“You’re a very brave boy,” I say to Mason as I adjust my hold on his arm, using my werewolf-tight grip as a tourniquet. “If you keep this up, I’ll need to find you a lollipop.”
“Fuck off,” he says, but there’s no rancor in it, and I can tell I’ve guessed right—he appreciates flippancy more than sympathy.
He’s in agony right now, blue eyes nearly black with pain, teeth gritted, sweat running down his broad face. The fact he’s not rolling on the ground— or sinking into shock—tells me the tough guy act isn’t entirely an act. It’s a wall, too, though, one that keeps everyone else firmly on the other side and lets him hide behind it, while pretending he’s not hiding at all. I know that feeling. I’ve been living with it all my life. In my case, my school-yard defense is a carefree in-your-face brashness that hides the fact I’d really rather run home to my Pack.
“I’d suggest you don’t look at it,” I say.
“Fine by me. My insides are not my best angle.”
I snort at that. Then I glance over to where Logan and Elijah stand guard, watching the hell hound’s retreat. My mind flits in that direction—a hell hound? Why? How?—before I yank it back making sure Mason doesn’t lose his arm.
The only thing holding the limb is cartilage, and I’m trying not to feel ill
at that. As a werewolf who also wants to be a doctor, I’m fine with gore. The nausea comes from knowing that I’d been willing to let Mason get tossed around to distract the hell hound, while not considering that it could have done permanent damage.
Holly slides over to help, but I ask her to stand guard instead. “You hanging in there?” I ask Mason.
“I dunno. Is my arm still hanging in there?”
I chuckle. “It is, and it’s healing. I can literally watch it heal. It’s fascinating really.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
It is indeed fascinating. The tissue stitches itself together, blood vessels and muscle finding their torn edges and healing before my eyes. I tuck a few pieces in to aid the process, and I do murmur an apology to Mason for that, but he only shrugs and grunts, “Whatever,” which might sound like he’s rejecting my apology, but really only means I can do what I must. He trusts me, and I’d like to think I’ve earned that, but I suspect I’ve won it simply by being Logan’s sister.
I’ve seen the way Mason looks at my brother when he thinks no one’s watching. He might snark and insult Logan, but I see a guy with a crush he’s desperate to hide from everyone, especially the subject of that infatuation.
As for whether Logan is interested back, honestly, I’ve never known my brother to be more than mildly intrigued by anyone, and when he is, his target is as likely to be a guy as a girl. That’s just Logan. He’ll find the right person when he’s ready, and if the past is any indication, he’d need to know Mason a lot better before his attention turns in that direction.
Mason tenses, his entire body going still, and when I glance up, he’s looking at something behind me. Then his gaze drops fast, his features hardening to implacable stone, and I know who’s walking over.
“Can you make him sit his ass down?” I say to Logan before he even steps into view. “Before I kick it down?”
“Can you make her let go of my arm?” Mason grumbles. “Before she snaps it off?”
I snark back at him, and Holly joins us as she and Logan discuss the finer points of vampire healing powers. I stay out of the conversation and keep my attention on clamping off the blood flow and nudging pieces into position.
When they’re done talking, though, I do bring up an important point—the fact that the hell hound almost certainly didn’t just magically appear here on its own.
A voice booms, shouting my name.
I look up sharply. “Elijah? Where’s—?” Something crashes through the forest.
No, not something. Elijah crashes through the forest.
What the hell is Elijah doing there? He was just with Logan, standing guard.
“Kate!” Elijah bellows. “Run!”
I grab Logan’s hand and clamp it onto Mason’s arm. Then I race toward the crashes, squinting to see into the thick forest.
There!
I see Elijah, running. But he isn’t running toward us. He’s going in the opposite direction. Leading something away from us.
I start to run. Then, suddenly, Elijah isn’t running anymore. He’s dangling in the air.
“Elijah!” I shout.
His eyes widen his limbs windmill as he flails to get down. Then whatever has him throws him through the trees. I let out a scream of rage as I race toward him.
“Kate!” Allan shouts behind me. “Don’t—!”
The rest is cut off by the thunder of running footfalls. I glance back to see Logan coming after me, Holly now clamping down on Mason’s arm as Allan follows Logan.
I race to where Elijah lies crumpled in a twisted heap, not moving, and my heart slams against my ribs.
“Elijah!”
Movement. Excruciatingly slow movement, as he lifts his head, blinking at me. Then, his eyes go wide, head whipping up as his mouth opens.
Something hits me in the side and knocks me flying into a tree. Logan snarls in rage, and I dimly hear Holly shouting, “Get back here! Do not—”
“Hey,” Mason yells. “You want a plaything? Come get it.”
“Demon,” I whisper as I push up. Arms grab me, my brother tugging me to my feet. I whisper “Demon” again, still winded, every breath searing through me.
“I know,” Logan says grimly.
He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t need to. My brother might be the expert when it comes to our supernatural world, but even I know that if there’s a hell hound where a hell hound should not be, that can only mean one thing. It’s been brought here by a demon.
I push to my feet and look around. The forest has gone quiet. Mason’s striding around the clearing, his face set in grim determination. Holly’s there, and Allan, too, fog wafting from his fingertips, ready to cast it and hide us. But there’s nothing to hide us from. All is quiet.
“Too quiet,” Logan murmurs, as if reading my thoughts.
I nod and stagger to Elijah on wobbly legs. He’s doubled over, retching. When I approach, he waves off my concern. I reach out and he stands, putting an arm around my shoulders, letting us prop each other up.
The others reach us, and we instinctively cluster, spellcasters in the middle. When a growl sounds in front of us, Elijah stiffens, his arm tightening around my shoulders.
“That you, mutt?” Elijah says. “You really think that’s a good idea? We kicked your ass—”
Another growl sounds, this one off to our left. I’m turning that way when
the hell hound behind us snarls again.
“Please tell me hell hounds can teleport,” Elijah whispers. “Sorry,” I murmur.
“Don’t move,” Logan says. “Holly?”
She’s already casting her spell to materialize the hounds. Allan joins in.
Two forms begin to appear. Two massive hell hounds. “Ideas?” Elijah murmurs.
“Run like hell?” I say.
He gives a strained chuckle. “Yeah, I’m thinking that’s all we’ve got.”
I glance at Logan. He nods. When I look toward Holly, she points in the direction of the cabin, our initial destination.
“Okay,” I murmur. “On the count of three. Logan, Elijah and I will move toward Holly and Allan. Mason?” I look at him, the farthest from the group as always.
“I’ll distract them,” he says. “Give you guys a head start.”
“Let them each grab an arm and rip you in two?” I say. “I don’t think you can recover from that.”
“I’ll be—”
“Go on, Kate,” Logan says to me. “I’ll stay with Mason.” Mason scowls his way. “I don’t need a guard dog, pup.” “Too bad. You stay, I—”
“For fuck’s sake, are we running?” Mason says. “Get on with it.” I reach and squeeze Logan’s hand. Then we run.