Hydromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 4)

“Got the visual,” Tim said. “Hold on, baby girl. I’m coming as fast as I can.”

Cesar made a small incision with the blade in his palm. He lifted it over the mark and let a drop fall onto one of the red dots. The minute his blood made contact with her skin, pain sliced through her. She cried out in agony. The blood sizzled, smoke hissing angrily over the wound.

Cesar fell back on his ass, his eyes wide. “Holy hell. Tim, what the fuck was that?”

Tim’s voice was flat. “Stop. It’s not working.”

“What now, Tim?” Cesar shouted.

“Now get her into the cold bath until the fever breaks. If she gets too cold, get her warm. I give you permission to touch her in whatever way necessary.”

“Tim, I—”

“Cesar!” Tim’s voice thundered over the line. “Now’s not the time. Get your act together. Focus on one thing at a time. I’m calling Charles now. Contact me the minute anything changes.”

“Just hurry.”

Cesar disconnected the call and left the phone on the floor. He lifted her from the floor and carried her back to Tim’s bed, depositing her gently.

“I’m running a bath,” he said. “You hold on. I’ll be right back.”

She’d stopped listening. She was pulling in and out of a dream, like a tide that brushed over a beach. The memory was scratchy, like the grains of sea sand that grated her skin. Darren was standing on the edge of it. Behind him, Table Mountain was clad in dusk.

“Don’t let go,” he said. “You hear me? Don’t let go, or I’ll kick your ass all the way back. You don’t get to give up.”

Someone was calling her name. It wasn’t Darren any longer. It sounded like Cesar, but the calling faded until it turned to silence.

Chapter 13

The blackness in which Maya floated wasn’t water. It wasn’t cool and comfortable or weightless and soothing. It was a colorless fire, pure agony. What was she doing in Clelia’s element? Only a firestarter could thrive in this. Maybe she was dead, in hell. Maybe Darren was there. She should be glad, but even if she was reaching out with one hand, trying to enter through the film of fire that would allow her to reach him, the other was stretched back into the world, tearing her body in two. Part of her wanted to slip over, but something, someone, jerked her back.

“Maya, wake up.”

The man who spoke owned her. Already her body reached for him, reacting to the call involuntarily, while her soul surfaced willingly. It was hard to open her eyes when the weight of so much liquid fire pressed on her body.

“Maya.” His voice turned hard, commanding. “Come back to me. Now.”

Her eyelids fluttered of their own accord. Cooling hands slipped over her burning arms, soothing her.

A whisper escaped her lips. “Yes.” More. She needed more of that.

Her body was lifted and cradled to a hard chest. A heart stuttered offbeat against her own. She recognized his smell—powerful and masculine.

“Tim?”

“I’m here.” His lips were like balm, pressing on her forehead. It pulled the burn from her skin and infused her with the coolness she needed.

“Kiss me,” she said, giving voice to what her body demanded.

He obliged, pressing those healing lips on hers. His mouth was like water. She wanted to drink him until the fire in her throat abated. She moaned at the briefness of the caress, but it was enough to give her the strength to open her eyes.

It took a moment for the room to come back into focus. Tim sat on the bed, holding her in his arms. Cesar, Lee, and Frida were gathered around them, looking on with concerned faces. Her clothes and the bed were soaked. Water dripped from her hair.

Tim’s body shuddered with a quick exhale of breath. “I got here as fast as I could.”

A phone beeped.

Lee pulled a mobile from his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Charles. He can’t help you without a blood sample. We’ll have to courier it to London.”

“Whatever you just did to her, helped,” Cesar said.

Frida bent down and touched Maya’s forehead. “Still too hot. How long did you have her in the cold water?”

“Not long.” Cesar’s big body shook. “Didn’t want to risk hypothermia.”

Frida straightened. “I can take her blood. We’ve got the hypodermic needles and vials.”

“We can’t wait that long,” Lee said. “By the time Charles has an analysis, she’ll be dead.”

Tim lifted his head quickly and said in an icy tone, “She’ll be alive.”

Lee frowned. “Tim, you’re my friend. I’m not going to lie to you to make you feel better. You have to do something, but you can’t wait for Charles.”

The fuckers were talking as if she weren’t there, as though she couldn’t hear them. There was something she needed so badly that she’d beg for it. Tim’s bite. His fangs. Her body arched at the mere thought. Her head fell to the side, exposing her neck. She needed. She wanted. Her mouth was parched, and it felt as if her throat was grated to shreds on the inside.