Edward sat with Caitlin on the couch, but didn’t look at her. He took another swallow of water, and the color began to return to his face. He shook his head. “I don’t know if your blood won’t work, or I couldn’t do it.”
She watched him, anxiety eating at the edges of her brain.
“I’m sorry, if I were just better, stronger—” Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he wiped at them.
Caitlin inched closer and reached out for his hand.
Edward took it.
His eyes were sad, but they were his. She sighed as relief flooded her. All she saw was the same strength, kindness, and compassion she’d come to rely on over the last five years.
“It’s okay,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “I know you tried.”
“I’ll, um, I’ll try again,” he said with a shaky voice. “We’ll keep trying until—”
The sound of an engine just became audible outside.
They looked at each other, holding their breath.
When the sound grew closer, Edward stood and walked to the door.
Caitlin followed, hope welling up inside her.
“It’s him,” Edward said with obvious relief as he looked through the peephole.
Caitlin wiped sweaty palms on the legs of her pants. The knock on the door made her jump.
“Open the door, lad. It’s me,” Brendan said.
Edward passed his hand over the knob and said something under his breath.
Caitlin’s heart climbed into her throat, and it seemed to take months for the door to open.
Edward stepped back. “Jesus! What happened to you?”
“Had a bit of a run-in with the oíche—” Brendan’s eyes went wide when he saw Caitlin.
“Oh, merciful God!” She gasped at the sight of him covered in dried blood, his shirt soaked through.
“They’re going to keep watch outside—” a tall, blond man with pointed ears said as he walked up behind Brendan, but he froze when he saw Caitlin.
Through the open door, Caitlin saw three tall, slender forms in long black coats taking up positions around the outside of the house. She looked around, hope fading. “What’s going on? Where’s Fiona?”
The blond man seemed to blanch, and he stared at Caitlin for a long moment before turning to Brendan. “She’s the child’s mother? The one who was put under a slumber?”
Brendan looked away.
Caitlin grabbed the doorframe, a sob overtaking her. “Fiona?”
Edward’s arms went around her, helping her stand.
“Please,” Edward said. “Tell me that’s not—”
The blond man blinked, regaining his composure.
“No, the blood’s not hers,” Brendan said. “She wasn’t there. It was a trap. They used this.”
Caitlin took the pink blanket from Brendan’s hand. It was Fiona’s, her favorite.
“I do hate to be a bother,” the blond man said to Edward, “but would you be so kind as to invite us in?”
Edward pointed outside. “Who are they? And who are you?”
“Dante,” Brendan said through gritted teeth. “He’s the Rogue Court Magister—”
“Rogue Court?” Edward asked.
“Jesus, man,” Brendan said. “We can have class once we’re through the bloody door. Just invite the nice elf inside, would you?”
Edward stepped back. “Elf?” He looked at Dante’s ears, then back to his face. “But you don’t look—I mean, sorry. Please, come in.”
Caitlin watched Dante put Brendan’s arm over his shoulder and help him inside. She gripped the blanket and brought it up to her face. It still smelled like Fiona’s baby shampoo.
Edward closed the door and raised the wards. “She woke an hour or so ago. I don’t know why or how.”
Caitlin took a long breath, then eased her grip on the blanket.
“Doesn’t matter right now,” Dante said. “Brendan took quite a beating. Do you have some place I can get him cleaned up? I treated his wounds, but I still want a closer look at him.”
“You’re not me mother,” Brendan said. “I just need me a stiff drink and a place to have a sit down, is all.”
”What now?” Caitlin asked, just above a whisper.
Brendan looked at her and his countenance softened. “Don’t you worry none, love, I’m not done looking. Not by a da—” Brendan’s breath caught when he turned, as if he was having trouble breathing, then he tried again. “Not nearly done.”
“We have an idea on how to find her,” Dante said. “Assuming the wizard can manage it.”
“Eddy?” Thoughts of the recent failure raced through Caitlin’s mind, and she felt terribly ashamed.
“Me?” Edward asked.
“Eddy?” Dante stifled a laugh.
“Aye,” Brendan said. “All fear Eddy, the great and powerful.”
Edward stiffened. “I prefer Edward, actually.”
Brendan and Dante both chuckled but stopped when they saw Caitlin’s scowl.
“I really need to look Brendan over and make sure I didn’t miss any injuries,” Dante said.
“I told you,” Brendan said. “I’ll be fine—”
“No, he’s right,” Caitlin said. Brendan needed medical attention, even if he was a condescending ass. “I’m a nurse, and I’ve worked in the ER. I’ll look him over.” She turned to Eddy. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Listen, love, I appreciate it. But you’re not me moth—”
“Shut up,” Caitlin said, glaring at him.
Dante smirked. “Well, that clears up some questions. I’d listen to her.”
Brendan shot Dante a glare before nodding to Edward, who led them all to the bathroom.
It was immaculate, which wasn’t surprising, considering Edward’s personality. A large clawfoot bathtub was against one wall, sink against another, and countertops of what looked like marble were reflected in a large mirror hanging behind them. Caitlin flinched when she saw her reflection.
“I’ll get the first-aid kit and my bag,” Edward said.
Caitlin turned Brendan so he could lean on the counter. “Take off your shirt.” She began to lift it for him. “Let me have a look.”
Brendan pulled his shirt off, grunting in pain.
Caitlin gasped when she saw his upper body. There were cuts, scratches, and bruises, and that was just what she could see through the blood. Nothing had been spared.
“What’s this?” she asked, examining the bandage on his shoulder.
“Dóú craiceann,” Dante said. “A bandage we grow. It works like artificial skin.”
Caitlin blinked when she saw his almost luminescent, solid green eyes in the bright light of the bathroom. A shiver ran through her. Memories of the art opening and glowing eyes flashed in her head, but she swallowed and pushed them aside.
“Could you hand me that washcloth?” she asked Dante. “Where’s Eddy with that first-aid kit?”
Dante handed her a collection of cloths. “I have my healing kit.” He pulled the black case from inside his jacket. “Nothing against your skills, but I doubt a mortal kit will be as effective.”
Caitlin almost stepped aside, a habit from working at a hospital. Like all nurses, she’d learned to defer to doctors, but she reminded herself that Dante wasn’t a doctor, or at least she didn’t think so. “Just set it there.”
She cleaned the blood off while Brendan filled her in on what happened in the warehouse. She tried to listen, but she’d slipped into a numb sort of daze, her mind focused on Fiona.
When Dante took one of the soiled cloths, she watched him twist it under the running water as the blood ran down the drain.
“Who are you, anyway?” she asked.
“I told you,” Brendan said.
“But what’s a Rogue Court Magister?” Caitlin asked. “You have a healing kit; are you a doctor?”
“Not in the technical sense, no,” Dante said. “Magister is a sort of local government official, but not.”
“Can we chat later?” Brendan asked. “It’s a bit cold in here, and I am half naked.”
“He’s shy around women,” Dante said.
Caitlin cleaned the last of the blood away and saw the scars that ran over Brendan’s body and the intricate Celtic knot tattoos that went from both elbows, up over his shoulders and onto his back and chest, as well as a small line of symbols tattooed up his sternum. She glanced into his eyes for just a moment, and she could see that the search for Fiona was personal for him too, though she couldn’t say how she knew. She might not know his reasons, but he obviously wasn’t someone who gave up. That, at least, gave her some reassurance.
While cleaning the blood from Brendan’s back, she found more gunshot wounds and a few cracked ribs. Reluctantly, Caitlin moved away and let Dante step in. She tried to push aside her growing sense of being useless and focus instead on piecing her sense of reality back together. Feeling like the damsel in distress was leaving a rancid taste in her mouth.
“What’s that?” Edward asked as Dante applied the last bandage. He held a black doctor’s bag in one hand and a large red bag with a white circle and red cross in the other.
“Later,” Dante said.
“I have some painkillers in my bag and a suture kit,” Edward said.
“Thanks,” Dante said. “But not necessary.” He finished setting the bandage and patted Brendan’s shoulder. “You’re all set.”
Caitlin noticed Edward glance at Brendan, then avoid her gaze.
“Me bag is by the door,” Brendan said. “I need to get me a fresh shirt.”
“And we need to ready the wizard,” Dante said.
“For what?” Edward’s face was pale again.
Caitlin bit her lower lip. She knew he wasn’t fine, but he was putting on a brave face. Her heart filled with warmth at the gesture. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was so afraid of, and what, if anything, it had to do with the spell.
Unbidden, another thought came to her: what had taken him so long to get his black bag? He always kept it close by.