“Out of the question. He’s recovering and needs rest.”
“Fuck you.” Sin jerked out of his grip. “I’m going to see him.”
“Sin.” Eidolon’s voice cracked like thunder in the small room. “You can’t.”
Idess’s heart stuttered. “This isn’t about his recovery, is it?”
“What’s she talking about?” Sin demanded.
“They’re going to keep him here,” Idess said, speaking to Sin but not taking her gaze off Eidolon. “Restrained. And you can’t see him because he’s afraid you’ll set him free. Isn’t that right, doctor?”
Sin settled into a fighting stance, fists clenched, body leaning aggressively forward. “You bastard.”
“I don’t have a choice, Sin.” Eidolon rubbed his eyes with one hand, working his fingers and thumb so hard Idess expected to see blood. “We’ll work something out. Just give me a day to talk to him. Think this through. We’ll come up with a plan that works for all of us.”
Idess stood. “Let’s give him twenty-four hours.” She squeezed Sin’s shoulder and hoped she’d get the message. Humor him.
“Fine,” Sin growled. “But at the end of the day, you had better set him free.” She wrenched away from Idess and slammed out of the room, leaving Idess alone with Eidolon, who stared at the door.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” he muttered.
“You feel like you’ve betrayed your brothers.”
He swung around to her. “I haven’t betrayed anyone.”
“That’s not how Shade sees it.” Out of nowhere, Idess pictured Rami and wondered if he knew what she’d done. Did he understand, or was he as furious as Shade?
“What do you know about that?”
“I overheard you arguing in the hall.”
Eidolon’s vile curse accompanied a violent adjustment of the stethoscope around his neck. “Shade doesn’t get it. No one has to die.”
“But you’ve still lost a brother.” Emotion made her voice rough, and she recognized that same misery in the demon doctor’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to fight to keep a brother, and then lose him anyway.”
“Then you know why I have to keep Lore safe. Now more than ever.”
Yes, she did. If Wraith sided with Shade, Lore would be all Eidolon had left. Losing him meant he’d gone through all this hell with his other brothers for nothing.
“Shade could come around,” she said in a quiet voice. “There’s still hope. What’s the saying… time heals all wounds?”
Eidolon laughed bitterly. “Doctors heal wounds. Time? All that does is allow wounds to fester.”
As he walked away, all Idess could do was pray he wasn’t right, because if he was, she could only imagine what five hundred years of festering could have done to Rami.
Hangovers sucked.
Lore couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one. He healed fast, which meant he rarely got them unless he’d overdone the drinking to the point of near-death. But he always remembered his binges, and as he peeled his eyes open he found that he had absolutely no memory of slamming shots or downing beers.
He jerked as one memory pierced his brain like a dull needle. Idess. Sin. Shit! With a panicked shout, he levered into a sit. He was at the hospital. But where—
“Hey.”
He snapped his head around to Idess, who was standing at his bedside, looking as if she hadn’t had a Gargantua-bone dagger impaled in her shoulder. “You’re okay.” His relief didn’t even seem strange. They should be enemies, but something had changed, and unlike Sin, he knew when to stop fighting and roll with it.
“I’m fine. And you are, too. But it was close.”
He swallowed, remembering the blade that had lodged in his throat. “Sin?”
“Eidolon won’t allow her inside. I’m only allowed in because he thinks I’ll behave.” She smiled, but it was forced. Something was wrong. And when he lifted his hand and discovered he was secured to the bed, he knew what it was.
“Eidolon intends to keep me from going after Kynan, doesn’t he?” From one set of chains into another. Unbelievable. “And that’s why Sin can’t see me, isn’t it? He’s afraid she’ll free me.”
“Yes,” she said. “I think he’s right to be concerned.”
“Sin can be a handful,” Lore muttered.
Idess raised a delicate eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it.”
Lore reached for her, only to be jerked short by the chain. “I’m sorry, angel.” He blinked. Had he just used “angel” as a term of endearment and not a snarky insult? He blinked again. Yes. Yes, he had. Huh. “I shouldn’t have left you alone in the bedroom. I didn’t think—”