Eve plunged her hand into one of the many pockets of her dress, pulling out a tiny vial. “Healing serum.”
She tilted the vial over Seraphia’s pale lips and poured the liquid into her mouth.
Nothing happened.
“It always works.” Eve scowled.
“What’s happening to my plants?” Quinn shouted. “They’re all shaking.”
I looked up, spotting a few of the potted ferns that decorated the place shaking like they were inside their own personal earthquakes. They tumbled off the shelves and tables and rolled toward Seraphia, the plants clinging to her.
Slowly, the color returned to her cheeks, and she opened her eyes. The plants stopped shuddering and lay still.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Okay, that was weird.
I shot Mac and Eve a glance. They just shrugged. This power of Seraphia’s was new as far as I could tell. Or more likely, it was meant to be a secret.
She looked down at the ferns that were nestled around her, her face going pale again.
Yep. A secret.
“Are you okay?” I asked, ignoring the plants.
Mac and Eve did the same.
“Yeah.” She sat up, shoving the plants aside and ignoring them. “There’s no way past that barrier.”
“We saw,” Mac said.
“Did we leave everyone there?” Seraphia asked, worry creasing her brow.
“Not everyone.” I stood, turning toward the man that Quinn had bound to the chair near the fire. The patrons of the Haunted Hound didn’t pay the scene any mind. Weird stuff happened there all the time. “We got one of theirs to question.”
“Good.” She looked at us. “Do you think Coraline, Beth, and the rest are okay?”
“I don’t think they’re dead yet,” I said. “They were kidnapped by fanatics of some kind. People with a goal. And they know they’re protected inside their temple. I think they’ll see their goal out before they kill anyone.”
“We need to question him,” Mac said.
“First, you need healing drafts.” Eve gestured to Mac and me. “Look at the two of you. You look like hell.”
; Just the reminder made pain flare in my wounds, and Mac winced.
“Here.” Eve withdrew two more tiny vials and handed them over.
Mac and I took them, swigging them back quickly. Warmth flowed through me, followed by a wonderful lack of pain.
“Thank you.” I smiled gratefully at her.
She nodded, concern still flickering in her eyes. The four of us stood, and we approached the man slumped in the chair. His head nodded on his neck, chin resting on his chest. He was mid-twenties, probably, with shaggy dark hair and a silver bar pierced through his ear. Tattoos decorated his neck, indecipherable swirls that probably meant something to him but nothing to me.
Quinn stood behind his chair, arms crossed over his neck. “You’ve got to ask him some questions?”
I nodded.