Chapter 13
Cal left with a grim sort of purpose, wings folded tight behind his back, his skin catching the hospital floodlights in dull flashes.
“I will round up those in Scorchwood and take them to the volcano,” he said, voice deep, like the plan was already carved into him. “The crater is the safest holding point until we find the relic.”
Faith watched him with narrowed eyes. “You have limited time.”
Cal nodded once. “Dawn is close.”
I felt the egg bond tug, slight and uneasy, as if the baby sensed Cal moving away. The pressure in my ribs spiked for a heartbeat, then steadied when I pushed warmth through the connection again.
Cal’s gaze slid to me, and something softened there. Concern. A question he did not ask out loud.
“I will be fine,” I said before he could.
He did not look convinced. He stepped closer anyway, close enough that I could smell smoke and cold stone. He reached out as if to touch my shoulder, then stopped, fingers hovering in a restrained gesture that somehow felt more intimate than contact.
“Do not push yourself,” he said quietly.
“I am not planning to,” I replied.
He gave me a look that said he had heard that line before and it always ended poorly.
Then he turned, wings unfolding with a heavy snap, and launched into the sky.
His silhouette cut across the hospital lights and disappeared into the dark, heading toward Scorchwood.
Nishi watched him go, then turned back to us. Her expression was composed, but fatigue sat at the edges of her eyes.
“We are done here for the moment,” she said. “Delia is finishing memory work. Spencer has vampires reinforcing the entrance. Victor is keeping the streets from collapsing.”
Tegan exhaled hard. “And Dagna moved the relic. Which means we are back to chasing a ghost.”
Greyson rubbed his forehead with one hand, the other still glowing from holding the portal. “Not a ghost. A witch with too many resources.”
Eve’s eyes were bright with fury even now. She stared into the space where the shield had been thickest as if she could burn it away through spite. “I hurt her.”
Faith nodded once, grim satisfaction. “Good.”
Eve’s jaw tightened. “Not enough.”
“We will get her,” Nishi said. “But not by standing in a hospital parking lot. We need to regroup, eat, and rest.”
Rest sounded like a fantasy. My body was vibrating with exhaustion. The egg bond kept pulling at my ribs like a reminder that I could not simply collapse. Not until the baby hatched. Not until the calling stopped.
Greyson looked at me. “You need food. Actual food. Not energy drinks and power bars.”
Faith snorted. “We run on sarcasm. It’s a nutrient.”
“I will finish up here, go get something to eat,” Greyson said flatly.
Eve finally looked at me, really looked, and her expression shifted. Not soft, exactly. But less intense. “He is right.”
I was too tired to argue. “Okay.”
We left the hospital perimeter to Spencer and Delia, then piled back into the SUV. The city outside the windows had a different feel now. Not calmer. Just slower. The night had burned through most of its adrenaline, leaving behind an exhausted hush.
It would be dawn soon.
I could feel it in the air, that thinning of dark. The kind of shift that made the world look paler even before the sun showed up.
We stopped at a diner on the edge of town, one of those places that survived on coffee, grease, and the fact that there were always people awake at ungodly hours. The sign buzzed. The parking lot had two trucks and a sedan that looked like it had seen several decades of poor decisions.
Inside, it smelled like bacon and old fryer oil and something sweet that might have been pancakes. The booths were vinyl. The lighting was too bright. The waitress looked tired enough to have accepted the apocalypse as routine.
Faith slid into a booth across from me, stretching her legs out under the table like she owned the place.
Nishi took the seat beside her, posture upright even in a diner booth because she did not understand the concept of slumping.
Eve and Tegan sat at the next booth, close enough to talk without yelling.
The waitress appeared with menus.
“What can I get you?” she asked, voice flat.
Faith didn’t hesitate. “Coffee. Bring a pot.”
The waitress blinked at her, then nodded slowly and walked away, as if she sensed Faith might bite.
I scanned the menu, then gave up. My brain was too full of undead and relics to decide between waffles and eggs.
Nishi glanced at me. “Eat protein.”
“Do you have a protein suggestion?” I asked.
Faith snorted. “Everything here is protein and regret.”
I settled on eggs and toast, because my body understood that language.
When the coffee arrived, Faith poured herself a cup as if she were fueling for war.
Tegan rubbed her temples. Eve’s gaze kept drifting to her phone, waiting for news from Cal.
The food arrived quickly. I ate a few bites, then felt the egg bond tug again, a small pulse of worry. I pushed warmth through it. The sensation steadied, but the effort cost me. My shoulders sagged slightly.
Faith watched me over her mug. “You are fading.”
“I am not,” I said automatically.
Faith’s eyebrows rose. “I am starting to hate that phrase.”
I sighed. “Fine. I am fading a little.”
Nishi’s gaze intensified. “You cannot maintain the egg bond indefinitely without support.”
“I know,” I said, voice quieter. “That is why we need the relic.”
Faith leaned back, then said, out of nowhere, “So. You like him.”
My fork paused halfway to my mouth. “Excuse me.”
Faith took a sip of coffee, casual. “Cal. You like him.”
I stared at her, then glanced toward Nishi, hoping for rescue.
Nishi did not rescue me. She looked mildly curious, which was the supernatural equivalent of popcorn.
Eve pretended she had not heard, which meant she had heard everything.
Tegan’s lips twitched as if she were fighting a laugh.
I swallowed. “We are not doing this.”
Faith’s eyes stayed on me. “You are doing it. Your face is doing it.”
“My face is tired,” I snapped.
Faith nodded. “Yes. And your tired face is still doing it.”
I should have lied. It would have been easier.
But exhaustion had a way of stripping away strategy.
“I am attracted to him,” I admitted, voice low. “Happy.”
Faith’s mouth curved. “Yeah. Everyone is attracted to Cal. He is hot.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “Faith.”
“What?” she said, unbothered. “He is. Everyone likes him. Except me.”
Nishi lifted an eyebrow. “Except you.”
Faith shrugged. “He has always been my uncle.”
I blinked. “Uncle.”
Faith rolled her eyes. “Not by blood. My weird supernatural family. You know how it is. He has always been just Cal, the overprotective ancient gargoyle who shows up when you need a friend and disappears at dawn.”
Tegan snorted quietly.
Faith continued, voice casual in a way that made it worse. “He takes few lovers, but almost everyone wants him anyway.”
My stomach dropped. “Really?”
Nishi leaned in slightly, voice calm. “Faith, that is not helping.”
Faith shrugged again. “It’s true. And he has always been careful to make sure the women know where he stands.”
My cheeks warmed, and I hated it. “Can we stop?”
Faith smiled, a flash of something softer. “No. Because you need to hear this. You are not the first woman to look at him and think you stand a chance. He is immortal.”
“I am not thinking like that,” I lied.
Faith’s eyebrows rose. “Sure.”
Nishi sipped coffee, gaze steady. “Is the egg bond amplifying what you sense from him?”
That was the part that made my stomach twist. “Yes.”
Faith leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So do you actually like him, or do you like the bond?”
I stared at my plate, then at my hands. “I have always found him attractive. The bond made it louder. That is all.”
Faith nodded slowly, as if filing that away for later teasing. “Okay. Good. Because if you start acting weird, I will smack you.”
“That is supportive,” I muttered.
“It is,” Faith said. “It is my love language.”
I forced a few more bites down, then finally felt my body accept that it needed food. The heaviness in my limbs eased slightly.
Eve’s phone buzzed. She glanced down, and her shoulders loosened a fraction. “Cal is spending the day at Scorchwood.”
Relief hit me, quick and immediate. Not because I wanted him alone with undead. Because it meant he was still alive and safe.
After breakfast, we split.
Nishi and Tegan went to work on the relic problem, already strategizing how to break through whatever new shield Dagna had layered around it.
Faith offered to drive me home, and I did not argue. The egg bond tugged steadily and my body felt like it had run a marathon while carrying a small furnace inside my ribs.
Faith stopped in front of Mrs. Harriet’s house. “Text me if you get worse.”
“I will,” I said.
She stared at me. “Do not say you are fine.”
I sighed. “I will text you if I am not fine.”
Faith nodded. “Better.”
Then she left, her car disappearing down the street.
Inside my suite, the air was cool and familiar. A small sanctuary of normal, if you ignored the fact that my normal included magical bonds to eggs and council politics that wanted me dead.
Harriet was there before I could even take off my coat.
“You look terrible,” she said.
I dropped my keys into the bowl by the door. “Good morning to you too.”
Harriet’s voice carried concern. “You smell like smoke and hospital disinfectant.”
“I had a rough night,” I muttered, shuffling toward the kitchen.
A plate sat on the counter.
Cookies.
Mrs. Harriet had been baking again.
I stared at the cookies, then at the empty kitchen.
I picked one up and took a bite.
It was still warm with a soft center, crisp edge, and chocolate melting slightly.
I chewed slowly and let the sugar hit my blood, grateful and annoyed at the same time.
“Thank you,” I said grudgingly.
Harriet sounded pleased. “You are welcome. I will leave you to rest.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled as she left.
I moved to my laptop and opened my email, even though I knew it was unlikely my friend had replied. The one I had reached out to earlier for information.
Still, hope was stubborn.
My inbox loaded.
No response.
I stared at the screen for a moment, then closed it. Disappointment was a familiar taste. It did not surprise me anymore.
I checked the time.
The sky outside my small window had lightened slightly. Dawn was close. The world was turning pale. Somewhere, Cal was racing the sunrise, ferrying undead into a crater before his body hardened into stone.
The egg bond tugged, steady and insistent. The baby was still stable, but the calling pressed at the edges, like a distant hum that refused to stop.
I changed into pajamas, brushed my teeth as if this were a normal night, then collapsed into bed.
Sleep took me faster than I expected.
It was not a gentle sleep.
It was a feverish slide into heat and sensation and unwanted longing.
Cal filled my dreams.
Not in a polite way. Not in a friendly banter way.
In a way that made my body feel too awake, too aware.
His hands. His mouth. The weight of him close enough to make my skin burn. My own ridiculous desire twisting into something bold and hungry, as if my subconscious had decided restraint was overrated.
I woke with a quick inhale, heart pounding.
My arm had landed on something warm.
Not my pillow.
Not a blanket.
A hot arm.
I froze.
My brain tried to cling to the dream. Tried to insist this was still sleep, still fantasy, still my own private humiliation.
I muttered under my breath, “It’s just a dream.”
A deep voice answered, calm and amused. “Who were you dreaming about?”
My entire body went rigid.
I turned my head slowly.
Cal lay beside me in my bed, propped slightly on one elbow, hair messy, eyes bright in the early light. He looked too real, too solid, too awake.
He smelled of cold air and smoke.
And his gaze held a level of curiosity that made my stomach drop straight through the mattress.
I stared at him, mind blank.
Then, because my life had no mercy, the egg bond tugged warmly, like it approved of this development.
I did not know whether to scream or throw a pillow at him.