Chapter 6
After Sabrina had erased all evidence of Supernatural involvement in the breach—at least all the evidence outside Wall One—she insisted on treating Gwen’s wounds and magically easing the worst of her exhaustion. Gwen’s repeated protests didn’t sway her in the slightest.
“If you’re going to make it through the next few days, you can’t be lying semicomatose and bleeding on the ground.
” The worry and warmth in the witch’s dark eyes belied her matter-of-fact tone, and she laid a cool palm over Gwen’s forehead.
“I have just enough energy to speed your healing process. Don’t fret. ”
Within moments, tingles percolated through Gwen’s entire body, and the fierce stinging of her knees and hands faded to a dull itch as her various cuts scabbed over.
“That’s better.” With a tired-sounding sigh, Sabrina removed her palm and thumped down beside Gwen and Lorrie on the quilt. “You still need rest, but you should be able to function now.”
Gwen blinked away tears of mingled gratitude and shame. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Sabby leaned closer, her dark ponytail swinging between them, and lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “I didn’t sense any permanent damage to you or the baby, but you should still see a SERC doctor as soon as possible.”
“Trust me.” Lorrie’s words were barely intelligible through a mouthful of fresh baguette. “Mini-demon-bro won’t let her avoid medical intervention for long. That dude is already one hundred percent—”
“Zero zombies inside!” Kip emerged from Wall One, immediately followed by Hugh. “I could’ve been eating the whole damn time if it weren’t for our mini-despot demon.”
Lorrie shook her head. “Such injustice.”
Hugh’s impassive expression didn’t change, but Gwen would’ve bet the scant balance of her checking account that he was resisting a heartfelt eye roll.
He and his companion reached the quilt and halted at its edge, surveying the people—beings—and items arrayed upon the fabric.
Hugh’s shoulders dropped a fraction at whatever he’d spotted, while gathering outrage clouded Kip’s broad brow.
“Hey.” The troll scowled at Lorrie. “What the—”
“A thousand apologies, my good cousin.” Lorrie held up a prettily spiraling tan-and-white shell, which she’d recently emptied with her tiny silver fork. “If only I’d remembered to save you some of the delicious garlic-herb-buttered escargot I just finished eating. Alas.”
When Kip stamped his sizable foot, birds in the surrounding trees twittered and took flight. “You knew I was saving those snails as a special post-dealing-with-mini-demon-and-the-stick-up-his-tiny-ass treat!”
Hugh’s brows beetled, and he peered over his shoulder at his own backside. Instead of reassuring him as to his butt’s perfection and very alluring—albeit subtle—curves, Gwen rolled her lips between her teeth and bit down hard.
Lorrie grinned at her fuming cousin and curled her fingertips inward in a beckoning taunt. “Come at me, bro.”
As Kip screeched and launched himself toward Lorrie, Gwen and Sabrina quickly exited the blanket and fled to a safer location.
Hugh followed the two women to the tree line. “Inside the wall, neither Kip nor I spotted any additional signs of Supernatural culpability in the breach. Unless there’s video footage from the compound’s interior, I think we’re set in there. You two took care of the physical evidence on the guards?”
“Sabrina did,” Gwen corrected. “I rested, and then she treated me. See?” She held up her hands, palms out, then extended her legs one at a time. “No more bleeding.”
Hugh nodded, satisfaction softening the harsh line of his mouth. “Good.”
“I healed all the burn marks on the guards, as well as the bruising around their wrists and ankles, but we obviously still have to deal with the s—” Sabrina cut herself off, her expression turning distant. “I think Starla’s trying to talk to me.”
Her brows snapped together, and she sucked in a huge breath and fell silent.
Worry prickling her skin, Gwen quietly explained the situation to Hugh. “Sabrina’s wife, Starla, is an Enhanced human telepath.”
Star was also extremely ill and homebound, so she wouldn’t voluntarily expend the energy required for long-distance communication unless the situation was dire.
Sabrina’s coppery-brown skin paled, and she swiveled abruptly to face Hugh and Gwen. Still listening to her wife, she stabbed a finger in the air and mouthed something Gwen couldn’t make out.
Apparently Hugh understood it, though, because he immediately strode over to the trolls and got them separated in an instant. He and Kip appeared to be having an intense conversation of some sort. Hugh kept shaking his head while the troll nodded insistently.
In the distance, a low rumble began vibrating through the air, growing louder by the moment. More birds flew away.
“Military helicopters are on the way.” Sabrina’s dark eyes blazed with urgency. “At least three of them, according to Starla. I’m sorry, but I have to go. She crossed into Zone A so I could hear her, and she can’t make it back home alone. She’s not fit to drive.”
“Go,” Gwen told her friend despite her utter confusion and anxiety. “Take care of your wife. It’s better if the authorities don’t know your identity anyway.”
Lorrie reappeared at Gwen’s side, quickly followed by Hugh and Kip.
“Sabby needs to leave.” Gwen slung her tote bag over her shoulder and braced herself for whatever came next. “Should all of us go with her?”
Grim determination weighted Hugh’s words. “Kip and I need to disguise the last clear indication of demonic involvement. Afterward, I’ll stay to control the official narrative and make sure we didn’t miss any other planted evidence. But you and Lorrie can go.”
“Mini-oracle’s absence would undercut our story,” Kip pointed out.
Gwen didn’t understand—what indication? what story?—but there was no time to ask.
“I have to leave.” Sabrina glanced quickly at her car, keys already in her hand. “If you’re coming with me, come now.”
Fleeing would feel like the rankest form of cowardice. Especially since Gwen’s continued presence would apparently be helpful for reasons she didn’t yet comprehend.
“I’m staying,” she told everyone.
Hugh’s jaw worked, but he didn’t argue.
“I have a feeling I know what Kip and Hugh are going to do, and there’s no way I’m missing that.” Lorrie plopped back down on the quilt. “Thanks for the offer, though, Sabby.”
“If your wife has sufficient strength, please ask her to contact Max Boucher and have him come to the breach site immediately,” Hugh said to Sabrina. “We’ll need him.”
“Will do.” Sabrina gave Gwen a swift hug, then bent down to embrace Lorrie too. “Be smart, and be safe.”
Then she was gone. Her car disappeared into the distance just as the first camo-painted helicopters appeared above Wall Two and beelined in their direction.
“I don’t know what explanation you’re going to offer the authorities,” Gwen told Hugh and Kip. “But good luck.”
“Yeah.” Lorrie snickered. “Especially to you, Hugh. If you fight my cousin, you’re gonna need it.”
Gwen reared back. “What?”
“Brimstone.” Hugh didn’t say more, and he didn’t need to.
Gwen’s harsh exhalation curled in front of her like smoke. “Oh, crap. I totally forgot about that.”
After an hour or two spent near Wall One, her nose had grown accustomed to the telltale scent of demonic violence, the final planted sign of the species’ guilt. The officials would have noted the smell right away, though—and then promptly blamed demons for the breach.
Since Sabrina couldn’t muster the power necessary to remove the scent from the entire site, the group had hoped the smell would dissipate naturally before government officials arrived. That hadn’t happened, so the breach site’s sulfurous stench required a plausible alternative explanation.
Lorrie was right. Hugh would need all the help he could get. He’d need medical assistance too if Kip wasn’t cautious.
She tipped her chin high to meet the troll’s eyes. “Please be careful.” As a sop to Hugh’s pride, she added, “Both of you.”
“Here goes nothing,” the highly unhappy-looking demon muttered, and shed his leather jacket, leaving his upper body covered only by his tight black crop top.
Well, Gwen thought, at least he’s going to look great in the emergency room.
—
By the time four military helicopters landed nearby and began disgorging uniformed troops and besuited officials, the lopsided battle of troll versus demon had just begun.
Gwen’s heartbeat echoed in her ears, almost drowning out the slowing thump of the helicopter rotors. All she could do was stand frozen on the quilt, speechless with dread, and avoid eye contact with anyone brandishing a firearm or wearing epaulets while she watched the impromptu performance.
“The human woman is mine!” Kip bellowed. “All mine!”
Oh, damn. Gwen had a terrible feeling that she knew exactly what the cover story involved and why her presence might help sell it. But even with her here, who would actually believe it?
Kip launched a meaty fist at the much-smaller demon, the swing wide and showy. The punch barely clipped Hugh’s jaw, as far as Gwen could tell, but Hugh staggered backward and cried out in dramatic agony—just a split second too late.
Gwen scrubbed her face with her palms, hiding her expression.
“Um…” The demon cleared his throat and planted his feet, fists on his hips. “Never! She’ll never be yours! Because she’s mine! Even though she very much remains her own person as well, with full sovereignty over her own body and choices!”
“Amazing.” Lorrie crunched on a steaming handful of herbed popcorn. “Such passion.”
With a shout, Hugh rushed toward his opponent, who obligingly ducked his head to meet the blow. The troll then roared his own displeasure, stumbled, and landed with a resounding thump on his butt, thus making himself much more easily reachable for Hugh.
Even to Gwen’s untrained eyes, this was a disastrously bad imitation of a fight.
“Should I be saying something?” she whispered to Lorrie. “Reacting somehow?”