Chapter Twenty-Six #2
The blade cuts across the demon’s belly as it leaps over me.
It slices through like a hot knife through butter.
An echo of screams fills the world loud enough to make my ears bleed as the beast careens, trying to escape too late and crashes off to the side.
The impact rattles the ground, quickly followed by another behind me.
A hand wraps around my upper arm and yanks me to my feet. Joon’s eyes search my face.
My head swims with a wave of dizziness. Motion from the side rises up from behind him. I gasp for breath, unable to form words. I throw my shoulder into him with all my weight, shoving him out of the way and thrusting the dagger at the demon. A single nick of the blade is all it takes to fell them.
I will not let them have him.
I will not die helpless.
I take a step, determined to keep fighting alongside Joon. The world tilts as darkness encroaches on the edges of my vision.
We move together. His light. My dagger. Every time I see Joon, he bears another deep slash, while I remain untouched.
Demon shit.
He takes hit after hit, allowing me to strike.
My vision wavers. I gasp for breath. I keep fighting, refusing to let his sacrifices be in vain. But it’s useless, and my legs finally give out.
No… please no…
Several demons litter the area, but several more are still coming for us. Joon picks up the dagger and reluctantly turns from me to face them.
When had I dropped it?
The flurries quickly turn into a mix of ice and snow, obscuring everything, but not before we both see a dozen more demons bursting through ice in the distance.
“Cabin!” I shout above the wind.
Joon cuts another down before glancing in the direction I indicate. He reaches down and pulls me into his side, half-carrying me as he begins to run.
I point at a demon, nearly upon us, and slip out of his grasp. Joon whirls and sends a burst of light at them, enough to blind, then drives the dagger into the space between the demon’s two burning red eyes.
He hooks an arm around my waist and drags me along with him once more.
A cool, soothing sensation weaves through my veins like soothing balm on a burn.
The pain wracking my body eases. It’s only when I can take a full breath again that I realize he’s wasting the magic he needs to fight these demons on healing me.
But it’s too late to say anything now, so I run on my own beside him.
The harmony of demons is gaining rapidly, but we are almost to the cabin.
My knees go out. A force shoves us from behind and sends me sprawling.
“Violet!”
Rolling onto my back, I’m blinded by light exploding out in a massive wave toward the demons. The world dims again in time to watch as Joon drags the dagger across a demon’s side as they slash at him.
Joon twists to avoid the gleaming talons. His body jerks, and he stumbles toward me, falling to his hands and knees.
Rips in his clothing expose four long gashes carved into his back. Blood soaks the ruined material, plastering it to his skin. I grab his wrist and tug, ignoring his pain and forcing him to his feet.
The blast of light didn’t stop the demons, but it bought us a little time.
Draping his arm over my shoulder, I grab onto the front of his jacket with my other hand to avoid his injuries. I drag him the last few yards to the cabin and inside.
Releasing him, I throw my full weight against the warped door, then slide the long bolt into place. Heavy thuds bash into it seconds later. The wood splinters in places but holds.
He braces against the rough-hewn table, barely managing to stay upright.
The cabin is small, with a kitchen opposite a stone fireplace on the interior wall, with open doors, one on either side of it.
Behind the first door is a cramped bathing room with a tub in the center.
Beside that is an iron stove with a tank sitting on top of it, and a dial to control the spout protruding from the tank, overhanging the tub.
The other leads to a relatively clean bedroom.
There is little in the way of personal touches. Moth-eaten curtains partially cover windows coated with a layer of dust.
Supporting Joon’s weight, I help him to the bedroom and have him lie face down on the bed. He half flops onto it with a groan. The mattress springs creak loudly in the quiet space. Then I carefully peel the torn material away from his wounds.
The gashes across his flesh are deep. His skin is not stitching itself up as it should. In fact, he looks close to death.
I kneel beside the bed and bring my face close to his. “You need to siphon, Joon. You’re not healing.”
He blinks slowly, gazing at me through unfocused eyes.
“Please,” my plea is whisper soft.
Whatever he hears in it is enough to get him to comply. He inches to the edge, and I close the distance. Our lips meet, and the channel within me opens to him, allowing the power to flow. Drawn to him the way a river is drawn down a mountain.
The kiss is empty. Void of everything other than the transfer of magic. He breaks away before he can take enough to fully restore his magic.
While I trust he knows what he needs, I watch his injuries to be sure. Gradually, the bleeding stops. At the first sign of his skin knitting back together, I get to my feet and return to the bathing room to look for anything that might be useful.
Like the bedroom, there’s not much beyond some basic soaps, a salve, and a few other hygiene necessities. I grab a few towels from the cupboard, then head to the kitchen.
I raid the cabinet, sorting through the glass jars of dried herbs and spices. The writing on them has faded beyond legibility. One by one, I sniff to identify what they are, rejecting most, until I have a small collection of jars. Fresh herbs are best, but dry ones will do in a pinch.
I place them on the table, then search the rest of the drawers and cupboards where a few mismatched dishes were left behind. Grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, I portion out the dried leaves. I frown at my mixture. It won’t do much good as is. I need to reconstitute the ingredients.
Remembering the salve, I quickly return to the bathing room for the unlabeled jar, and scoop several spoonfuls into the bowl, and mix while adding more a little at a time, until it becomes a smooth green paste.
Gathering my concoction and the towels, I return to Joon and get to work.
I slice the towels into strips, then smear the poultice over Joon’s injuries, starting with the ones on his back and moving to his arm.
I’d prefer a cleaner environment and the supplies I have at home, but this is the best I can do for now.
He is unconscious by the time I finish, torso rising and falling in slow, even breaths.
The ice and snow from the storm have melted, soaking through my clothes. My teeth chatter as I cross the room to the fireplace. I thank the saints that the last tenant left the flint sitting on the mantle and the dry wood piled beside it.
I make quick work of it and soon, a fire lights the room, crackling and snapping, as the dancing flames chase away the chill in the air.
After removing my outer layers, I pause as I reach for the ties to my dress and look over my shoulder.
Joon’s eyes are closed. All the tension has leached from his muscles as he slumbers.
I strip out of my clothes until I’m only wearing a thin slip, then drape them over the rocking chair beside the fireplace to dry.
While Joon sleeps, I quietly move about the room, searching for anything left behind. There’s precious little and nothing that we can use in the dresser, but I do find a white shirt hanging in the closet, which I fold and leave beside Joon.
I lift the lid of an intricately carved hope chest at the foot of the bed. The hinges squeak, and I cringe, but Joon doesn’t stir.
Inside, there are three thick fur blankets. I pull them out and pile two in front of the fire, then sit on top of them with my knees pulled to my chest, wrapping the third blanket around my shoulders.
Once I’m warm again, I let the blanket slide off my shoulders and pool around me. I lean back, propping myself up on my hands, and stretch my legs out.
I watch the flames dance and crackle, letting them hypnotize me, until the wild storm and horrible demon howls fade from the outside world.
“Violet?” I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here before Joon’s voice drags me from my reverie.
“You should be resting,” I admonish gently. “I left a clean shirt for you beside the bed.”
Joon settles beside me, his upper torso still completely bare.
Instead of responding, he brings his hand to the back of my head. I wince at the light touch. Pain shoots through my skull, condensing where it hit the ground after being thrown from the horse. It fades in seconds as he heals it.
“Thank you.”
He huffs a humorless laugh. “You don’t need to thank me. It’s part of our bargain to keep you safe.”
“Would you have agreed to bargain with me if there had been another flower?”
“Yes,” his answer is immediate.
“Why?”
“Because you said please. Because of every time you have said please.” There’s a depth to his answer that holds far more than he gives voice.
“You need to siphon.”
“I have taken enough. We cannot risk you having another episode. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
I shake my head.
The intensity of his gaze, traveling from my face down my torso and legs, leaves behind a phantom caress. His eyes darken, and I see a desire in the blue depths that matches my own.
I twist and lean forward, pressing my hand to his chest, sliding up over his shoulder and around his neck. “Then you can stop if it gets to that point.”
His skin is smooth and warm, filling me with the sudden urge to run my palm over his defined muscles. Instead, I pull him down as I lean in the rest of the way and kiss him. When Joon doesn’t respond, I pull back, releasing him.
Between one heartbeat and the next, his fingers wrap around my wrist and tug me closer. His mouth crashes down on mine. Firm and demanding.
I melt against him with a sigh. He takes full advantage, slipping his tongue inside and claiming my mouth.
It takes me entirely too long to realize that he’s not siphoning.