Chapter Eight
Neith
Baz watches me closely, “That’s true. They don’t exist in this realm. They’re native to a particular realm.” He frowns and rubs his head before growling, “But I can’t remember what realm, I just know that you shouldn’t have the knowledge of it.”
“How did you get the shirt and the knowledge?” Doc asks curiously.
“From my dream,” I reply.
“What?” River asks. “I swear you just said that you got the shirt from your dream?”
I nod. “Yeah, I did, and what’s even more confusing is that I burned it in my dream to protect Styx. It was ash.”
“Styx?” Van asks. “As in the river Styx? Where my new black water comes from?”
“You can control the River Styx? As in the underworld river?” Baz asks incredulously and shakes his head. “You know what, never mind, of course you can.”
Van smirks, “It’s a new development.”
“Of course it is,” Baz replies. He looks at me, “You were saying?”
I shake my head as I answer Van’s question, “No, she’s a person. Although that is a pretty weird coincidence. I am reasonably certain that it’s a coincidence though. I have no idea what it would mean otherwise.”
Honestly, I hadn’t put two and two together, and now I’m wondering if maybe I should have.
I’m struggling to come up with even a vague reason that the two would be connected though, and I feel like this time it really might be a coincidence.
Of course, the universe loves to prove me wrong, so maybe it isn’t?
Fuck knows.
“Neith, you’re going to have to start at the beginning,” Reed says.
I nod. That’s fair.
So, trying to be as un-twisty as I possibly can, and not take any detours in my storytelling, I fill them in on what happened, all of it. None of them is particularly pleased that I didn’t tell them I was in pain this morning, but they understand better than most how it can get.
At the end, they all look as confused as I feel about it.
“So the Voices definitely aren’t the dead, then,” Raiden replies after a few moments of silence. “But they behave similarly, which is curious, and if they aren’t the dead, then what or who are they?”
Baz growls.
“Are you okay, man?” Ransom asks as we look at him in concern.
“I know something,” he says through gritted teeth.
“You do?” I ask with surprise.
“Yes, it’s right there, and I know it’s important,” he confirms.
His power grows, and pain clouds his eyes before he goes limp, falling to the floor, and making Bitey yelp as Baz drops him, and he disappears into the house. I’ll check on him in a minute. I need to make sure that Baz is okay first.
“Baz!” I call out with concern as I round the table.
I have no idea how I got here so quickly, but here I am. What I see makes me panic more though. Baz is on the floor, blood pouring from his nose and ears as he has a seizure, still passed out, his body contorting in painful ways.
“Fuck,” Doc exclaims, and then immediately goes into doctor mode, “guys, I need his legs and arms pinned down, so that I can get a good grip on him to heal him. I need to be able to assess him. I think that it’s in part magical exertion, and I need to heal both the physical and the magical, but I need to do it without him hurting himself more. ”
He says all of this in a rush, and the guys are all jumping into action before he’s fully finished explaining what he needs done.
Reed grabs one of Baz’s arms in order to hold it down and stop it from flailing, and to my utter shock, it shifts, turning completely black, copper markings flashing on it so briefly that I don’t have the chance to identify them before they disappear, and those deadly claws that made an appearance when Winston showed up on the table, reappear.
“Fuck, his magic is protecting him! It thinks that we’re the threat,” Griff says as he tries to pin Baz down so that he can’t hurt himself.
I watch, helpless. I know I’m not strong enough to pin him down, especially as he sends Coen flying with one leg.
“Are you okay?” I check in with him. He hit the wall pretty fucking hard.
He nods, “I’m good. House made the wall soft when I hit it. It was like hitting a pillow.”
He smiles and then drops straight back into helping the others with Baz.
Once again, House proves how awesome it really is.
My attention is on the guys and Baz, watching anxiously as they try to stop him from fitting and injuring himself or one of us, but it’s no good.
It’s not helping, and he must have already hurt himself by now.
Whenever one of his limbs escapes the grip of the others, it hits the ground hard.
I can only hope that House is making the impact areas soft like it did for Coen.
I haven’t heard anything snap, and with the force that he’s hitting things, I should have, so House must be making it softer.
It can’t be good to have a seizure for this long.
I’m at a complete loss on how to help him though, even the Voices just sound panicked, and are offering no real advice.
“Put your hands on his cheeks, Neith,” Zephyr tells me.
I jump, not expecting to hear his voice. I hear it clearly enough that it sounds like he’s standing very close to me, and I didn’t even notice him approach. I look behind me, only to find that he’s not there. He’s not in the room at all, and I frown with confusion.
The Voices' panicked muttering has calmed, and I come to the conclusion that it must have been them using Zephyr’s voice to get me to listen to them, and to cut through my panic.
I’m not going to question it anymore, and I don’t have anything to lose, so I throw myself forward, my hands outstretched.
Thankfully, I have good aim, and I’m standing by Baz’s head.
So when I move forward, I don’t end up making it worse by smacking him, tripping over him, or something else equally disastrous.
I have no idea why Zephyr, or rather the Voices, think holding Baz’s face is going to help, apart from stopping him from hurting his head.
Which is actually a pretty important reason for me to hold onto his head, so maybe that’s what they meant?
My hands touch his cheeks, my fingers dipping into his beard so I can touch as much skin as possible, because I feel like that’s important.
To my utter shock, he stills, and the guys all turn to look at me questioningly.
“Are you using your magic?” Griff asks me.
I shake my head, “No.”
Doc nods, “Whatever you do, do not let go until I’ve healed him. I have a feeling that this is going to take a moment. He pushed his magic too far, and his body, and consequently he’s done quite a lot of damage.”
I nod, “Can you heal it though?”
Doc smiles reassuringly, “Of course, I can.”
His confident reply makes me smile, and Doc quickly refocuses on Baz, and I do the same.
I have no intention of letting go of him now that I know that I can actually help him.
Plus, I like holding him. I move his head gently onto my lap, making sure that I keep contact with his skin as I do it, just in case it’s that which is making the difference.
It doesn’t feel as odd as it probably should, considering the little amount of time that I’ve actually known him for.
I’m just happy that he’s no longer seizing or flinging the guys around.
My thumbs rub across his cheekbones, and I watch his features closely, looking for any signs of discomfort or pain.
After ten minutes or so, I feel Doc’s magic pull back. I don’t dare take my eyes off Baz though, just in case.
“Is he okay?” Ransom asks with worry clear in his voice and expression as his eyebrows scrunch and his lips draw down slightly.
Doc nods, “Yes, he’s all healed. He’s just going to need a few minutes to wake up.”
Relief floods my system, and I admit, I do think about letting go of his face and moving his head from my lap, but what if it triggers the seizures again or something?
I’m not going to risk it.
The Voices snigger, they know that I’m only partially telling the truth and that although that is a reason, it’s not the only one, and the other reason is simply because I want to hold him. I like it.
When another five minutes pass, I frown and look up at Doc, “Shouldn’t he be awake by now? Did something go wrong?”
Doc smirks, “The fucker has been awake for the last four minutes. I think he’s enjoying the attention.”
I glance down at Baz, and his eyes pop open as he grins cheekily up at me, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his stomach as he straightens his legs and crosses his ankles.
I smirk, “You shit, I was worried about you.”
“So you should be, I think I need to rest here for a bit longer, just in case,” he retorts, his eyes twinkling.
“Smooth,” Coen chuckles, his emerald eyes shining with amusement.
Baz shrugs, which is weird considering he’s lying down and his head is still on my lap.
“Dude, I’m out of practice,” Baz points out, still smiling.
“He’s got a good point,” Ransom chuckles. His smile dims slightly as he asks, “Seriously though, are you okay?”
Baz becomes serious as he considers the question, but stays where he is, and when I go to pull my hand away from his face, figuring that he might be finding it a bit weird by now, his gaze darts up to mine, as his hands grasp mine, stopping them from moving away from his cheeks.
There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that makes my heart hurt, and instead of pulling my hand away, I stroke my thumbs over his cheekbones, and he closes his eyes for a moment.
When he opens them, his gaze moves to a softly smiling Ransom, and he answers him, “I feel okay now. I knew the moment that I pushed it too far, but by that point, it was too late, and I just went down. I still didn’t fucking remember anything either.
” He looks up at me, “I’m sorry. I know that I know something that could help you figure out what the Voices are, but I don’t fucking know what it is. ”
“Oh no, don’t you dare apologize to me, your health and well-being come before any of that, and if you even consider pushing yourself that hard again, then you’re going to have me to deal with and not in the fun kinky way,” I threaten.
“There’s a kinky way?” He asks, smirking, “What do I have to do to get dealt with that way?”
I try not to join in the others' laughter.
“Oh, for fuck sake, you’re just like the rest of them,” I tease. “You only focused on that part of the sentence.”
Baz’s laughter calms, and he watches me closely, “I won’t push myself that hard again.”
“Thank you,” I say primly, and he smirks.
He opens his mouth to say something, but instead, a huge yawn takes over his features.
“It’s been an extremely long day for everyone involved,” Van says with a smile.
Baz nods, “I suppose I should get up.”
Before I can move my hand, he shocks the shit out of me, turning his face and kissing my palm, sending a zing of awareness through me. His gaze doesn’t meet mine again, and it happens so quickly that if it weren’t for my still tingling palm, I would have thought that I imagined it.
When I get up off the floor, Van pulls me under his arm and kisses the top of my head. He mutters quietly enough that the others who are talking can’t hear him.
“It’s all good, Nene,” he whispers. I tilt my head, and his sapphire blue eyes meet mine knowingly.
Threading my fingers through his dark, almost black, green colored beard, I tug slightly, and his lips meet mine.
“Thanks, Van,” I mutter.
Every now and then, it hits me all over again that I’m here, with Van, with all of them, and despite all the shit that we go through, I have never been happier.
I can quite honestly say I love my life.
Late at night, when my thoughts turn against me, I think of the what-ifs.
If I hadn’t chosen to come here after HID tried to kill me.
If I had gone off on my own, then I could have missed out on all of this, and then because it’s late and late night anxiety thoughts are a bitch, I end up making myself really sad, then realize I’m being ridiculous, have the Voices snigger at me for being an idiot, and then go to sleep wrapped up in the arms of one of my men.
It’s happened more than I would care to admit.
Thinking back to when we first met, a thought occurs to me, something that I’ve been meaning to ask since that very first meeting with all of them at the other house, and since I don’t know when I’ll remember to ask the question again, I turn to Reed.
“Reed?” I ask.
He turns to look at me, his eyes no longer sad like they were that day, “Yeah?”
“The first night that we met,” I start.
River interrupts me, “That was not what I was expecting. Buckle up, guys.”