Page 280 of Golden Eagle

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“It’s spell work,” the old man – who wasFriar Tuck,Alexei reminded himself, numbly – said, hands held to either side of Dante’s head. He was laid out on a makeshift table made of plywood and a few sawhorses, cotton swabbing from a med kit stuffed up his nostrils to stop the bleeding, and he’d been unconscious for a while now. “The brain bleed – it’s being generated faster than his body can heal it by a spell.”

“Is that even possible?” Alexei asked, and, despite the exhausted numbness of his face, felt his brows go up.

“Oh yes, quite.”

“Can you remove it?”

“Yes. It will take a moment, though.”

Not reassuring.

“Red,” Tuck called, “will you come and help me a moment, dear?”

“Yes.” She’d taken her helmet off, but still wore her modern soldier gear. Her hair, braided into a crown around her head, gleamed under the cage lights overhead, the same red as Severin’s.

Severin who stood beside Alexei now, watching his older sister with rapt, almost fearful attentiveness. He shivered, a little movement Alexei felt where their shoulders touched.

Fleeing the Institute was all a big blur. They’d gotten down the hall, and out to the parking garage. There were vehicles there. There had been an argument, low, fast, and heated, between Nikita and Will. Will wanted to double back and make sure there weren’t anymore of those awful vampires left; Nikita rightly pointed out that they didn’t have enough strength – of limb nor numbers – to do that now. Lanny had smashed the window of a Hummer, and been trying fruitlessly to hotwire it…

When a different Hummer had pulled in. Two had. Nikita had cracked off a shot at the first’s windshield before a hand waved out the window and a British-accented voice called, “Don’t shoot, we’re friends.”

It had been Rob. Robin of Locksley.

Alexei had dragged his charges gratefully into one of the vehicles and promptly spaced out for the extent of the drive. His last coherent thought, as they peeled out onto the street and shot the gap between two approaching patrol cars, was that the Institute was on fire, and that he was glad.

He thought, based on the length of their drive, that they must be in Jersey somewhere, now, in this empty warehouse conveniently staged with first-aid gear, lights, and enough coffee and blankets to service a small army after a skirmish.

He needed to feed again, probably, and eat some real food, and his stomach grumbled over the sharp scent of black coffee, but his central worry now was for Dante, too pale and lifeless on his makeshift hospital bed.

“That’s her?” Severin asked, dragging him from his worried thoughts.

“Who? Oh.” He followed the boy’s line of sight. “Yeah, that’s Red. Only ever saw her once.” In Virginia. “But you guys have the same nose.”

Severin stared at her, lips parted.

“You should say hi. After,” he amended quickly. “After she helps fix Dante’s brain.”

“Yes,” Severin said faintly. “After.”

~*~

Trina thought she was doing a pretty good job of nodding, saying she was okay, and holding it mostly together until they walked into the warehouse, its golden light more than welcome, and saw the rest of her pack, all on their feet, all more or less whole. She had a thought that Sasha looked a little scratched-up, and leaned too heavily against Nik’s side, and then Lanny was coming at her, and she let herself fall into his arms – and fall apart a little.

He was covered in blood, and smelled like blood, but so was she.

“I don’t think any of that’s yours,” he said into the top of her head, squeezing her tight, hand landing on the sticky patch above her ribs. “But ease my mind, will you?”

“It’s not,” she said, sniffling, and pressed her face tighter into his filthy shirt.

She didn’t protest when someone eased her down into a chair, and a blanket was draped across her shoulders. She drank the hot coffee a man in fatigues brought her. The heat and the caffeine loaned her a little energy, and after half the cup was gone, she found that she was taking proper note of her surroundings again.

Dante had been laid out on a table of plywood and sawhorses, an older, balding man and Red attending to him, hovering near his head, hands cupping the air around it. Alexei and Severin watched, shoulders touching. Severin leaned in a fraction, saying something she couldn’t hear, and Alexei put an arm around him.

She didn’t see Val, or Mia, but she could glimpse feet moving behind a curtain that had been hastily erected, and thought one pair of black boots gummed with dried blood were Val’s.

She must have asked aloud, because Jamie – standing so far unseen just to her left – said, “They’re going to see if there are any bullets left, and go ahead and dig them out.” He made a face, and lifted his bandaged arm. “Mine was a through-and-through.”

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