The End of Darkness (16 page)

They looked as relieved as Magnus felt. Pope took in Erica, still clutched in Magnus's arms. “She's hurt?”

“Yeah.” There wasn't time for explanations. “Can you get us out of here?” He knew the bloke could teletransport. That would come in real handy about now.

“I can try. Anyplace in mind?”

“My motel room would be best.”

Pope touched the woman's arm, then put his other hand on Magnus's arm. “Picture the place clearly in your mind.”

He experienced an odd flickering feeling, the way the power comes on and off during a storm. 

Pope shook his hands, his frustration clear. “My abilities are still unreliable. We've been porting a lot since we got here. I tried going to you, but I was blocked by something on your end.”

“The cuffs. Never mind,” Magnus said at Pope's raised eyebrows. “Try again.”

Erica clung to him, digging her fingers into his shoulder. She was burning up, damp where their bodies touched. Pope put his hands on them and this time Magnus felt a 
whoosh
.
 
In the next instant, he was standing in his room, his duffel bag on the bed right where he'd left it. He shoved it to the floor and laid Erica down, then climbed up next to her and took her hand. She gripped his hard, which he hoped was a good sign.
 

Magnus scooted even closer to her, pressing his body against her side. “This is Erica Evrard.”

“Jerryl's sister,” Pope said.

The name churned his insides. “Yeah.” 

Pope moved closer, assessing her. “I've had a hard time keeping tabs on her. What happened? I do not see any injury.”

“She's got the same—” Magnus stopped, taking in the woman with him. “Talent as you,” he finished.

“Suza knows everything.” Pope gave her what seemed like an affectionate smile and then turned back to Erica. “She can Flare?”

“Yeah, though she calls it Lightning. Copeland, the guy who had us captive, said her body can't handle it because she's human.” Magnus lifted her sleeves to reveal the scars.

With the demeanor of a doctor, Pope pushed the sleeve higher, running his fingers along the lightning-like scars. Then he pulled down the shoulder of her shirt. Newer scars snaked across her skin, red and angry. “It's killing her, quite literally. When I use it, the power of the Flare goes through me, too. But yes, my body can tolerate it. The scars appear to be moving toward her heart, though of course I can't tell without disrobing her. Do you know?”

Hell, he'd slept with her and hadn't seen her naked. “No.”

Pope held his hand over her. “I used to be able to heal, but I wasn't able to heal your Darkness. Then again, I'm not sure that's even possible.”

“I appreciate everything you did. I may not have been in a state of mind to properly thank you after I woke up.”

“You had a lot to process.” Pope kept his gaze on his hand as he spoke, but he glanced at Magnus. “You are coping now?”

“As best as can be expected, considering I got kidnapped and was nearly killed by your people. And one with Darkness, too. He's not dead. Yet.”

“My people? Seems as though we're involved in the same problem. Now we can work in unison. But first we must get her on her feet again. Do you know how long she suffers like this?”

“We just met. I've never seen her use her power.” She killed killers. Magnus held that tidbit in, still amazed by it. 

Pope lowered his hand. “I'm not certain I did any good. Suza and I need to return to the Vegas area and get her truck before the others find it. I will 'port us there and try to 'port us back with the truck.”

“I heard you did that with my Beemer,” Magnus said, finding it hard to imagine.

“Yes, but I hadn't recently used my 'porting ability several times. I barely got us here. If we do not return right away, know we had to drive back. It took approximately an hour and a half to get there. That should give your Erica time to recover. I fear we're going to need all of us because we are facing something rather large.”

“And we don't have a lot of time.”

Pope seemed surprised that he knew that. “No, we do not.”

Suza came up to Pope and wrapped her long fingers over his arm. She was as far from the person Magnus would have paired with Pope as he could imagine, with her oversized silver jewelry and low-cut tank top edged with fringe. She had bare, dirty feet, and they both looked as though they'd done some tangling of their own. 

“We'll compare notes when you get back,” Magnus said. He gave them the highway directions back to the motel. 

Once again they flickered, which looked bizarre as hell. It took several tries before they disappeared. Nothing would surprise him anymore. Except for caring about this prickly woman he'd only just met. He gathered her in his arms. 

“Don't die on me, Erica,” he whispered next to her ear. “I want more chances to make you smile. And sigh.”

She tried to crack open her eyes, but they barely focused.

“What can I do?” he asked, holding her face in his hands. “How can I help?”

“Just l-leave me alone. I'll be all right.” She moved out of his grasp, curling up and facing away from him. That's what she said. Her thoughts were different.

Need comfort.
 

He spooned up behind her, mindful where he put his hands. “Not this time.”

Her body slowly relaxed, and her breathing evened out. Ten minutes later, she rolled over onto her back, and her eyes fluttered open. She seemed confused to find him hovering over her. 

“You're in my motel room,” he said. “You killed Copeland.”

She ran her hands over her arms. “You were fighting Nester.”

“He got away. He heard someone coming down the tunnel and took off. Even though he must have figured they were his people, he probably didn't want to have to explain himself. And us.”

She looked around, stunned. “More of them came? Are you sure we're not dead?”

He chuckled. “Aye. I sure hope Heaven isn't a cheap motel room.”

“But how…”

“The people who were coming down the tunnel are on our side.” He let that sink in for a moment, enjoying her dumbstruck face. “I don't know the whole story, and since they're not back yet, I'll wager we won't hear it for another hour and a half. The DNA in us that makes us part Callorian came from Pope's father. Pope is an outlaw as far as his people are concerned, but he's been an ally to those who carry his DNA. He and a lady I've never seen before are here doing the same thing we are: trying to stop this explosion. They went to get her truck, and then they'll be back.” 

Her shirt was still askew over her shoulder, and Magnus brushed his finger over her scarred skin. “He says you can't keep using your ability, which you likely inherited from him. Your body can't handle it. It'll kill you.”

She pulled her shirt up, dislodging his fingers. “I know. It gets worse every time.”

“You've been doing this 
knowing
 it's killing you?”
 

She met his eyes, hers filled with both shadow and the light of having purpose. “It's all I have.” She looked at the bathroom door, which was ajar. “I need to get a shower.” 

“Are you sure you're okay to do that?”

She rammed her fingers through her mussed hair. “I feel gritty and dirty, so even if I have to crawl in, I'll do it.”

“I'm in there right behind you.” At her startled look, he added, “After you're done and out of there.” 

He stayed close in case she got dizzy. She was weak, her hand brushing the wall and then holding the door frame, but she didn't wobble. She closed the door and turned on the water. He leaned against the door, listening to make sure she was all right. 

A few minutes later, she emerged, wrapped in a towel. “I feel loads better. If only I had clean clothes.”

He dug in his duffel bag. “I just threw in some stuff, having no idea how long I'd be away. Here.” He handed her a T-shirt, only belatedly realizing what it said on the front. 

She raised an eyebrow at the rather suggestive drawing of two drumsticks and the words, 
DRUMMERS KNOW HOW TO STICK IT TO YOU
.
 

He shrugged. “It's just for banging around. I've got another one—”

“It's fine.”

“Can't help you in the pants department.”

“This is good. Having a clean shirt was the most important thing. Go ahead and get your shower.” She raised an eyebrow. “Should I hang out by the door to make sure you're all right, too?”

He started to open his mouth but realized she'd not only noticed but realized why he'd done it. He shrugged. “It's just the way I am.”

“I know.” There was that smile he wanted to see, even though it was hesitant. Their eyes locked, and his chest tightened. Why did he fall for dangerous, haunted women?

Hell, had he thought that, that he'd fallen for her?

CHAPTER 15

As soon as the shower started, Erica slipped into the long T-shirt. It was dark blue, so she skipped the bra. The fabric was soft against her skin, and it was freeing to stay in just the shirt, even if only for a short time. 

She searched the room. Was Magnus being serious about them just popping in? After what she'd seen, she would put no amount of weirdness past reality. 

Some of that weirdness was how she was watching the bathroom door waiting—no, anticipating—him coming out. In the short time she'd known Magnus he'd been flirty, sexy, scary, determined, and protective. He would have been better off leaving with Lanna and saving his own ass. 

It's just the way I am.

Her breath hitched, but she pushed those wayward thoughts from the edge of her mind. She wandered to the mirror and flicked on the light. She could hear the water hitting Magnus's body, so he was still busy in there. She stripped off the shirt and studied her reflection. Something in her eyes looked different, a light she had never seen before. 

She forced her gaze to her upper body. The new scars were red and burned, and they now covered her shoulders. Before today, they had come up to her biceps. Before today, she'd been all right with dying. But now the reality stared her in the face: the electrical shocks were growing closer to her heart, the same way an infection moved through the veins.

She was so immersed in her thoughts she hadn't been paying attention to the sounds of the shower. Or lack of them. The door snapped open, and Magnus stepped out—and halted.

She wasn't sure if it was the sight of her naked body or the scars that put the stunned look on his face. She held the shirt to her chest. Her mouth opened but nothing came out but a strange squeak. He looked gorgeous, his waist wrapped in a flimsy towel with a slit up the side that showed his muscular thigh. He was holding the towel together with his fingers. 

“You alright?” he asked, coming closer.

She turned away, unsure how to accept the concern she heard in his voice. Nobody had cared about her in a long time. But he had. She'd woke to find his body wrapped around hers. 

Her gaze found his in the reflection. “I was checking the scars.”

He came up behind her, running his fingers so lightly over the red scars she felt the barest tickle. “These are new?” he asked. When she nodded, he said, “The effects are getting worse, aren't they?” His fear over that echoed in his voice, his eyes. “You can't use it again.”

“What choice do I have, if one of them is about to annihilate me? Or you?”

His fingers remained on her skin. “I can take care of myself. Just now, I thought you were dying. It was an awful feeling, not being able to do anything but wait.”

Yes, he cared about her. She could see it, hear it, and feel it right to the core of her soul. He hardly knew her, and what he did know couldn't be appealing. 

“I'm all right.” 
This time.
 

He slowly traced his fingers down the center of her back, gauging her reaction. She shivered as she realized she was naked. He stopped short of going down to her behind, trailing up the indent of her spine and rubbing the back of her neck. He still held his towel together with his other hand. 

“You said my name when you were seducing Lanna,” she said, her voice thick. 

“Because 
you
 were touching me.”
 

“Not me. Lanna.” But she had given away that it was mostly her by signaling him.

His mouth curved into a slight smile. “No, you. I saw 
you
 in there, and that's what I focused on. Too much, apparently. I almost blew it.”
 

He gently worked the tight muscles at her neck, and she had to keep from leaning back against him. “Why didn't you say Jessie's name? She's the one in your cells.”

“She's not in my cells so much anymore.”

Erica wanted to keep Jessie between them, like when they'd had sex and his uttering her name kept her from feeling more than she should have. “Tell me about her. Two men were fighting over her?”

He kept up the languid movements, never taking his gaze from hers in the reflection. “I stretched the truth because I didn't want them knowing about Jessie. She's part Callorian too. Her uncle was hunting her down. He became a black beast, and I tried to fight him. He killed me.”

Her eyes widened at that. “Then how…”

“She healed me. But she Holds Darkness, inherited it from her father. To heal me, she had to send it into me. I think that’s why she was in my cells. It's the only explanation for my preoccupation with her.”

“So, have you always been a good liar?”

“When I have to be. I won't lie to you. Ask me anything.” A challenge.

“What you told Lanna about not being able to love a woman, that you'd never been in love.”

He trailed his hand down her back again, spreading his fingers to cover more area. “That was true. I've been infatuated, I guess you'd call it, but never in love. I was twenty before I was able to go out in the world. I had this idea that I needed to make up for lost time, if you know what I mean. After a while, I started wanting more. But now I can't love a woman because of Darkness. I felt possessive over Jessie, and she was never mine. Hell, we never even kissed.”