Page 64 of Slaying With Sylphs

I crush down a sense of helplessness as I nod.

This is bad enough and I’m drowning in sorrow for the injured woman in the tub in front of us. But there’s something deeper and more terrifying there.

It could just as easily have been Lou who was hurt.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LOU

Ifly through Slade’s front door and skid to a halt in the giant atrium examining room. Dirk and Connall reach for me at the same time. Dirk bends down and quietly updates me as I watch Slade hover over a bedraggled, dirt-smudged mermaid female.

The tension in the room is enough to choke on. Seeing the beautiful blue-hued monster lying in the tub brings me back to when the evil warlock Wesley possessed me. When he stabbed Leighton in the heart and used my hands to do it. I’ll never forget watching my arm slice up through the air, or the wet sensation of sinking a blade deep into Leighton’s chest.

All of that rushes back as Slade examines his patient. I force myself to stay still, even though the desire to flee the room is high. At the end of the day, I want to know what happened. Were Dirk and Connall close to whoever did this? I’m desperate for Slade to confirm this is not somehow my fault. How could it be? I’ve been at work!

We’re all silent as he moves around the mermaid, seeming to examine every iridescent scale, every fibrous inch of her singular turquoise fin. I wonder what happened to the other one? All of the mermaids in the lake look like…well, fairytale mermaidswith the traditional long tail and two matching fins that split into feet.

Slade moves back up her other side until he reaches the wound at her temple again. He must have cleaned it before I arrived. There’s no blood, but the area is puffy and swollen like a bee sting. Finally, Slade sighs and looks up at Arkan and Richard. “I don’t know what this is.”

The two leaders exchange a concerned look as Slade continues, “The wound at her head seems superficial, likely from falling and hitting it on the way down. But the expulsion of this liquid?” He points at the floor where black goopy-looking tar has pooled. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I think we should call Vikand.”

Richard runs a hand down his face, stroking his beard.

Vikand. The new Everton is something of a scholar. Kind of a nerd, actually. He wears glasses, vests and ties, and he’s always so distracted because his nose is stuck in a book. But he’s a wealth of information about a lot of things.

Most notably, the darker magics.

A chill skates like fingers down my spine, warning me. The need to flee rises again, so I shift my weight to my other foot and wrap my arms tighter around my torso. Connall glances over at me, his bright green eyes full of concern, auburn brows scrunched together in the middle. He looks so worried. And that kills me.

Leighton was his friend. I killed Leighton. And now we’re staring at another mystery that's hurting someone.

I don’t think I can take it anymore. “You should call Morgan too. Maybe she can heal this.”

“Of course,” Slade’s pitch-black eyes move to me, “but before Morgan heals her, I’d like to understand how this came to be. From the head wound, it seems like she was attacked.”

“Attacked.” The word hangs tensely in the air.

Richard and Connall share another look before the new Keeper speaks. His horse tail swishes from side to side as he stares down at the shifter alpha.

“We need to call Morgan and alert the merking.” He looks at Richard. “I don’t know the mermaids well, but I believe Amatheia is the king’s eldest daughter?”

“That’s right,” Connall says as his alpha nods.

My fingers twitch against my sides. “I’m gonna get some air,” I mutter to nobody in particular, turning from the room and heading through Slade’s small cottage to the front door. Muffled voices float after me, but I ignore them even as I fling the door open and jog out into the street. Stars twinkle overhead, the light from Main Street warm and inviting despite what’s going on in Slade’s examining room.

I bend over and put both hands on my knees, sucking in slow, steady breaths. I’m sure Dirk’ll be here at any moment to?—

“Lou?”

It’s Connall’s deep voice that breaks through my thoughts. I attempt to get it together as I turn and give him a half-hearted smile.

Connall stands on Slade’s front porch, the singular light illuminating him from behind. Like this, he seems a million feet tall and just as broad. Some invisible tether pulls me, making me run to his comforting presence and bury my face in his chest.

Will he be okay with that when he’s in Second mode?

He says my name again, so I drag my eyes up to his. They’re such a shocking green color, indicating that his wolf is present and focused on me. Gods, I’d love for him to shift into his wolf right now, let me crawl up on his big, comfy back, and ride off into the sunset and away from this mess.

The intense look deepens as I get lost in his shining gaze. “Did you say something?”

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