He hurled that power out, slamming the man into the back wall of a brick building. His head hit with an audible thunk; then he crumpled to the dirty ground.
Logan hurried to the back of the car. Hope was curled up so she fit. Blood smeared over her face and neck.
Some of his rage burst free in the form of a bellow. The man who’d done this to his Hope was going to die. If he hadn’t already. But first he had to get her to safety.
Logan gathered her in his arms and lifted her from the trunk. He couldn’t heal her easily here. He needed to touch her skin, and if he bared his, he risked summoning one of the Solarc’s Wardens. If that happened, both he and Hope were dead.
He had to get her into his van where he could tend her.
Hope’s head was limp against his shoulder. He could hear her breathing and heartbeat, but he wasn’t going to be satisfied until she was whole and awake, looking at him with those beautiful golden eyes.
As soon as he knew she was going to be okay, he’d go back for the unconscious man lying in the trash. And drain him dry.
Logan laid Hope in the back of his van, pulled the curtain and door shut, and then removed his gloves and mask. The smell of Hope’s blood caused an odd combination of anger and hunger to roil in his stomach. For now, he couldn’t act on either.
He smoothed her hair away from her face and soaked up the warmth of her skin. While he would have enjoyed stroking her until she woke, he resisted the urge and focused on his task.
He let his power slide inside her, seeking out her injuries and knitting them shut. He closed her skin, being careful not to leave behind a scar. It took more energy to work slowly, but he couldn’t stand the thought of marring her perfect skin.
The small fracture in her jaw was harder to heal. But even that was nothing compared to the bruising inside her skull. He did what he could to heal her, but there was too much damage for him to finish the task as weak as he was. He made sure she was stabilized and retreated from her body.
He was shaking with effort. The sun was setting, but not down all the way. It bore down on him, sucking his strength, making every task ten times as hard.
He covered his skin again and moved to the front of the van. Nearby buildings shaded them from the last rays of sunlight, making it safe for him to open the door.
Logan went back to the human garbage lying on the ground and stared long and hard at the man who dared hurt his woman.
No. Not Logan’s woman. He couldn’t think of her like that. Just because he was drawn to her did not mean he could stake a claim. He had to stay objective. Distance himself.
With her lying in the back of his van, that was an impossible task. The need to tear her attacker apart and drain him dry of blood pounded on Logan, demanding he take repayment for the injustice done to her.
Logan dragged the man deeper into the shadows and lifted his mask over his mouth. He craned the man’s head back at a brutal angle and bit deep.
The taste of rotting filth filled his mouth. Logan jerked back, vomiting the tainted blood onto the ground.
Dorjan. This man was filled with Synestryn blood, protecting him from Logan’s hunger.
Logan’s body fought to purge him of every last bit of that vile blood. He struggled against the nausea that roiled in his stomach and the dizziness that spun his head.
The blood that flowed through that man’s veins was strong. The Synestryn that had infected him was powerful. Even now, Logan could feel the demon stirring, waking. If he didn’t rid himself of every last drop, the demon might be able to sense his presence, or even possibly read his thoughts.
Logan thrust up a mental wall to surround his mind. He kept his thoughts light, inconsequential. He didn’t look at his surroundings or allow any other image that might identify his location to pass by his eyes.
He gathered up the tainted blood that had escaped and forced it up his throat and into his mouth. He spat the rest onto the ground. It oozed toward him, and he scrambled back, avoiding its touch.
The man who’d stolen Hope moved behind Logan, rising to his feet. Dark red blood seeped down his neck where Logan had bitten him. The man’s eyes were wild, but filled with an uncanny intelligence.
“I see you,” said the man, though his voice echoed with an eerie hollowness.
That wasn’t the human who spoke. It was the voice of the Synestryn who controlled him.
Logan wasn’t strong enough for a battle of wills. Not while the sun was still up. Not when Hope needed every bit of his strength to heal her.
The human lurched forward, his legs moving awkwardly as if controlled by a puppeteer.
Logan scrambled to his feet and backed away. He needed to get back to Hope and get both of them out of here.
The human moved faster than should have been possible. He dropped to a crouch and sprang at Logan, teeth bared.
Logan tried to dodge, but his body was heavy with fatigue. Both the poisoned blood and the last bit of daylight served to weaken him until he was barely able to stand upright, much less combat an attack.
The man’s weight plowed into him, knocking him to the ground. Logan’s head hit the pavement, and he was stunned for a second. Something cold and hard slid over his back, and it took him a moment to realize that he was being dragged across the ground.
Toward the last, dying rays of sunlight streaming between the buildings.
Logan tried to clear his head enough to figure out a way to stop his slow, deadly progress toward the light. His hands were clumsy. His mind was clouded and slow.
He remembered his spare dagger, which he’d slid into his coat pocket earlier. He pulled it out and swiped at the man’s arm, slicing him deep. Dark blood poured from the wound, but the man didn’t slow or even show signs that he’d been hit.
The human was no longer controlling his body. His master was behind the wheel.
Dirty concrete slid under Logan as he was dragged closer to the sunlight.
He stabbed again. This time his blade hit bone and stuck.
The man lifted him up with his other hand and shoved him the last few inches into the light. Sunlight hit his chin, which was bare from his earlier attempt to feed.
The air around them shuddered and groaned as a portal was ripped open. Searing light burned Logan’s eyes. The ground shook and a horrible tearing sound deafened him.
The human turned and fled. Logan’s dagger clattered to the ground. He scooped it up, even though he knew it would likely do no good against a Warden.
The light died down just as Logan regained his footing. He didn’t dare waste even a second looking to see if one of the Solarc’s enforcers had appeared. He knew one had.
And if he didn’t get back to his van and drive her away, Hope would be slain.
Chapter 18
Joseph rubbed his eyes. The headache that had become his nearly constant companion was back with a vengeance. Ever since that meeting with Andreas, it had been getting worse.
The stress of leadership was getting to him. He wasn’t cut out for this job. He’d never asked for it. It was just pure, dumb luck that had his people thinking he was the right choice to lead them.
It hadn’t exactly worked out well.
Gilda and Angus were dead. Jackie refused to choose one of his men despite the fact that she seemed to be compatible with all of them. Whatever had happened to her in those caves had left deep scars, and Joseph had no idea if or when they would heal enough for her to take her rightful place in the war against the Synestryn.
Joseph couldn’t even bring himself to ask Tori to search for her partner among the Theronai. She was still a kid, and the things she’d suffered were not the kinds of things that led a woman to trust a man. Ever. She needed time to heal—years of time they didn’t have.
Torr’s paralysis was gone, but the man refused to go out and fight. He was glued to Grace’s side, watching her die slowly. There was nothing any of the Sanguinar could do to save her, and they’d wasted precious resources trying.
The human women and children they’d rescued from a Synestryn nest a couple of weeks ago were not adjusting well to their freedom. The kids had nightmares. One of the women had killed herself three days ago, and Tynan had suggested that more may follow in her footsteps. He’d put all of them on suicide watch.
Demons were closing in around them. Some of them had human faces—something Joseph knew would cause even the coldest Theronai to hesitate in battle. Their vows to protect humans ran deep and the Synestryn were using it against them.
Things were falling apart. Even with the discovery of Theronai women in the world, they’d only found a few—not enough to turn the tide of war. His men lost more leaves every day, putting each of them closer to death. He’d had to sentence Chris to death only days ago, and he spent too much time wondering who would be next.
He had to do something—anything—to give his people hope.
Perhaps Andreas’s offer was the key to that hope.
Joseph had talked to several of his most trusted men, along with Tynan, who spoke for all the Sanguinar. They all agreed that ending the stagnant war with the Slayers—believing it wasn’t a trick—was a risk they had to take.
If it was a trick, at least Joseph wouldn’t have to worry about his headaches anymore.
He left his office and went to the dining hall where Andreas had been spending his time, out in the open, very publicly. It was like the man was trying to make a point that he had nothing to hide, which made Joseph nervous.
Still, reports indicated that the human children were drawn to him. Madoc had even gone so far as to tell them to stay away, but as soon as his back was turned, the kids came back, begging Andreas to play a game with them.
Kids were good judges of character. They had no idea what was at stake or what Andreas was trying to do. They just knew that a new guy had come to play with them and break up some of the monotony of life at Dabyr. They weren’t afraid of him.
That went a long way in Joseph’s book.
He found Andreas sitting on the floor in front of a TV, playing some kind of racing video game. One of the little girls they’d found in the caves with Jackie was racing him and he was doing a good job of not being obvious about letting her win.
“We need to talk,” said Joseph.
Andreas handed his controller to another child and stood up. The children grabbed onto his legs, begging him to stay. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. We just have a little boring grown-up stuff to do.”
He extracted himself from the children and gave Joseph a level stare. “I hope you have good news for me.”
Joseph led him to a table at the far side of the dining area. He’d spotted at least four of his men nearby, keeping watch on Andreas, and there were several more out in the courtyard, working out. If things turned ugly, help would be here in seconds.
Carmen sat only two tables away, typing on her laptop. He knew she was taking online classes, but had no idea which ones. She’d hardly spoken to him since he’d claimed her as his daughter, thinking he was doing so out of pity rather than honoring the memory of their fallen brother-in-arms, Thomas.
Thomas’s dying wish was that Joseph claim her as kin, and Joseph was honor bound to uphold that wish. But Carmen was human. She didn’t understand their ways, and had yet to come around and forgive him for doing what was right.
