Broken: Hidden Book Two (15 page)

We stayed a while longer, and I asked the shifter to call me if they needed anything at all. He thanked me for coming, and I felt like shit. I had done nothing for them. Nothing. These were my people, in my city, suffering, and I couldn’t do a damn thing for them.

Ada and I drove home in silence. When we got there, she went to her room, saying she needed to meditate.

I want up to Brennan’s room, stayed by his side through the rest of that day, into the night. The following day, I canceled appointments, sent Ada and Stone out on patrol, called in favors from those who owed me for help I’d given them. The city could survive without me for a little while. I was not leaving him.

He was mostly delirious. Fear gripped me, wouldn’t let go. The fever just rose, and I constantly put cold cloths on his forehead, behind his neck. I made him drink when he did manage to wake up. I cursed the fact that here I was, a god, basically, and there was nothing I could do for him.

I stretched out on the bed, held him whenever I wasn’t fruitlessly applying cold cloths to his head. He woke up, briefly, around midnight, slate blue eyes opening and finding me next to him.

“Molly,” he said hoarsely.

“Hey,” I said, running my hand over his forehead, through his hair. “I’m here.”

“You’re here,” he murmured. “I love you.”

I rested my forehead against his shoulder. I bit my lip against the sobs that wanted to escape. “You too,” I whispered. He was already out again, and I stayed, holding him. After a while, I got up, wetted another cloth, pressed it to his burning forehead. I went to pull the sheets up to his throat again, and realized they were damp.

He’d soaked through them with his sweat. I pulled the old ones off to replace them with new, dry ones, and glanced at his bare chest. It rose and fell shallowly. I could hear each rattling breath he took. The long scar he’d gotten as a teenager stood, stark and painful looking on his now-pale skin. I stared when I noticed a tattoo. He hadn’t had that before, but it had been months since I’d seen him without a shirt. On his chest, over his heart, an “M” in black; sharp thorns poking from the curves in the letter. “Brennan,” I whispered, as I wiped my stupid, teary eyes.

I also noticed that he was starting to break out in oozing sores. I fought against the panic rising inside me. I washed them, rubbed them with antibiotic cream, and covered them with gauze, knowing it was pointless.

I covered him up after glancing at the tattoo again. I wondered when he’d gotten it. Wondered if he regretted it. I laid down next to him again, and held him, and willed him to be better. Heat just radiated from him, almost too hot for me to be comfortable near him. I stayed anyway.

I dozed off, until I felt power in the room, and saw Eunomia swoop in, black wings extended, and land at the foot of Brennan’s bed.

Chapter Twelve

I lost my mind.

“You are not taking him!” I screeched, launching myself at her and knocking her to the floor. I barely registered the look of shock on her face as we tumbled to the ground.

She struggled against me as I wrestled her down, held her there.

“Would you get a grip demon girl? What the Nether has gotten into you?” she asked.

“You can’t take him. I won’t let you,” I said, and I felt my face crumple and sobs wracked my body. “You can’t.”

“I am not here to take him from you,” Eunomia whispered. “My friend. I swear it. I am not taking him.”

“Promise me. I can’t lose him,” I whispered.

“I promise. I promise,” she said, soothing me even as I pinned her to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I said, climbing off of her and wiping at my tears. I helped her up, and she stood next to me, watching Brennan.

“Three shifters died yesterday,” I said, trying to explain my reaction.

“And four more last night. We just collected the last. That was why I came to check on you.” She continued to look at Brennan. “May I?” she asked. “I just want to feel him. I am not taking him,” she reassured me again. “It is not his time. Not just yet, anyway.”

I nodded, watching her like a hawk. She went to Brennan’s bedside, put her hand on his forehead, his chest. She closed her eyes, and grimaced.

“Come. See if you can feel what I feel,” she said. ”Put your hand on his chest, and focus.”

I closed my eyes, splayed my fingers over Brennan’s chest. At first, I felt nothing. And then, I felt something familiar, something dark, something otherworldly. Blackness, vileness.

“What the hell is that?” I asked her, opening my eyes, keeping my hand on Brennan’s chest.

“You feel it then? This is something that should not be,” Eunomia said, watching Brennan with concern.

“What is it, E?”

“This is from my realm. Our realm.”

“Something from the Nether caused this? Oh, god,” I said, staring. “Did I cause this, somehow?”

“Not you. No. But something from our realm targeted your local shifters.” She watched me. “I felt the same with the others.”

“It’s not a coincidence,” I muttered.

“Especially considering that your beloved and closest confidant is a shifter, I’d say no,” Eunomia said.

I grimaced a little at the “beloved” comment. Was I really so obvious? “Who could have done this?”

“There are beings. The Nosoi. Gods of sickness and pestilence. They do this type of thing, if the price is right.”

“They are of the Nether?”

She nodded.

“You are going to take me to them,” I said.

She shook her head. “It is unwise. We will tell your mother, and she will–”

“E. One of them probably knows who is targeting me. You are going to take me to them.”

“And what about him?” Eunomia said, pointing at him. “Going to the Nosoi is not going to help him!”

“Damn it,” I growled. I needed to hit something so badly I was about to burst.

Eunomia sighed. “I am not supposed to do this.” Then, “have you tried your blood?”

“What?”

“Your blood, demon girl. It heals.”

“My blood heals?”

“You are a god. Of course your blood heals,” she said. ”So much you do not know about yourself,” she murmured, walking over to Brennan and pulling the gauze off of his sores. “There. Open wounds. Apply your blood to them.”

I stared at her, and she gestured impatiently for me to do it. I took the small knife out of my pocket, sliced my wrist, and rubbed my blood over his wounds. I watched, and hoped, and within seconds, the sores started to close. I tried not to cry.

“It worked.”

“Of course.”

“He’s still sick, though,” I said.

“Yes. Your blood won’t heal this thing inside of him. It will heal the surface wounds, which seem to eventually lead to further infection, and then the shifters die from that even if whatever is inside doesn’t kill them first. You can keep him alive longer.”

“But we need to get rid of this.”

“Yes. This was caused by gods. It will take another god to fix it.”

“Who? Can you bring someone?”

“I cannot. But you should be able to summon some help.”

“How?”

She watched me. “It’s time to start listening to yourself, Fury. Be still. Instinct will take over. Trust yourself, and do what needs to be done.” And with that, she blinked out of sight.

“Thanks. That was a huge fucking help, E,” I muttered.

I sat on the bed next to Brennan’s sleeping form, and I took his hand in mine (suddenly finding it impossible to stop touching him) and I closed my eyes. I tried to clear my mind, tried to listen, as Eunomia had said, even though I had no idea what I was listening for.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, a name came to me: Asclepias.

I thought his name, over and over, a litany that I hoped would save Brennan and the other shifters affected.

After a while, words came to me, ancient and previously unknown to me. They felt right, and I murmured them:

Hear me, Asclepias,

God of healing,

he who protects the ill

and blesses the healers.

Hear me, Asclepias,

Heed my call,

Heal my loved ones,

Right the wrongs,

Help me turn the tides.

Hear me, Asclepias…

I whispered it until my mouth was dry, until I felt like I’d used every bit of energy within me, until my soul was raw, and I had no idea if it did a damn thing.

I stayed at Brennan’s side. Watched him breathe, more and more raggedly. Watched him sweat, heard him moan in pain. I checked his body for sores, healed them as they appeared. The entire time, I thought Asclepias’ name.

I settled myself next to him, wrapped my arm around him, watched Brennan as if watching was enough to keep anything else from harming him. He thrashed a bit as he dreamed and the pain and delirium only made it worse.

“I am not letting you go, Brennan,” I whispered. “I will chase you through the fucking Nether if I have to, and I will drag your ass back here and we will figure out what this is between us. But I am not letting you go.”

I continued to hold him, and heal his sores when they appeared. I was arranging his blankets around him again, when it suddenly felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Power roared over me, so strong it made my stomach turn, made me shiver uncontrollably.

I turned, keeping my body between Brennan and whatever this was now.

The being before me stood around seven feet tall. Skin that absorbed the meager light in the room. His eyes glowed white, like mine, and huge, black feathered wings sprouted from his muscular back. He wore a long black robe. His face was both frightening, due to the intensity of his gaze, and achingly beautiful. He watched me.

“Hello, little Fury,” he said in a voice older than time itself. I could barely breathe.

I bowed. “You are not Asclepias,” I said softly, feeling my power respond to him, welcome him.

“Rise, Fury. You bow to no one.”

I rose, and I watched him.

“I am not Asclepias. I am known by many names. I am Hel, and Lucifer, and Osiris. I am Pluto, Mictlantecuhtli, San La Muerte. Some simply refer to me as the Devil Himself. I prefer Hades.”

I stared. “Oh, shit.” It left my lips before I even thought, and I clamped my hands, horrified, over my mouth.

Hades laughed, and the building shook. He stopped, looked around. “Your mortal dwellings are not made for me,” he said.

I just stared some more, hands still clamped over my mouth. He watched me. “So, little Fury. Mollis. Your mother has told me about you. It is a pleasure to meet one of my own.”

I nodded, still unable to speak, though I did drop my hands back down to my sides.

“I heard your call. Asceplias is unlikely to hear your summons in time. Those of the Aether don’t live with the immediacy those of us from the Nether do.” He looked around me toward Brennan. “The Furies are in pursuit of the Nosoi now. This will be avenged.”

I watched him. “Can you fix him?”

He studied me. “You know that the dead are my domain. The Nether. Healing is of no interest to me.” My stomach sank. “However, you are a Fury, and valuable, and I am the Devil Himself, after all.”

“So,” he said, smiling at me, “shall we make a deal?”

I nodded.

“You will work for me, as your mother and aunts do, as a Fury. You will be present when I meet with other gods. In exchange, I will have Asclepias come here and heal him, as well as any others affected by the Nosoi and their nonsense.”

I studied him. “May I ask a question?”

He nodded.

“Did you do all of this? Did you send the demon after me last year? Are they breaking through because of you? Did you put the Nosoi up to this?”

He smiled. “My dear, do you think I’d have to play games if I decided I wanted you?”

I dropped my gaze. “But making a deal is not beneath you?”

He laughed. “I enjoy making deals.”

“Do you know who has been after me?”

I felt irritation, frustration from him. “I do not, little Fury. Your mother has filled me in, and it angers me greatly that someone in my realm is involved. We will find out who is playing these dangerous games.”

I nodded, looked back up at him. “You could have just forced me to come and work for you, couldn’t you?”

“Yes. I could have tried.” He sat in the chair next to Brennan’s bed, looked at him for a moment. “I have watched gods, humans, and other creatures for eons. Do you know what I love best about them?”

I shook my head.

“Their ability to choose. When you see which choices, which decisions, a being makes, you see what is truly meaningful to them. They may say many things, but the choices they make let you see their souls.”

“And what do you see in me?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I see that you will go to any means to protect those you care about. And that you care about many. I see that there is nothing you would not sacrifice to keep those you love, especially this shifter, safe.”

“So you want me to take my official role as a Fury. And you want me to be present when  you meet with other gods,” I said, looking up at him. “Are we making a point?”

A smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “Possibly. What point do you think we make?”