32. First Kill
FIRST KILL
Alex
Ikept glancing at Irene as we walked through the dimly lit streets of London. With the thug gone and her power fading, we had no choice but to keep hunting. Clouds hid the moonlight, which made her dimming radiance more evident. She hadn’t talked during the ride, and even now she remained quiet.
We paused in a dark corner in front of a gambling den. She rubbed her hands and blew on them.
“It’s not cold.” I studied her face. “Are you all right?”
“I have trouble keeping myself warm.”
I clenched my jaw. Myrtha’s power was growing less reliable by the minute, and my blood hadn’t changed anything. “You’re going to get your damn kill tonight.”
She winced, and I scolded myself inwardly.
“That man.” She pointed to a tall, thin man with blond hair.
I sniffed the air and studied his scent carefully. Not a trace of magic. He wasn’t a werewolf or a vampire either.
I pulled up the lapels of my coat. “We’ll use the same tactic as last night.”
Hands in his pockets, the man left the gaming den with long strides. He took a busy street, and I had to slow down my pace not to bump into anyone. People brushed dangerously close past me, tottering on their feet. Anxiety rose, and cold sweat dampened my neck.
“We’re losing him. He’s over there.” Irene sped up, but I remained behind as a group of drunk men blocked my path.
“Wait for me.” I raised my voice.
But she didn’t hear me. The target rounded a corner and disappeared from view with Irene at his tail.
“Irene!” A new type of panic, more lethal, gripped me.
She was yards away, but not seeing her terrified me. More people flooded the street, forcing me into a corner. My patience was stretching thinner than a spider’s thread.
A man fell over, almost dropping on me, and I moved aside to dodge him. The distressing urge to scrub my skin made me quiver. A noise started buzzing in my ears. And Irene was nowhere to be seen. But I was her master.
“Irene, come here!”
My blood boiled with the strength of the order as I fully employed the power of controlling her. A moment later, she strode towards me with jerky movements. A storm raged in her sapphire gaze.
“You promised!” Her chest rose and fell quickly.
“I told you to stay close.”
“We were losing him.” She gestured in the direction where the man had disappeared.
“Sod him. I was worried about you!”
“So you forced your will upon me!”
I leant against the wall. “Don’t run away from me.”
“I didn’t realise you weren’t keeping up with me.”
“Because I can’t—” Damn. I’d rather not end the sentence.
“Don’t you ever command me! It’s the most awful sensation I’ve ever experienced.” She marched towards the alley at a brisk pace and vanished from view.
Stubborn woman.
The alley was still crowded, but my urge to follow her and my build achieved the impossible. People moved aside, opening a narrow path for me. When I made my way through the crowd without touching anyone, I sped up, desperate to get to Irene.
I exhaled when I found her right around the corner, waiting for me.
She placed her hands on her hips. “We’ve lost him.”
The fright and the crowd made me shiver. Memories resurfaced, keeping my mind busy when I should be focused on the target. I inhaled to catch a trace of his scent, but fighting to stay calm and not throw up interfered with my senses.
Irene walked a few steps ahead of me, rubbing her chest. Our bond was strained because she was upset with me.
I shut my eyes to collect myself. The sounds came muffled, and even the smells were faint. There was a soft moan, followed by a thud.
I flared my eyes open.
“Why are you following me?” the man shouted.
Something flashed in his hand, and I forced myself out of my stupor to shove him hard. He hit the wall with his back and groaned. The contact with his chest froze me. A sickening lump crawled up my throat.
I yelled to release the tension, but I was choking on air.
A sweet, flowery scent of blood hit my nose, forcing me back to reality.
“Irene!”
She was slumped on the cobbles, a hand on her stomach. Blood trickled through her fingers. The thug had stabbed her because I’d been slow, because my demons had been unleashed.
She paled and whispered something I didn’t understand. Her head slumped to the side, and her breathing became thin.
“Irene!”
The carriage was a few minutes’ walk from there. I had to carry her. There was no time to waste. The man was gone, and I didn’t care.
Sheer panic seized me. I hadn’t experienced anything so frightening since Riley had attacked me.
Shivering and swallowing the bitter bile in my mouth, I forced myself to gather her in my arms. My stomach roiled, and nausea overwhelmed me.
I gritted my teeth, pushing myself to endure the pain.
If I didn’t take Irene to the mansion soon, she would die.
I staggered along the alley, my legs weighing like bricks. Her cheek pressed against my chest, and I almost threw up as my skin burnt.
Breathing deeply, I soldiered on. Cold sweat soaked my shirt. My sight blurred. I focused on the good things—Irene’s sweet scent, her soft body, and her pulse.
Painful step after painful step, the carriage swept into view. A swell blocked my throat, and my arms were shivering so hard I feared I might drop Irene.
When I laid her on the seat in the carriage, I fell to the ground, shaking so hard I bit my tongue.
“Your Grace.” The footman stood at my side. “Are you hurt?”
I pushed myself up and climbed into the carriage. “No, but Miss Harlowe is wounded. To the manor. Quick as you can.”
I quivered hard when I sat down. My teeth chattered, and I lost control of my body. It twitched with nervous spasms. Irene lay immobile, pale as the moonlight. Her pulse was slowing down.
Head spinning, I tore at her dress and ran my tongue over the slash. It was too deep for my healing power to work. Blood kept oozing out.
I pressed my hand against the wound on her stomach. The contact was torture, and I couldn’t contain a shout of pain. It was as if my skin stretched and ripped.
“Your Grace?” the coachman called.
“Go on. Don’t worry about me.” My throat seemed filled with glass shards.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the mansion, and I’d barely collected myself before the footman opened the door.
“Carry Miss Harlowe to her bedroom.” I strode inside on trembling legs, trying to look in control. “Lowe, fetch me Mr. Strange,” I ordered my butler.
I paused at the foot of the stairs before going up.
Darius met me halfway up the stairs. “What is it?”
“Irene was stabbed. She’s very weak.”
He gave me a nod that meant he understood how I felt.
The footman hurried past us with an unconscious Irene in his arms. I hated being so useless right when she needed me the most.
I’d promised her I would protect her.
We gathered around her bed. The blood formed a large red stain on her belly and dripped from my gloved fingers.
“Save her.” I closed my fist. “Do everything, anything, to save her.”
Darius wasn’t a healer, but he knew how to stem the bleeding.
He waved his hands, forming symbols in the air I didn’t recognise.
Each movement left a trail of glittering stars.
The light engulfed Irene, but she didn’t react, not even when she was lifted an inch from the bed. The spell went on for several minutes.
When Darius lowered his arms, he was panting. He bent over, a hand on the bedpost.
“I stopped the bleeding, but she needs to regain her energy.” He wheezed.
I rang the bell and waited for the butler. “A tray for Mr. Strange.”
Lowe returned a few moments later with brandy balls, hot cocoa, and butter.
Darius wolfed down everything as I tucked the cover around Irene.
“Her power is at its lowest.” He washed the food down with tea. “She won’t heal without help. I’m going to prepare a potion, but she has lost a lot of blood.”
Because of my clumsiness.
“How did it happen?” he asked.
How indeed. “I got distracted at the wrong moment.”
He looked puzzled. That made two of us.
“I’d better prepare that potion.” He took another sip of sweet tea.
When he left, I sat on the edge of the bed, wishing I could hold her hand without passing out. My cursed fear had nearly killed her.
“I’m sorry. I wish I were the man you need.” Slowly, I brushed a long golden curl from her cheek. “I almost killed you twice.”
“What is going on?” Myrtha entered the room, her lips parting when she saw Irene. “Oh no.” She rushed to her side and held her face. “She’s fading.”
“Darius stopped the bleeding. He’s preparing a potion to help regain her energy.”
She checked Irene’s pulse. “Even if she recovers, she won’t be able to hunt. How can she kill if she can barely stand?”
“I’ll think of a solution.”
She straightened, her radiance growing. “You’ll have to give me an answer more satisfactory than that because you insisted on being responsible for her. If she’d stayed with me, she wouldn’t be half dead now.”
“If you had been stronger, Irene would have been stronger, too.”
“Don’t you dare blame me!” She pointed a finger at me. “You’re her master.”
That was true, and I couldn’t defend myself, claiming it’d been an accident. When I’d taken Irene under my protection, I should have considered how risky my fear was. I’d put Irene in danger, and I was to blame.
She caressed Irene’s head. “If she dies, I’ll stab your dark heart.”
If Irene died, I would let Myrtha stab me.