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Cade glanced out at the forest. “He will be back shortly.”
That wasn’t an answer, but I hadn’t the will to fight anymore. I sat still as Cade began inspecting my arm. He cupped my chin, tilted my face so that he could meet my eyes, and I noticed his were back to their twilight blue. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe I was simply done being polite, but I couldn’t stop the question.
“What sort of warlock are you?” I asked.
His mouth twitched into a small smile. “I never said I was a warlock, Miss Grayson.”
I frowned. “Then you’re Fae?”
He dipped his chin before producing a small vial, which he extended to me. “The product of a nymph and a selkie, to be precise. Please drink this.”
I fumbled for the vial, and he slipped closer, tilting it toward my mouth. The sweet, terrible liquid made me shudder, but I swallowed. It was cool in my throat, and in an instant my mind came awake. The ache in my arm receded and all the scrapes and bruises of the battle in the safehouse seemed to distance from me. He waited another moment, staring into my eyes as though searching for something, and then he seemed satisfied because he nodded and leaned back.
“What sort of creature attacks a CEB safehouse in the middle of the day?” said the other man, who until that point had been watching the proceedings with clinical interest.
My heart was returning to something resembling a normal beat and my eyes burned as I gripped Cade’s shoulder. In my mind was the lash and snap of vines, the chilly darkness that might have been my fate if Derrick and Cade hadn’t been there. My throat closed and it took several seconds but I managed to whisper my thanks to the man before I began to tremble.
Cade made a soothing sound and murmured, “It’s our job. Deep breath, Nora. You’re safe now.”
I tried to do as I was told, inhaling slow and giving a shaky exhale.
“She was supposed to be safe in there,” said the other man. “That was a daring move. Why would they come for her like that?”
“Nora, meet Sam Witters,” Cade said. “Sam, this is Nora.”
“Oh, yes, of course, apologies, mistress.” Sam gave me a short bow of introduction and I looked back to Cade.
Because I was still trying to regain control of my faculties, I blinked over at the older man. “Mistress?”
“Sam was raised deep in Fairy. He still lives in the old ways,” Cade said as he gathered my wounded arm. He frowned at the gash running nearly from my elbow to my wrist. “I think the runestone is preventing my magic from healing you. I was able to work around it before, but you’ve really done a number to yourself. Be a dear and don’t try to access the aether again until I’ve gotten that blasted thing out of you.”
I frowned at him, thinking of the pains he had taken to stitch himself up. “I don’t understand.”
He turned to Sam, who presented him with a new kit, this one deep copper and boasting several extra buckles. Inside were instruments more akin to scientific research than the medical profession, but Cade located a roll of gauze and some tape, which he began wrapping around my arm with slow, deliberate movements. I realized after a moment that his Constable tattoos were aglow, and water ran from his thumbs into the wound, washing it clean as he went.
“Your ignorance never ceases to amaze,” Cade said. “Unlike a warlock, I cannot use my magic on myself, Miss Grayson. The best I can do is enchant tonics that help speed up the healing process when I am wounded. But for others…”
“For the rest of us he’s a miracle worker,” Sam put in. “I once had a bit of copper go straight through my midsection. Thanks to Elliot, I was up and walking by the end of the day.”
“Mr. Witters is our arcanist,” Cade remarked as he continued to roll the gauze over my arm. “Among his many talents, he has a knack for blowing himself up.”
Sam turned a distressing shade of pink. “That was Gretchen’s fault. I told her not to open the door.”
“Any chemical reaction you are dealing with that responds so poorly to such a slight change in temperature isn’t worth the risk,” Cade said.
Sam shrugged and looked about to argue further when Derrick stalked into view. He was back in human form, pants and boots on, shirt hanging limp about his torso, but there were splotches of blood leaking where I knew he’d been wounded. Without preamble, he strode to my other side and knelt.
“I’m sorry, Nora, but we need answers,” Derrick said and circled my wrist with his fingers.
Cade said something, but I couldn’t quite hear it. Instead, there was the warmth of Derrick’s palm on my skin and the intensity of his gaze as he met my eyes. My heart did a little flutter and I felt unaccountably silly sitting there, Cade on one side, bandaging my arm, and Derrick on the other, with Sam hovering nearby, more interested in the fauna than what was going on in front of him.
“Nora Grayson,” Derrick said, summoning my attention again. “What are you?”
Startled, I tried to draw back, but his hand stayed firm and oddly hot on my wrist. I glanced down at where he kept hold of me, answering because I had to, because not answering him seemed suddenly unthinkable. “I’m a counselor. Please let go of me.”
“No one attacks a CEB safehouse in broad daylight for a mere counselor. Tell me the truth.”
Cade’s voice was clearer now. “Derrick, stop.”
