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He leaned forward and rested his forehead on mine again. “I know. I am sorry for that. Just promise me you’ll read them with an open mind.”
Because it seemed the least I could do, and because there was a large part of me that needed to know it all anyway, I murmured; “Ok.”
He relaxed, his shoulders slumping a fraction. “Thank you.”
A sound by the portal brought us apart.
The still water in the portal began to ripple, and the figure of a man took shape. Derrick released me, moving to his feet in an instant and for a dazed second, I wobbled. Bereft of his steady hands, I had to lean onto my elbow and watch as Elliot Cade burst into the room.
Breath left me.
Blood snaked down Cade’s face to stain the collar of his shirt, and his coat was shredded in several places. Where he held his side, more blood leaked between his fingers. His knees could not hold him, and he fell forward, he might even have collapsed to the ground, but Derrick was there, catching his fall, aiding him to the floor.
Chapter Twenty
I slid off the cot in a hurry, making room for Constable Cade as Derrick hefted the man by the shoulders. Midway to the cot, Cade let out an agonized sound that raked up my spine and I scooted as far out of the way as possible. The hard wooden wall pressed against my back, which was good because the blood caked to Cade’s fingers was making it hard to breathe. The last thing I wanted was to faint and draw Derrick’s attention away from his partner.
“Kit,” Cade said, his breath coming in short, pained gasps. “Get my kit.”
Derrick was still lowering the man onto the cot, so I searched the tiny room, locating in moments the small case on the table. It was only two steps to the table, but I rushed anyway, bashing my knee on one of its legs. The whole table screeched across the wooden floor and a shock of numbness sped down my shin, making my foot jerk. Hissing, I grabbed the kit and turned back to where Derrick was already reaching for me.
He took the kit, his fingers squeezing on my own for one reassuring heartbeat before he knelt beside Cade. With deft movements, he flicked the case’s latch and opened it. Many small medical instruments lay inside, all neatly hooked onto black velvet, and I realized at last what sort of warlock Cade must be; he was a healer.
Shivering, I drew back. The last time I’d seen a healer at work, they were announcing my father as dead. Aneurysm, the old goblin had said, shaking his head and removing his ridiculous round spectacles. He had long, knobby fingers that prodded father’s too-still form where it lay on the sofa in his study. He hadn’t bothered with glamor and everything about the creature was pointy: ears, nose, chin. His skin was that iridescent green found only in still lakes, and his eyes were all black, like a frog.
His presence shattered life as I knew it, and I had avoided healers ever since. Even human doctors were difficult to stomach, but they were at least capable of diagnosing physical ailments. The logical side of me knew it wasn’t the healer’s fault, that sometimes these things happen without clear warning, but I couldn’t deny the resentment I harbored for them. Magic could have saved my father straight up to the moment the aneurysm took hold, and it was difficult not to blame whichever healer he frequented for not noticing something was amiss.
But then, my father was a busy man. He often missed such appointments.
“Top lining, blue-capped vial,” Cade said between his teeth, lurching me back into the present.
Derrick’s long fingers slid across the top portion of the kit where several small vials peeked out of their velvet pockets. Grasping the one in question, he pulled it out, opened it, and tilted it toward Cade’s mouth. The Constable drank its shimmery, pinkish liquid and his face scrunched in almost comical disgust. He shuddered and leaned back against the cot, but I could see his breathing was steadier now.
“Elliot?” Derrick asked.
Cade opened his eyes again and gave a wry smirk. “I’m still living. Quit looking at me like that.”
“Quit bleeding like that first.”
As though remembering his wounds, Cade grunted and lifted his hand from his side, revealing a mess of bloody, shredded jacket and pink muscle. “I suppose I ought to fix that,” he said with an almost bemused tone.
“Show me what you need,” Derrick said.
“Wash first,” Elliot said, gasping as he tried to reposition himself on the cot. “Flush with the silver vial, then the copper.”
I kept silent, watching the exchange as Derrick began flushing a series of three deep rips that made a diagonal progression from Cade’s lower ribs all the way down to his hip.
It didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t Cade using magic?
“You should have been back ages ago,” Derrick said. “What happened?”
“You mean aside from the ambush waiting at our portal in the forest?” Cade asked by way of answer.
Derrick looked up sharply. “They found the birch entrance?”
“That or I was extremely unlucky.”
“Nobody is that unlucky,” Derrick said with a scowl. “That means I wasn’t as careful as I thought, and Maureen knows I’ve been communicating with someone from the CEB this whole time.”
