Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

RELIC

Brick opened the door to the truck, and I climbed out, holding an unconscious Fern against me.

He jogged ahead to the clubhouse to open the door for us, and I strode through, Fern still limp in my arms. They’d pulled out all her fucking teeth; they’d cut her open. Fuck knew what else. Fear and burning rage pumped hotly through my veins, making me shake.

Lothar and Jag had stayed behind to search the rest of the building, but I already knew they wouldn’t find whoever it was who’d hurt my Fern. They’d stood back while we slaughtered their little army of freaks. We were dealing with a twisted coward who’d run while they had the chance.

I held Tinker Bell close to me, reassuring myself that she was okay with the sound of her heart beating. I pressed my lips to her forehead. Her skin was too fucking hot though. Demons didn’t get sick, not like this. Demons who fed on blood could suffer from weakness and wasting if they’d been starved, but not whatever the fuck this was, and definitely not a fever. Yeah, she had witch blood, but the demon DNA in her was strong, predominant—I could feel it. This should be impossible.

Holding her to me tight with one arm, I let us into my den and closed us in together.

I stared down at her. Fuck, I didn’t want to put her down, but I needed to clean the blood and gore off her because the stench of those creatures all over her had my body poised to shift. Striding to the bathroom, I turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up.

“Need to clean this shit off you, Tink,” I said, even though she was still unconscious. I tried not to freak the fuck out about that, but it wasn’t easy.

Fern was immortal; she should start healing. She should already be showing signs of improvement, but I didn’t see it, not yet. If Fern didn’t wake soon, I was calling in a healer.

Repositioning Fern’s limp body, I let the blanket fall and lifted my leather vest off her. Blood was smeared all over her naked body, and I searched her for further injury. Shifting her in my arms, I hissed when I saw a sigil carved into her stomach beside the new fucking scar, long and jagged. Forcing myself to take a breath, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and took a picture of the sigil. It could help us find the fucker who had done this to her, and I needed all the help I could get.

It took some doing, but I kicked off my boots and managed to get my jeans off with one hand, before stepping into the shower. Fern whimpered and rolled into me, trying to avoid the spray, but she still didn’t wake, didn’t open her eyes.

“It’s okay, baby. Just gonna clean you up.” I talked to her anyway because it soothed the beast, and I hoped like fuck that it soothed Fern as well.

I lathered her up with soap, gently cleaning the blood off with a washcloth. It was too late for the scar below her ribs. I could smell salt. That fucker had rubbed it into the slice. There was no getting rid of it now, but the sigil looked fresh, raw, no salt. That one, at least, I could do something about, and I wanted it gone right the fuck now. Yanking a towel from the rail, I slid to the shower floor, and balling it under her head, I lay her down.

“Gonna make it better, baby,” I rasped.

Then I proceeded to lick those slices in her skin as gently as I could, cleaning them thoroughly and letting my saliva start the healing process since hers hadn’t kicked in yet for some fucking reason, and mine was faster and more potent.

That twisted fuck had done this. He’d tied her down and carved into her with a knife. When she woke, I didn’t want her to be forced to see it.

The skin started puckering around the edges of the wound almost immediately, which meant the healing had begun. I finally felt like I could breathe.

I stayed on the floor, pulling her between my legs so her head was against my chest, and washed her hair.

She whimpered again as I wrung out the last of the shampoo.

“All done, sweetness.”

Scooping her back up, I stood and switched off the water. Quickly drying her, I carried her out and forced myself to lay her on the bed. The beast snarled the whole time I wasn’t touching her, but with her on the bed, I could see every single scar on her body and all the obvious new ones. Like the rest on her body, they’d been done on purpose. He’d used salt and magic. He’d wanted to scar her body.

I dragged in a breath and another, trying to keep my shit together. She’d been through four days of torture—and fucking years of it before that. It was never happening again. After the way I’d let her down, she wouldn’t believe it—I doubted she’d ever trust me after this—but I would prove it to her. No matter how long it took.

I carefully pulled one of my shirts over her head, sliding her arms in the sleeves, and the beast quieted a little. Drying off, I put on some boxer briefs and got under the covers with her. Then I pulled her against me, and with her fevered cheek against my chest, I braided her damp hair so it was out of the way.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Relic?” War called.

“It’s not locked.”

The door eased open, and my alpha filled the frame.

“Brick said you were back. How is she?”

“They pulled out her teeth, War. They fucking sliced her open.” I pressed the back of my hand to her cheek. “She’s sick, feverish, unconscious. This isn’t fucking normal for a demon.” I looked back down at her. “Must be the witch in her causing this. She got both demon and witch blood from her mother’s side, but her demon blood’s stronger.” I glanced up at him. “Her father was a soul collector, and her mother was a Burnside.”

War’s head jerked up. Everyone knew who Agatheena Burnside was.

Fern whimpered again, and helplessness filled me.

“I don’t know what the fuck to do. She should be awake, starting to heal by now.”

His gaze slid to Fern, then back to me before he took his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. A few seconds later, Magnolia’s voice came over the speaker.

“We’ve got a situation and need some advice,” War said.

Magnolia was family—his sister-in-law—and a gifted healer.

“What’s going on? You need me to come to the clubhouse?” she asked, instantly ready to help.

“Maybe,” War said. “We’ve got a demon, blood drinker. She’s got a little witch DNA in there as well. She’s got a fever and is currently unconscious. You got any ideas?”

“So, her demon blood is dominant?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “She’s immortal—or she should be—but whatever is going on, it’s making her really fucking sick.”

“I mean, that’s not normal. If they’re predominantly demon, their own healing abilities should kick in. Where’s she been? Who’s she had contact with the last couple days?”

“She was held prisoner. We don’t know what happened to her, only that it was not fucking good,” War growled out.

Mags cursed.

“Gonna send you a pic, Mags.” I texted her the sigil from Fern’s stomach.

“Got it.” She cursed again. “This wouldn’t be making her sick, but this is a powerful sigil, a kind of ward. It’s not one I’ve used before because this one’s been personalized, corrupted to work specifically for the witch who carved it into her skin.”

War’s gaze sliced to me. “Witch?”

“Oh, yeah. Whoever did this is definitely a witch. This would make her invisible, not trackable.” She was quiet for a beat. “This changes things though. It could be magic making her sick, or it could be something else this twisted fuck has done. There’s one sure way to find out though. Feed her. She needs blood, and plenty of it. If it’s magic alone, she won’t recover. If it’s something else? Well, hound blood should do the trick and heal her within a few days.”

“And if it is magic?”

“Then you’ll need a witch who can break that kind of spell, and unfortunately, that’s not my specialty.”

“You know anyone who could do it?” I asked.

“I do actually. I’ll text you her number,” Mags said.

“Thanks, Mags. Appreciate it,” I said.

War disconnected and turned to me. “Feed her, brother; make her drink. Get her to feed as much as you can.” He planted his hands on his hips. “She’s going to be okay, Relic. Whatever this is, we’ll make sure she gets better.” He looked back at Fern, and his jaw tightened.

I looked back down at her, my gut in knots. Physically maybe. But fuck knew how she would recover from the horror show I’d found her in.

War left, and my phone chimed a minute later. Mags had texted with a name and number.

I wrapped my arms around my female, listening to her slow, even breaths. Then I closed my eyes and prayed to Lucifer. Because the king of Hell seriously fucking owed me.

* * *

“You need to drink, baby,” I said, holding her mouth to my throat.

Fern nuzzled my skin; her body racked with shivers, her skin clammy. She’d been like this all night. I’d fed her twice, it was all she’d been able to manage, and still, she hadn’t woken up. Grabbing my blade, I nicked my wrist and lifted it to her mouth to encourage her to drink. She groaned in pain and writhed against the mattress, too weak to drink.

Fuck .

I would not fucking lose her, which was why I wasn’t going to wait a moment fucking longer. She should already be showing signs of improvement, but she was only getting worse. So, I’d sent Jagger to get the witch who could hopefully fucking help.

Still, my blood had to be doing something. How much sicker would she be without it?

Slicing deeper so blood flowed freely, I pressed my wrist to her mouth again, and this time, she latched on. She was sucking, but it was weaker now, and blood slid from the side of her mouth and dripped down her chin. I wasn’t sure how much she was even getting. She gave my vein one more feeble suck, but her mouth slipped away, her head rolling back. She was panting hard, and her skin was clammy, switching between molten hot and ice cold.

Tucking the covers around her, I got off the bed and paced the room, unable to keep still, feeling fucking useless, helpless.

I finally heard Jagger and the healer coming, and yanked the door open.

The female with Jag wore a long yellow raincoat covered in white daisies. Her fingers were covered in colorful rings, and she had a bunch of shit hanging around her neck. Her hair was honey-blond—some wavy, some straight. There were feathers and beads threaded among it. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with fear or rage—I wasn’t sure which.

She curled her fingers into fists. “I-I don’t know who you … f-fuckers think you are,” she stuttered out. “But I don’t take kindly to being dragged from my home without explanation for whatever the fuck … this is.”

My chin jerked back, and I looked at Jag. His eyes were glowing, locked on the witch, his jaw like steel.

“Jag didn’t explain?” I could smell her fear, and I got the feeling, especially with all the stuttering and wide eyes, that this bravado was out of character. If we weren’t careful, she’d run and leave without helping Fern.

His gaze finally came to me. “I would have happily explained if she’d let me get a fucking word in.”

The witch hissed and reached for a knife at her hip.

Jag grabbed her trembling hand and shook his head. “That would be a really fucking dumb idea, female.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think is a good idea.”

“Magnolia Thornheart gave us your details,” I said quickly, and she stopped trying to stab Jag and turned back to me. “She said you might be able to help my mate.”

The fear instantly receded.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” she fired at Jag.

“Again, I didn’t get a fucking chance with all your screeching.”

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. “You kidnapped me off the street!”

“You didn’t give me any other choice.”

She snapped her mouth closed, her eyes filled with fury, but instead of biting back, she strode past him and into my quarters. She sucked in a breath when she saw Fern.

“Mags said you could—”

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered as she rushed to the bed, climbing up beside Fern.

Cursing under her breath, she pressed a finger to Fern’s lower lip, exposing her raw gums. Then she carefully pulled back the covers. Fern was still in my shirt, and I hissed when she lifted the sleeves, revealing the new scars there.

“Tell me what condition you found her in.”

“Do you know who did this?”

“How did you find her?” she barked.

“Strapped to a gurney naked, in a room full of fucked-up creatures I’d never seen before.”

She placed her hand on Fern’s chest, and a tear streaked down her face as she nodded, as if someone had said something to her.

“He hurt her,” the witch whispered, her voice breaking. “So many times, in so many ways. He healed her but made sure she’d scarred, then did it again and again. His magical imprint is all over her. How long did he have her?”

“Four days.”

She shook her head. “The first time?”

This witch had to have the gift of sight or something like it.

“I don’t know. But I think she was very young. I think he got to her after her mother was murdered.” I wanted to roar at the thought of someone hurting her, of someone hurting my precious female, of taking pleasure from it.

She nodded, and more tears fell as she hovered her hand above Fern, moving it over her, jerking when she reached the long scar below her ribs. “Her liver. He removed it.”

My lips curled back in a snarl. He cut her fucking liver out?

I didn’t know what the fuck to do with myself, what to do with all the rage inside me.

I watched as she carried on, jerking back more forcefully when she reached her hips.

“A virus. He infected her with some kind of virus, but it’s all tangled up with magic, a twisted kind, with barbs and hooks. It’s sunk in deep and taken hold of her, but she’s trying to fight it. She’s fighting so hard.”

“Can you help her?” Jagger asked.

She didn’t look away from Fern. “I think so.”

I tightened my fists. “And if you can’t?”

“If I can’t, she’s in serious trouble.” She finally looked up, her eyes meeting mine. “If this doesn’t work, then you might need to prepare yourself.”

Like fuck. I wasn’t losing her.

“When can you start?”

“I need some things from my place, and then I’ll begin.” She climbed off the bed, strode up to Jag, and tilted her head back but didn’t meet his gaze. “Let’s go then, Prince Charming.”

Jag’s eyes flicked between moss green and gold. Jaw tight, he motioned for her to lead the way.

* * *

When the witch—Sutton—returned, she’d brought a large purple polka dot bag with her. She stood by the bed now and placed a wooden box on the bed at Fern’s feet. Taking a small clay pot from her bag, she added several oils that had a strong smell, followed by herbs and some other things I couldn’t identify, before using a stone pestle to mix everything into a paste while she whispered a spell.

Finally, she looked up at me. “Whatever happens, you can’t get in my way or try to stop me. If you think you’ll have trouble doing that, then you need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“Then, I suggest you get your brother back in here, just in case.”

“Jagger’s not seeing my female naked,” I snarled.

“Have him turn his back because this isn’t happening without him in here as well.”

Cursing, I quickly texted Jag, and he replied instantly. He was on his way.

Fern cried out, writhing, panting, flushed, and coated in sweat.

“It’s gonna be okay, Fern,” Sutton said, brushing her hair back. “I won’t leave you like this. I’ll take that monster’s poison from you; I’ll take it all away.”

“You know who did this? Did you see something? A vision?” I said, already struggling to hold myself back, and she hadn’t even started. She had the sight, she might be able to help.

“I couldn’t see him, but I’ve heard whispers about a witch, and then two of my friends went missing.” Fury lit her eyes, and they flashed red.

Sutton wasn’t only a witch.

“You know for sure it was the same witch who took them?”

She looked up, those red eyes swirling with black as well now. “We found their mutilated bodies. The magic signature was the same as what I feel coming off Fern.”

“Coming in,” Jag called through the door.

Sutton quickly covered Fern before he walked in.

“Where did you find them?”

“An old boarding house.” Her eyes narrowed. “You already knew that though, didn’t you? You and your brothers found them first.”

The building we’d tracked Faron to. Her friends had been among the dead there.

“We did,” I said, not wanting to lie.

Her hands shook. “And when did you plan on telling the witches council? When were you planning on letting the families, the covens, know about their missing loved ones?”

“It wasn’t that simple,” Jagger said. “There are other things at play here, things we’re trying to figure out, and it looks like whatever happened to Fern is somehow connected.”

Her eyes were a swirl of red and black again, and the veins in her throat darkened until they turned black as well. “They were my people; you had no right—”

“We were going to find the families,” I said, trying to keep things calm. I needed her to help Fern—that was all that mattered. “We wouldn’t have just left them there.”

The black veins spread to her jaw. “I despise arrogant males like you. You think whatever you have going on is so gods-damn important. All you care about is yourselves. They were my family, and you left them in a steel bin to rot.”

“Like Relic said, we planned to tell the families.”

She shook her head in disgust, her hands trembling. “Sure you were.”

Jag’s eyes narrowed, traveling over her like he was searching for something. “You’re not just a witch. How does your coven feel about you having demon blood?” he finally asked un-fucking-helpfully.

Her red-and-black gaze sliced back to him. “The coven I was born into didn’t like it much at all. Which was why I found one that wasn’t filled with bigoted assholes. Every witch in my new family has been rejected because of their mixed blood or weird powers”—she smiled, but it was more a baring of teeth—“or because they could physically transform in ways that were considered unattractive . Coven Ashborne is a family by choice, made up of people who don’t judge others for those things, who embrace and love each other for their differences. That is why losing two of my sisters and then finding out what had happened to them the way that we did when you and your brothers could have said something puts you and your pack in the number one spot on my most hated list.”

“Terrifying,” Jagger said—again un-fucking-helpfully.

He knew loss. We’d lost brothers, but his lack of emotion made it impossible for him to truly understand her pain, and until Fern, I was exactly the same, but he needed to shut the fuck up.

I snarled at him and turned to Sutton. “Please say you’ll still help Fern.”

“You think I’d leave her like this? That I’d let her suffer because you and your brothers were selfish assholes? Nice opinion you have of me.” She shook her head. “I would never leave anyone to suffer like this, especially not her. Fern is one of us. She belongs with us—”

“She’s mine,” I growled out. “And she belongs with me.”

“Well, that’ll be up to her when she wakes up.” She curled her fingers around Fern’s. “I get the feeling she’s never had a place where she felt she belonged.” She looked up again. “She’ll always have a place with us.”

Fern arched against the bed, panting and hissing as welts lifted on her arms.

I surged forward.

“Stay the hell back,” Sutton bit out. “I need to get to work, and I need to start now.”

Her gaze went to Jag. “If he tries to get closer when this starts, you’d better make yourself useful and stop him.”

Jagger nodded, and stepped in front of me, turning his back to Sutton and Fern.

As soon as he did, the witch slid the blanket off my Tinker Bell. There were more welts on her body now—her stomach and thighs.

“Let’s make you feel better, sister,” Sutton rasped. “It’s going to hurt at first, and I’m so sorry about that.”

My heart pounded in my ears. The thought of her suffering any more pain had the beast trying to break free and forced a growl from my chest.

“Easy,” Jag said. “Lock it down, brother. Let Sutton do her job. Let her help your female.”

I nodded, but every muscle in my body was rock-solid, and I was barely holding the beast back. There was no way I was leaving this room though, not a fucking chance, and Jagger knew it as well.

Sutton slipped off her jacket and draped it over the couch. A tiny bat, clung to the front of her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Boo,” she said, carefully removed it and putting it inside her jacket. “You stay in there. We’ll be done soon.”

She turned back, and the smile left her face, her expression shifting to one of determination. She rolled up her sleeves, then tied her wild blond hair back into a messy bun. Her eyes closed, and she rubbed her hands together as she muttered words—a spell. The veins in her throat turned black again, but this time, it traveled higher—over her jaw, her cheeks, the darkness pooling below her eyes. When she finally opened them, the whites were stained black as well.

Emotions bombarded me—sensations that were still so new. The biggest was fear that I’d lose Fern. I wanted to shove Sutton away. I didn’t know her, and I didn’t trust her, but she was all we had. I kept reminding myself that Magnolia wouldn’t send anyone here unless she trusted them.

Sutton climbed onto the bed beside Fern, staring down at her with those black eyes and bright red irises, and a magical wind whipped around the witch as she picked up the small pot containing the potion she’d just mixed. Dipping her finger into it, she whispered, repeating her spell, not even stopping when she inhaled, so the words were an unbroken loop of magic.

One by one, Sutton smeared her potion on every single scar on Fern’s skin, and with every application, Fern’s cries grew louder, more agonized.

“You’re hurting her,” I snarled.

Sutton ignored me and continued spelling, applying her potion while Fern screamed in pain.

The beast roared. My mate was in pain. She needed me.

“Brick!” Jagger yelled.

The young hound burst through the door, and froze, his gaze locked on the bed. I turned to him and roared again, so loud that he took a step back before he quickly averted his eyes. Jagger barked another order at him, but I didn’t hear it because all rational thought had left me. The more my Tink screamed, the more the beast shoved at my control.

My face changed, my fangs elongated, and my claws burst from the ends of my fingers. I was about to shift, and there was no stopping it. Red rage filled my eyes.

Someone shoved me back—hard.

Warrick. He stood in front of me.

Our alpha held me against the wall, his beast’s eyes locking with mine. “Stand down,” he barked. “You do not fucking shift, understand?”

I snarled, but I had no choice but to listen to War’s order and the dominance of his beast pulling me back from the edge. I panted, hissing through my teeth as Fern continued to scream and thrash.

Sutton was straddling her, holding her down as she smeared on more of her potion. “Charming, I need you over here to hold her down.”

Jagger cursed but did as she said, and I lost it all over again.

“Let him help,” War barked. “He’s not trying to take your female from you. You know that, brother. Let him help her.”

I knew it. Rationally, I knew it, but the animal in me did not. What I wanted to do and what my alpha commanded were two different things, and it was as if I were being torn down the fucking middle.

Fern cried out again, and this time, power rolled through the room, so strong that it slammed me back against the wall.

Then she opened her mouth and released an agonized scream.