Retribution (76 page)

She swept a hand over his gaping side, casting a foggy bandage to halt the bleeding. Then she summoned her cloak from his bag and draped it along his torso and legs. Taking his cold cheek in one of her palms, she touched her lips to his. “Quin.” It was a mere squeak, filled with every emotion she was experiencing.

Her touch jump-started his heart, and his eyes popped open, filling with moisture as he stared at her. A smile played on his lips, and one of his hands rose to her cheek, his fingers dipping into her curls as his thumb wiped away tears. “Layla Love… You make me feel so good.” He paused, taking in a shaky breath before sighing. “Always.”

“You're going to be okay,” she whispered, stroking his face with desperate fingers. “I'm going to make sure of it.”

She searched for her family's minds, sure that if any of them were alive, they were looking for her. When she connected with Kemble, she sobbed and pinpointed his location. He was close, but not close enough. She had no idea what to do to keep Quin breathing, and she had no idea what to do if he stopped.

‘
Hurry, Kemble,
’ she pleaded, sure she was getting through to him, but he wasn’t able to answer. ‘
Please. Quin needs help.
’

Quin convulsed, and her attention snapped back to his face, but he seemed unaffected and still watched her with a small smile curving his bloodless lips.
 

“It's going to be okay,” she assured. “Your dad's on his way.” She glanced at his injury to make sure her magic held, and noticed the severed skin around the wound was turning a darker shade of purple. More tears streamed down her face as she turned her gaze back to his. “I wish I could make it better, Quin. I'm so sorry I don't know how.”

“You do make me better,” he whispered, urging her face closer to his. Then he paused to breathe her in. “All the time.”

“Quin,” she choked, struggling not to lose herself in grief.

“Hey,” he soothed, drying more tears. “It's not the end. Remember?”

“You're damn right it's not. You're going to be fine. Your dad will fix this.”

She searched for Kemble to see how far away he was – at least ten miles. Oh god.

“Just a few more minutes,” she whispered, turning her focus back on Quin. “That's all you have to give me. Please...”

“I'll give you everything I have, Layla. You know that.”

“Then you'll be fine.”

His smile fell. “Layla…” His other hand left the ice and found her face, softly stroking its features before trying to heal the cut over her eyebrow. “I can feel it happening, love. My heart won't keep up with yours anymore.”

“No, Quin. You have to make it keep up. We've won. Agro's gone. They're all gone, and I want to go home. Please...” She moved her lips to his, hotly begging against them. “Please don't die. You have to take me home...”

“I want to,” he whispered, struggling with heavy lids. “So badly.”
 

“Then
stay awake
.”

A hurt expression crossed his face as his eyes swam. “I'm trying, but if I can't...” He paused, taking a raspy breath as he searched her gaze. “What will you do?”

“No, Quin,” she cried, denying the urge to bury her face in his neck, to tuck herself in for whatever ride he was taking. “You can't die.”

“Please listen,” he insisted. “I need to know. When will I see you again?”

“Immediately,” she blurted, hating the feeling of defeat washing over her.
 

“No,” he disagreed. “Give me a head-start...” He was struggling with every word now, and his gaze was growing distant. “In case your heart… has another miracle… in store for you.”

Panicked gasps overtook her, and she quickly checked Kemble’s location. “Just a little longer,” she pleaded, looking into Quin’s dark eyes. “Please.”

His lids dropped, and his lungs paused for a few seconds before trying to yank in a deep, rattling breath. When the oxygen failed to find its way to where he needed it, his heart fitfully skipped, and his eyes found hers. “Love you, angel… Remember... a head-start...”

She wailed his name and pressed her lips tighter to his. “I love you, Quin. I love you so much.”

“I know…” he sighed, and she lost his gaze.

“No!”

She felt for a heartbeat, but didn’t find one. She waited for a breath, but never got it. She looked for flexed muscles, but laid eyes on pale, limp skin. She searched for his aura, and watched it fade. “No...”

Her own heart slowed, her tight throat cutting off her air supply, and the world around her grew dark, scary and painful, abandoned by hope and robbed of the sun. There were no miracles in this world. Her miracle was gone.

“Will you let us help you, child?”

Layla lurched into a defensive position, shielding Quin's body as her fiery gaze shot toward the witch named Venetia, who hovered nearby with her soldiers.

“Get away,” Layla snarled.

“Please,” Venetia implored. “We can help him, but we have to hurry.”

Layla eyed Venetia for another moment then looked at Quin's lifeless face. What did she have to lose? She'd already lost it all.

She kissed the soft skin hiding the eyes she adored. Then she moved to the spot above his head, mournfully surrendering her hero's still heart to complete strangers. Running her fingers into his hair, she lowered her lips to his forehead. Then she slowed her own heart to a deadly pace, preparing it for its final beat.

Chapter 51

Quin's eyes snapped open to a brightly lit room, and his heart beat hard and fast as he looked around. “Layla?” He was in their bed, but she wasn't there. “Layla!”

“She's okay, son.”

Quin’s gaze shot to the left, finding his dad sitting in a chair next to the bed.

“Where is she?” Quin asked, throwing the blankets aside. “What happened?”

Kemble stood, laying a firm hand on Quin’s shoulder while replacing the covers. “She's with your mom, and if you're not in bed when she gets back, she'll kill me, so stay put. And don’t go mind searching her. I need to talk to you.”

“With mom where?”

“At the barn, but they'll be back soon.”

“Why isn’t she here?”

Kemble sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “She would be if she had her way about it. She hasn’t left this room since we got you here.”

“When did you get me here? What happened?”

“Where do you want me to start?”
 

Quin worked through his hazy brain, trying to remember, and when the answers came, they pissed him off. “I passed out.” He turned away from his dad and squeezed his eyes shut. “I left her. I couldn't stay awake.”

“You didn't just pass out, Quinlan. You were dead.”

Quin's gaze snapped back. “Where's Layla?”

“I told you, she's with your mom at the barn.”

Unsatisfied, Quin intently searched Kemble’s aura.

“I'm not lying to you, son. I’d never lie about this. Layla’s safe.”

Quin struggled to stay calm and take his dad’s word for it, but he hated having to
hear
she was okay when all he wanted to do was see it for himself. “I was afraid she’d stop her heart if I died.”

“If given the chance, I have no doubt she would have.”

“Did you resuscitate me?”

“No. You were already breathing again when I got there. I lost sight of you when we were pursuing her, and you wouldn't answer my calls, so I was more than ten miles away when she found my mind.”

“Who revived me?”

“A witch named Venetia. She's a commander for the Crusaders. She got your heart going about a minute before I landed.”

Quin had forgotten the Crusaders were there, and their involvement was as confusing now as it was then. A low-key and spiritual faction, the Crusaders only got involved in widespread conflicts affecting the magical population as a whole. The rest of their time was spent meditating and honing their skills to a fine point, disciplining themselves until their magic surpassed its original boundaries and created new ones.

“What were they doing there?” Quin asked. “Did they try to take Layla?”

“No,” Kemble assured, “but that's why they were there. They're the other coalition Layla saw in Sloan's head, the ones who tend to tail Alistair Murdoch's mercenaries. And it would seem your angel is the one they want. Or, as Venetia would say, your earth angel.”

“I remember her saying that. What does it mean?”

“I have no idea, son, and Venetia won't say, but apparently you've landed yourself a very special witch.”

“Special doesn’t cut it,” Quin mumbled, flexing his empty hands. “So Venetia didn’t try to bargain with her? My life in exchange for her cooperation?”

“There was no time to strike bargains. Venetia worried Layla would attack, so she didn’t offer aid until you were dead and Layla had nothing left to fight for. Knowing the Crusaders, they'll try to handle this peacefully, but they've confirmed they want Layla for something. They won’t tell us what, but they want her to meet with their high council in France to discuss a critical matter. Layla wouldn't listen to a word they said, so they're hanging around until you recover so they can ask again.”

“They're in the community?”
 

“Outside of it. Now that they know she's here, they're determined to keep Murdoch's allies away.”

“Where are the mercenaries we apprehended before the battle? Are they here?”

“Yes, and they won't leave until we figure out a way to keep their lips sealed about what they've seen. We'll keep them here forever before letting them run their mouths off about Layla's status and location. Doreen’s still here as well, but we’ve contacted her family and will meet with them in Portland to discuss her fate.”

“Good,” Quin approved. “So what's your take on the Crusaders’ request?”

“History says they can be trusted to walk the honorable path, so I have to assume their intentions are noble, but they ultimately want to use Layla, so it's up to her whether or not she's willing to help them. I'm anxious to know why they need help. I fear their request means a storm much bigger than Agro is brewing out there.”

“So you think Layla should hear them out.”

“I do, but only when she's ready. She's had one hell of a month and deserves a break.”

Quin’s concern and confusion about the Crusaders melted away, making room for sad and sober thoughts about Layla. “How is she?” he quietly asked, bracing himself for the answer. “Has she talked to anyone about how she's feeling?”

Kemble bowed his head as he answered. “No, and that’s partly why I wanted to talk to you before you see her, to fill you in on what you’ve missed and prepare you for what’s to come. As far as we can tell, she hasn’t come to terms with anything that’s happened, because she won’t talk to us unless it’s about you and your health. We’ve been trying to get her out of here all afternoon so we could wake you, but she completely ignored us until your mom lied and told her nobody could get your horse to eat. She suggested Layla might have better luck then practically dragged her reluctant butt out of here.”

“How long have I been out?”

“About forty-five hours.”

Quin's eyes widened. “Forty-five hours? Why?”

“Because you were dead,” Kemble snapped, but then he smoothed his scowl and lowered his voice. “I don't know how you managed to stay alive as long as you did. You'd lost a critical amount of blood before you ever left the glacier; it took blood transfusions from four of us to get you filled back up. Your vital organs were failing you, and your guts were a mess. After Venetia resuscitated you, we struggled to keep you that way, and it took Serafin hours to properly patch you up. Your body's just now returning to normal and working the way it should without the assistance of magic.”

Quin closed his eyes and concentrated on his body. It felt weak, but fairly healthy. “You had me sedated.”

“Most of the time.”

Quin sighed as his mind went back to Layla. “Why isn't grandpa Cat feeding the animals?”

Kemble didn’t answer, and Quin opened his eyes, finding his dad’s face tense and flushed.

“He didn't make it,” Quin whispered, feeling like someone shoved a red-hot branding iron down his throat.

Kemble dropped his head and shook it. “No, son, grandpa Cat didn't make it.”

Quin squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the moisture gathering behind his lids. “Who else?”

Kemble choked on a sob, and Quin looked at him in alarm. “Who else?”

“Your grandma,” Kemble breathed. “Mom didn't make it.”

Quin’s stomach rolled as his lungs burned, and he covered his face with a palm. “I'm sorry, dad.”

“Me, too, son. So sorry.”

“How's grandpa Lann?”

“Alive but lost.”

Of course he was. How does one find their way when missing their light? “Are there others?”

Kemble nodded. “Uncle Cadman, aunt Flanna… and Enid and Kearny.”

The weight of despair slowed Quin’s vitals. Six of them… dead. “Brietta and Banning?”

“They're alive,” Kemble assured, “very sad, but alive, and feeling guilty as sin considering it was Enid's and Kearny's sacrifice that made it so.”