Chapter 20
“Damned drunks out there firin’ shots again.” Dwight King, Draven’s current poker adversary, squinted at his dwindling pile of money. “And where’s Sheriff Thorne when ya need him, eh?”
Unease rippled along Draven’s nerve endings as the crowd noise increased, and he gave serious consideration to checking out the commotion.
“Shot him right in the back and left ’em for dead, they did! Took his gold and Crazy Mary,” someone left of him exclaimed.
“Merde!” Shoving back his chair, he stood and ordered, “Find Jonas.”
“Sure thing, Masters. We can pause—”
“No need, mon ami. The hand is yours.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Alexander Castor appeared right on his heels.
Less than a minute later, they were kneeling beside Wilder, staring down at his gray face and agony-filled eyes.
“It was Mercer,” Wilder said between gritted teeth. “Forget about me. Please, save Abbie.”
“Oui. But we will get you patched up first, yes?” Draven’s driving need to get to Abbie was anxiety-producing, and when he found Bart, the bastard would meet his maker.
However, Wilder’s situation was grave, and he required divine intervention to survive.
Yet, it couldn’t be Draven, which meant he had to go for Jonas.
“If I don’t make it—”
“There’ll be no talk of that, Thorne.” Castor bent to examine the wound.
He swore. “Spine.” Quick on his feet, he managed the onlookers like a professional.
“Back up, folks. Nothing more to see here.” Then, under his breath, he said, “Freeze time and heal him, Masters. He’s not long for this world if you don’t. ”
“I’m not able to fix him. But I know someone who is.” Pressing his palm flat on Wilder’s wound, Draven lowered his voice and said,
“His blood be stilled,
Flow bound until willed.”
Only the barest hint of light emerged from beneath his hand. Not enough to raise questions, but if asked, they could say Castor had struck a match for them to see better.
“He can be carried now. Assist me.”
Wilder grunted. “I’m still awake here, fellas. Just prop me up and go after Abbie.”
“We’ll find her. But your life is at risk, son.” Castor gripped him by the arm and flung it around his neck, waiting for Draven to do the same. When they had him supported, they set off for the hotel.
“Mercer had two others with him, and there were shots from that direction,” Wilder said between pants. “They knocked Abbie out. What if she woke and—”
He was working himself into a state, and the only way for Draven to calm him was to knock him out.
“Dors!” he snapped, forgetting to lower his voice with the spell.
No less than three people rushed forward to open the actual door, earning a huff of approval from Castor.
“Two for one.”
They managed the stairs with ease, thanks to another boost of Draven’s magic, and settled Wilder facedown on the bed. “I will find Jonas. You go for Roxanne,” he ordered.
Castor’s brows shot up. “They aren’t together?”
“C’est douteux. It’s a Friday night. She has business to manage.”
“Does she have abilities?”
“Non, but she receives visions. She could give us a location on Mercer.”
Without another word, Castor strode out the door.
Leaving a fatally injured man defenseless didn’t sit well with Draven, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Abbie was in peril.
Bart had offered to pay for her “services” in the past, refusing to take no for an answer. Over time, he’d become more obsessed with the prize he couldn’t have. Men like Bartholomew Mercer didn’t care to be denied and found ways to gain what they wanted, regardless of objection or morality.
The secondary problem was the sonofabitch’s greed.
If he decided her bracelet was valuable, he might try to take it, unaware of the danger they all faced if her magic was unleashed.
Abbie couldn’t remove it until she was of sound mind, but Draven had stupidly failed to add a contingency in case someone else stole it off her person.
He planned to rectify the situation once they found her.
Closing his eyes, he envisioned the Thorne homestead at the edge of town. Pulling from his third eye, he sent a thread of energy to scope out the place ahead of his teleport. When the way appeared clear, he visualized himself in Jonas’s front yard. Before his cells warmed to burning, he’d arrived.
Draven took the steps three at a time and banged on the door.
“Masters? What’s wrong?” Jonas’s expression altered, becoming alarmed. “Christ! Where did all that blood come from? Are you hurt?”
Unfortunately, Draven had given little regard to his appearance, failing to notice the bloodstains. “Not me. The other Thorne.”
Evie sailed through the door, little black bag in hand. “Take me to him.”
“Aunt Evie—”
“I won’t hear another word of objection, Jonas.” She waved her nephew off, much to Draven’s silent amusement.
“There’s another problème. Marie—er, Abbie—she is gone.”
“Gone?”
“Bart Mercer abducted her.” Draven’s rage for the man was building, and if he didn’t get it under control, it could be catastrophic. His unleashed power could rival Abbie’s.
Jonas shrugged into his duster and strapped on his belt. “Which way did he go?”
“I do not know, but if I had to guess, the caves where we found her.”
Evie touched his arm, halting him from leaving. “Let’s use our heads, Jonas. First, we heal Abbie’s young man. Then we find her.”
“You don’t know the kind of man Bart is, Aunt Evie.”
“I’ve been around a great many years, my dear. Trust me, I’ve seen his type before. But remember, our girl has a built-in defense mechanism.”
“If that’s true, how did he abduct her in the first place?” Jonas countered.
“Wilder said she was knocked unconscious. It could explain why she was easily taken, oui?”
“Where is he now?” Evie asked.
“His room at the hotel. Alone.”
“Follow me, fellas.” Without waiting for them, she blinked away.
“Uncle Nate is going to kill me if she gets hurt,” Jonas muttered.
“Then we must make sure ta tante est safe, mon ami. Let us go.”
Within minutes of everyone leaving Wilder, they’d reconvened in his room with reinforcements. Castor, the first to arrive, told him Roxanne hadn’t gotten a clear vision of Abbie’s abduction.
Jonas grimaced. “Sometimes it happens that way for her if she is too busy. Apparently, her mind needs to be calm to receive messages.”
“All right, let’s get to this.” Evie clapped her hands before pointing everyone to a corner of the bed. “Don’t let him move. And Draven, please remove whatever incantation you used to stop the bleeding for me to work.”
Castor, Jonas, and Draven each braced their weight on Wilder for the bullet extraction.
Despite the numbness from his waist down, the point of entry still hurt like a bitch as she gently probed the opening to find the slug.
Evie was remarkably skilled, performing the task with the expertise of a neurosurgeon.
Wilder held back as best he could by biting on the leather strap Jonas provided, only crying out once during the procedure.
Although the pain was the greatest he’d experienced, it was nothing next to the loss of Abbie on the mountain that day.
If he had to face the same type of torment again, he’d not survive it. Hell, he wouldn’t want to.
“Okay, that’s got it,” Evie announced. “Now, to stitch him up. I don’t need you fellas for this. Go bring our girl home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jonas dropped to one knee and twisted his torso so Wilder could see him. “I won’t rest until she’s safe. You have my word.”
“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “If you leave me a horse, I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
Castor pressed a hand to his shoulder. “You can be sure I’ll do what’s necessary to find my daughter.”
“Rest up. We intend to have her home before dawn,” the sheriff promised.
In a flash, they were gone, leaving Wilder alone with his great-great-grandmother.
“I can’t thank you enough, Evie.”
“There’s no need, though I do admire your pretty manners. Nathanial would be especially proud if he were here.”
She laid a hand on the back of his head, and he’d have sworn he could feel her love flow through him. The urge to cry was strong, and he barely suppressed a sob.
“Trust Jonas and Draven, my dear. They won’t let you down. And Abbie’s father has added incentive to find her.”
“I know, but I despise feeling helpless.”
“Why don’t you tell me about your time with her before she landed here while I seal your wound?” she suggested kindly.
“She’s my world,” he began. “From the moment I met her, I wanted nothing and no one else.”
“And she felt the same?”
The warmth from her hands on his back felt encouraging, as if maybe he’d heal completely.
“Not immediately, but eventually, yes. Thank the Goddess.” He recalled the day they’d met.
“We were both attending the same college, and there she was, across the courtyard, laughing at something a friend of hers was saying. It was an arrow straight through the heart. Or as some would say, love at first sight.”
“I find it gratifying that men and women attend the same school in your time. Equality is important.”
“I’ve always believed so,” he agreed with a grunt as the heat turned up, entering the spinal cord. “We were introduced by mutual friends, but she was already dating another guy.”
“Did she leave him for you?” Evie asked, in what he assumed was a distraction maneuver.
“No. She married him.”
“Foolish girl.”
Wilder curbed the desire to laugh. “I won’t argue. He was a controlling ass, and she divorced him a few years later. But it made her gun-shy.”
“In what way? She doesn’t want to marry you?” Evie’s indignant tone was gratifying.
His and Abbie’s relationship had been defined early, but she’d eventually come around in the year before she disappeared. She’d stated she wanted to tie the knot and start a family if he was willing.
“It wasn’t just me. It was anyone at the time. Marriage isn’t the be-all, end-all anymore. Many people remain single their entire lives.” He sucked in a breath as a particularly painful burst of magic rocked him.
“I apologize for the discomfort, my dear. This particular section requires a lot of attention and finesse.”
“It’s all good,” he assured her, through gritted teeth.
And it was. He’d take whatever she handed out if it meant restoring his spine to its pre-gunshot state and allowing him to walk again.
“But to answer your question, she changed her mind and actually proposed to me.” He wiggled his pinky, displaying the promise ring Bart had overlooked.
Over the last two years, he’d considered removing it, but doing so would feel like a broken vow.
“Right before our last climb, she arranged an intimate dinner. In the center of my plate was a jewelry box.”
“How romantic!” Evie chuckled, then stepped away to wash the blood from her hands. After drying them, she poured more water into another bowl, dipped a cloth into it, and wrung it out. “All that’s left is to clean up your back,” she said. “But you’ll need to rest and mend.”
“Will I walk?” he choked out.
Before that instant, he hadn’t considered what it meant for him to be paralyzed.
He hadn’t climbed since Abbie’s fateful day, but he didn’t want the ability taken away from him.
His entire way of life would change, and what did it mean when it came to making love?
They’d always had a healthy sex life. Could he give her what she needed?
“We’ll make sure of it,” she promised. “Now here, drink some water.”
He tilted his head back, but then recalled history class. “Um, is it purified?”
“Purified?”
“Yeah, boiled or whatever to remove the bacteria. Dysentery was a real issue in the West.”
“My boy, you’re a magical being. We don’t suffer the same diseases as mortals.” And damned if she didn’t sound remarkably like Alastair. Maybe she was where he’d gotten his droll tone. “Now, drink up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”