13. Lane #2
“Very much so,” Rowan agreed absently. “At the time, I’d wondered if Cris had created the ferals. They attacked one of his enemies. Seems this current vampire has the same idea.”
“Could there be a connection?”
“I don’t see how. Cris is long dead, and he wasn’t part of a coven. It was only the two of us. He didn’t have friends among our kind.”
“I’m not surprised, waste of space that he was.”
Rowan laughed, short and sharp. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
It seemed Rowan had had enough of letting his coven take care of things.
After he finished his blood, he set out to find Cecile.
Lane didn’t object. It wasn’t his place, and to Rowan’s credit, he seemed on much surer footing than he’d been earlier that morning, even if Cris was haunting his thoughts.
Lane wouldn’t let himself take credit for Rowan’s improved demeanor. Rowan was strong, no question there, and no matter what support he’d let Lane give him in private, Lane had no doubt Rowan would have picked himself up had he been alone.
Cecile, it turned out, wasn’t easy to find. She didn’t answer Rowan’s texts and wasn’t anywhere in the building. A coven member Lane didn’t know suggested they talk to Jack, who they found standing guard outside the third-floor casino, ready to open for the evening.
“Hey, boss, I was meaning to talk to you,” Jack said as they approached.
“Oh?”
“I was looking into the Sherwoods for Cecile. By all accounts, they haven’t been involved in West Coast politics since you sent them packing. They’re pretty firmly a Midwest coven now.” His gaze flicked to Lane, and Lane pretended not to notice. The Sherwoods had nothing to do with him.
“Great.” Rowan sounded distracted. “Do you know where Cecile is?”
“She went to track down Emile.”
“What do you mean track down?”
Jack side-eyed Lane. “Um…”
Rowan’s expression didn’t falter. “Don’t worry about Lane. He and I have resolved our differences. Tell me what’s happening with Emile.”
“I don’t know much other than Emile was following the lead Cecile found yesterday. You know, the black van that dumped Caden at the café. No one’s heard from him since.”
Rowan went very still. “For how long?”
“Over twenty-four hours now.”
Lane’s stomach dropped. This must be what Cecile came to see Rowan about earlier. Even half a day missing was concerning.
“Why did Emile go alone?” Rowan demanded.
“Felix is occupied, and I doubt Emile thought much of chasing down a vehicle. If anyone can take care of himself, it’s Emile. Why would he take backup?”
“You’re right. Shit. When did you last hear from Cecile? She didn’t chase after him on her own, did she?”
“No. She took Kai and Evangeline.”
That was a relief. Rowan seemed to agree, his vampire stillness relaxing into careful motion, as he asked a few more questions.
Lane’s relief ebbed as Jack explained how he hadn’t heard anything from Cecile since she left. It seemed no one had. Kai or Evangeline, either.
“It’s too bad you’re not their sire,” Jack said. “Then you could track one of them through your bond.”
Lane hadn’t realized such a thing was possible.
“I’ll ask Nicole for a tracking spell. Unless, Lane, could you—” Rowan cut off just as Jack’s attention sharpened, and they both pulled their phones from their pockets.
“Fuck,” Jack muttered, face paling as he checked the screen.
Rowan’s hard expression didn’t change. He tapped the phone, bringing it to his ear. “Are you still here? Meet in the clinic. Jack will fill you in.” He hung up and said to Jack, “Call Hunter.” Without waiting for an answer, he strode down the hall.
Lane followed, dread weighing each step with increasing intensity.
Rowan was already making another call. “I have an emergency. We need burn tonics, salves, potions, anything you have.” He paused. “Whatever gets you here fastest.” He hung up.
Burns. No, this wasn’t good.
They reached the empty clinic, and as soon as they were inside, Rowan braced against the counter and hung his head.
“What can I do?” Lane asked.
Rowan closed his eyes. “Stand with me.”
Lane pressed in close, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m here.”
Rowan turned to face him. “It’s Emile. Cecile doesn’t know if he’ll make it.”
Lane laid a gentle hand on Rowan’s back. “I’m so sorry.”
Hunter burst into the room, arms full, not acknowledging them as he began organizing supplies.
Rowan straightened, tucking all his anguish behind a careful mask, and Lane dropped his hand. “I have an apothecary with potions on the way,” Rowan told Huner.
“Good. I’ll pump Emile with blood and treat his burns, but it sounds like we’re going to need the extra magic.”
Fire was one of the only ways to kill a vampire permanently, besides beheading, removing their heart, or draining every last drop of their blood. An unwelcome image of the man in the van filled Lane’s mind, and he swallowed against it.
At least that hadn’t happened to Emile. He had a chance.
Maybe he hadn’t been in the fire long enough to be permanently killed.
Lane suspected his heart or brain needed to be destroyed by the flames to end his immortal life.
He tried not to imagine the state the poor vampire would be in, or how much pain, if they feared the worst.
There was shouting in the hall, and Cecile burst into the room, her eyes glowing. Lane got out of the way, tucking himself into a corner. Rowan moved with him and let Hunter take charge as a stretcher was brought in by two others.
It was bad. Lane looked at the floor. Out of fear of seeing too much or respect for Emile, he wasn’t sure. He had no business here. All he could do was try not to hinder anyone who could help.
“His heart isn’t beating, but I don’t know if that means…” Cecile choked, clearing her throat. “He could be temporarily dead. Untouched on the inside.”
“Agreed.” Hunter’s voice came out steady and authoritative. “I’m getting an IV going so he has a steady supply of fresh blood. We need to maintain his magic’s strength so he can heal.”
Rowan’s breath hitched, and Lane looked up. His eyes shone, gaze distant. He looked haunted. Lane grabbed his hand on reflex, and Rowan didn’t respond. Should he not do this in front of others? Would Rowan pull away?
Rowan’s grip clenched around Lane’s fingers, pressure increasing until it hurt, like he was holding on for dear life. Lane didn’t let go.
Once the IV was set up, Hunter erected a privacy screen, for which Lane was grateful. Cecile, Kai, and the other vampire, a blonde who was presumably Evangeline, came to stand with Lane and Rowan.
Rowan didn’t let go of his hand or make any move to hide their interlocked fingers from the others.
More noise came from the hall, and two men burst in, one tall with brown hair and skin, the other shirtless, his blue hair as shocking as his exposed pale chest.
“I have potions,” the taller man announced, his gaze finding Rowan.
“Give them to Hunter.”
He disappeared behind the screen, talking rapidly with the doctor.
The shorter man approached. “I don’t know how much I can do. My healing ability is limited—”
“Anything,” Rowan said, his voice breaking.
The man’s eyes widened, his gaze flicking briefly to Rowan and Lane’s clasped hands. He turned away, revealing tattooed, folded wings spanning his entire back.
Lane assessed him with magic before he disappeared behind the screen. How odd. He detected no power at all, as if the blue-haired guy were human. How could he have healing ability?
A blue glow illuminated behind the screen, and everyone went quiet.
“Damnation,” came the man’s voice. “I can’t heal all this, not even if my brothers were here to help. Let me see… Yes. There’s extensive damage, but his heart is intact, brain too. He’s temporarily dead. I can feel his immortal magic working.”
The room itself seemed to release a breath of air.
“You’re sure?” Hunter asked, a hint of awe in his tone.
“Positive. I’ve given his heart a boost of what healing magic I have, but it’s going to be a while before he’s up again.”
“As long as he gets up,” Hunter said. “Nico, explain these potions to me. We need to give Emile’s magic all the help it can get.”
The short man returned to view. “Rowan, why don’t you keep me company while the clever men work?”
Rowan didn’t respond for a long moment. Then, like he was coming out of a trance, he said, “Yes, of course. We should give Hunter and Nico space.”
Everyone dutifully filed out, Rowan and Lane bringing up the rear, and Lane shut the clinic door.
The blue-haired man clapped his hands together. “How about a drink?”