21. Manny
MANNY
I swung the gun around to point the business end at Mamá, but I managed to keep my left hand down at my side, supporting the gun with the back end under my armpit and my right hand around the grip part with my forefinger on the trigger.
A thought about the safety catch flitted across my brain and I immediately redirected my thoughts to how much I loved my mother, and a memory of us together in the kitchen of Carlyle Blackbourne’s mansion, with Mamá mopping the floor and singing while I filled in a page in a coloring book.
The smell of the crayons mixed with the floor cleaner was clear and perfect in my mind.
“Enough!” The trafficker’s tone was irritated. “You. Take the gun back.” The guy next to me grabbed it out of my hand, and I found myself able to control my movements again. I guessed he’d made his point. He was in control here.
I hugged Mamá, and she sobbed into my shoulder. Eloise’s face was streaked with tears, and over her shoulder, Oz had even more black and white stubble on his face. His eyes blazed into mine, and I knew he was sending all the love he had for me.
“Alright, Mr. Moreno. Now you know what I can do. Your thoughts and your body are mine. Your mother and your other... whatever they are to you, are also mine to do with as I please.”
I let go of Mamá and faced him. This time I didn’t meet his eyes.
Arch had warned me about that, and I’d forgotten.
I wouldn’t forget again. The trafficker scoffed but didn’t comment on my thought.
I busied myself examining his magic. His magical wheel was not right.
Everyone else’s wheels, unless they were ill, sparkled and spun vibrantly and with a certain amount of speed.
When people were seriously ill, their magical cores reflected this, slowing down and becoming dim.
I’d never seen a magical wheel with black inky lines running through it.
The blackness was concentrated where the trafficker’s one connection branched off.
The connection was thick with age and intensity, but black instead of sparkling bright.
It set off every alarm bell my healing abilities provided me.
What was the vampire experiencing on the other end?
“You see the issue. My lovely pet is dying, and he is affecting me with his illness. You will heal him. You can do it on your own, or I will force you. Either way, you will heal him.”
I shrugged, careful to keep my eyes on the diseased connection. “I’ll have to take a look at him to see whether he can be healed or not.” I raised my eyebrows. “You’ll know if I’m telling the truth.”
The asshole ignored me and pointed at the door. “Parker, open the doors. Put them all inside in case my pet is hungry.”
Parker, the original Bond villain goon, made a concerned noise. “Of course. My men and I will accompany you.”
The trafficker waved him off. “Too many people in the room will be distracting. Put a man on the human and one on the shifter. The pixie’s no threat, and Mr. Moreno certainly can’t harm me.”
I focused very hard on his diseased bond with his mate. He’d said the vampire was sick and the illness had come into him from the vampire. But the black lines were moving from the trafficker’s magical core into the connection, so I was calling bullshit.
Parker reached for one of the double doors and, after throwing what I hoped was a reassuring smile at Oz, I braced myself for what I was about to see.
Which was nothing. The room was empty, just concrete floor and two-story high ceilings like the rest of the warehouse, maybe fifty feet square.
A closed metal door was on the opposite wall.
We filed in, with the trafficker bringing up the rear.
The goon holding a gun on Oz prodded him into the nearest corner, and the one on Mamá moved her and Eloise to the opposite one, which was nearest the closed door.
The trafficker closed and locked the door from the reception room, then he strode to the other door. He unlocked and opened it, stepping back and sweeping his arm to the side. “Come in, my pet. See what I have brought you!”
I couldn’t stop my gasp. The... creature that entered was horrific.
No wonder Oz had called him a monster. Simon was a vampire too, but he could pass for human.
This one could not. He was probably a lot taller than me, but his hunched over posture and long, matted hair made it difficult to tell.
His eyes glowed a dull red, and his fangs protruded from his mouth when he wasn’t even snarling.
He moved in a slow shuffle, like he should’ve had a cane to help keep him upright.
If it wasn’t for his fangs and claws, even I could’ve taken him in a fight.
His magic, though. His magic was worse than his outward appearance.
Honestly I was shocked he was still alive.
Where the trafficker’s magical core was shot through with inky black here and there, the vampire’s core was just black, a whirling void of poison.
And more came through his connection with the trafficker with every heartbeat.
My magic knew exactly how to heal him. “I can do it.” I concentrated on the vampire’s pasty, almost withered skin that hung on his bones. On his dry and brittle hair and the broken claws at the ends of his hands. That was all the trafficker would see in my brain.
At my words, the vampire looked up, and I barely shifted my gaze to his forehead in time. He stepped forward, and the guard on Oz said, “Stop.” But he wasn’t talking to the vampire.
The vampire reached out a hand in my direction. “Please. Please kill me.”
My throat went tight. Fuck, I felt sorry for him.
The trafficker, still standing by the door, scoffed. “Nonsense, my pet. Mr. Moreno is here to heal you.”
Shaking his head, the vampire shuffled backward. “No. I need to die. Please kill me.”
I spread my hands out. “I’m sorry. I can’t kill you. Why don’t you let me heal you, and afterward you can see if you still feel the same way.” His eyes darted to the trafficker. Was I imagining that lip curling up to reveal more fang? I held out my wrist. “All you have to do is drink from me.”
“Manny, no!” A thud followed Oz’s shout, but I didn’t turn around.
The vampire sniffed the air, and before I could blink, he was in front of me, holding my wrist to his mouth. He smelled like rot, and I hoped I wouldn’t catch a bacterial infection. “Um, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill me, by the way. I’m trying to help you.”
He lifted his face away from my wrist, and it almost hurt not to look into his eyes. “I have not killed anyone since World War II. Not even he can make me.” He jerked his head in the direction of the trafficker.
Well, alrighty then.
Instead of puncturing my skin with his fangs, he used one of them to make a one-inch slice along my radial artery.
It was surprisingly pain-free, but the feel of his mouth around my wrist, sucking, was revolting, and I had to look away.
I wanted to see what was happening with Oz and Mamá, but my bigger priority was healing the vampire.
Ordinarily I just gave the patient my magic and let it do its thing.
I might think about what I wanted it to target while I was preparing it, but that step never felt required.
But for this, directing the healing was required.
I watched as my magic entered the vampire’s body, and I urged it toward his magical core, keenly aware that the trafficker could hear my thoughts.
A pocket of bright, sparkling magic formed at the center of the vampire’s core. Expelling the poison from the vampire’s system would take time, but this was making a good start.
One of the goons shouted, “What the fuck? That’s not a badger!” Oz made a high-pitched snarling shriek, and the goon cried out before going silent. I didn’t have time to look, but I smiled to myself. Go, Oz!
The vampire fell to his knees, moaning, and he sucked harder.
Uh oh. Time to speed things along. He might not intend to kill me, but accidents happen, and I could only imagine how good my magic tasted to him.
Now to prevent more poison from entering his body.
Okay, see where the poison is coming from? See that connection?
The trafficker shouted, “No!” and I automatically turned to look, my free hand up to ward off his attack.
I met his eyes, my brain stuttered, and all I could do was stand frozen as he lunged toward me.
Eloise moved in my peripheral vision, and a cloud of glittering dust enveloped the area around her, including the trafficker but missing me and the vampire.
The trafficker staggered, coughing, and the goon holding the gun on Mamá fell to the floor.
Was Eloise making them sleep, maybe? Whatever she’d instructed the pixie dust to do, I could move and think again.
Eloise launched into the air with Mamá in her arms. Satisfied they were safe, I turned back to the vampire and put all of my willpower into directing the magic. Cut it. Cut off the poison.
The sparkling magic surrounded the spot where the black, pulsing bond entered the vampire, and with a little flash, the bond vanished. Howling a pained cry, the vampire let go of my arm and collapsed, curling in a ball on the ground.
I whirled to face the trafficker, automatically putting pressure on my wrist with my other hand. The glittering dust covered him, and he crawled slowly along the floor toward me and the vampire, mewling, “No. No.”
I briefly let go of my wrist to slap my chest. “Should’ve read the t-shirt, asshole! Don’t piss off the healer!”
Mamá cheered from above, and Eloise laughed.
The vampire staggered to his feet. His magical core was still mostly covered in the poison, but it had partially cleared. He’d be fine in a few days, at least physically.