Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (31 page)

Dev grabbed his arms and looked him in the eye.

"I'm here," she assured him quietly, "I'm here."

“Okay,” Ryker replied sadly, “you see to Wyatt and I’ll handle Jools.”

"You get in there and you fix my brother. Don't you dare let him die. You fix him now!” Jools raged at Dev, pushing her and crying, until Ryker grabbed her from behind and moved her away from where Wyatt lay still and silent.

Dev inched towards Wyatt on her hands and knees, running her hands over his foot, his leg, the holster at his hip, his arm, his neck, his cheek, his hair, making sure it was really him, lying there bleeding. Tears streamed down her face as she lay down next to him so they were face-to-face. She moved his shirt a little to inspect his wound but stopped, knowing there was little she could do to save him.

At least not here.

Dev ran her fingers through his hair and Wyatt opened his eyes. She wiped the blood from the side of his mouth and smiled.

"I'm dying," he whispered.

"You are not," she tearfully disagreed as she caressed his cheek and kissed him.

“You can’t save me this time.”

Dev said nothing, she simply cried.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked.

"No," she insisted.

“I wasn’t trying to be a hero,” Wyatt smiled, “I just wasn’t going to let him kill you.”

“I know,” Dev replied.

“But I would do it again.”

“Now you’re trying to be a hero,” Dev laughed through her tears, caressing his cheek and rubbing his neck, just wanting to touch him while she was still able.

“I’m so tired, Dev,” Wyatt remarked nervously.

She knew he was losing his fight, that the life was draining out of him. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingers as tears ran down his face. Then he closed his eyes and quieted.

“I love you, Dev.”

Dev pulled him into her arms and held him close, wanting to comfort him any way possible.

“I love you, too, Wyatt,” she whispered to him, “desperately. So I need you to open your eyes. I need you to look at me and show me you’re going to fight to be with me, that you are not giving up. Please. You promised me I would not lose you. You promised you would fight this fight with me. I cannot do it alone.”

She waited for him to respond, hoping in the midst of his pain and agony, he heard her, that her words cut through and reached him.

She sat up and looked down at him, believing he had a ounce of fight left in him and she was going to will it to the surface. Dev pushed his hair off his forehead, caressed his beautiful face and kissed him softly, hoping her touch would spark something within him, remind him she was waiting. Her fingers trailed down to his wrist and she felt for his pulse, feeling a slight, slow beat.

“I’m still here,” Wyatt opened his eyes and stated weakly.

It was all she needed to hear.

“Do not go anywhere,” she commanded with a hopeful smile.

She stood up and started searching the bodies of fallen Sanctum, stealing shirts and jackets off warriors, belts from waistbands and laces from boots.

“What are you doing?” Ryker asked as he watched her move across the field of the dead.

“I’m going to dress his wound,” Dev looked up at Ryker as she unlaced a pair of boots, “and then I’m going to heal him.”

“Nothing out here is clean,” Ryker observed, studying Dev’s movements, wondering if she was thinking clearly.

Dev tossed the shirts and jackets she collected to Ryker and moved to the next body, her collection of laces and belts draped around her neck. She knew he was looking at her as if she was crazy, but she didn’t have time to explain herself.

“Dev,” Ryker started to say something to her but she stopped him.

“Don’t,” she stood up and looked him in the eyes, “just don’t do it, Ryker. I’m not crazy, I promise. I am fully aware that Wyatt is lying twenty feet away with a massive hole in his chest. I understand that he has lost an insane amount of blood, that his pulse is weak and he can barely maintain consciousness. But he is still here and as long as there is an iota of life in him, I am going to do everything in my power to help him.”

Dev looked back towards Wyatt, not wanting Ryker to see the tears in her eyes. She watched Jools crying over Wyatt’s body, holding his hand and beating on his chest.

“You need to get her,” Dev turned to Ryker, “she’s not helping.”

“Her brother is dying, Dev. She’s upset.”

“He is not dying!” Dev insisted ferociously.

Ryker immediately regretted his choice of words.

“Please get her away from him,” Dev pleaded with Ryker, unable to watch Jools a minute longer, “take her back to the Academy, medicate her, do whatever you must to calm her. Then tell Sam and Josiah to come.”

Ryker handed Dev the clothing she collected and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her forehead affectionately.

“Sure thing,” he replied as he headed towards Jools, then turned back to Dev with a request of his own, “take care of my boy.”

Dev smiled at him through her tears, then watched him approach Jools, pick her up and carry her away just as Dev requested.

“I hate you, Dev!” Jools thrashed against Ryker’s embrace, “I swear, I hate you!”

The younger, distraught Clayworth protested loudly as she and Ryker disappeared into the woods, her threats echoing off the trees, tormenting Dev until Jools could no longer be heard and Dev was left with just Wyatt and the quiet.

She returned to his side, studying him for a moment, so still and lifeless. Dev leaned close and kissed Wyatt softly, her tears falling on his face as she checked his pulse and listened for his breath. She leaned against his chest for a moment, feeling so very sad and alone, momentarily uncertain of herself and what she was doing. Wyatt reached for her, draping his arm around her while she cried.

“Dev,” he whispered, “please don’t.”

Dev sat up quickly and wiped her eyes, not wanting him to see her break down.

“I’m fine,” she assured him with a smile as she started splitting the shirts she gathered down the middle, making a large piece of material, “I swear.”

Wyatt closed his eyes, so tired but also unable to watch Dev try to convince herself he was going to be all right. Her sheer determination broke his heart.

“Wyatt,” she called to him, “open your eyes. You’ve got to stay with me.”

She set about stacking five shirts on top of one another and moving them close to Wyatt. She then tied the laces together in sets of five, making ten long strands of string. She tested the strength of the strand and when satisfied it would hold, began linking the belts together, making two long, leather straps.

“What are...you doing?” Wyatt gasped and spat blood.

Dev hovered over him and wiped the blood from his mouth.

“I’m going to dress your wounds,” she explained, “and it’s going to hurt.”

Wyatt remained quiet, waiting for her to begin whatever horrible thing she was going to do to him.

Dev straddled him and pulling his torso off the ground, she slipped the shirts under him then gently set him back down. She looked down at herself, now covered in Wyatt’s blood and knew she had to work fast. She split open his shirt and studied his wound in detail, gasping aloud the minute she saw the extent of his injury, knowing her makeshift bandage would be little help.

“I told you,” Wyatt whispered, a tear escaping his closed eyes, “I am dying.”

“Shut up, Wyatt Clayworth,” Dev commanded, “just shut up.”

Dev sat back on her knees for a moment, needing to gather her thoughts, wondering how much longer Wyatt would remain conscious.

“I can help.”

Dev swung around with blinding speed, her knife directed at the voice, landing against a windpipe, drawing a line of blood immediately.

“Darvin!” she exclaimed as she withdrew her weapon, “I could have killed you.”

“I’m already dead,” he replied flatly as he studied Wyatt’s prone figure, “and apparently so is he.”

“Shut up, Darvin,” Wyatt weakly hissed.

Hearing some life in Wyatt’s voice brought a slight smile to Dev’s lips as she studied the strange vampire.

“No, you shut up, Wyatt Clayworth,” Darvin spat right back, “I never liked you much anyway. I’m only here because of your pretty thing.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Dev commanded, utterly amazed by Wyatt and Darvin’s incessant bickering.

Wyatt remained quiet while Darvin shot her a dirty look.

“If you can help me, Darvin, do it. Otherwise, leave me alone. I’m not Wyatt,” she reminded him, “you and I have no history, so annoying me is not in your best interest. I’ll kill you in a heartbeat.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Darvin replied, “speaking in such tones is unnecessary, little hybrid thing. I do not take kindly to threats.”

Dev glared at the vampire.

“Let’s get one thing clear, that is no threat. Now either help Wyatt or get the hell out of here,” she spat viciously.

Darvin rolled his eyes and kneeled down across from her, next to Wyatt, studying the open wound.

“It’s a temporary fix,” Darvin explained, “since the great Wyatt Clayworth would never feed from me, what with him being all high and mighty Sanctum.”

“Darvin,” Dev hissed, wanting him to cut out the petty, sarcastic comments.

“Okay, okay, pretty hybrid thingie,” Darvin relented, “keep your panties on and hold the wound together.”

Dev did as instructed, holding the top of the gash together as Darvin touched his finger to his tongue and then touched the wound, sealing it together with his saliva. They repeated this a few more times until the gash was closed and Wyatt looked almost whole.

“Do not be fooled,” Darvin warned, “he is pretty much dead.”

Furious tears welled in Dev’s eyes and as much as she wanted to snap the vampire’s head off his shoulders, she knew she could not as she owed Darvin a huge debt she would probably never be able to repay.

“Thank you, Darvin,” she replied instead.

Darvin stood and looked down at her sadly.

“Anything for you, my pretty thing.”

He then vanished into the darkness.

Dev set about linking the remaining belts together, tying them to either side of the jackets she collected and creating a stretcher of sorts. She then gently placed Wyatt onto the jackets, holstered Odara safely at her hip, stood up and began walking back to the place she first met Wyatt, the same spot he hid her that night, leaving her with his precious blade and a wink.

Entering the enclave hidden deep within the only glamoured quadrant of the park, Dev experienced a flood of memories but pushed them aside as she knelt next to Wyatt, checking his pulse for any indication he was still with her. Picking up the faintest of beats, Dev moved quickly to unbuckle Wyatt’s belt, rip apart the leather of his holster, attach the two and wind the straps around them, effectively tying Wyatt to her back. She shredded the remaining leather of his holster, tied it together and made another strap that she tied under her arms to secure him to her upper back. When she was certain he was tightly attached to her, Dev began inspecting each and every inch of the quadrant. She could hear her father’s voice in her ear, saying in his relaxed but firm tone, “Dev, just focus and find the shimmer.”

Dev studied the space until she felt everything was just one, big blur and her back was going to break with Wyatt’s weight strapped to her. She wanted to fall to the ground and cry out in frustration.

And then she saw it.

The shimmer.

So slight, but undoubtedly present.

Dev dragged herself and Wyatt towards the small space, coming to a stop directly below it.

“Wyatt,” she spoke aloud, “if you can hear me, please hold on to me with whatever you’ve got left.”

She said a silent prayer, wrapped Wyatt’s arms around her waist and held them tightly, bent her knees and then using her last bit of strength, shot straight into the air, towards the shimmer.

The portal opened and closed, sucking Dev and Wyatt into the ether, leaving nothing behind but the peace and quiet of the New York City night.

THE END

Circle of Ten: governing body of The Sanctum, ruled by heads of the ten Academies.

Cudera: a powerful purgative containing the Himalayan wildflower, thulo tharshing

Fireflame: torch used by The Sanctum to burn Magicals and ensure their inability to regenerate

Founding Family: one of the ten founding families chosen by the gods to create and govern The Sanctum. Each family runs an Academy whose leadership passes down the generations. Each Academy has a specialty, such as weaponry or tracking.

Ghost Palace: Ramyan warrior palaces, called such by Magicals as they cannot be seen by the untrained

Hellions: spawn of the devil and demons

Ichen: compound used to find werewolf venom in the bloodstream or in a wound

Liquid Lilaup: an antiseptic made from the wings of fairies

Magicals: common term for any non-human being governed by The Sanctum, including trolls, fairies, werewolves, vampires, demons and wizards.

Magjistar: powerful warlock or magician

Mjestec Paste: used to treat fatal wounds, renowned for its healing powers as well as the pain it causes

Ramyan: sect of Magicals who are said to haunt the edges of the living and the dead, part of neither world, belonging solely to themselves; renowned warriors capable of incredible feats of magic

Ramyan Sei: Ramyan warrior trainer

Raven Blade: knife of The Sanctum, used to burn victims from the inside out with its poison

Shield of the Gods: dome used by The Sanctum to protect warriors from attack as they carry out their missions. Soundproof and incapable of being pierced or shattered

The Sanctum: body of authority created by the gods to maintain peace amongst Magicals and ensure the ignorance of humans.

Writing a book is a long, drawn out process that takes over your entire life. For the writer, this is not a bad thing because you are living and breathing your work, are exhilarated by it, you love it. For everyone else, this might not be so much fun. Which is why I owe some serious thank yous to the folks in my life.

Henry, thanks for accepting the fact that your wife comes with a laptop attached. Dash, thanks for being the coolest freaking kid on the planet. I have done something right to get to hang with a dude like you. Sydney, keep on with your bad self.

My sister-in-law, Arsha, is the first person who read this baby of mine and encouraged me to keep going. She is a most fantastic cheerleader and also the owner of some awesomely long legs, the likes of which I covet.

My colleague, Corey, is my partner-in-crime when it comes to reading. We devour fantasy series together, discuss them, argue about them, love them. She is a brilliant lawyer and friend and read my manuscript from beginning to end, provided me with thoughtful edits and indulged me in long discussions about all things Sanctum.

Emily, my ace in the hole, my number one girl, my super smart friend who never reads fantasy but did so for me. I figured I was headed in the right direction when she told me she couldn’t put this down and stayed up, reading late into the night to finish it.

Michele, my artistically gifted friend who took some of my jumbled ideas, combined them with her own well-constructed ones, and created the cover art for the book. It is as brilliant as you are, mama.

And to all my friends who read this, are reading it or will do so, thanks! Now if I can just make it out of corporate America...