“Thank you, Jesus,” Tom muttered, and sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief.
“Amen,” Logan said. But the smile vanished from his face as he remembered the danger Giada had courted by taking on the werewolves. He reached out through the Truebond—and found he was able to punch through to Giada’s thoughts, as if her blocking spell had grown weak.
Pain instantly rammed through his body in an echo of Giada’s injuries. Horrific, life-threatening injuries.
The werewolves were killing her.
His knees buckled, and he gasped at the combination of agony and the stark terror for her it inspired. “Shit!”
“Logan!” Tom yelped, staring at him in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“Giada . . .” he gasped, and forced himself back to his feet. What the hell happened? And how the
fuck
was he going to save her? His mind raced desperately—until a desperate idea popped into it.
Oh, Sweet Merlin’s Cup. If this goes wrong . . .
But it was the only game in town. Throwing aside his doubts, he strode to the nearest window, picking up a straight-backed chair on the way. Setting his feet, he swung the chair hard. Shards of glass seemed to explode as the window broke, flying out into the cool spring night.
“What are you doing?” Tom demanded, staring at him in astonishment.
“Getting you three out of here.” Logan ripped down the thick gold curtain and wrapped it around his forearm so he could finish breaking out the glass.
I hope to hell Giada’s spell on Tom is still working, or I’m screwed.
George Devon snarled
as he dug his claws into Giada’s breastplate, peeling the steel away from her body as if he were a can opener. The werewolf who’d been the bomber laughed like a hyena and slammed a big fist into her left leg. Something crunched.
Devon had hit her in a frenzy of rage she’d had no hope of defending herself against. He was too damn fast, too damn big.
Too damn crazy.
She should have been dead in the first twenty seconds of the werewolves’ attack, but George hadn’t wanted to let her die that quickly.
No, he meant for her to suffer.
He’d raked furrows in her armor, digging his claws into vulnerable flesh, spilling blood, ripping muscle, breaking bone.
And then he’d let her heal the worst of the damage. Just enough that she didn’t bleed out too fast.
But they were getting tired of playing with her now, and she’d lost too much blood. She was beginning to float, the pain and terror becoming distant things.
It would not be much longer.
The only problem was Logan. She could feel him reaching for her, trying to draw her back. She was afraid she’d pull him with her when she went.
But surviving meant plunging back into that hell of blood and suffering, and she didn’t think she had the strength.
Just let me go. Block me off. Don’t go with me.
A thought shot back at her, powered by will and cool determination, cutting through the seductive fog of death.
No, Giada. Dammit, don’t leave me!
I can’t take any more. And I’m tired of dying.
Logan raced down
the hallway, following her fading life force.
Giada, I’m going to stop him. I swear, it’s almost over.
He dove into the Truebond, grabbing for her consciousness with everything he had.
Hold on! Baby, please, please, just hold on! I need you . . .
He’s too strong. He’ll kill you too. Don’t die . . .
God, her mental voice was so faint.
I don’t want you to die trying to save me.
He’s not going to kill me. But by Merlin’s balls, I am going to kill
him.
You need to cast a shield over yourself, honey.
Can’t
. She seemed to retreat.
Too weak. Go ’way. Don’t want . . . you to die. Thought . . . I’d blocked you. Truebond’s . . . new enough. I can . . . keep you out . . .
No! No, dammit—
But he could feel her floating away, willing herself farther behind her mental barriers. Trying to shield him from the death that hovered too damned close.
Giada, please!
He played his last card.
Giada, I love you!
Love . . . me?
She stopped retreating. At least he had her attention.
Unfortunately, he was running out of time to convince her. He jolted to a stop outside the chapel and dropped to one knee to make frantic use of the tools he pulled from a pocket as he worked on the bundle he held.
Even as he finished the job, he gathered all his mental strength and drove it into her mind.
If you die, I swear to Merlin, I’ll follow you. I’ll die, too. I don’t want to live without you. I can’t live without you.
With that, he dropped every mental barrier he’d ever raised against her—including those he’d used to hide the truth from himself. He showed them both his utter sincerity even as his fingers flew, putting together his weapon.
I love you, Giada.
Tears stung his eyes.
For Merlin’s sake, don’t leave me! Even if the Truebond doesn’t kill me, losing you will.
Agonizing seconds ticked by.
What do . . . you need me to do?
Can you put up a shield?
I . . . Maybe. I’m weak. Lost too much blood.
He felt her force herself back to consciousness, letting the full pain of her injuries hit her again. He heard her cry out, a faint, hoarse scream.
And then he felt her magic rise, powered by the very last of her strength.
Logan shoved the chapel doors open and stormed through. “Hey, assholes!”
The two Dire Wolves looked up at him in surprise as they crouched over Giada’s sprawled body. Neither noticed the glitter of a magical shield waver into existence over her bloody form.
“Don’t forget your toys!” Logan hefted the two bomb vests he’d wired together and hurled them overhand right at the Dire Wolves. Even as the bombs flew through the air, he dove for shelter between the pews.
The black wolf bellowed something. Logan didn’t have time to recognize the word before the C4 detonated in a thunderous explosion that shook the floor. A pew slammed hard into Logan’s head, and he saw sparks almost as bright as the flame that rolled across the room. Flaming chunks of wood and ceiling tile—and wet bits he didn’t want to think about—rained down around him. He curled into a tight ball, sheltering his bleeding head with both arms.
An endless moment later, the fall of debris stopped. His arm stung, and he looked up to see that his uniform shirt was on fire. He slapped the flame out and scrambled to his feet.
“Giada?”
There was a crater in the middle of the room, surrounded by tumbled, blasted pews, some of them burning merrily. Something small lay in the exact center of the blasted space.
“Shit! Giada!” He raced toward it. The air was so thick with dust and smoke, it was hard to see a damn thing. He was too busy listening for Giada’s psychic spark to care.
He found her in the middle of a circle of seared and blackened flooring. The floor outside the circle was soaked with blood. Chunks of meat, bone, and seared body parts littered the floor all around.
A circle of undamaged carpet lay beneath her body; it had been protected by the magical shield she’d cast.
Dropping to his knees beside her, Logan hesitated, afraid to touch her. Bruises, claw marks, and bites marred her pale skin, and her face was so swollen he barely recognized her. He ached to jerk her into his arms, but he didn’t dare.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered. “I wish I could bring those bastards back from the dead so I could kill them all over again.”
She needed help. Badly. And not mortal medical aid, either; he doubted a hospital could save her.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t call the Mageverse for help. The Truebond told him she was out like a light, which was probably a good thing.
Luckily, he had an alternative, now that the jamming spell had been destroyed with the bombs.
Fumbling with one of the phone clips on his belt, Logan pulled out the magical cell Guinevere had given him. He knew he’d better act fast; he could hear voices in the distance. The deputies were beginning their search for bodies.
“Mom?”
An instant later, his mother answered. “Logan?”
He sagged in relief.
TWENTY-ONE
Logan’s eyes opened
as the sun slipped below the horizon. For a moment, he blinked up at the ceiling, disoriented by the mists of nightmares—blood, fire, explosions. And Giada, in pain. Dying beneath the claws and fangs of werewolves.
His head jolted off the pillow . . .
. . . to feel the delicate touch of Giada’s mind a moment before she rolled over and draped herself across his chest. “Shhhhhh. It’s okay.” She looked blessedly healthy again, her beautiful face clean of blood and bruises, the body they’d broken healthy again.
Joy surged through him, so intense he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her fiercely. “Oh, God, girl, you scared me stupid.”
“Yeah, well, it didn’t do much for me either.” Folding her long, lovely hands on his breastbone, Giada propped her chin on them and gave him a dazzling smile.
Logan stroked a strand of silky blond hair back from her face with his fingers. “What were you up to while I was in the Daysleep?”
She grimaced. “Mostly healing. It was all the other witches who were working their brooms off. A team gated in as Gwen gated us out, and it still took half the night and all day to clean up the mess.”
“I’m not surprised. There were probably three hundred witnesses to influence, most of ’em cops.”
“And that’s not even counting the ones with camera phones,” she said wryly. “Anyway, as far as the mortals are concerned, nothing blew up. Morgana and her team repaired the damage to the funeral home and got rid of the bodies, then made everybody believe they never heard any kind of blast. They even re-created the damned vests you took off Andy and Heather.”
Logan frowned. “What about the kids?”
“According to your mother, that was the tough part,” Giada admitted. “Andy and Heather were heading for one hell of a case of post-traumatic stress—and that’s without the memory of all those damned werewolves. Morgana had to do a lot of touchy psychic editing to make them remember the kidnappers as regular humans.”
He cupped her arms, enjoying the warmth of her silky skin against his. He was starting to get hungry. “So if nothing blew up and the kidnappers were human, where did they go?”
Giada sighed. “Yeah, that was the rub. The gang supposedly slipped away while the funeral home was being evacuated.”
“Hell.” Logan glowered. “That means Lori and Tara don’t get closure. And the sheriff takes the heat for losing the bad guys.”
She shrugged. “It was that or give them pieces of dead werewolf. Which would have opened a can of worms the size of anacondas.”
“What about Smoke? Is he okay? He was guarding those kids. I know he didn’t let the bastards just waltz off with them.”
“That’s the biggest issue.” Worry rolled through Giada, so intense across the Truebond that Logan stiffened in dread. “He vanished. The last the kids saw him, he was fighting a white Dire Wolf who sounded a lot like Mrs. Devon’s description of Warlock. As they drove away, he’d been imprisoned in some kind of energy globe. Guinevere did a scan for his magic, but she found nothing.”
He stared at her in pain. “They’re afraid he’s dead.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, Logan, but they don’t think he made it. If he had, he would have returned to Avalon by now.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck that. We’re going to go look.”
They searched for
three days, combing the area around the Jones home as well as every Mageverse haunt of Smoke’s Logan could think of. They even checked out the animal shelter, in case the cat had been rendered powerless and picked up by Animal Control.
Like the Majae, they found nothing. It was as if he’d vanished off the face of the earth, magic and all.
“He’s not dead,”
Logan told Giada as they returned to her house after yet another frustrating night. “He disappears like this all the time. He probably got hurt and holed up somewhere to heal. He’ll turn up when he gets good and damned ready.”
But she could feel the worry in the depths of his mind, vibrating a low, pained note through the Truebond.
As Giada watched, he dropped onto the couch and slumped, letting his dark head fall against the back. Despite his optimistic words, a mood of gloom hung around him.
Giada suspected at least part of his depression was born of handing his badge in.
This time Sheriff Jones had accepted Logan’s resignation. Since he’d risked his life to save Heather and Andy, no one thought Logan had been involved in the bombings in any way whatsoever.
“I think you need cheering up,” Giada announced, reaching for the hem of her top. “And I know just how to do it.”
He lifted his head and started to open his mouth, probably to tell her he wasn’t really up for making love.
Then she peeled the loose cotton shirt off over her head, leaving her breasts cupped in delicate pink lace.
Logan’s eyes heated. “You know, I think I’m feeling a little better already.”
“Good.” She reached for the zipper of her jeans and pulled it down as she gave her hips a slow, deliberate roll. Turning her back on him, she stripped them down her legs, making sure to bend deep to give him a good look at her ass. The hot purr that rolled through the Truebond told her just how much he enjoyed the view.
The panties went next. She kicked the scrap of pink silk across the room with a flick of one foot, then, still bending, reached back to unfasten her bra.
When Giada turned around, very thoroughly naked, she found Logan had gotten rid of his own knit shirt, displaying his broad, muscular chest for her enjoyment.