rogue shifter 06 - torn apart (29 page)

"She attempted to damage my property by ripping through her mind. Salina is quite skilled and I would not enjoy bedding a drooling imbecile."

"So you do not object to your niece being raised in rank above you?"

He hesitated. "I do not object to Bridgett being named commander. I have no ambitions in that area. However, according to our ancient laws, she is only above me in rank on the battlefield, which I intend to avoid if at all possible." He straightened his spine, careful to stay a tiny bit below her in height. "I am your oldest living pure-blood son. I outrank her in magic, in demonic society, in blood,  and hopefully, in the eyes of my most esteemed mother." He nodded deeply.

"For now, I agree, but she despises you. Perhaps you should leave off the training sessions. I'll train her myself over the next year. Being female, she'll be able to learn more with me."

"I acquiesce. You are a superior teacher in every way."

Her head whipped around toward the door. "The generals are here, as is Bridgett."

"May I take my sick wolf and go?"

"No. You'll stay for the meeting. I'm making you an advisor since you know so much about the mortal plain. Try to behave yourself."

"As you command, Mother. As soon as I've sent my wolf back to bed I'll stand at your side."

"She stays." Their gazes locked for a fleeting moment, then Isaiah bowed. "Bridgett told me you're shielding her, therefore I assume you value her in some way. I wouldn't want to part you."

He sent,
"Stay as quiet as you can manage. No coughing or drawing attention to yourself. If I give the signal, lock yourself in the safe room. Don't argue."

"Yes."
I could barely move, my body hurt so much, so there wasn't much of a chance that I could get up enough energy to argue.

"Finally, some respect."
I caught his secret wink out of the corner of my eye.

An enormous table appeared in the center of the room and the various demons and unseelie creatures filed in. The stench was indescribable. It wasn't the demons, I'd been in a large room packed with demons and none of them had assaulted my nose. No, this odor was coming off some of the unseelie.

I recognized the stink of a Freckstill, who looked every bit as slimy and as lumpy as the newly deceased one. He was speaking to a creature I recognized as a drow, thanks to Isaiah's instruction regarding the various unseelie races in the DR. She was on the small side with white blond hair and dark skin. Her golden hued eyes reflected intelligence and her lean muscles spoke of a wiry strength. She walked with a catlike grace, a curved blade tucked into her leather belt. My hackles rose as I took in her scent. If evil had a smell...

My view of the drow was suddenly blocked by an enormous creature with leathery wings, long claws and several rows of teeth; a slaugh. He stood behind the archdemon as if he were her personal guard. He was given a very wide berth by everyone else in attendance.

Bridgett entered last and sat on Grandmother's left hand, Isaiah on her right.

Grandmother stood. "Tonight we ready ourselves for the inevitable." Isaiah sent to me, "
Sleep
", and right about then I passed out.

I awoke later with the meeting in an uproar, having no idea how long I'd been napping. My body ached so badly that I whimpered.

Bridgett was in front of the group. It seemed that even more demons had joined the chaos. I dug deeper under the blanket so no one would notice me.

She was giving a speech. "We'll be ready in one more year. We'll catch them off guard,  weak and disorganized. The mongrel will be years away from coming into his powers." A roar went up. Well it was partly a roar, a shrill squeak, a bark, and that wounded beagle howl. Isaiah was standing near his mommy dearest, but didn't seem particularly worried or enthusiastic.

"We take the warrior's oath," Grandmother shouted. Instantly clothes were ripped from bodies as demons who looked very much like seelie fae, suddenly sprouted horns and wings and claws. "Death to the fae mongrel and his mother!"

Holy shit. I felt my body begin to transition as Isaiah was forced into his warrior form.

"
Mother is blocking me.
Go now!"
The glamour was gone, so I buried myself under the blanket and concentrated on flowing into the lines. Unfortunately, my fever was making it hard to focus. I bit my lip and pushed, wavering on the edge between the two realities. As soon as I saw Bridgett start to walk in my direction, I found the strength.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I arrived back at Isaiah's house and stumbled to the safe room, tripping over the stupid pajama pants because they were now too long. Relieved that I was able to remember where it was located, I ran inside and shut the door behind me, then recited the spell. As soon as the protective wards locked into place, I took in a few gulps of air, not realizing I'd been holding my breath. Terribly weak from the illness, I poured a goblet of water from the pitcher on the shelf, drank half of it and collapsed onto the small cot in the corner.

Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep, worrying about what was happening with Isaiah. Was he able to mask me long enough? Was he in trouble with Naberia? Had Bridgett seen me without my glamour? Would an army of demons come crashing through the door and take me away?

"
Death to the fae mongrel and his mother
." Those words kept spinning in my flu-befuddled brain. Had Grandmother said them...or was it Bridgett? Did it really matter? They were coming to kill my baby within the next two years. How could I stop them?

My body ached, the throbbing in my head adding more misery to my already full plate. My skin burned with fever, so I forced myself to take another few sips of water. I remembered, vaguely that my healing energy was working again, wasn't it? Instead of lying here worrying I should heal myself and prepare for whatever came next when I was stronger.

I called to my magic and nothing happened. I tried again. I sensed the power was there, it just wasn't responding to me. Shit. I'd been able to use the lines and set the magical wards, so what was going on?

I writhed in pain on the small cot. The flu was hitting me harder with each passing hour and I was having a great deal of trouble focusing on anything, let alone magic. I started to shiver. There was no blanket on the cot, just a bare mattress and an uncovered pillow. I forced myself to sit up and look around. The room spun for a few seconds, but I was able to focus enough to see some blankets stacked neatly on the bottom shelf of a unit against the far wall. I stood, and walked a few steps, meaning to grab a blanket and then get back into bed, but I was so weak my knees gave out and I fell. I reached out with my hand so I wouldn't land hard and felt pain shoot up from my palm to my elbow.

This flu idea was beginning to suck eggs.

Somehow, after a lot of moaning and groaning, I'd managed to crawl to the shelves and grab two blankets, then crawl back to the bed. Once I'd warmed up, I was finally able to sleep.

I woke when I felt the wards come down. Fortunately, it was Isaiah who came through the door. He sat on the edge of the bed. "You look like shit."

"Thank you for cheering me up. I needed the boost. How come my magic isn't working? I can't heal myself." I was totally whining but I didn't give a shit.

He helped to prop me up and then brought the goblet of water to my mouth so I could take another few sips.

"Mundane illness interferes."

"The flu is interfering with my ability to use magic?" If I'd felt better I would have punched him—or at least yelled at him. As it was, I could barely hold my head up.

"I remember telling you that the illness would have to run its course."

"But you left out the part about not being able to use magic." I groaned. My wrist was throbbing so I rubbed it.

"What's this?"

"I fell getting a blanket. The room kind of spins around when I stand up."

"It's swollen, probably strained, but not broken. I'm afraid my magic won't work on a mundane illness so I'm sending you back. Your half-faerie healer buddy should be able to bring down the fever and give you something to help you sleep. In a couple of days you'll feel well enough to use your magic again."

"But what happened?"

"I convinced them that I sent you back to your pack to heal because I couldn't tolerate you being sick any longer. You were too weak to satisfy my needs." He grinned in his impish way. "They believed me. Everyone but Bridgett."

"But the army?"

"They're having more discussions on the subject. Bridgett is persuasive. I'll let you know what I find out."

"Thank you." He was back to his normal self. "You looked pretty awesome as an ugly monster. I might even like that look better."

"Ha, ha. Funny girl. Mother does love her drama." I started coughing so he gave me more water, then tucked the sweaty strands of hair behind my ears and rubbed my back. "Enough talking. You need at least a week of healthy meals and solid rest. If I hear that you've gone back to work with your Rogues team before you're completely well, I'm going to take a paddle to that pretty behind."

"You'd probably have to stand in line behind Garrett."

Isaiah laughed out loud. I tried to join him, but instead I ended up coughing up a lung—again. He helped me take another sip of water then sent me home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I beamed into the kitchen in the middle of Charlie's dinner, feeling like I'd passed through hell and barely made it out again. Noriene was instantly at my side, helping me into a chair, then Garrett appeared, looking about as good as I did. It must have been a tough twenty-four hours for him too.

"Mommy!" Charlie raced to my side and grabbed my injured hand, but when I cried out he backed away, frightened.

Garrett's mouth dropped open when he felt the heat emanating from my fevered skin. He scooped me up and took me to our room, aware of how carefully I was cradling my wrist. As he laid me on the bed he was shaking from tension or fear or anger—I didn't really know which. I'd never been ill with a mundane disease and he seemed at a loss. He vamp-speeded into the bathroom and returned with a damp washcloth, placing it over my forehead. It felt like heaven.

"I've sent for Liam." He whispered.

"It's the flu. It might be better just to call a regular doctor."

He picked up my injured arm and I winced. "And this?"

"An accident. I fell." He didn't look convinced. "I swear. I fell getting a blanket. I was dizzy."

"The next time Isaiah shows his face, I'm going to strangle him with his own intestines." His eyes were an ice storm as he set about examining my swollen wrist, changing my washcloth, all the time making a point to avoid my gaze. I was weak from the virus and the sprained wrist was painful, but I would have taken the black plague over Garrett's emotional withdrawal.

Charlie was hovering near the door, looking like he might cry at any minute. At least I could comfort my baby. "Come here, sweety. You didn't do anything wrong. Sit on the bed next to me and Daddy."

Relief washed over his small face as he rushed to my side, crawling up onto the bed but still not touching me. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I got hurt by accident. You didn't know. Don't worry."

"I can fix it." He reached out, then pulled his hand back. "Unless you don't want me to."

Garrett took hold of his arm. "I think we should let Uncle Liam look at it first. Mommy has the flu and that might affect how she needs to be healed."

Rage flared in Charlie's eyes. "You can't go back there. I won't let you. Something bad happens every time you go." His small hands clenched into fists and his mouth twisted into an angry frown.

Garrett pulled our son into his lap, rubbing his back to soothe him. "Mom's made an agreement with Isaiah so that he can teach you how to protect yourself. Right now, we need him." He sounded resigned but definitely not happy.

Charlie relaxed against his chest the way I sometimes did when I needed comfort. "Who's gonna protect
her
?"

His grin was loving as he looked at the young male in his lap. "You and me, son. The challenge is convincing her to accept our help."

I squeezed Charlie's hand with my good one. "Accidents happen. It's not a big deal."

"When she feels better I'm sure she'll tell us all about it." He kissed the top of Charlie's head, but his gaze was locked on mine.

When I opened myself to his emotions I sensed his regret and worry but also his anger. I hesitantly reached toward him with my uninjured hand, hoping that he'd take it, praying that he'd forgiven me. He smiled, looking relieved as he lifted it to his lips to kiss my knuckles.
"Je t'adore, mon ange."

I was about to respond when Liam arrived with potion in hand. It was warm and tasted kind of minty. After only a few sips, the miserable pain numbed and my body began to relax.

"I suppose there 's a lengthy story behind this?" I nodded, my head feeling heavy, then leaned back into my pillows, yawning wide enough to swallow a rabbit whole.

"I look forward to hearing the tale. However, I think we'll let you rest now." He tried to usher everyone out, but Charlie pulled away.

"I'm guarding her." He crawled onto the bed and propped some pillows up against the headboard. With a defiant glare in Liam's direction, he leaned back and crossed his arms.

Liam placed a supportive hand on Garrett's shoulder. "It appears that your young son has inherited his mother's stubborn streak."

Garrett smiled at Charlie, trying hard not to laugh. "You can stay as long as you allow Mommy to rest. I'll get you a book."

"Is it okay for a guard to read while he's guarding?"

Liam answered with a straight face and a serious tone. "Normally, I'd say no, but in this circumstance, with your mother confined to her bed, and other knights in the vicinity, I believe it will be acceptable."

"Okay. Can you please get me
Robin Hood
and the third Harry Potter book?"

"Both?"