Page 80 of Bad Demon

I dragged in a breath and another, trying to keep my shit together. She’d been through four days of torture—and fucking years of it before that. It was never happening again. After the way I’d let her down, she wouldn’t believe it—I doubted she’d ever trust me after this—but I would prove it to her. No matter how long it took.

I carefully pulled one of my shirts over her head, sliding her arms in the sleeves, and the beast quieted a little. Drying off, I put on some boxer briefs and got under the covers with her. Then I pulled her against me, and with her fevered cheek against my chest, I braided her damp hair so it was out of the way.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Relic?” War called.

“It’s not locked.”

The door eased open, and my alpha filled the frame.

“Brick said you were back. How is she?”

“They pulled out her teeth, War. They fucking sliced her open.” I pressed the back of my hand to her cheek. “She’s sick, feverish, unconscious. This isn’t fucking normal for a demon.” I looked back down at her. “Must be the witch in her causing this. She got both demon and witch blood from her mother’s side, but her demon blood’s stronger.” I glanced up at him. “Her father was a soul collector, and her mother was a Burnside.”

War’s head jerked up. Everyone knew who Agatheena Burnside was.

Fern whimpered again, and helplessness filled me.

“I don’t know what the fuck to do. She should be awake, starting to heal by now.”

His gaze slid to Fern, then back to me before he took his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. A few seconds later, Magnolia’s voice came over the speaker.

“We’ve got a situation and need some advice,” War said.

Magnolia was family—his sister-in-law—and a gifted healer.

“What’s going on? You need me to come to the clubhouse?” she asked, instantly ready to help.

“Maybe,” War said. “We’ve got a demon, blood drinker. She’s got a little witch DNA in there as well. She’s got a fever and is currently unconscious. You got any ideas?”

“So, her demon blood is dominant?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “She’s immortal—or she should be—but whatever is going on, it’s making her really fucking sick.”

“I mean, that’s not normal. If they’re predominantly demon, their own healing abilities should kick in. Where’s she been? Who’s she had contact with the last couple days?”

“She was held prisoner. We don’t know what happened to her, only that it was not fucking good,” War growled out.

Mags cursed.

“Gonna send you a pic, Mags.” I texted her the sigil from Fern’s stomach.

“Got it.” She cursed again. “This wouldn’t be making her sick, but this is a powerful sigil, a kind of ward. It’s not one I’ve used before because this one’s been personalized, corrupted to work specifically for the witch who carved it into her skin.”

War’s gaze sliced to me. “Witch?”

“Oh, yeah. Whoever did this is definitely a witch. This would make her invisible, not trackable.” She was quiet for a beat. “This changes things though. It could be magic making her sick, or it could be something else this twisted fuck has done. There’s one sure way to find out though. Feed her. She needs blood, and plenty of it. If it’s magic alone, she won’t recover. If it’s something else? Well, hound blood should do the trick and heal her within a few days.”

“And if it is magic?”

“Then you’ll need a witch who can break that kind of spell, and unfortunately, that’s not my specialty.”

“You know anyone who could do it?” I asked.

“I do actually. I’ll text you her number,” Mags said.

“Thanks, Mags. Appreciate it,” I said.

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