Chapter 6
Quentin swallowed convulsively to keep the contents of his stomach inside and not join Grevin’s blood splattered across the stonework like a macabre artwork installation. In the middle of a growing puddle lay Grevin.
He wasn’t moving.
A sob escaped him before he clamped his lips tightly together. He couldn’t give in to his emotions while his friend bled out. Grevin had called him for help, not hysteria. He had to be strong enough for both of them.
Hands and legs trembling, he stumbled across the stone floor and dropped to his knees beside Grevin’s still, bleeding body. His fingers shook as he struggled to locate a pulse.
“C’mon, Grev, don’t die on me now. I’m not necromancer enough to bring you back,” he pleaded. He’d only taken one introductory necromancy class. One wasn’t enough to troubleshoot this problem, especially since he didn’t have the right magic.
A faint pulse vibrated beneath his fingertips.
Alive.
He let out a lungful of oxygen he’d unconsciously been holding in. “We need to get him to a doctor,” he said, not daring to look away from his friend as if Grevin couldn’t die while he was watching.
The large amount of blood pouring from Grevin’s wounds hid the extent of the damage beneath the gory mess of his friend’s body. He had no way of determining how deep the injuries went, but this much blood couldn’t be good.
“You can’t heal him?” Jaks kneeled beside them, ignoring the blood seeping into his designer clothes.
Quentin shook his head. “I don’t dare.” His magic had too much crackle and snap to shape into the smooth, soothing energy needed for proper healing spells.
He could seal minor cuts, but the few times he’d tried true healing, the recipients had been less than happy with the electrical burns he’d left behind.
“Huh. And here I was certain there wasn’t anything you couldn’t do.”
Quentin gave Jaks the glare he deserved, only to receive a cocky grin in reply.
A soft moan jerked his attention back to Grevin. He leaned over to be in Grevin’s line of sight. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. We’re going to get you help.”
Grevin’s eyes flew open. He gripped Quentin’s shirt and jerked him closer with surprising strength for someone bleeding out. “You have to stop it.” Grevin’s pain-filled eyes focused on him with a feverish intensity.
Quentin shivered. “What? What do we have to stop? What did you summon, Grevin?” What had escaped Grevin’s circle? From the damage to the house, it had been something big with claws and maybe an ice element, not a creature he was used to dealing with.
Grevin’s eyelids fluttered with the effort to keep them open.
“Never mind. Don’t waste your breath.” They could deal with whatever had been freed once Grevin had received the medical care he clearly needed. He didn’t want his friend to die while they were playing twenty questions.
Grevin’s eyes rolled beneath their lids—strings of words in a language Quentin didn’t know spilled from his mouth in fluid strings of incomprehensible sounds.
Fuck, was he possessed?
A wave of his hand returned a negative diagnosis.
“What was that?” Jaks asked, leaning closer.
“Checking for possession.”
“Is he?”
“No, just delirious.”
Abruptly, Grevin’s language switched to English. Quentin leaned closer to hear.
“I didn’t mean it, Q. It was supposed to be a safe space. Someone got in. They hit me from behind and took the demon.” His knuckles whitened around his hold of Quentin’s shirt. “You have to get it back,” he whispered.
A dribble of blood trickled from Grevin’s lips.
Jaks’s fingers bit into Quentin’s shoulder, grounding him in the moment and preventing him from hyperventilating from his rising levels of panic.
“We need to get him to the doctor. You can interrogate him when he’s feeling better.”
Quentin nodded. He slid his left arm around Grevin’s back and his right arm beneath Grevin’s legs. He swallowed back bile as sticky blood coated his hands and seeped through his shirt.
He could do this. His inner pep talk didn’t account for the stench. He swallowed a few more times as cold sweat dripped down his spine.
“I can carry him,” Jaks offered.
He swallowed again before speaking. The room swam for a second, but Quentin fought against the dizziness and steadied. “I’ve got him. Where do we need to go?” He hoped Jaks had a private doctor in mind because hospitals and necromancers didn’t mix. He’d forgotten that in his initial alarm.
He lifted Grevin as he stood, swaying and stubbornly clutching his friend tight to his body, afraid of dropping him if he flailed.
This shouldn’t have happened. Of all the magic practitioners Quentin knew, Grevin was the most careful.
The necromancer always double and triple-checked everything before starting a ritual.
For someone to get in, they either had to be one of the few people keyed in or powerful enough to smash through Grevin’s wards.
“We need to take him back to the manor. I recently hired a doctor for the mansion. We can bring him there. Are you sure you can’t do any healing spells to stabilize him?”
“No.” Quentin hated to admit to a weakness. “I’ve never been good at any of the healing arts.” He could feel his cheeks burning with shame.
Grevin gasped out a painful-looking laugh. “I remember when you blew up the patient mannequin.” More blood dripped from between his lips.
“Hush, save your breath. You’re supposed to be heroically unconscious.” He kept his tone light as he inwardly panicked over the amount of sticky blood seeping through his fingers.
“Dr. Wesson should be at the mansion. He was setting up the medical ward when I talked to him this morning.”
“Good. Hold on tight.” The second Jaks touched his shoulder, Quentin transported all three of them to Jaks’s bedroom.
The vampire’s large suite took over most of the wing, but Quentin wasn’t confident enough to avoid the living room table.
Jaks’s bedroom had the least amount of furniture and was the only one he was familiar enough with to teleport to confidently. He was sure no one would be inside.
Luckily for Jaks’s sake, he was right.
He barely steadied his feet before Jaks was pulling him out of the suite.
“This way.” Jaks opened a door halfway down the hall and motioned them inside.
Instead of a doctor’s office, it was an impersonal guest room. Frowning, he set Grevin on the floral comforter that would have been at home in any cheap motel.
“This one doesn’t have anything that we care about being damaged by blood.
As I said, Dr. Wesson is still setting up his medical facility.
There isn’t a lot of need for vampire medical care, but several humans are living here, and there is always the occasional injury that needs professional help.
He’s only here part-time right now, mostly nights, until I can see how much he’s needed.
He’s picked up some clients who needed counseling. ”
Quentin nodded. “Like Glenn,” he said, recognizing the name.
When Quentin set him down, Grevin gave a bubbly cough of blood.
“Hang in there, Grevin. Quentin would be upset if you died on him.” Jaks pulled a phone out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons. Soon, he was speaking to someone on the other side. Based on what he heard on this side of the conversation, it must be the doctor.
Quentin waved a hand and removed the crusty blood from Grevin’s clothes and skin. Fresh blood quickly seeped through the cloth.
He spent the rest of his energy trying not to panic.
There wasn’t much he could do, but he could make his friend more comfortable.
He had never felt so useless since his mother’s cancer diagnosis.
Another wave of his hand removed Grevin’s shoes.
Not that it mattered if Grevin got any dirt on the covers while he bled to death.
He squeezed Grevin’s disturbingly cold hand, then sat in a chair out of the way.
He didn’t want to be in the doctor’s path.
His ass barely met the cushion when a tall vampire with blue-black hair and an imposing manner stalked into the room. “What happened?”
Jaks turned to the newcomer. “Grevin is a necromancer. We believe someone attacked him to release the demon he had summoned.” He waved a hand to indicate the blood seeping through Grevin’s shirt.
Dr. Wesson growled. “Necromancers always think they can handle demons. He wouldn’t be the first to be proven wrong. Do you know what he summoned?”
Quentin opened his mouth to defend his friend but stopped when Jaks shook his head. He was right. Now wasn’t the time for an argument. Not when Grevin needed help. He bit his thumbnail as he thought over potential suspects. Jaks smacked Quentin’s hand away from his mouth. “Stop that.”
Ignoring Jaks, he spoke to the doctor. “We felt demon energy around the house, so it must’ve been a high-level demon, but Grevin wasn’t in any condition to provide a name. I’m going back there to secure his house and see if I can figure out what happened. He might have left notes behind.”
Luckily, Grevin had just sold his last litter of hellhounds. Quentin had had enough of supernatural canines for a while.
“What can you determine from an empty circle? I thought you didn’t progress very far in your necromantic studies?
” Jaks leaned against the wall beside Quentin.
They were both trying to stay out of the doctor’s way.
Dr. Wesson might be a good therapist for Glenn, but he appeared to have little tolerance for necromancers.
“I didn’t, but a lot of ritual magic has crossover. If I can find the name, it will be easier to return it. We also must verify that what he summoned is what he got. Grevin doesn’t usually call high-level demons. He always says they’re too much trouble and want too much for their information.”