Dark Flame (7 page)

He watched tears roll down her face. She still kept pressure on the wound.
I will. Stay alive. Please, Brann.

I’ll battle as hard as I can, I promise.

He felt her release him and at the same time, it was as though he fell backward into a dark empty void.

~ ~ ~

The moment Juliet felt the shield slide away from her, Keelen saw her and his hand went to his gun. Recognizing her instantly, he eased back. “Juliet, where the hell did you come from?”

Juliet didn’t try to explain. “I’ve called for help, a witch with tremendous healing powers. Will you stay with me?” Keelen was a good man and had served as part of Brannick’s rescue operation for a long time.

“Of course I will. We’ve called for more backup as well, but what the hell happened out here?” He glanced at the two dead fae warriors on the ground near Brannick, then toward the canal where no doubt the other bodies floated.

“Roche and his men attacked.”

“Roche? Why? He rarely takes a battle to the streets. It doesn’t make sense.”

Juliet kept the pressure on the wound, but she had no idea if she was doing any good at all. As for Roche, she wasn’t sure how to answer Keelen’s question, but he might as well know the truth. “Roche has been after me for a long time, for my dreamglide abilities.”

Keelen ground his teeth, then let loose with a long string of profanity. He apologized afterward, but Juliet had no problem with the words he’d chosen. Each fit the situation exactly.

He then tilted his head, trying to get a better look at Brannick. “And who’s this? I sense that he’s a vampire, but he’s barely breathing.” With Brannick’s face turned away from Keelen, he couldn’t possibly know who the injured man was.

She caught Keelen’s gaze, and more tears ran down her cheeks. “It’s Brannick.”

“Holy fuck.” More obscenities flew. He shook his head back and forth several times. “We can’t lose him. He’s made a difference in Revel. He’s one of the few men I know who’ve even tried.”

“I know.” Her rib cage felt way too small, she couldn’t seem to breathe, and the tears still fell.

Keelen suddenly shouted. “Incoming.” She watched him kneel on one leg as another officer moved up next to him in support, weapon drawn. Keelen held his Glock in both hands pointing into the night sky.

She turned her head and saw the distant flyers. She reached out telepathically to the woman.
Emma, is that you?

Yes, call off your dogs.

“Keelen, it’s the help I summoned. Emma Delacey is a witch with a gift for healing, and she’ll have a vampire with her.”

“Okay, got it. Right, that’s Vaughn. I know him, though I haven’t seen him in some time.” He whistled softly. “He’s engaged to the witch, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“And they run a safe house for abducted human teens.”

“That they do.”

Emma flew in quickly, a violet satchel over her shoulder. She put on speed at the end then landed next to Juliet. She took one look at Brannick and spoke to Vaughn over her shoulder. “I’ll need your help, Babe. Juliet, please let go and move out of the way. You don’t have to go far, but I’ve gotta have room to work. And it’s urgent.”

Juliet scooted backward on the grass. Both her hands and her dress were covered with Brannick’s blood, but she didn’t care.

The odd pair moved into position.

Without warning, power boiled from the couple. Once again, Juliet couldn’t breathe but for a totally different reason this time. She’d never felt anything like it.

But hope rose as well. No wonder Brannick had told her to call them.

Vaughn remained behind Emma but kept his hands gently on her shoulders, or maybe they were just hovering. Their connection seemed profoundly intimate.

There were times in the dreamglide when she’d felt that way with Brannick, that they had a similar connection. Oh, God, she couldn’t lose him.

She grew dizzy as she watched the couple work on Brannick. But to Juliet’s eye, their movements appeared to change as though they now operated in slow-motion. When Vaughn spoke to Emma, his voice was in the bass range his words slurred. Emma’s were as well.

Juliet knew she was in shock. Had to be. She wanted to touch Brann, to yell at him to live, to wake up, to kiss her again. But none of that would help, and might even hurt the process. So she stayed very still, her hands in her lap.

Emma looked worried as a sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead. She was lovely with long, thick wavy red hair that she wore with the front half pulled into a top knot. Energy rose off her body like a mirage of heat waves above a distant asphalt highway.

After a few minutes, Emma leaned back, her face pale and drawn. There was still no movement in Brannick.

Juliet swallowed hard. “Is he dead?” Speaking aloud somehow shook Juliet out of her slow-motion stupor.

Emma turned slightly in her direction. “Yes and no. He’s hovering in a very distant place that I can’t seem to reach.” Her lips were compressed and she had tears in her eyes.

Vaughn held Emma’s shoulders. He looked gut-shot himself as he stared down at Brannick’s inert form. Juliet knew how much Vaughn meant to Brannick. They’d been friends and brothers-in-arms for a long time.

Vaughn’s voice rolled through the space. “I’ve known him from the time I entered Five Bridges. He got me into the border patrol and saved my life. Jesus, he was with us a month ago when we rescued those girls in Savage and later at Loghry’s mansion.”

Juliet swallowed hard, sliding her gaze slowly back to Brannick’s wound. Despite the level of healing that Emma and Vaughn had given Brannick, the cut still seeped, and his breaths were shallow and infrequent.

But Emma wasn’t done. She reached for her satchel, drew out a jar and unscrewed the lid. She then pushed Brannick’s bloody, black tank up above the wound. Pulling the salve out in a big glob, she spread it over the wound, then pressed it in with the palm of her hand. The ointment had a pale violet color and smelled like flowers.

Brannick still didn’t move. The witch’s concoction melted into his skin and appeared to stop the bleeding.

Emma turned to Juliet. “I’ve done all I can for him. You’ll need to take him home, then coax him back to life. Is that something you can do?”

More tears rolled down Juliet’s face. “I know him well, and I’ll do everything I can.”

Emma nodded. “You’ll do.”

When Juliet stood up, she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands since they were caked with Brannick’s blood.

She was about to rub them on her already soiled dress, when Emma stopped her. “Hold on. I’ve got something you can use.”

Emma reached into her satchel and drew out a small tub of wipes. She stood up, plucked about half-a-dozen from the container then went to work on Juliet’s hands as well as her own.

Juliet could have done it herself, but Emma’s touch, still vibrating with her witch power, eased Juliet. Emma took her time getting every bit of blood off Juliet’s fingers.

Juliet watched her perform this service as though she stood outside her body and observed Emma dispassionately from thirty feet away.

Emma then hugged her, an act that jerked Juliet back into herself. “You can do this, Juliet. I know it’s hard, but you can do it.”

The witch’s kindness had an immediate effect, filling Juliet with something akin to hope and definitely with purpose.

At about the same time, an EMT vehicle arrived.

When Emma released her, she and Vaughn apologized for having to leave, but they needed to stick close to the safe house.

Juliet totally understood. Their operation had proved a big success for human teens who escaped their captors. But their efforts had become dangerous work as well and the facility was under a constant threat of attack. Vaughn headed up the heavily armed security team that protected the building.

The moment they left, Juliet had the EMTs put Brannick on a stretcher. Each territory had a small hospital, but medical care wouldn’t do Brannick any good at this point. She would take him to her home just a couple hundred yards away. Then, God help her, she’d find some way to bring him back from the dead.

~ ~ ~

Brannick’s eyes were open, though he knew they were closed. Weird. From his time dreamgliding with Juliet, he recognized her home. It had a retro feel because of the bamboo furniture. He lay on his side on her couch with his chest bound tight. It was hard to breathe, though he wasn’t even sure he was taking any breaths at all. His heartrate had slowed to a few beats a minute.

On some level, he knew he was either dead already, or right on the verge.

He saw Juliet on the patio. She wore a long flowered skirt, backlit with dusky, late afternoon light that revealed the lovely shape of her legs. He could recall during one dreamglide that he’d run the palms of his hands over every curve. He’d kissed the same places, spending a lot of time on her inner thighs until her hips were rocking and she begged for relief. He’d loved working her sex, using his tongue and occasionally his fangs to give her pleasure.

She returned the favor as well. She was the kind of woman who enjoyed the male body and she’d shown it. She had a special fondness for his shoulders and had spent time sucking and biting them.

He’d loved his time in the dreamglide with Juliet.

He called to her now.
Juliet?

Though he tried to reach her several times, she didn’t respond, but remained on the patio, oblivious.

He realized by the time of day, that he’d been unconscious all through the night after the battle at the canal and through the next day as well. That was a long time to be lingering between life and death.

Juliet sat down on a patio chair and laid out some birdseed on the tile not far from her feet, and waited. After a minute or so, the increasingly brave sparrows that had lined up on the rail, flew down to feed.

Why can’t you hear me, Juliet?

Another woman’s voice floated through his head, a very familiar voice.
Because this isn’t her dreamglide. In fact, it’s not a dreamglide at all.

He shifted slightly, surprised that he could feel the pain of his wound. The ghost of his dead wife, Olivia, sat curled up in the nearby tall, wicker chair. She held one arm balanced on the side. She seemed at peace.

You look beautiful. Radiant.

Olivia smiled.
I suppose I would.

She had blond hair that she wore in a twist, and she even had on her favorite pair of turquoise and silver earrings. They were large and dangly with three oval stones each. Her eyes were a lovely blue enhanced by the stones. One brow was raised slightly higher than the other. She’d always looked somewhat amused no matter the subject.

He asked the logical question.
What are you doing here?

She shrugged and smiled some more.
Thought you might need me.

Can you heal me?

She shook her head.
Sorry, I don’t have those kinds of powers. Wish I did, and I also wish I’d survived the
alter
serum. When I passed, along with our children, I knew your solitude wouldn’t be good for you. Robert, you were always the kind of man who needed a family. You need one now.

He snorted, or at least that was the sound he was trying for.
Not in this rathole.

You mean Five Bridges?

Of course.
His gaze shifted involuntarily to Juliet. She stood up from her seat and snapped her fingers. The birds all scattered into the air. He wondered why she’d disturbed them until a yellow-striped cat jumped up on the narrow railing, lithe and ready for a quick meal. He stopped and stared at her then jumped into the patio.

Juliet smiled as she spoke to the cat. “You’ve ruined my biggest afternoon pleasure.” The cat meowed in response and rubbed up against a nearby plant stand.

Brann smiled as Juliet sat down once more then patted her lap. “Fine. Then come over here and I’ll give you a pet.”

Brannick sighed. He knew Juliet had a relationship with her neighbor’s cat. The feline was already purring as it leaped into her lap, took a complete circuit in order to find the best curling-up position, then settled in.

If cats could smile, this one did as he stared up at her. She looked down at him with an equal amount of affection and pushed her hand over his head, forcing his ears back. She ran her fingers in a slow sweep all the way down to the cat’s tail.

She petted the cat the way she made love to Brannick, as though there was no greater pleasure.

You love that about her, don’t you?

Olivia’s voice startled him. He should have felt embarrassed that he was enjoying the qualities of one woman while chatting with another who had once been his wife.

But he wasn’t really doing that, was he? Another indication consciousness had little to do with his present condition.

He fixed his attention on Olivia, wondering why she was here. She had a considering expression on her face as though she was trying to understand him.
Why haven’t you remarried, Brann? It’s been thirteen long years.

I’ve already told you, because of Five Bridges.

Is it that bad?

It is. Corruption and murder, the trafficking of young women, drug-running and the cartels here are intent on expansion. That’s why you and the children died. Remember?

Of course.
She wore tight black pants and ballet flats, a clinging blue top. Her clothes had always hugged her body, the opposite of Juliet.

He wondered if he was delirious.
Where is this place that I can talk to you, yet still be here on Juliet’s sofa?

Right at the edge of paradise where you’re hovering. Apparently, you can’t decide to leave this world permanently, though you’re trying like crazy to do so. What’s hounding you toward death?

He shifted his gaze once more to Juliet.
I couldn’t bear to lose her.

Is that the reason you’re trying to leave your body? You’re afraid of hurting again should Juliet, or anyone else you care about, die on you?

Was that what he was doing? He didn’t feel at all like he was trying to leave. But he could tell he wasn’t making an effort to stay, either.