The Isis Collar (Blood Singer #4)

The Isis Collar (Blood Singer #4) Page 44

He raised his brows. “Of course. But let’s get it to where I can walk on it.”

I opened the package and wrapped the hook and eye fastener around the area and then squeezed the plastic vial inside the covering until I heard it crack. A glow enveloped John’s leg and he sucked in a sharp breath. “You didn’t mention the stinging.”

A quick glance at the warnings revealed the answer. “Ah. ‘May cause swelling, itching, or burning sensation for first thirty minutes. Reaction is generally mild to moderate. Leg should not bear weight for thirty minutes and patient should not run or attempt strenuous activity for twenty-four hours. If pain continues for more than sixty minutes, a spiral fracture may be indicated and professional treatment should be sought.’ So, I guess we’ll see, huh?”

He nodded. “Actually, it’s starting to fade already. Or at least it’s not as bad as when you first put it on.”

“Your lip’s bleeding again. Try not to drip on the rug.” He shot me a sarcastic glance and opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t give him the chance. “How about we just fix it?”

He shook his head. “Eye first. It’s swelling enough it’s getting hard to see.”

That was easy, but, “Well, that should take your mind off the leg.” I smiled, but he didn’t. Oh, well. It was the truth, because I was going to have to sit down on the couch next to him and hold the cut together while I poured on the skin-mend powder. Nothing like squeezing an open wound for sheer, raw pain.

Worse, it was a long cut and tricky to hold. I finally wound up positioning John’s fingers on one half. He blistered the air with swearing as I poured, but he didn’t move. Soon enough he had a thin, angry red line over his eyebrow instead of the once-nasty cut.

“Okay, then. So—” Next was his mouth. “Any loose teeth?”

He nodded. “I probably took one or two kicks. One molar and an upper canine are loose. But at least they’re all there.”

It was time to bring it up, while I pulled another package from the stack on the table. “So, what happened? Who messed you up?” He was silent for a long moment while I read the instructions for the charm. I decided to break the silence. “Oh, this is the ‘new and improved’ version. I need water. Hang on while I get a cup.” I paused before I left the room. “You can decide what you want to say, but I think I’ve earned an answer.”

He let out a harsh breath as I walked to the bathroom down the hall for a paper cup and some water.

John was in a sitting position on the couch when I returned. That was probably better for swallowing. The intensity and anger in his eyes was hard to watch, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t directed at me, so I sat down on the couch next to him and handed him the cup before reading through the instructions. “Okay, it looks like I pour in the potion and you hold it in your mouth for thirty seconds, swishing it around.” I did it and watched as it bubbled and frothed. “Save a little and I’ll hold it to your lip from the outside.”

He held the cup for a long moment and looked at me. “I have no idea who jumped me or what they wanted. They hit me from behind, blindfolded me, and took me somewhere in spelled cuffs. They somehow stole my magic before I could even react. I couldn’t cast a single spell. Not even break the emergency spell ball. After that, I don’t remember a damned thing until I came to in the parking lot.”

Ouch. That’s gotta be hard on a mage’s pride. “Pour, swish, and swallow. But save some.”

He poured nearly the entire contents of the cup into his mouth and closed his lips. I tilted the cup against his mouth and let the remaining liquid rest against the damaged skin. I started to stare at my watch to count off the thirty seconds required. But my gaze was pulled back to John’s face when I heard odd noises coming from his throat. His lips were still closed, but I could tell he was close to gagging. His expression was one I’d seen in movies, when a kid took a big spoonful of castor oil. John started to turn to spit it out, but I held his head steady. He raised his hands up to push mine away, but I wouldn’t have any of it. “Hang in there, tough guy. Don’t spit. You need to swallow it in ten … nine—” I kept counting until I reached “zero” and pulled away the cup.

He swallowed, but it was a hard effort. Then he did start gagging and turned on the couch in case he wound up throwing up. It took a few deep breaths before he finally sat up again. “Jesus. That stuff tastes like rotten eggs. What brand is that so I never use it again?”

I showed him the package and he shuddered.

“How are the teeth? Your lip looks great.” It did. The bruising and cut on his lower lip were completely gone and the skin was smooth and new.

He used his tongue to feel around. His face registered wary surprise when he picked up the box again. “The teeth are solid again. Damn it. I hate it when something that crappy tasting actually works.”

I noticed another bolded bit of text on the front. “And apparently it leaves your breath minty fresh. Better than the taste of old blood, I guess. Does your mouth feel minty?” I said it with teasing in my voice and he let out a small chuckle.

“You tell me.” He blew out air softly toward my face.

I had to lean down to catch the scent and closed my eyes to identify it. “Actually, it does. Peppermint.” I opened my eyes to find I’d leaned startlingly close to his face. His hazel eyes stared deep into mine. He didn’t say a word. Just stared, and before I even realized I’d done it, I pressed my mouth against his so-soft healed lips. Firm, full, and … damn. He let me, relaxed his jaw so that my mouth partially fell into his. His peppermint-flavored tongue touched mine, toyed with me, passed along the potion’s tingle to my mouth, and sped my pulse. Slow, so slow and sweet. His hand rose and touched the braid tight against my head, stroking the twists until he reached my bare neck. My own hands were busy exploring his neck and shoulders. I’d heard his shallow breathing and didn’t want to put any pressure on his chest. Well, actually, I did. Wanted to put pressure in a number of places. But I didn’t.

He didn’t have any supernatural energy to rush over my skin, but I shivered nonetheless as his fingers drew patterns on my neck. I pulled back from the kiss with a nearly violent shudder that raised all the hair on my body. “How do you do that?” My words were breathless, nearly panicked.

“Do what?” he whispered.

“Make me tingle like this without any magic.”

He didn’t answer right away … only offered a quirk of a smile while running his thumb along the line of my jaw. “You tell me.”

I pulled back from him, trying to find my focus again. “I should help you up so you can get that passport to show the doctor.”

He was amused now and continued to tease. “Y’know, not all of my body parts were injured.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me while still stroking a finger down my cheek. I wasn’t sure if he was joking but decided to treat it that way.

“Keep it up, buddy. I can fix that.” Now he did laugh and it sounded good. Relaxed. But there was still a haunted look at the back of his eyes. It sucked not remembering. “I’ve been there … the not remembering part. It’s hard.”

He nodded. “I think I need to find out somehow. It’ll bug me forever otherwise.”

“Okay, then how about focusing on something else. What did you find out about the spell on me? I got your messages but then … well, you know. Why does my head hurt so much?”

He sighed and leaned back into the pillow. “They were right. It’s a memory-wipe spell. It’s trying to rewrite your past, like it changed the memories of the others so they forgot about the bomb. But the vampire healing has been fighting the spell. That’s where the headaches come from. And I bet you’ve been having more trouble with the vamp side of your nature as well. The reason it was so hard to work with is that someone went to a lot of trouble to make it untraceable and difficult to unwind. I managed to get to the bottom of it before … well, before. Now that I know what it is, it will be a simple matter to remove. I can do it when my power is back, or you can go to Jean-Baptiste.”

“Oh, thank God.” I didn’t bother to hide my relief. “I was afraid…” I stopped before I could finish admitting that I was terrified I was actually becoming a vampire. The very first thing the magic that creates a vampire does is erase all memories of the bat’s human life and personality.

“It’s okay to be afraid, Celia.”

I frowned because of the way he sounded. “What’s wrong?”

I could tell he didn’t want to answer, but he finally sighed. “I can’t feel my magic. It’s like your foot going to sleep. It’s just … numb. I’m hoping it’s temporary.”

Crap. I didn’t know what to say about that. I touched his cheek and couldn’t fix what was in his eyes. “John, I—”

Another male voice sounded from downstairs. “Celia? You up there?”

It was Bruno. “Up here!” He started to bound up the stairs and I realized at the last second how it would look. Sitting next to John, my hands on his face and his fingers stroking my shoulder. I stood up and John’s face took on a flat, emotionless expression.

Damn it. I couldn’t win.

Bruno started talking before he reached the entry. “Are you okay? The front door was wide open. Your purse is still in the car and there’s blood on the sidewal—” His heavy footsteps came to a stuttering stop when he could see inside the room. His eyes flicked from me to John to the open med kit and the charm on John’s bare leg. He fixed his fellow mage with a steady stare. “You look like shit. What happened?”

John shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I whispered, and started to clean up the empty boxes scattered on the floor. Putting them in the trash can, I could only shake my head at the rising level of testosterone in the room. It was better if I stayed out of the line of fire.