraith appeared. His horse galloped toward Michael, sending
snow flying in every direction. The fiery poltergeist lit up the dark night in
a bone-chilling, menacing way.
“Move!” she screamed at Michael.
The mammoth beast was much too quick though. The horse
charged and its shoulder clipped Michael as it whizzed past him, hurling him to
the ground with a sharp grunt of pain.
“Michael!”
Jade couldn’t get to him because the horse surged onward,
heading straight for her, its nostrils flaring and foam dripping from its
parted teeth. She lifted the sword with both hands, prepared to fight. But a
fireball expelled from the demon’s mouth erupted against the tip and searing
heat surged down the blade to the hilt.
She cried out from the burn she received and dropped the
sword. Jade fell to her knees and pressed her hands against the snow as pain
lanced through her.
Without giving her time to catch her breath, the horse
lurched. The flames around the cloak of the wraith and in his eye sockets
vanished. Dressed in black he was impossible to see, save for the
spindle-fingered, skeletal hand that shot out of a sleeve.
With a death grip on her upper arm, he hoisted her onto his
steed and the horse raced through the woods, his thundering hooves echoing all
around them.
The demonic beast cut a path in the dense forest. Tree limbs
and needles lashed out at Jade, slicing her skin and shredding her sweater as
she tried to shield her face. Terror seized her soul as the horse wove its way
through the thick foliage with such speed that the surroundings became a blur.
She closed her eyes and continued to battle the branches swiping brutally over
her flesh.
Finally, they broke free of the woods and she opened her
eyes. They’d reached a clearing that lay before the abandoned church that had
been built high above a stone monument. The inside had been set ablaze when the
first renegade demons attacked the village, shortly after it’d been
established.
Jade’s pulse raged in her ears as she stared up at the
remains of the church. Stone steps led to the damaged steeple. Despite them
being hidden by drifts, the horse she involuntarily rode reared and then
pitched forward, taking the treacherous stairs with her on its back and the wraith
floating weightlessly behind her.
She clutched strands from the horse’s mane to keep from
falling. When they reached the landing, she had but a moment to look out at the
stretch of snow-covered earth that edged the river in front of it and the
forest beyond, at the base of the ridge where Darien’s castle sat. She screamed
for him.
A heartbeat later, the wraith threw her from the horse,
tossing her to the ground. With the roof burnt, the thick bank of snow coating
the hard floor broke her fall. But her blood stained the pristine white.
Her face and arms were slashed and she tried to concentrate
on healing them, but she had no time. The wraith’s fingers wrapped around her
neck and he lifted her off the ground, only to launch her across the span of
the church where her backside crashed against the remainder of a decayed, stone
wall.
Her strangled cry of agony pierced the quiet night as she
slumped to the floor again. She felt the blood trickle down the nape of her
neck from a laceration at the base of her head. And from her shoulder blades to
her tailbone, it seemed as though every inch of her had been beaten to a pulp.
The pain was excruciating, but she tried to stand. The
wraith was not done with her. He hauled her up one more time and slammed her
onto a backless pew made of granite. On her back, with the wind knocked out of
her, she couldn’t suck in a breath, much less scream again. Until the wraith’s
razor-sharp fingertips grazed her skin above her left breast, slicing it open.
A shrill, terror-laden sound erupted from within her. The
wraith hovered over her as he seemed to penetrate tissue in search of her
heart. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. The agony was so
unbearable, she couldn’t detect a single ounce of her that wasn’t burning with
pain.
“Jade!”
She heard Darien’s voice in the distance. Too far off, she
surmised, for him to help her. Yet she whispered his name.
Her eyelids became too heavy to manage and they closed. A
tragic death was not one she’d allowed herself to think of, but somehow, it
seemed befitting of the world in which she lived—and the trouble she’d
unwittingly invited into her life months ago.
The wraith’s hand moved from her chest, but she didn’t
bother to open her eyes to see what he was up to next. She could barely breathe,
let alone fight him off. She wheezed and sputtered, finding it impossible to
focus on one particular injury to heal first. They were all too severe, the
damage soul deep, it seemed.
Yet when the fiery sensations suddenly came from outside her
body, her eyes snapped open. The wraith had taken his flame-edged form. His
scorching heat melted the snow around her, including the thick layer on the
pew. The water instantly boiled and she howled as it burned her skin through
her sweater. Her body convulsed with violent seizures, causing her to fall off
the granite bench.
“Jade!”
Over the ringing in her ears, she heard Darien’s voice again
and the unsheathing of a sword. She rolled onto her back, finding a hint of
relief on her scalded skin as the snow penetrated her sweater.
“Focus!”
Staring up at the sky, she realized she had no desire to do
as he commanded. A few minutes more and she’d pass out from the sheer agony.
She wouldn’t heal enough in her unconscious state to ever wake. There was too
much damage and no way to concentrate on the individual wounds.
That was okay, she decided. Who the hell wanted to a live a
life such as this anyway? With even the tiniest bit of emotional or physical
pain creating so much trauma, she had to push it into the far depths of her
soul on almost a daily basis?
She was about to close her eyes again, but Darien said,
“You’re stronger than this.”
It sounded as though he was across the church, by the steps.
She even heard Thunder snort and whine. The heat cloaking the wraith had vanished,
so she assumed the ghost had left her. A moment later, she got her answer as
she heard metal blades clashing.
She had faith in the Demon King’s skill. He would prevail.
She closed her eyes. Too many horrific sensations consumed her to focus on one,
so she didn’t. Her entire body throbbed, and sharp stabs pricked her
everywhere. But it wouldn’t be much longer before she felt nothing at all. A
feeling she welcomed.
Although… A nagging thought kept her from succumbing to
unconsciousness. She didn’t know how Michael had fared—whether he was seriously
hurt from his run-in with the demon’s horse. And what if, by some chance,
Darien didn’t win this battle? His kingdom might fall—and so too would Ryleigh.
Other villages. More humans.
So much was at stake, she couldn’t help but force her lids
open once more. She rolled her head to the side and watched through blurry eyes
as the fight ensued. She silently prayed Morgan would arrive. And the slayers.
But Darien held his own against the fire wraith, meeting him blow for blow,
with enough power behind his swings to back the wraith into a corner.
A hint of relief penetrated the darkness devouring her. The
king would be fine. And the slayers had likely already found Michael. If he was
hurt, they’d take him to the village doctor. He’d survive. She convinced
herself of these things, and they provided a small measure of peace.
As she was about to drift off, though, she saw a fireball
similar to the one she’d witnessed earlier in the woods shoot out from the
wraith’s mouth. Just as the case had been with her, the blaze exploded at the
tip of Darien’s sword and she could see the bright red heat radiate all the way
down the shaft, to the handle.
Darien kept his grip much longer than she had, and the
wraith expelled a second fireball. This time, the blistering heat proved to be
too much for even the Demon King. He dropped his sword and let out a low snarl.
The fire wraith advanced on him with renewed confidence.
Panic gripped Jade. She watched hopelessly as Darien lunged for his weapon but
couldn’t reach it before the ghastly apparition got close enough to singe him.
Darien stumbled backward.
Pulling strength from somewhere beyond her comprehension,
Jade managed to sit up. She focused all of her energy, every single thought, on
mentally lifting the sword.
She didn’t use her psychokinesis often, but her father had
taught her to hone the skill. Jade had to push past her pain to concentrate on
raising the heavy object. No easy feat as agony ripped through her over putting
one more strain on her body. But this was a mental effort, not a physical one.
She still had control over her mind, despite the fact her limbs vibrated of
their own accord.
With her gaze on the sword, she lifted it a mere six inches
from the snow and moved it toward Darien. He seemed to keep one eye on the
demon and one on his weapon.
When it was nearly in his reach, he yelled, “Let it go.”
This distracted the wraith. At the same time, Darien lurched
forward, clasped the hilt and rolled onto his back. The move was lightning-fast.
It hardly registered in Jade’s mind. But Darien took a full swing at the wraith
in the process and the ghost’s eerie screech stung her ears as half of his
skeletal forearm and hand flew into the air, severed by Darien’s sword.
The wraith blew over Darien to his restless steed and they
leaped from the top of the steps to the ground below.
Or perhaps she’d imagined that. Jade’s vision was as fuzzy
as her brain.
No matter. Darien got to his feet and the threat against him
was over. She let out a short breath, the most she could muster.
Now she could surrender to the pain…
Chapter Ten
Darien wanted to pursue the fire wraith. But he couldn’t
leave Jade. He stalked across the church and knelt before her, trying to
process all of her visible injuries and wondering how many more there were that
he couldn’t see.
Her shoulder was propped against the ledge, her head resting
atop the exposed mortar. Her eyes rolled in the sockets.
She was covered in blood and tattered clothing. The cuts on
her face were deep, but her gaping chest wound alarmed him the most. He slipped
out of his full-length jacket and gently draped it over her. Then he cradled
the base of her skull with his hand to guide her toward him, only to pull away
when a sticky fluid coated his fingers. She bled there too.
“Jade,” he said before swallowing down a lump of fear and
emotion. “You’ve got a nasty cut on the back of your head. And one above your
left breast. Which do you heal first?”
She shook her head, though it was a slight movement. “Neither.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “You have to focus on the worst
one, you told me that.”
“I can’t,” she said, her voice weak and raspy. “I don’t want
to.”
Panic besieged him. “You
must
.” He tried to lock his
gaze with hers, but she was obviously having difficulty seeing him. “Jade.” His
plea was full of consternation. “You can’t give up.”
“I’m tired,” she whispered. “Tired of always fighting this
ugliness.” She licked what appeared to be dry lips and then added, “It’s okay.
I had some happy times.”
Tears slid down her bloodied cheeks. Darien’s gut twisted
and his heart constricted. She was a mess. Barely breathing. Clearly in a huge
amount of pain. And there was nothing he could do for her? He was the king, for
fuck’s sake. And he couldn’t do
anything
to save her?
He stared at her a moment more, then a thought clicked in
his brain.
“The necklace. Jade, where is it?”
A far-off look flitted in her eyes. “I had it on earlier.”
“It’s not around your neck now.” He needed it in order to
make her immortal. If he invoked the gift this very moment, she might survive
all the physical damage.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice growing weaker. “I must’ve
lost it in the woods.”
His eyes squeezed shut.
Damn it
! There was no time to
search for it. He needed to get her to the cottage where it was warm and dry.
Then convince her to heal herself. But he wanted her to start with her head, so
she could think more clearly.
“Just stay with me, sweetheart. Don’t give up.”
“It’s too much.”
“You’re still alive. Still conscious. You need to
concentrate. Think about the cut right here.” He gently brushed his finger
along the edge of the wound. She winced. “It stings, doesn’t it? You can feel
exactly where it hurts, right?”
“Yes. Now I can.”
He lightly touched the laceration again and this seemed to
help her to register the precise spot.
“Keep at it,” he said in an encouraging voice.
“The throbbing,” she told him, “it’s as though he’s pounding
my head against the wall.”
“He’s gone. It’s just you and me now.
Focus
.”
Her eyes finally locked with his for a spell. “Why are you
doing this? He threatens your kingdom. You should be hunting him, not trying to
save me.”
“You mean as much to me as my kingdom does.”
Her gaze slid away, her eyelids dipping. “I’m so sorry I
lost your necklace. Please look for it. By my house.”
“Open your eyes,” he demanded. “Don’t stop looking at me.
We’ll find the necklace. That’s the last thing I want you to think about.
Keep
healing.
”
Several tense minutes passed and then he felt the ends of
her hair dry and thicken. After wiping his hand on his leg to clean it, he
tested the wound again, but it was gone. So too was the blood at that
particular spot.
Relief washed over him. “You did it.”
But her breathing was still labored, and the very slow rise
and fall of her chest told him her heart rate and pulse had dropped
drastically. Her lips had turned purple. She was likely freezing in the snow,
yet he couldn’t move her until something was done about her chest.
He wanted to yank off his sweater and press the material to
her in order to stop the flow of blood, but he’d wipe too much of it away in
doing so. And he’d aggravate an already horrific-looking injury.
Instead, he lifted her hand to his own chest, slipping it
inside his shirt. He flattened her cold palm against his skin, over his heart.
“Feel the beats,” he said. “They’re strong and steady. Try
to match them with your own heart.”
She appeared exhausted and defeated. As though she honestly
didn’t want to continue on. As if she’d merely humored him by healing the head
wound.
“Jade,” he said in an insistent voice, his dread resonating
strongly. “I want you alive and safe. I want you healthy. Happy. I’ll do
whatever I must to make it happen, but you have to help me. You have to repair
your heart. Please. For me. For you. For both of us. For…Michael and Lisette.
Everyone in the village. Hell, even Sheena will stop speaking to me if anything
happens to you.”
He heard the desperation and the agony in his tone. Neither
was manufactured nor exaggerated to persuade her to give in to his begging.
They were real, raw emotions that could bring him to his knees, were he not
already on them.
“Jade,” he whispered. “I love you. And I know I don’t
deserve you, but…I don’t want to lose you.”
Another short breath fell from her lips. “You don’t play
fair. Telling me you love me…”
“I wouldn’t lie about it, you know that. I’ve been very
forthcoming with my feelings for you. Right now, you’re devastating me.”
Her gaze locked with his once more. “I actually can feel
your heartbeats. They’re erratic.”
“That’s because I’m completely freaked out.”
She laughed softly, surprising him. Fat snowflakes began to
fall on them and they shared a few tranquil moments as they stared at each
other.
He wouldn’t—
couldn’t
—let her give in to the pain.
“Darien.”
He heard Morgan behind him, along with Thunder, who nudged
his arm.
Without taking his gaze from Jade, he said to his general,
“Get the village doctor and take him to the cottage. She’s going to need help.”
“He can’t help me,” she muttered.
“We’ll see.” To Morgan, he said, “Go.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Darien carefully lifted Jade into his arms and she squealed
in pain, shattering whatever serenity their delicate moment had brought her.
“Sorry,” he said as fury tore through him again over her
agonized state. Thunder seemed as deeply affected by her suffering. He knelt so
Darien could easily mount him with Jade nestled against his body. “Careful.”
The horse slowly rose, with some effort, given the weight he
bore. Then he gingerly crossed the church and descended the steps with caution,
though the movements still jarred Jade, as evidenced by her gasps and groans.
They rode through the snow and Jade shivered against him as
a light, albeit frigid, breeze whistled through the trees. By the time they
reached her house, whatever healing she’d accomplished seemed to be negated by
the pain she’d experienced from the jostling while in transit. Her eyes were
closed again and her breathing was shallow and laced with a sharp intake of
air.
His general pulled open the door, Morgan and Dr. Schaeffer
having already arrived at the cottage.
Darien said, “Get some towels. Lay them over the bed.”
The old physician yanked back the comforter and sheet, then
Morgan spread out the towels. Darien set her on the mattress and the doctor
whisked off her boots as Darien tossed aside the jacket covering her and then
unbuttoned her sweater.
Schaeffer groaned. “Good heavens.” His gaze fell on the
gaping cut on her chest, but then lifted to Jade’s face. “We need more towels
to clean her up.”
“No,” Darien said. “She needs the blood on her skin. I’ll
explain later.” To Morgan, he said, “Help me get her sweater off.”
He lifted her hair as Darien eased the material over her
shoulders and down her arms. He tossed the garment aside.
“Darien, look at this.”
The grave expression on the general’s face made his stomach
clench. Glancing over Jade’s shoulder, Darien fought back more rage. The doctor
took a peek as well.
“My God,” Schaeffer said. “Those are second-degree burns,
with some bruising around the edges of the red patches and blisters. And it
looks as though she has a fractured rib on the right side.”
Darien’s heart sank. The damage was so much worse than he’d
imagined. No wonder she’d wanted to give up and let her injuries consume her.
“She needs morphine,” he insisted.
The doctor went for his medical bag and rooted around until
he had the needle and vial in hand.
The physician said, “Her skin’s already damp and chilled
from her soaked sweater. That should help to cool her back. But I can’t apply a
towel at this point, because it could stick to the burns and peel away skin
when it’s removed—and the more she loses, the more susceptible she’ll be to
infection. Unfortunately, I do need her on her back in order to close her chest
wound, and so she can rest.”
“What about something softer?” Darien indicated the
pillowcase and Morgan quickly whipped one off the many pillows on the bed while
Darien carefully unhooked her bra.
“That should work.” Schaeffer gently placed the satin case
over her back, and Darien eased her down to the mattress, pressing a towel over
her breasts.
As the doctor prepped the syringe, Darien said, “Not too
much. She has to be able to feel something specific beyond the combination of
all her wounds, but be sedated just enough to reach past the pain to heal.”
“Yes,” she said, though her eyes were closed and her voice
was barely audible.
Darien delicately removed her pants and Morgan handed him
another towel so he could dry her wet skin. Then he pulled the sheet and
comforter over her, up to her waist, trying to help warm her.
“I’ll tend to the fires,” Morgan said. “Then I’ll alert
Sheena.”
Schaeffer told him, “I’ve never taken care of Jade before.
Or her father. He’d never been sick a day in his life, nor has she.”
“She possesses some exceptional gifts. Her secrets must stay
within these walls.”
The physician’s chest puffed. “I’ve been practicing medicine
for nearly fifty years, your Majesty. I value doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“Good, because you’re going to get an eyeful this evening.”
He dragged a chair over to the bed for the doctor. “Just be extremely gentle
with her,” he warned.
Schaeffer looked duly advised and suddenly a bit unnerved.
Darien sighed.
Bring it down a notch. Don’t scare the
hell out of someone who can help Jade.
But he was on edge. So much so, he paced the foot of the bed
as the doctor tightened a leather strip around her upper arm and then rubbed
alcohol on the inner crook of her elbow. Locating the vein he wanted, he
pricked her with the needle.
Jade screamed bloody murder.
Darien pinched the bridge of his nose. The physician did not
give up his post, but administered the drug, tidied up and then stood. That was
when Darien saw how pale he’d turned.
“It was just a needle,” Schaeffer said in his defense.
Darien fought back the wave of protectiveness that made him
want to strangle anyone who hurt Jade.
“She feels sensations acutely,” he explained between
clenched teeth. “Probably more so tonight because of the multitude and severity
of her wounds.”
“I had no idea.”
“I know.” He waved a hand dismissively, more so to help calm
himself than the doctor. “I should have told you. Or thought about…a liquid
form?”
“I’ll leave some with you. In the meantime, I have to stitch
the cut on her chest. Immediately.”
Darien could see by the look in Schaeffer’s eyes that he was
reluctant to cause more pain for Jade—especially when it might set Darien
off—but that he ultimately refused to be sent away before he’d finished what
he’d started.
Darien continued his pacing. Then he made a decision. “Give
me a couple of minutes.”
He toed off his boots and then reached for the towel he’d
discarded. After drying his pants, he whisked off his drenched shirt so he
didn’t soak the linens. He climbed into bed next to Jade, on the opposite side
of where the doctor prepared to work on her.
The prospect of tapping into her mind wasn’t an appealing
one at this point. Already knowing she was in extreme pain, he didn’t relish
the idea of experiencing exactly
how much
pain she was in.
He stretched alongside her, careful to neither jar her nor
touch her. His eyes closed and he pushed past her suffering, which clouded his
own mind. Her agony was nearly debilitating for him. Quickly conjuring a mental
image, he had to put some effort into engaging Jade. The key was to occupy her subconscious
and create some sort of peaceful state for her.
Choosing a beautiful locale, he envisioned them in a lush,
tropical hideaway. A tepid, turquoise-colored pool at the bottom of a tall
waterfall, surrounded by rich foliage. She swam toward him, though the pool was
shallow enough for her to stand in it when she reached him, the water rib-high
for her.
He visualized her with her face completely healed, not a
scratch on it. Her long hair was wet and slicked back. Droplets rolled down her
throat and between the valley of her bare breasts. The cut on the left side of
her chest had vanished and her skin was flawless. He reached a hand out to her
and lightly trailed his fingers along her collarbone and then down to the inner
swell of her breast.
“You’re perfect,” he told her.