“People die in ER suites all the time,” Sera countered.
“Hey,” Fane said. “Patient right here, listening.”
Alyce cleared her throat. “The bullets.”
The two talyan and the warden stared at her.
“That’s a little harsh even for us,” Sera said.
But Sidney nodded. “Good idea, Alyce.”
“Hey,” Fane repeated, more weakly this time.
Alyce hurried across the lab to the glass-fronted cabinet with the cryptic pink note stuck to the front. Inside lay the shard from her leg—chipped away and smaller now from Sidney’s experiments—along with the bullets. How much would be enough?
“Nanette,” she called gently.
The woman joined her and sucked in a breath. Her hands went to the glass as if she could reach through without obstruction. Golden light from her hands, the shard, and the fragments of the shard stuffed into the tips of the bullets pulsed in rhythm.
Alyce popped open the cabinet, and Nanette reached in with slow reverence to cradle the shard in her palm. Streamers of radiance spilled between her fingers like water or sand that never ran out.
“It’s beautiful,” Alyce said. “And deadly to us.”
Nanette nodded. “And healing. With the right touch and a little luck. And help and time and—”
“Patient right here, dying,” Fane said.
“Hush.” Nanette faced the room. “As for the rest of you, I know this is rude—”
Fane plucked at the blood-soaked towel over his belly. “And hush wasn’t?”
“But can we have privacy? The laying on of hands is a sacred moment.”
“And we aren’t sacred,” Ecco finished. He stalked out the door without looking back.
Sera stuck her clean hands in her pockets. “Holler if you need anything.”
“Oh, he might holler.” Nanette flicked her fingers. The golden light spattered like raindrops. “But please don’t mind him.”
Fane tried to push himself up on his elbows. She nudged him back.
Sidney ushered Alyce and Sera through the door and pulled it shut behind him.
Sera leaned against the wall, her arms hanging limp at her sides. “Should we be worried about leaving our precious league secrets in there with a couple of angels?”
Sidney shrugged. “Nanette seems sweet, and Fane is otherwise occupied. And I think the sphericanum has bigger concerns now.”
“It’s our fault,” Alyce said.
Sera frowned. “What, that Fane can’t fight?”
“That he had to fight Thorne.”
Sidney echoed Sera’s frown but more fiercely. “What makes you think it was Thorne?”
She folded her hands in front of her and waited.
He started to rake his fingers through his hair but stopped at the sight of the blood. “You would know.”
Sera drummed the wall behind her, then pushed herself straight. “Okay, typical crappy talya luck says you’re probably right, it’s Thorne. But that doesn’t make it our fault he attacked Fane.”
“Specifically, my fault,” Sidney said. “I gave him the idea an angelic sword would make a fine demonic weapon.”
“I believe I was the inspiration,” Alyce countered. “You just refined the concept.”
“Damn it, enough.” Sera pointed an admonishing finger at each of them in turn. “There’s plenty of repenting to go around—just ask the teshuva.”
Alyce shook her head. “Maybe we’ll ask Thorne.”
CHAPTER 23
“Run,” Jonah whispered.
Sid glanced at the other man. “What?”
“They’re after you.”
Since the warehouse loading bay was full of talyan gathering for the night’s hunt, it seemed unlikely the tenebrae or the sphericanum had invaded. Anyway, his teshuva was dormant. “Who’s after me?”
“The girls. Alyce.”
The teshuva didn’t twitch, but other parts of Sid did. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m telling you. I recognize that look. It doesn’t bode well.”
In the room of large, black-clad males planning their routes through the city, it was hard for a moment to pick out the smaller women, especially since they seemed to be sneaking around the bigger bodies.
Sid shifted from one foot to the other. “Maybe they’re after you.”
“Nim already has me.”
Was that a note of censure in the other man’s voice? “Alyce knows she can come to me for anything.”
Jonah lifted one eyebrow. “But she went to Nim instead. And she was upstairs sparring with Gavril earlier, before Fane and Nanette showed up.”
Now Sid’s teshuva did rouse, a slow coiling of possessiveness. It was so unlike him. He was not that sort of man. Of course, that was the point. It wasn’t the man but the demon. He tried to tamp it down. “I think she’s smart to take advantage of all the strengths and skills the league members can offer.”
“Uh-huh.” Jonah’s doubt lengthened each syllable.
Sid gritted his teeth if only to keep the teshuva from letting out a roar.
She was decked out, from the dark braid of her hair to her big boots, in talya black, blending with the males, so he didn’t see the problem until she stepped under one of the loading bay lights and the harsh fluorescent gleamed off the hard shine of leather.
Black leather.
There were legitimate reasons to use leather for work clothes. For example, quality leather gardening gloves, heavy boots, and cowboy chaps wore smoother, lasted longer, and protected better than lighter-weight materials.
There was no excuse for a strap-up leather bustier.
Jonah groaned. “Nim …”
The talya female minced over to him. The wild corona of her sandy hair was neatly bound in a ponytail, and her oversized black T-shirt was actually tucked in. “Yes, sir? Reporting for duty, sir.”
“Troublemaker.”
“What? I just—”
Whatever she just faded from Sid’s hearing as Jonah hauled her away. Not that he was listening. He stalked toward Alyce.
As combat apparel, he supposed it made a certain sense. The bodice laced close around her body and left no loose folds of fabric to catch on feralis claws. The long sleeves, with the pointed cuffs covering the backs of her hands, fit her like a second skin, a skin that would hold up to ichor spatter better than her own, at least long enough to dispatch the tenebrae doing the spattering. And, of course, it was black.
On the taller, curvier Nim, the bustier would have bordered on indecent. On Alyce, the laces closed tight, eyelet to eyelet, without a suggestion of skin. This made him wonder what, if anything, she was wearing underneath.
A simple inhalation—he’d been doing it all his life—caught raggedly in his throat.
As if in echo, her breasts rose and fell on a breath. The bustier wasn’t so meek and modest as to hide that. Her reven made a plain choker around her neck.
“I see you’re ready to rumble.” His voice sounded wrong, too deep, with a note of menace.
She turned her back to him and reached around her side. For a heartbeat, he thought she was going to flip him off. How quickly even a rogue absorbed talya arrogance.
But then she tugged at one of the filigreed and studded embellishments at her shoulder blade … and half withdrew a knife. The thin, silvery blade flexed against its hidden sheath, supple like a boning knife. Six of the embellishments, three on each side, descended along her sides, tucked into decorative chevron striping down the back of the bustier. The exposed, delicate hilts were perfectly sized for her small hand.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Clever, isn’t it?”
“I never would have noticed the knives,” he said with complete honesty.