Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
I get a warning tingle that a portal is about to open and then Larry’s frantic voice comes from reception. “Tuesday, come quick.”
“What now,” I groan. I slam my hands on the desk and spring up, abandoning my business plan to see what all the fuss is about. I guess I need a break.
I stride into reception. The hotel is in chaos.
Everything slows down. It’s like I am on the set of a film as smoke billows from the portal and heart-stopping moans rent the air.
The cloying smell of sweat, burned hair, and blood permeates the hotel and makes me gag. I cover my mouth and sway as my feet root me to the wooden floor. All I can do is stare in shock at the frantic activity before me.
A huge portal is open. It almost spans the entire room, and messed up looking creatures are getting spit out onto my floor. Dressed in tattered black uniforms and overspilling with weapons, the creatures’ oversized eyes, pointed ears, and long hair announce these new guests are elven.
Not just elves, as I see the tell-tale black warrior markings peeking between the ripped fabric on their arms. Aes sídh warriors, to be exact, not normal fae.
Two of them look to be seriously injured and they stay where they’ve landed, although one is rolling about and groaning, so he can’t be that bad.
“I am not trained to deal with this shit,” I mutter.
It’s like I have woken up into a lucid nightmare.
An average, if not strange, day has inexplicably changed to this.
What the heck am I supposed to do? I am a soon-to-be ex-retail manager, now a reluctant hotelier.
I can adapt. I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and calmly track my unexpected guests.
The elves are setting up defensive positions.
In my reception.
That will not do.
When one of them shunts a sofa away from the window and goes to break the pane of glass with the hilt of his knife, my brain goes into instant emergency manager mode. I need to get control of this clusterfuck. Now.
“Stand down! This is a sanctuary, not a battlefield!” I bark.
The elves stop what they’re doing for a second and eye me like I’m nuts, then continue as if I haven’t spoken.
At least the elf that was going to break the window refrains.
“Naughty elf,” I magically growl in his ear as I shove the sofa back to its rightful place.
He jumps, rubs his ear, and looks about wildly.
An episode of a medical drama comes to mind and the theory behind basic triage. “Anyone with cuts and bruises but who does not need immediate medical care, please wait over there!” I yell, pointing to the left of the room. “Everybody else go wait in the lounge area!”
I puff out my cheeks and rub my temple. When I ran from my home, I brought at least four vials of Jodie’s healing potion with me. Forrest also stuffed in another six bottles. I am not prepared for war… but the aftermath of a skirmish? Yeah, that I can do.
Larry scurries to my side. “Larry, please, can you make sure they have everything they need?” With a tug of magic, I pull the potions from my room and shove them at him. “Start handing out healing potions.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
Larry clutches the potions to his chest and rushes away.
I rapidly move through the elves towards the quiet one I had seen on the floor.
The elves ignore me. “Now people! Get moving!” I clap my hands and shove them with my magic.
“The more time you stand about staring at me, the less time I have to help your friends!” They grumble and hobble to their allocated sides of the room.
Better.
A few of them flick their long hair behind them as if they are fashion models. I roll my eyes. Now all but the seriously injured elf remains in the centre of the room.
Oh, and his scary-looking friend. Yay. Her dark hair, which is as long as mine but decorated in intricate plaits, glares at me.
Her big, brown eyes are full of hate. Gee, it wasn’t me who kicked her arse and hurt her friend.
She needs to reign all that hatred in. I stare her down.
I am pissed. The anger, combined with fear, makes me brave.
“Move,” I tell her.
“I don’t know you,” she snarls.
I shrug. “Yeah? I don’t know you either, but it didn’t stop you and your fellow warriors from crashing into my hotel lobby, did it?
You came to me, so move out of my way so I can help him.
” For a second, I think she’s going to throw down and start stabbing me with the wicked-looking knife she is clutching.
But she must think better of it. Not getting up, she shifts on her knees, allowing me barely enough room to see what I’m working with.
The unconscious elf is at least alive and bleeding profusely from a stab wound in his abdomen. I place both hands on his wound, and his hot blue blood squishes between my fingers. I wrinkle my nose. Gah, I should have thought about gloves.
This is gross. I am not trained for this shit.
At least the healing magic will deal with any cross contamination. He won’t get ill because of my hands.
No, I am more at risk from the unfriendly elves.
If this is an entire court of warrior elves, popping through the portal, I’m in serious trouble. This is supposed to be a hotel, not a hospital. Why on earth did they decide to come here? I’ve got no idea.
I hunch and brace my hands so they don’t shake.
Gosh, I feel vulnerable. With that thought, I erect a barrier around reception.
Not only to stop any of the dryads or Atticus from stumbling into this nightmare but to stop the elves from wandering.
I don’t want them to cause any trouble while I’m busy and my back is turned.
The realm’s magic shudders, and more people come through the still open portal.
In my peripheral vision, the portal spits out another bloody mess.
Then, with energy that makes my hair flutter and stick to my sweaty face, the portal snaps closed.
Thank goodness for that. I didn’t want to close it in case I trapped anyone.
I blow at the hair stuck to my cheek and focus. I haven’t got time for finesse. I need to heal him quickly. Sinking into the magic, his life force flutters. It is barely hanging on. I throw my magic into his body, using what I learned from healing Erin. Was that only yesterday?
My patient groans. I wince, and the female elf’s hand drifts to the hilt of her knife. My eyes narrow on her fingers, and I grind my teeth. What a cheek. I don’t have to help her friend. These guests are taking the piss.
With a mental snap of my magic, her weapons disappear. All the weapons in the room disappear. I should have done that as soon as they arrived tooled up to finish a war. That was a mistake I won’t be repeating.
I wonder if I can make it so the portals won’t allow weapons to come through? That might be a superb idea. Most creatures are, in themselves, walking weapons, but at least it limits the risk of being stabbed.
The noise in the room intensifies as my guests notice the missing weapons. Their shouts grow in outrage and the angry energy in the room peaks. “You will get your stuff back when you leave!” I yell. I lift my eyes and glare at the woman. “That was your fault,” I mumble churlishly.
“I don’t need a blade to kill you,” she spits.
I roll my eyes. “Good to know. Neither do I. If you twitch a finger towards me, I’ll send your arse back to where you came from. M-kay?” She narrows her eyes at me and nods. “Wonderful.” I grin manically, showing too many teeth.
Owen would be proud.
More magic and the elf’s gnarly wound closes. I pat him on the chest. “There you go, Mr Elf, as good as new.” Feeling exhausted, my hands drop to my sides, and I sag back onto my heels. My leather boots dig uncomfortably into my knees.
“I apologise. Tensions are high from the battle. Thank you,” the female elf says, surprising me. The old fairy tale about the fae and their thanks is unfortunately exaggerated. Some say if you thank the fae, you gain a life debt, and vice versa. That isn’t the case. But I appreciate the apology.
“No problem. Glad I could help.” She pulls her now semi-conscious friend to his feet and guides him to the lounge area where the others are chugging down water. I drag myself to my feet and stumble to my next patient.
Gosh, I am drained.
A humongous black wolf lies in the middle of the floor and a petite girl with a mass of pink hair holds his shaggy head in her lap.
Shifters can heal from anything. Their cells regenerate every time they shift.
That’s why they don’t age once they’ve hit their biological age of majority.
Well, unless they encounter silver, which halts the shifting process completely, then all bets are off.
After all they need to be alive to shift.
Silver. That’s what’s happened to this big fella.
He is riddled with silver and is bleeding out.
I drop to my knees next to them. “A silver bomb,” the petite girl rasps and then violently coughs.
“The dust… It’s in our lungs. He knocked me out of the way and took the brunt of the shrapnel.
You bloody idiot, Nanny Hound. Why did you do that?
I would have been fine.” Her voice is so raspy, it’s like she has smoked two packs of cigarettes a day.
I’d have put it down to silver damage, but I’ve heard her voice before. I recognise it instantly.
Forrest.
“You will help him?” she begs, lifting her eyes to implore me.
Her eyes hold a deep, haunted sadness with an edge. They whisper of death. My heart bounces and nerves twist my insides. One eye is yellow, and the other is too but with a hint of green pooling at the bottom. It makes her wild gaze difficult to hold.
I knew Owen’s friend would be fierce, and also pretty, but I did not expect her to be so tiny and innocent-looking.
So bloody powerful.