Think, Holly, think!
She'd just driven on a considerable straightaway and a sharp bend lay up ahead. The road was flanked with ridges on both sides. A nebulous idea arose.
"Cadeon, whose car is this?"
He rasped, "Not…ours."
"Just checking."
From his position, propped up against a birch above the ridge, Cade watched Holly snagging the last of their gear from the car, finalizing her trap.
Surely, this couldn't work. But it had to…her life depended on it.
Because for some reason, she refused to leave him. And he was helpless to protect her. The poison from those arrows was eating away at him inside, and when his body tried to sweat it out, the chemicals were like acid on his burns, keeping them from healing.
Dizziness was constant. Black spots swarmed in front of his eye as he struggled to stay conscious. Every movement was grueling.
She trotted up the rise, dumping their stuff to the ground except for his sword, which she unsheathed. Crouching beside him, she laid the weapon over her knees. In readiness.
Could she consciously kill a demon, or possibly more? Could she mindfully make the decision to take a life?
"What are our chances?" she asked.
He grated, "One in fifteen. Don't know if…I'd take them."
"You would if there's zero chance otherwise."
The truck was flying up the winding road, headlights going from visible to concealed to visible once more. Tires screeched around the hairpin curves before falling silent when the driver reached the straightaway and gunned the engine.
"Here they come," Holly murmured. "Five…four…three…two…one."
The driver slammed on the brakes at his first glimpse of her improvised Veyron roadblock.
Too late.
With nowhere to turn, the truck t-boned the heavy car; the sole demon catapulted through the windshield, hurtling through the air.
On his landing, bones cracked audibly, then the momentum sent him scraping over the skin-eating pavement. Eventually, he stopped, sprawling unconscious.
"And that's why even immortals need to wear seat belts." As lightning began to fire all over the valley, Holly rose, wielding Cade's sword. He heard her absently say, "Sit tight. I'll be right back."
Holly advanced to where the fire demon lay, looking like a boneless lump of tissue on the road.
She was about to kill a defenseless being, but there was no help for it. He was already beginning to heal, had ignited the tiniest flame in his lacerated palm.
She quickened her pace. Now she could see why Cadeon had taught her to finish an adversary without mercy. Within moments, this mangled being could be a threat again.
Once she stood over him, she raised the sword above his neck. Don't hesitate! With a yell, she swung it down, sending up a shower of sparks against the pavement as she severed the head.
Done, then. That's behind me.
Forcing herself not to look back, she ran for the demon's truck, praying that it might be drivable. Through the smoke from the collision, she saw that it was still running! The engine had been protected by a weighty winch attached to the front bumper—the winch that had cleaved the Veyron nearly in two.
But now it was locking the vehicles together in a tangle of jagged metal. She set down the sword, then grasped the contraption to see if she might budge it.
She pulled up on it with all her might, bewildered to see that she was raising the freaking truck—
The winch tore free in a rush. Pain lashed across her arm as she dropped it. "Damn!" Her gaze shot down. The serrated metal had sliced her arm to the bone.
She tore off the hem of her sweater, knotting it over the wound. She'd definitely need stitches, but couldn't worry about that now….
When she returned for Cadeon, he was unconscious. Her heart lurched, even when she knew he couldn't die like this.
Or could he?
Had some immortal out there actually tested poisoned fey arrows for a contraindication with limb-melting burns?
After she'd gotten him and their things into the truck, she climbed in. Putting it in reverse, she eased back, extricating them from the frame of the million-dollar-plus car.
Without the prop of the truck, the Veyron folded in on itself like one of Cade's Red Bull cans….
32
Taking the demon brew away from the demon when he was burned, poisoned, and laid out naked in a bathtub was clearly ill-advised.
"Give me back my goddamned flask!" he bellowed, his words echoing in the motel room's tiny bathroom.
Wringing another wet cloth over him, she said, "You don't have any fingers to hold it with anyway."
Like a little boy, he shoved the two wrinkly fingers he'd managed to regenerate in front of her face.
"Fine," she sighed. When she handed the flask over, he snatched it to his chest. "You had better be careful," Holly began in a serene tone, "I've heard that stuff takes a while to hit."
"Bugger—off."
She let that slide, knowing it had to be killing a proud male like Cadeon to be vulnerable like this.
"You should've left me…in the goddamned truck."
"You are officially the surliest male I've ever met."
"And you're treating me like I'm really hurt," he said, an inane statement, considering that half of the flesh from his waist up was still gone.
On the way to find a nondescript motel where she could hide the stolen truck, Holly had noticed that his skin would seem to be on the path to regeneration, but then he would sweat out more poison. His waxy flesh would well up again.
Once she'd secured a room, she'd ignored his grumbling as she'd removed what was left of his burned clothing, then led him to the bathtub.
After filling the room's ice bucket with both ice and water to dip a cloth in, she knelt beside him, gently wringing the chill water over his skin. She kept her eyes averted from his privates—almost without fail.
The poison had a bluish tint to it that rinsed away easily enough. If only it didn't keep coming back.
The pain must be agonizing.
"Why're you being…so nice to me?" he asked gruffly, raising the flask, drinking deep.
"Because you are hurt, and you need help."
"Not 'cause of what I told you?" he said.
Well, there was that. His admission had thrown her. It brought a whole new layer to whatever they had between them, an aspect of permanence to a flirtation.
All his advances hadn't been merely because the job had put her in his path. He'd sought her out, then had volunteered to protect her.
"Not only because of what you said." She dipped the cloth again, wringing it over his chest.
By the time the flask was empty, his skin was finally free of any blue tint and had begun regenerating before her eyes. By morning he should be completely healed.
Reminded of her own injury, she unraveled the makeshift bandage over her arm. Then stared in astonishment. The skin was already mending.
If I chose to stay a Valkyrie, I could keep this healing ability….
She frowned. Or I could be burned alive by demons because I'm the Vessel.
"I think you're all clear," she said. "Let's get you to bed." She helped him stand, then held his swaying form steady as she wrapped a towel around his waist—not that he was modest. The only thing he seemed discomfited about was being injured.
"Can you sit upright?" she asked when they reached the bed.
"One of the first things…I learned as a pup."
"Okay, I'm going to get a compress for your forehead." Yet, as soon as she released him, he collapsed back on his burns, hissing in a breath. "Cadeon! Here…," she said, helping him stretch out over the length of the mattress, then drawing a sheet to his waist.