CHAPTER 56
Crossing the threshold to their bedroom was somehow too difficult, and as they approached that door, Caster had to remind himself to put one foot in front of the other.
Mark lay in there, helpless, possibly terrified and alone.
He could get over his own fear of seeing him that way again, couldn’t he?
Kyle’s mask of calm determination wore a pained expression, and Caster fortified himself against the pain he’d spent several hours running from.
His long-time bodyguard waited for his nod and unlocked the door.
Guilt over his actions the last time he’d been here washed over him, but the broken furniture, a consequence of his inability to contain his anger, was not there.
He resolved to remember to thank his mother as he reached for the sound that would bring him much-needed relief.
That heartbeat, its signature rhythm, was distant, but present, and he took a breath.
It took more of his strength than he was willing to admit to walk past the living area to the bedroom, but Mark needed what little strength he could muster. His mother sat on the chair next to the bed. Mark lay under the covers, cleaned up, but pale, lifeless.
His mother stood, unable to contain her gasp when she saw Pierce.
“I will again put the spell in your mind, powerful one.” Pierce ignored her, the urgency of the moment apparent in the way he did not wait for Riley to brace himself. “We do not have much time.” He moved closer to the bed and pulled the covers off Mark’s lifeless form.
Caster was unprepared for the sight of his bare torso. The large, deep gash across his chest seemed even angrier now that it had been cleaned. Why wasn’t he healing?
“He will. But he needs our help to locate the side of him responsible for healing.” Pierce answered a question he hadn’t voiced, but the grief constricting his heart would not let Caster worry about the ease with which he infiltrated his mind.
Pierce held out his hands, and Damien handed him the swords, still drenched in the blood of their quest for vengeance.
What happened?
He jumped at his mother’s question, the confusion on her face apparent as she looked from the blades Pierce cradled in his hands to their blood-soaked clothing.
Caster looked at himself, the gore a secondary concern. Nothing, Mother. Everything is fine.
She started to question his evasiveness, but the injection of Riley’s power into the room stopped her mid-breath.
Caster had felt Riley’s power before, but it was always on a leash, as if there was a lot more to it than he was willing to share.
This time, that leash was broken. What he could only once sense was now almost tangible as it filled the room with what he could only describe as invisible smoke.
He could smell it, taste its potency, and feel its touch as it crawled over his skin.
Pierce nodded at Riley, encouraging him to hold the other end of both swords before a different, more potent, more toxic power joined Riley’s.
This one, Pierce’s power, tore at his lungs, and he resisted the urge to cough through its effects.
A minute later, the combined power of both became visible in a blue-green haze that flowed through the room.
Its effect on his skin reminded him of the first time he had encountered Ethel’s red eye demons.
The same pinpricks of pain tore at his exposed skin, but they didn’t linger or grow into the stabbing pain he’d experienced then.
He glanced at Damien to see the same shocked expression he was certain he wore, tinged with a wince his cousin held behind tremendous control.
Pierce whispered something, and the blue-green haze in the room collected into a mass that traveled to the swords he and Riley still held on to. It hovered over the weapons and then dissipated within them with a hiss. For a fraction of a second, the swords glowed with the power bestowed on them.
Riley’s sigh and the stumble he couldn’t hide worried Caster, but Pierce would not let them focus on anything but the task at hand.
He handed Riley one of the swords as he raised the other over Mark’s still form.
Riley’s nod gave Caster the confidence to entrust the life of the most important person in his life to the magic as he raised the other sword, the tips of the weapons meeting above Mark.
Pierce spoke again, the words he whispered in a language Caster had never heard before. He heard a chorus of gasps behind him, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off the scene on the bed. The swords glowed a bright blue, then burst into a bright white flame.
“Block them out. Mark! Mark!” Pierce’s words made little sense, and when the bright flame disappeared a second later, panic gripped Caster’s heart in a vice, and he only just held himself upright, unwilling to be a victim to his base desire again.
He looked at Mark, pale Mark, the wound on his chest still apparent, and fury rose once again. He glanced at Pierce, ready to unleash it, the smile on the demon’s face adding confusion to the mess of emotions he battled.
“Just give him time to reacquaint himself with his animal. He’ll come back to you.” Pierce’s words did nothing to douse his fury.
“Are you sure?” His mother found the words he wanted to say, but couldn’t form.
He looked at Pierce, praying the Goddess wasn’t out to punish him for a transgression he remained unaware of. The demon nodded. “Yes. All tears in the Veil are closed. He no longer battles the Underworld. He needs to find himself, and then he’ll come back to you.”
“How long?” The Prime Alpha asked, his voice trapped by the same mess of grief and anger that prevented Caster from finding his voice.
“That’s up to him,” Riley said between labored breaths.
Fury won over pain, and Caster’s mind focused on a singular purpose. “Mother…”
His mother nodded, interpreting his desire faster than he could. “I will stay with him. I am not going anywhere.”
He turned his attention to Riley. “Find me that witch.” His friend took a long breath, shaking his head, and Caster frowned, ready to demand action from the only person in the room who could do what he wanted.
“He is spent,” Pierce said. “The other witches here can accomplish that, can’t they?”
Even in his desire to find Ethel and tear her apart, Caster worried for Riley. But his friend waved him away. “Amara can do it.” He stumbled to the seat his mother had occupied, crashing into it, and Caster’s worry increased. “I’m fine. I just need a minute. Go find her and end this.”
“I’m coming with you,” Dean said, and he nodded, accepting the support although he was certain he wouldn’t need it.
“Please be careful,” His mother said.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” Cy said. “I’m going too. Nothing will happen to him.”
Their mother’s smile was a cover for her worry, the worry that had haunted them all during the war.
She feared they wouldn’t return. But Caster was not about to let anything keep him from Mark ever again.
He remained unsure of Pierce’s aims, but the demon had proven an ally, and for that he would always be grateful.
Ethel remained the only threat to Mark’s safety, and it was time to end her.