To Wrangle A Witch (Southern Sanctuary Book 3) (10 page)

Chapter
Thirteen

Serena
hovered over Locke’s still form whilst his cousin Declan stood nearby looking decidedly
shaky but determined, facing the courtyard, sword drawn, ready to face the
other sucker out there if it chose to attack.  Though that seemed unlikely
given what had happened to its accomplice when it crossed the threshold of
Locke’s home.  

Serena
stared down at Locke in horror, he was a mess.  His waistcoat and shirt
drenched with blood.  Desperately she pressed down on the wadded up tea
towels she’d grabbed to help stem the flow.  “Are you sure help is
coming?”  She asked the all too easy on the eyes man standing a few feet
away. 

Even
splattered with blood and wearing only a torn grey t-shirt, jeans and boots the
man Locke called cousin was so good looking it made it difficult to take him
seriously.  For Earth sake how did he get the moonlight to play along his
alabaster skin like that?  And where was that breeze coming from that
teased the tips of his shoulder length blonde hair? 

Despite
her concern for Locke her fingers actually itched to reach out and play with
those wheat coloured locks.  Shaking her head, she looked away from his
hypnotic dark violet eyes.  Right at this moment she’d never wanted to
slug a man more.  Declan just stood there, rumpled but ultimately
gorgeous, flashing her the occasional reassuring dimpled smile that only made
her want to hurt him more.
 
Yet the more
she frowned his way, the more Declan appeared to relax, real amusement in his
eyes.
 
The whole family was insane.

Nell
burst into the room at a dead run, impressive considering the height of
her cranberry coloured stiletto Mary-Janes.  Her face pale but that blue
gaze of hers steady as she assessed the situation with cool clinical
detachment.  Her first stop was Locke, kneeling beside Serena she pushed
away the towels, torn shirt and waistcoat for a better look at the pulpy mess
of Locke’s midsection.  Flipping open her medical kit she handed Serena a
thin linen cloth the size of large napkin. “Cover his wounds with this and hold
it in place.”

Serena
took the cloth, hardly thicker than tissue paper with disbelief.  If it
hadn’t been for the tang of herbs that suddenly assailed her nostrils she would
have lodged a protest.  This thing was seriously imbued with healing
properties.  Wasting no time she placed the cloth as gently as possible
over Locke’s wounds, though where they started and ended it was hard to tell
with all that blood. 

“Hey!”  
Serena protested as Nell moved over to Declan’s side.

“Just
keep doing what you’re doing.  Locke will be fine, let the cloth do its
job… trust me.”  Turning her back on a disbelieving Serena, Nell gave
Declan a cool blue stare until he voluntarily sank to the ground, reaching over
she cupped his face.  “Hey pretty boy, how are you doing?”

“The
usual.”  Declan shot her a cocky grin, his sword still gripped ready in
one hand.  “Just a few manly cuts and bruises.”

“Nell!
I really think Locke needs you more right now.”  Serena frowned down at
the linen cloth, how was it remaining so blindingly white and not soaking up
all that blood? 

“Serena,
I know Locke has very serious injuries but if I was looking after him right
this minute I’d be doing nothing more than what you’re doing, keeping that
cloth in place and letting the magic do all the work.  Just let me know
when it’s done.”

Done? 
Done?  How was she supposed to know when a cloth was done?  Done
what?  Though even as she contemplated that question she could see the
edges of the cloth were now a dull cream colour and slightly burnt
looking. 

“Besides,” Nell
went on, her calm voice helping take the edge off the panic attack that
threatened to overwhelm Serena.  “Declan might not be hurt as badly but if
there are scars … the whining will last a lifetime.”

“I
don’t whine.” Declan protested, holding his ripped t-shirt up out of the way so
that Nell could get a better look at his injuries.  It spoke volumes about
Nell’s professional detachment that she could ignore the way his rock hard six
pack abs gleamed oh so touchable in the dimly lit room and concentrate on his
injuries.

“I
didn’t mean your whining Sweetie.  I was talking about all those lovelorn
women who follow you around so tiresomely.”

“Thanks
Nell.”  Declan gave her a stoic smile through the pain as she went to work
smearing a dob of foul smelling paste on each of his puncture wounds,
effectively sealing them shut. 

About
the time the healing cloth on Locke was completely crusty and dried looking
Nell had finished with Declan.  Leaning over the doctor placed a soft kiss
on his forehead. “That’s my brave soldier.”  She patted his tight muscular
arm before moving back to kneel by Locke’s side.

“What
is that thing?”  Serena asked as Nell peeled off the yellowed and brittle
cloth, noting the small scraps of material and dirt that now clung to it.

“I
call it the wonder cloth, as yet it doesn’t have a proper name.  A piece
of linen soaked for a hundred days in over fifty herbs and plant extracts, my
own recipe.  It draws out foreign matter and dirt, accelerates red blood
creation, promotes healing and is a pain killer and numbing agent all rolled
into one.”  Nell scrabbled through her bag, found a torch and handed it to
Serena.  “Here, hold this so I can see what’s left to deal with.”

Serena
watched Nell work, her heart in her throat.  There was so much damage but
Nell worked with steely admirable speed, assessing and dealing with each and
every puncture wound and jagged tear.  Sometimes gluing skin together with
a foul smelling paste, other times packing the wound with a scoop full of a
green slime like substance.

“Is
he… is he going to be okay?” 

“Some
of these puncture wounds are deeper than I’d like, but he comes from a long
line of warriors, they have very good healing genes.”

“Shouldn’t
he be conscious?”  Serena eyed Locke’s prone form with worry, the torch in
her hand trembling slightly.

“That’s
partly due to the wonder cloth, knocks the patient out to promote a better
healing environment for the body.”  Nell sent Serena a quick reassuring
smile before returning her attention back to Locke’s extensive injuries. 
“You have quite a few cuts and punctures of your own.  How are you holding
up?”

Serena
glanced down with surprise at the wounds and scratches on her upper arms that
were seeping blood and the sudden awareness of the throbbing in her ripped up
right ankle.  She’d all but forgotten she’d had a run in with the first
sucker.  Shaking her head slightly she shrugged away the pain, in
comparison to what Locke was going through her injuries were nothing. 
“I’m fine.  Is there anything else I should be doing… to help?”

“Hmmm?” 
Nell’s focus was completely caught and held by five deep ragged tears close to
Locke’s sternum.  “There are some scissors in my bag.  Cut away his
clothes would you?  I need more access.”

Serena
had just finished cutting away Locke’s waistcoat and was starting on his shirt
when the linen closet door banged open and the sound of heavy boot tread
heralded the arrival of Vaughn, Drum and Hadleigh, with Rafe, Dash and Flynn
bringing up the rear.

“Wow. 
Nice place.”  Flynn commented with approval.

“Is
that a courtyard?  Cool.”  Dash added in his two cents worth.

“There’ll
be a tour later, for now shut up.  Declan…”  Vaughn stared down at
the apprentice enforcer.  “Report.”

Sheathing
his sword at the sight of Maat’s warriors Declan relaxed back onto his
elbows.  “Two vampires.  One dusted… the other, minus an arm, thanks
to yours truly, last seen hip deep trapped in mud.”

“Nell? 
You need help?”  Vaughn moved slightly to get a better look at Locke’s
status.

“Just
stay out of my way.”  Nell’s focus never left her patient.

“Sera?” 
Vaughn barked her name.

“I’m
good.  Just get the vampire.” 

“Okay,
Rafe take the courtyard, flyboys take to the skies.” 

While
Flynn, Dash and Rafe raced off to follow Vaughn’s instructions Drum moved
closer to Declan, scrutinising him with intense interest.

“Problem?” 
Declan enquired with a relaxed half-smile, seemingly unperturbed to have the
seven foot mountain of a man looming over him, studying him intently with an
assessing look reminiscent of a master torturer looking for a sweet spot on his
latest victim. 

Anger
seeped into Drum’s black eyes as they locked onto Declan’s forehead and the
faint lipstick impression that remained there, jaw clenched, his expression
intimidatingly thunderous.  “She kissed you! Nell, you kissed him!”

Declan’s
half-smile converted into a full blown devastatingly handsome grin.  “And
she called me Sweetie.”  He crowed.

“You
little...” 

Drum’s
words were cut off by Hadleigh, who inserted herself between them neatly. 
Kneeling by her apprentice she shook her head.  “Honestly sometimes I
think you have a death wish.”

Drum
strained against the hand that suddenly clamped down on his shoulder. 
Turning he met his Captain’s eyes. 

“Priorities
Drum.”  Vaughn gave his second an intent gold look.

Drum
forced himself to relax, knowing his Captain was right.  Looking back over
his shoulder he intended to send the supermodel masquerading as an apprentice
enforcer a glare full of promised pain and future retribution, instead his eyes
widened in surprise at the sight that greeted him.  “Shit… Vaughn, don’t
do anything stupid.”   Quickly he reversed his position so now he was
the one restraining his Captain.

“What
the..?”  Vaughn watched in stunned surprise as his wife yanked off
Declan’s bloodied and torn t-shirt, running her hands over his bare flesh that
somehow seemed to glisten in the dim light.  Maat, even the streaks of
blood looked like brush strokes applied by a master painter on his chiselled
chest and washboard abs. “Hadleigh.”  Vaughn’s voice was strained with
jealousy and barely suppressed anger.

“I’m
just double checking his injuries.”

Declan
withstood the fussing like a stoic toddler under the care of an overprotective
mother.  “I’m fine Hadleigh.  Nell’s already checked me out.”

“Hadleigh.
Get.  Your.   Hands.  Off.   Him!”  Vaughn
ground out each and every word.

“Stop
acting like a ‘Dick-tator’…. he’s my cousin. Not to mention my apprentice and
under my care.”  Hadleigh sent Vaughn a glare to match his, before turning
soft concerned eyes back to Declan. “You sure you’re okay Sweetheart?”

“Now
that you mention it, I do feel kind of woozy.”  Declan gave her his best
brave smile.

“Here.” 
Hadleigh settled on the floor next to him, pulling his head down to rest on her
ample breasts.”  “Just rest.  Vaughn go check in with the team. 
Drum stop hovering over Nell, you can fetch a stretcher for Locke.”

Vaughn
reluctantly left the room, his last sight was of Declan snuggling his head in
even closer on the pillowy warmth of his meld mate’s breasts, his violet eyes
full of amusement and smug satisfaction, little shit, next time he’d unleash
Drum on his perfect ass. 

Hadleigh
watched Vaughn disappear outside and Drum stomp off back to the linen
closet.  When they were both gone from sight she reached up cuffing Declan
on the back of the head.

“Ow.” 
Declan sat up straight rubbing his head.  “What was that for? 
Neither of them has any reason to be jealous of me… I’m your cousin for Goddess
sake, they need to get over themselves.”

Hadleigh
threw his t-shirt back in his face.  “I don’t care about that.  The
cuff was for getting injured.  Where’s your second sword?   The
vamp would never have inflicted this much damage if you’d had it with you.”

“Not
all of us can call weapons out of thin air Hadleigh.”

“And
that’s why you should always be armed for bear Dec.  One of these days
your luck is going to run out.”  Scooting across the floorboards Hadleigh
for the first time took a good long look at the amount of damage her brother
had sustained.  Glancing up she met Serena’s accusing blue-purple
stare. 

For
Serena the last five minutes felt surreal.  Maat’s warriors had stormed in
to take charge, swapping silly banter and inane chit chat.  Hardly a one
of them expressing concern over Locke’s bloodied and hurt body… not even his
own sister.

“Problem
witch?”

“I
just thought your brother’s well-being deserved to be a little higher on your
list of priorities.”

“No
one’s better at healing than Nell.  What would my hovering over him and
wringing my hands achieve exactly?  Here.”  Hadleigh snatched the
scissors from Serena’s noticeably trembling hands. “Dec… grab a blanket from
somewhere she’s going into shock.”

“I’m
fine…”  Serena protested even as her teeth began to chatter. “Locke is the
one who needs help.  The poor man risked his life out there
tonight.”  Oh Earth, her eyes began to fill with tears.  The look of
horror that suddenly filled Hadleigh’s eyes caused her to choke out a laugh and
then hiccup, what was it about tears that scared big bad warriors more than
facing death?