Niamh had never conjured anything as far away as Kiyo’s cell phone. Her whole body shook with exertion as she concentrated.
Fifteen minutes later, her hair and clothes damp with sweat, the cell finally popped onto the bathroom counter in front of her. Weary to her bones, Niamh had no time to celebrate. Instead she dialed Bran’s number and relayed to him what had happened.
“Isn’t the moon still in phase?” Bran asked, his tone far too casual for Niamh’s liking.
“Yes,” she snapped. “What of it?”
“Werewolves’ healing abilities are accelerated when they’re in wolf form. As soon as he changes tonight, the transformation will dissolve the silver in his blood. It has to. All my research on Kiyo tells me there is nothing on this planet that can kill him.”
In the end, it was Bran’s calm certainty that reassured Niamh. She thanked him and hung up after he told her to keep him posted on Kiyo’s status.
Niamh strode out of the bathroom and almost swayed into the door frame. She’d overexerted herself. If she’d practiced her powers half as much as Astra had, she’d be able to do all the things she’d done in the last twenty-four hours without it affecting her.
A groan drew her out of her self-recrimination.
“Kiyo.” She hurried over to the bed just as he opened his eyes.
After a moment of disorientation, he let out a grunt of pain and clutched his chest. As he pulled at his shirt to have a look, Niamh explained, “It was Astra. She injected you with silver. Right into your heart. I can only assume this was her chosen method to draw out your death for as long as possible.”
A sheen of perspiration coated Kiyo’s skin. He looked haggard and pale as he turned his head to her.
“I’m sorry.” Her hands hovered over his body uncertainly. “I wasn’t fast enough to stop her. But Bran reckons when you change tonight, your wolf will heal you.”
His face strained with a sudden shock of pain, his eyes squeezing shut as he grimaced.
Powerlessness swamped her. “Kiyo.”
Kiyo shook his head. “Don’t,” he gasped. “Not your fault. Argh!” He clutched at his chest.
“What can I do?” she asked, frantic.
His eyes shot open. “Bran … right,” he hissed. “Fuck … change will heal …” He gasped for breath, the misery in his gaze undoing her.
Tears burned in her throat.
“Knock me out,” he groaned, flinching either with pain or broken pride. “Until tonight.”
Wet escaped her eyes as she pressed her fingertips to his carotid and sent a flare of magic inside to squeeze it.
His body went limp.
Before she could give in to the panic slithering from the pit of her stomach, Kiyo’s cell rang. Hurrying into the bathroom, she saw Bran’s name on the screen.
“Yes?” she answered.
“Niamh?” It wasn’t Bran. It was Fionn.
“Yes, it’s me. Can you help?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I think Bran is right and the transformation will probably heal Kiyo, but is there anything I can do in the meantime?”
A sob swelled out of her, but she choked it down.
Fionn must have heard it anyway. “I can come to you. Rose will have to stay behind, but I can come to you if you need me.”
The offer made her feel less alone, but she doubted Fionn could get there before the full moon. There was nothing to be done but wait.
Yet something occurred to her. “You know things I don’t about our magic.”
“Yes …”
“I’ve had to knock Kiyo out. He asked me to. The pain was too much.”
Knowing it had to be an incredible amount of pain for Kiyo to ask that, Fionn cursed in old Irish.
“I’ll have to continually hit his carotid to keep him knocked out until the change, unless you know a way for me to keep him in a stasis of some kind?”
Rose’s mate was quiet a moment before finally replying, “You can hold him in that moment of unconsciousness by creating a cocoon around him with your magic. Pour your emotions, your want for him to be pain-free, into it. It should hold him within for as long you want.”
Feeling more useful, Niamh thanked him.
“Niamh, who is this woman?”
Knowing it was time to warn Fionn and Rose, she told him about Astra and her vision. About how she had the ability to use her mind manipulation against Rose and Elijah if they weren’t prepared.
“But we can still stop her?” Fionn asked once she’d finished.
“You know all futures are possible. And she wouldn’t be going to these lengths with Kiyo if I wasn’t destined for another path.”
Fionn considered that and then asked gently, “Does Kiyo know?”
“No,” she choked out, knowing what he was asking. Perceptive bastard. “And I doubt he’d want any part of it, even if he did.”
“That’s not how it works, a leanbh.” His tone was gentle with a tenderness that surprised her. And although Niamh couldn’t remember as much Irish as she should, she was pretty sure he’d just called her “my child.”
She frowned. She was the same age as Rose.
“Tell him. Once he knows, you’ll only be stronger together against Astra.”
She ignored the thought because the hope of it hurt too much. “That castle of yours,” Niamh replied. “The one with the spell that hides and protects it from the world.”
“You know about that?”
“I know about a lot of things. Take Rose there, Fionn. Until this is over. Astra can’t get her hands on all three of us.”
“What about this man, the last of the fae-borne?”
“I was hoping a vision would come telling me how to help him.” She laughed bitterly. “But look what happened the last time I followed a vision. I came to Tokyo because my instincts told me I needed to be here to protect Kiyo. And look what I’ve done to him.”
“Your visions are never wrong, Niamh. Kiyo will survive this, and you’ll figure out why you’re there.”
She had to believe he was correct.
Otherwise she was completely lost.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Okay.” She looked up to stare at her wan complexion in the mirror.
“Remember who you are, Niamh.”
He was right.
She needed to remember who she was.
“Look after Rose,” she demanded.
There was a smile in his voice when he promised he would.
“Remember, the only limitations to your magic are the ones you place upon it. Call if you need me, a leanbh.” He hung up.
The silence in the bathroom seemed palpable without Fionn’s reassuring voice echoing off the tiles.
“Remember who you are, Nee,” Ronan whispered in her mind.
Leaning toward her reflection, Niamh placed her hand on the mirror. Energy pulsed from her and she watched as the reddish-brown hair that reminded her too much of Astra dissolved in a shimmer of pale blond.
Strangely, her skin glowed again, and a renewed strength filled her.
It wasn’t about returning to her natural blond. She threw back her shoulders.
It was about returning to herself.
Marching out of the bathroom and straight to the bed, Niamh lifted her hands over Kiyo’s body, closed her eyes, and imagined her energy surrounding him, cocooning him in warm sleep where no pain could touch him. The air glittered like the sun on her skin until the process felt complete in her mind.
She opened her eyes and stepped back in wonder at the sight of Kiyo looking peaceful beneath a barrier that shimmered gold and pulsed with vitality.
His strained features had smoothed in his sleep, assuring her he no longer felt pain.
Satisfied, Niamh rounded the bed and climbed onto the other side to lie with him.
There was nothing to be done now but wait until sunset.
“Astra, you evil cow,” she said hoarsely, “if anything happens to him, I’ll drive an iron blade straight through your black heart.”
Time crawled.
Just when Niamh was sure the day would never come to an end, the sun began to set. She knew it was time.
Releasing Kiyo from the magical stasis, she sat up on the bed and watched him struggling into consciousness. He did it with a start, his eyes flying open, stark with pain, as he clutched at his chest.
Niamh reached for him, brushing his hair off his damp forehead. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she tried to reassure him.
His eyes flew to her, somewhat panicked. “Niamh?”
“The moon is about to rise. The change will heal you.”
Kiyo’s face flooded with remorse and he gasped out, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
He tried to grab hold of her other hand but his coordination was totally off. Niamh reached for him instead, still petting his hair. “Try to lie still.” There was silver near his throat.
The veins had climbed right up his torso.
Panic prodded her.
She fought it back.
“What I did,” he choked out. “What I said. The lodge.”
Realizing he was apologizing for his behavior, Niamh shook her head. “You can say sorry later when you’re in your right mind.”
“I am …” He winced, hissing. “Oh fuck … Niamh … I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “Shh, it’s okay.”
Kiyo squeezed her hand so tight it was almost painful, but she endured it as she held him to her while they waited for the moon to rise.
Fear soon swamped Niamh as moonbeams flooded the dark hotel room with light.
And Kiyo didn’t change.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
Kiyo had settled somewhat, seeming to suffer the pain without shuddering and jerking as much. “The silver … affecting … change.”
She cursed under her breath.
He needed to bloody transform.
“Argh!” he suddenly roared in agony, bolting upward on the bed, ripping himself from her. His arm snapped the wrong way but then snapped back into place.
“What’s happening?” Niamh cried.
Growls ripped from the depths of his belly and he lurched onto all fours. Cracks rent the air as his limbs broke as if to change but then broke back into human form.
“Kiyo.” Her hands hovered near him. She was desperate to touch him, to help.
Claws protracted from his fingers, long and sharp and black and deadly, and he bellowed as he tore his shirt from his body.
How Niamh thought to protect their privacy during such a terrifying moment, she’d never know, but she sent out a flare of magic around the hotel room to soundproof it. “Kiyo.” She rushed at him, staring in horror at the silver veins pulsing beneath his skin, all over his torso like tree branches. They reached up toward his throat and down his shoulders, stopping just before his biceps. She placed a hand on his sweat-slicked shoulder and he roared in outrage and swiped at her.
Niamh startled, falling off the bed.
His eyes widened in horror. “Niamh.”
“I’m okay.”
Snarls and grunts fell from his mouth as his jaw elongated, his mouth filling with sharp teeth. Niamh rushed toward him, and he held up a warning hand just as his spine snapped.
“Kiyo!”
“No!” he yelled, eyes wide with terror. “Go! I’m not …” He panted for breath. “I’m not in control.” To her shock, tears wet his eyes. “I could kill you. Please. Go.”
The thought of leaving him like this broke her. Tears spilled down her cheeks. He couldn’t kill her. Not being what he was to her.
But he could bite and change her.
And he’d eventually be lost to her.
Niamh considered it, thinking it might be worth it to stay, to comfort him.
Kiyo saw her indecision and roared as his legs snapped. He clutched the bedcovers, ripping them to shreds with his claws. “LEAVE!”
Niamh sobbed. “I can’t!”
Horror filled his eyes. “Please,” he begged.
And she saw it. The possibility of hurting her was unbearable to him.
He didn’t know he couldn’t kill her and being here was making this worse for him.
“Okay,” she nodded, swiping at her tears. “Okay.”
She traveled.
But only into the locked bathroom.
Sliding down to the cold tile floor, Niamh pressed her ear to the door and cried quietly as she was forced to hide and do nothing while Kiyo endured an entire night of torturous torment. She sat hoping, hoping to the depths of her soul, that the stunted transformation would eventually heal him.