“Grim said he would do as the demon asked, so we have to call the demon back.” Her eyes spring open, and I push off her to stand. She does the same.
“What?” She waves her hands around. “I don’t understand. Are you a telepath now, Talia?” I shake my head and look back. I want to move. If we can get through that ward, why can’t they? I start walking and so does everyone else, and it’s then I realize we are down two werewolves. I look to John and Patrick, both of them have their heads down. Desolation etched on their faces.
Shit.
I stop and so does Tatiana.
“I’m sorry.”
John nods his head and continues walking. Tatiana looks over, and I can see her fighting with herself. She makes a decision and runs to catch up to him. Patrick walks next to me.
“I didn’t even notice till just now.”
“They knew the risk going in,” Patrick states.
“You’re bleeding.” His arm is gushing blood, it’s running down his skin and dripping off his hand. He looks at the wound, then back to the road, not caring. “It will heal.”
I drop to the ground and grab some herbs from the base of the trees. Catching up, I stop in front of him. His brown eyes lock on me, and after creating a poultice, I reach up, placing some in his wound to stop the bleeding. He nods his head in thanks, and we continue to walk.
“I felt it when everything stopped.”
I look ahead to see Tatiana with her hand on John’s arm. “You did?”
He nods his head. “How come you don’t pause like the rest of us?”
That’s a good question and it’s something I’ve never thought about until right now. “Maybe because he is seeking me when he comes?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve been around a long time, and I know no other angels can stop time apart from the Angel of Death.” I did know that. But I am not one to share any details about Death. I like that we have our very own bubble that no one can crack. Even if I don’t know everything I want to know about him.
“I don’t know, then.”
“Who were your parents?”
“Witches. They died when we were young, though. Tatiana basically raised us.” Our father, we don’t have much memory of him, and our mother never spoke of him. But not long after he passed away, so did she, just a few years later. Sickness.
“Time wouldn’t stop for your sisters if you have the same blood. I wonder why it stops for them and not you.” Patrick huffs, not able to make sense of this, and making me question everything right along with him.
“Again, I don’t really know. My only answer is because I’m the person he is here to see.”
“He seems to have an interest in helping you. Death doesn’t negotiate. He simply takes,” Patrick says as he keeps walking.
I stop, wondering why that would be.
“It’s their fault!” one of the wolves screams at John, and he shakes his head at her.
“He chose to come, knowing the risks, Patrice.”
Patrice is angry, rightfully so. It was her mate who died. I didn’t even learn his name, yet this man died for reasons I am still trying to work out. I don’t even know what’s really going on. I haven’t had time to process. First, I was shopping. Then, I was being dragged to the queen. Then the werewolves, and now vampires. How much more is there to come? My life was so quiet, and now it’s rapid-fire and dangerous.
“I don’t care. We are not going to die for the witches,” Patrice declares and a round of applause follows.
I drop my head, feeling ashamed.
I shouldn’t have come here.
A loud growl follows, and we all turn to John. His eyes are flashing, and the werewolves’ heads all bow in response. I look to Tatiana, wondering if we should be doing that as well, and she rolls her eyes. I can’t help the laugh that follows, making every head swing to me.
“They mock us!” one yells.
I cover my mouth and Tatiana stands. “We don’t mock you. Now shut the fuck up. We aren’t expecting anything from you. Just a place to stay,” Tatiana snaps.
“You aren’t expecting anything from us? Really? You come here and take our alpha like he’s yours to begin with. He follows you around like you’re his mate, and then you take our men into the vampire ward. Yeah, sure, you don’t expect anything,” the wolf scoffs at her. I shake my head and step away, going to Patrick. I walk into the house next to John’s and find him at his table drinking whiskey. He looks up when I enter, raises his glass, then drinks again.
“How’s the injury?” I ask, sitting down at his table.
He looks and smiles. “I shifted, so it’s all healed.”