Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
“Why the fuck won’t she wake up?” Mason bellowed and gave Rowen another shake.
But her eyes remained closed.
He could still hear her cry of pain, see her face twisted in agony. The world had slowed to a crawl as he yanked open the door and bolted from the cottage. He had slid on the damp grass beside her, his arms going around her just before her face hit the ground.
Seconds later, Ferne, Theo, and Balladyn were beside him.
Instead of springing into action, they stared frozen and silent, visibly shaken, their gazes locked on Rowen.
His heart pounded as he looked from one to the next, silently begging them to do something, say something—anything.
It was the worry in the Reaper’s eyes that hit Mason the hardest
“What do we do?” Mason demanded, his panic rising with every second. He needed some kind of answers before he went mad with worry.
Theo dropped to his knees and checked Rowen’s pulse. “Her heartbeat is steady. She doesn’t appear to be in pain.”
“You don’t know that.” Mason gently cradled her head with shaking hands, silently willing her eyes to open. “Rowen? Can you hear me?”
Balladyn squatted next to him. “We should get her to the manor. She isn’t safe here.”
She hadn’t been safe from the moment she left her home, Mason realized.
First London had been after her, and now this bloody thing calling itself the Ancients.
He had promised Rowen he would protect her, and he had failed.
Again. He should’ve listened to his intuition.
It had warned him that her acting as bait had been a terrible idea.
She hadn’t fainted. Something more had happened, something dark and malicious.
Pain no longer etched her face or twisted her body. It could almost make him believe that she was merely asleep. Except, in his soul, he knew she was in danger. He touched her cheek and felt her cold skin before pressing her closer.
He thought he’d be standing beside her in battle, that he would be able to see anything coming toward her. How he hated this powerless, weak feeling. He’d sworn never to experience it again after his parents. Yet, here he was.
And, somehow, this was so much worse.
“She grabbed her head before she cried out,” Balladyn said.
The Reaper’s voice was calm in the storm of panic and fear swirling around Mason. He slid his gaze to Balladyn. “Something tried to get into her mind at the cemetery earlier.”
“Did something speak to her?” Ferne asked.
Mason shook his head. “She said it spoke, but she couldn’t make out the words.”
“Could she have lied?” Theo questioned.
Mason shot him a furious glare. “She has no reason to lie. She would’ve told me.”
Fast-approaching footsteps pounded on the ground. It wasn’t long before Carlyle stopped before them, out of breath. “There’s no sign of Edie.”
“We need to go,” Balladyn urged Mason.
Mason nodded to the Reaper. The next second, they were in a room in the manor.
“I know Rowen doesn’t like the second floor. We’re on the third,” Balladyn said.
Mason climbed to his feet and carried Rowen to the bed as Balladyn yanked the comforter aside.
Then Mason was alone with her. He put his forehead against hers and fought back a scream of frustration.
It felt as if someone had torn open his chest and ripped out his heart, leaving him raw, exposed. Afraid.
His promise to be there for her rang hollow in his head. He should’ve run faster. No, he should’ve been with her. He should’ve talked her out of her plan. Everyone had been there—even Balladyn—yet something had still gotten to her.
He dragged in a ragged breath and cupped her face as he looked down at her.
“I don’t know where you are, or what has been done to you, but you’re a fighter, Rowen.
So, I need you to fight. I’d be there with you if I could.
Do whatever you have to on your end. I’ll take care of things here. Just…come back to me. Please.”
The door to the room burst open as the others rushed in. The minute they saw him, they slowed. Mason straightened but kept a hold of Rowen’s hand while they took their places around the bed. For a long minute, everyone simply stared at Rowen. Then Ferne gently removed Rowen’s shoes.
“The Healers are on their way,” Rhona said from beside him.
Mason briefly met her green eyes. “I didn’t find any injuries on her, but it’s better to know for certain.”
“Once we have that answer, we’ll know what to do next,” Carlyle said.
They were trying to make him feel better, maybe even attempting to make themselves feel less shaken by what had occurred as they all looked on. It had happened so quickly. One moment, Rowen was walking. And then next, she was falling.
“Has anyone had eyes on Edie?” Filip asked.
Song answered, “Nothing.”
“None of the cameras around the isle have picked her up on facial recognition either,” Kurt said.
Three Druids entered, led by a woman whose presence was commanding and comforting.
Her skin was a rich, sun-warmed brown. Short, black coils framed an angular face while her dark eyes were direct and piercing.
She was dressed in jeans, a blue and white striped tee, and a navy cardigan.
There was strength in her stillness—a depth of magic Mason had a vague memory of.
The conversation died as the rest of the room became aware of the newcomers. The woman nodded to Rhona before returning her gaze to him. “It’s nice to see you on your feet, Mason. I’m Lucy.”
This must have been the Healer who had seen to his wounds at the tea shop. “Thank you for what you did for me. Can you help Rowen?”
“We will certainly try. I need you to step away from the bed,” Lucy instructed while motioning to the two who had accompanied her.
Mason grudgingly released Rowen’s hand, but he didn’t move away. He lifted his chin, daring Lucy to force him to move, but she was no longer looking at him. Her attention was fixated on Rowen.
The Healers took their places around the bed, as everyone but Mason backed away to give them space. The Healers held out their hands over Rowen, palms down. Lucy began chanting first, then the other two joined her.
He clasped his hands together, digging his fingers into his skin in a desperate attempt to anchor himself. Every ragged breath tasted of powerlessness and his inability to protect those he loved. Watching the Healers hover over Rowen’s limp form had him drowning in a storm of guilt and fury.
Magic sparked just beneath his skin, volatile and hungry, eager to be unleashed upon the one responsible for hurting Rowen. He could make Edie pay for what had happened to Rowen, but he couldn’t leave Rowen. Not yet.
He watched her face for any signs of life.
She lay perfectly still, not even an eyelid twitching.
He couldn’t see the Healers’ magic, but he could feel it.
Potent. Weighty. Compelling. It filled every corner of the room and swirled around the Healers and into Rowen.
The longer they chanted, the more prevalent the magic became.
Their magic slid over him, winding around his face until his hands relaxed their grip.
For the first time since he’d run to Rowen, he could take a deep breath.
Air filled his lungs before he slowly released it.
His eyes closed of their own accord, and the tightness in his body gradually unraveled.
He had no idea how long he stayed like that before prying his eyes open to look at Rowen.
There was no change, no matter how hard he searched.
The Healers lowered their arms in unison as their chanting stopped. The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Before Mason could ask why they had stopped, Lucy turned to Rhona. “There’s nothing to heal.”
“Try again,” Mason demanded.
Rhona cut him a look. “If Rowen were wounded, Lucy would’ve discovered it by now.”
Lucy turned and offered him a sad smile. “She’s in perfect health.”
“Then why did she collapse? And why won’t she wake?” Ferne asked.
Unease whispered its way over Lucy’s face, tightening the corners of her mouth. “Her body is strong, but her mind…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s like a door has been closed. We tried to reach her, but something—or someone—is keeping us out.”
“What does that mean?” Elias asked sharply.
Mason saw Rhona and Balladyn share a worried look.
Lucy looked around the room. “It means we can’t tell if her mind is injured or simply elsewhere. It doesn’t feel as if she’s lost. More like she’s…locked away.”
“Thank you,” Rhona said before anyone else could comment. “Balladyn will see the three of you home.”
The moment they were gone, Mason asked, “What was that look between you and Balladyn?”
Rhona’s lips were tight as she met his gaze. “A group of Fae channeled their magic into their leader, who claimed to be an Ancient, and she took over my mind once as I slept.”
“But you came out of it. You’re here. That means Rowen will be okay.” He kept waiting for her to smile and nod, but she didn’t. “Wait. You said Fae.”
“I did. Those Fae wanted to kill the Reapers, and they intended to use me to do it.”
Mason reached for Rowen’s hand again. “How did you get free?”
“Balladyn. To this day, neither of us knows exactly how. It nearly killed him.”
The Reaper had done that for the woman he loved. Would he do it for someone he barely knew? Mason rubbed his thumb over the back of Rowen’s hand. “Do you think it’s the Fae who have Rowen now?”
“I don’t,” Rhona said with a shake of her head.
“It is suspicious that what happened to you and Rowen is so similar,” Ferne said.
Rhona pressed her lips together. “I know. I always thought those Fae were working alone, but now I wonder if they had help.”
“You mean from the evil we’re fighting?” Elias asked.
“I do,” Rhona.
Mason wasn’t a violent man, but the acute need to bellow and smash a fist into something was strong. “None of that helps Rowen. I promised her we’d have her back, and I don’t know how to do that if she’s in her own head.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Carlyle said.
Mason slid his gaze to his friend, not holding back his fury. “Really? How are we going to do that? We don’t know what’s happening. She’s facing things alone! Without anyone to help.”
“We’ll figure out a way,” Ferne repeated softly as she came up beside him, touching his arm. “We always do. We don’t give up. We keep trying until we succeed.”
Mason shook his head, tired and more scared than he had ever been.
He didn’t want to hear anything else. He just needed Rowen.
And she was too far away for him to reach.
He had her body, but not her mind. That was somewhere else.
Had she let in the false Ancients? Or had the evil shoved its way in? Was it turning her against them?
Would it kill her if she didn’t bend to its will?
“Sit.”
The voice startled him out of his musings. He looked over to find the room empty except for Song. She raised a brow and pointed to a chair behind him that he hadn’t seen before. Mason lowered himself into it while still keeping a hold of Rowen’s hand.
Song pulled the covers over Rowen before moving to the foot of the bed. “It’s difficult to trust those here. I know just how hard it can be. I was in your shoes not so long ago.”
“I trust Ferne and Carlyle.”
Her grin was fleeting. “Perhaps you do. Perhaps you don’t. You’ve heard the stories, and you believe them because your sister and Carlyle experienced them. But you don’t really believe.”
“I do.” Mason sighed, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“If you truly believed, you’d understand that every one of us—and I do mean everyone—will do whatever is needed to reach Rowen and get her back.”
Song’s words were direct, sincere, and candid. He studied her. “Why tell me this?”
“Like I said, I was in your shoes. We both come from the London Druids, and we’ve both experienced disillusionment there. We saw the corruption before meeting someone who changed…” She paused and shrugged. “Everything. Give us a chance. Work with us. Because we’re fighting for Rowen.”
He dropped his gaze to the bed, his throat swelling with emotion. “I’d give my life for hers.” He swung his head to Song. “What do you need from me?”
“Every detail you saw today, from the moment you woke until Rowen fell.”