Wicked Deal (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 2)

She gave me a fierce look. “A killing blow? You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Bastards. We’ll have their heads for this. That’s deadly magic.” She looked at the guard who wasn’t supporting Grey’s big frame. “Fetch the healer. Immediately.”

“Will he be okay?” I demanded.

“I don’t know. If he weren’t so strong, he’d be dead already.”

“His immortality won’t help him?”

“It makes him stronger, but he’s not immune to trauma or powerful magic.” She looked at the lion shifter who was holding Grey upright. “Take him to his quarters.”

“Aye.” The shifter helped Grey along, who stubbornly stayed on his feet.

When I started to follow, Miranda glared at me. “I’m coming,” I insisted, my voice firm, and she nodded in assent.

We wound through the halls, rising several stories and reached a part of the tower that was new to me. Slowly, Grey raised his hand and pressed it to the huge wooden door. Magic sparked, and the door opened.

The lion shifter dragged him in. Miranda and I trailed after them, walking into a beautiful, though austere, living room with massive windows overlooking a moonlit sea. Waves crashed on the rocky shore.

I blinked in surprise. This couldn’t be real. Not in London.

But it looked real.

“Magic,” Miranda said, catching my shock.

We entered another room, a massive sleeping chamber decorated in the same spartan style. A huge window overlooked snow-covered mountains gleaming in the moonlight. Again, the scene was so real that I could swear I smelled the icy snow through the glass.

They helped Grey to the bed, and the vampire lay on it with a groan.

“What did the magic do to him?” I stared, g

azing worriedly at him.

“Pulverized his organs.” Miranda sounded pissed. “Watch over him. I’m going to go help find the healer.”

Both she and the bouncer moved toward the door.

“Wait!” I followed them with my gaze. “Will he die?”

Miranda’s jaw tightened, and she said nothing.

Yes.

That was what her silence meant. Yes.

I went to Grey and sat on the bed beside him. He lay on the dark sheets, his skin pale and cold. I reached for his hand, gripping tightly. My feelings were jumbled and confused.

He’d saved me.

He’d lied to me.

He might die.

“Grey.” I squeezed his hand. “Wake up, Grey. You’re fine.”

The words were stupid. He clearly wasn’t fine.