Chapter 21 – Emerson
Chapter Twenty-One
Emerson
I quickly change clothes before grabbing a backpack and stuffing several sets of clothes in it for Ember. I add some diapers and even a couple of her cups from the cabinet before tossing in a change of clothes for myself. The remainder of the space is taken up by Ember's favorite blanket.
I collect my very sleepy toddler and try not to let pure fear take over as I hold her to my chest.
“They won't let anything happen to either of you,” Meena says, running a hand over my back. The old witch pulls me in for a hug, and my heart aches. I miss my mom and grandma terribly at times like these. “I've seen a future where things went badly for the two of you.”
My eyes fly to hers.
She nods. “Trust that your mates will keep you safe.
It's what will keep you alive. Things are already moving in the right direction, but don't hold yourself back from them...” She sighs.
“I can't say more. Futures have changed from less than what I've said.
I've intervened where I could, but we're at a precipice.
I can't risk changing how things will play out.”
My mouth has been hanging open, but I finally manage to close it. Swallowing thickly, I give her a nod of understanding.
That sounds fucking terrifying.
Yelping cries of some injured or dying wolf permeate the walls of Meena's old house.
Those noises don't scare me nearly as much as Meena's words.
I know Nadia has said not to disregard her nan's visions.
That's how Nadia found me all those weeks ago, the night the men hung around the diner after my shift.
“Thank you.”
“Of course,” she says, brushing an aged hand over Ember's back. I can't believe she's slept through the commotion.
The loud knock on the front door makes me jolt.
“It's Ryktus,” Meena says, nodding to the door. “The wolves never breached my wards. I might be old, but that means I'm powerful. They'll keep the two of you safe. I've seen it.”
“Thank you,” I say again, because I honestly don't know what I'm thinking or what else could possibly cover all I'm feeling.
“Oh, I know,” Meena says, like she can read my mind. “I'll see you two again soon. A day or two, at most.”
“Emerson?” Ryktus calls out.
I hike the backpack up and head for the door. Ryktus nods at Meena and stretches out an arm for me.
“The bird-man,” Ember says sleepily.
Ryktus sighs but doesn't say a word. I should have put two and two together with that one, though I'm far from upset that he's been keeping an eye on us.
Maybe it's weird, but honestly, after the bomb of just how dangerous and connected Alpha Brayden is.
... I'm freaking grateful he cared enough to watch out for us.
I tell him that as he pushes off from the sidewalk and heads back toward the city.
Ryktus doesn't say a word. He gives me a nod and wraps his other arm around my ass. Ember is trapped between us, and it's a little alarming to be flying backward, but I'm exhausted.
I'm going to put my trust in the stoic gargoyle.
The trip doesn't take long—maybe ten minutes—but I quickly realize he's not flying nearly as sturdy or as straight as he normally does.
“Are you okay?” I whisper as he flies through the city center and into the more upscale area, where the houses are farther apart.
“I'll be fine,” he grunts.
“Were you injured?” I ask, studying his face.
“A minor wound.” He nods his agreement. “We're basically here.”
I open my mouth to complain that he shouldn't be carrying us if he's hurt, but the old Gothic style mansion seems to steal all the words I was going to say. It's three or four stories. The sharp lines of the architecture are regal and imposing.
Movement catches my eye. I gasp, digging my free hand into Ryktus's neck.
“It's my flight,” Ryktus assures me. Of course, he'd have seen them way before my puny human eyes picked them up.
Dark wings glint across the night sky, and I blow out a breath of relief. Backup is never a bad thing, right?
Except, that means that my problems are so large they require extra assistance.
Well, shit.
Ryktus shows me to an upper-level bedroom that's so fancy, I'm mildly uncomfortable. He assures me the room has a nursery attached to it, and he's right. There's a crib and rocking chair in the tiny room off the bedroom I was given.
I try not to cringe as I wonder why Dread has a crib in a bedroom in his house.
“It was set up for you and the pup,” Ryktus says, like he can read my damn mind.
Oh, that's very sweet and a tiny bit presumptuous of him.
But we did bond tonight.
The bite is still tender on my shoulder. It radiates with a warmth that reminds me he's now mine and I'm his.
I get Ember settled in the crib and pull the connecting door nearly closed before heading back through the massive bedroom.
This house is unreal. The room I was given has a weird sitting room, or maybe a tiny living room, attached to it.
“Where are you injured?” I ask, heading for the cranky gargoyle.
“My wing,” he replies, turning to look out the French doors that lead to a small balcony.
I gasp as I get a look at the damage. It's hanging by a few inches of bloody, ripped-open skin.
“Ohmigod,” I whisper, carefully stretching out a hand. I don't even make contact with his flesh. It looks painful as hell. There's no way he should have flown at all, especially not carrying mine and Ember's extra weight. “How does your kind heal?”
“It will heal by morning,” he says, turning to face me. “You should get some rest.”
My head shakes violently. “Hell no, not until they get back. I need to know they're okay. Now, answer me. Can't you turn to stone and heal?”
I mean, I'm no gargoyle expert. Not by a long shot. But it feels like there should be some way for him to heal without having to suffer for hours.
“I'll be fine,” he grumbles.
“At least find some medical supplies and allow me to clean it up for you,” I suggest. “You were injured because of me.”
“I was,” he easily agrees.
“Right, so point me to a first aid kit,” I snap, pushing my hair away from my face.
“There's likely one in Dread's bathroom.” He points to a door back inside the room.
This is Dread's bedroom. The room I was given, where he put a crib for Ember, is his.
I leave without another word. It takes several minutes of digging around the cabinets to find a huge white first aid kit under the bathroom sink.
“You should lie down on the bed, so I can doctor your back,” I say, waving a hand for him to come into the room.
“This is unnecessary,” Ryktus complains. He sure stomps over to the bed, though. Kicking off his shoes, he promptly tosses himself down on the edge of the bed.
He's huge, and I'll have to stretch over him to get to that wing. Instead, I climb onto his ass and sit on him. I open the first aid kit and begin to clean up the dried blood.
“Do you think they're okay?” I ask, biting my lip as I continue to work.
“They're immortal,” he replies in a condescending-as-hell tone.
It's a struggle to remember he's likely hurting and has every right to be annoyed with me. That's what stops me from being spiteful and accidentally jabbing him in his angry-looking wound.
“Immortal, like they won't age but can still die, or the type of immortal that's undying? Like, rip off their head or pull their heart out, and they'll still somehow survive it?” I ask, carefully running the antiseptic wipe over the smallest area of his injury.
He hisses out a ragged breath while his entire body stiffens under me.
“Sorry,” I whisper, blanching, even though he can't see it.
“Continue,” he directs. “Laithe could die, theoretically. However, he's over a thousand years old. He hasn't died yet. I would be genuinely shocked if he met his end due to a shifter mutt.”
I nod, continuing to carefully clean his skin.
“Arsyn is the type of immortal that’ll never die. If his body here on earth was damaged to the point he couldn't repair it, then he would resurrect in hell.” Ryktus groans as I clean a particularly jagged area of his wing.
“What about Dread?” Yes, I'm kind of panicking now, because he left him for last.
“He's an alpha hellhound. Second generation demon.” Ryktus pauses and my heart drops. I have no idea what any of that means. “You're very tender.”
“Back to Dread?” I ask in a panicked tone.
“If by some stroke of luck, they managed to kill him, then he would arrive in hell,” Ryktus says calmly. “But I can assure you he's still alive.”
“How do you know?”
“If either he or Arsyn were injured, you'd feel it. If they died on this plane...” He sighs. “This really should come from them. You'd die too. So, rest assured, they're fine.”
My mouth falls open. That's not nearly as reassuring as he meant it to be.
Ryktus's arm stretches back and gently pulls my hand. “That's enough. Thank you for cleaning me up. Get some rest.”