Chapter Ten
My body lifted into the air. The pain I’d felt only moments ago had already begun to dull. I opened my eyes a crack. It was still dark, but Gideon’s face loomed above me. He carried me out of the alleyway, his arms cradling my back and the space behind my knees.
I felt like a little child. The burns weren’t that painful. I could probably walk myself.
“Stay still.” Gideon glanced down at me as I squirmed.
“I can walk. Just put me down,” I huffed.
Gideon shook his head. “I don’t think so. You need to go to a hospital. I called an ambulance and they’ll be here soon.”
“No, no hospitals.” I struggled to free myself, but Gideon held tight. “Let me down. I’m serious, I can walk.”
“No, I’m carrying you. You can’t see your injuries like I can. And you’re going to a hospital.” He shifted my weight in his arms, pausing a moment to get a better grip. “Now, put your arm around my neck. You’re heavier than you look.”
Rolling my eyes, I wrapped my arm around his neck and breathed in the scent of his cologne. It worked like anesthesia, dulling the pain in my wings and lower back. I could’ve stayed there all day if it wasn’t for the flashing lights of the oncoming ambulance in the distance. Their presence meant needles and doctors and stitches – all of which I wasn’t particularly fond of.
“Just take me back to my apartment. Please, don’t make me go to the hospital.” I looked into his eyes, hoping that my pleading would work.
He hesitated for a second, signaling my victory. “Fine, fine. You’ll regret it.”
I silently cheered and leaned against his shoulder. My body relaxed into his arms, soaking in the heat of his chest. I knew I shouldn’t be enjoying this.
Only minutes ago, Gideon had declared he was only doing his job. This was his job. Saving creatures like me and putting the bad guys away. Although, this time, I’d saved him too.
“Are you okay? Is she okay?” Johnny raced toward us. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. “I thought you were dead.”
“Not dead. Just roasted alive.” I chuckled, but it hurt to laugh.
In the dark, the whites of Johnny’s eyes shined against the black of his skin. He ran his gaze over my body, taking in every injury and scrape.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I told him.
He gave me a frown that told me I had yet to convince him. With its sirens blaring, the ambulance pulled up behind him and two men jumped out. They ran to the rear of the vehicle, grabbing a stretcher and two big black bags.
“There’s a guard on the rooftop. He’s been badly burned. My partner, Agent Silva, is tending to him.” Gideon nodded in the direction of the train station.
The paramedics thanked him and ran inside. He shifted my weight again and then walked past the ambulance and onto the street. Johnny followed us, scrambling to keep up with Gideon’s pace.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
If he said anything close to the word hospital, I was going to fly right out of here.
“You said you wanted to go to your apartment. That’s where we’re going.”
Gideon’s black sedan was parked on the curb in front of the station. He set me gingerly down on the sidewalk. The loss of the warmth of his body next to mine left me shivering in the cold air. I rubbed my hands over my arms, the friction doing nothing but causing the small cuts and bruises on my arm to sting.
“Get inside.” Gideon held the door to the back seat open for me.
Johnny followed, cradling my head in his lap when the pain began to overcome me again. It moved in waves, starting at my lower back and extending out through my wings.
Gideon hopped in the driver’s seat and started the car. His eyes watched me in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t tell if he was concerned about me or the blood that I was surely smearing on the backseat of his rental car. But I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep without another thought.
After what seemed like only a minute, I awoke with a jolt. Gideon was lowering me to my couch, doing his best not to touch the burns along my lower back. He noticed my eyelids opening and gave me a pained smile.
I probably looked like a wreck to him. My wings had folded back into my shoulders, but that didn’t hide the awful smell of burnt feathers. Now, in the harsh fluorescent light of my apartment, I could see the hundreds of tiny cuts along my arms. Nothing deep enough for stitches, but they’d probably scar my pale skin.
“Johnny went to get your friend, Angel.” He sat on the coffee table, facing me. “He’ll be back soon.”