“Roag. He’s gone.”
“Gone? How?”
Eidolon shrugged. “Maluncoeur curse. He’s doomed to an invisible existence, starving, thirsty, in pain… nothing he doesn’t deserve.”
Idess shuddered. Talk about eternal torment. Wait… “He’s invisible? But he’s still around?”
“I guess. But he can’t hurt anyone.”
But he could still lurk. Watch anything going on around him. Oh… oh, no. “Is it possible he’s here?”
Eidolon’s shoulders bunched with tension. “We left him in Scotland, but he could have hitched rides in the Harrowgate with other demons.”
“I think…” She inhaled a ragged breath. “I think he did exactly that. You know how I can see spirits? I’ve also seen a figure who appears transparent to me. He’s sort of…”
“Burned?”
“Yes.”
“Roag.” Eidolon’s eyes went crimson, and he buried his fist in the side of the ambulance, leaving a grapefruit-sized dent. “Son of a bitch!”
“Eidolon!” She grabbed his arm, and when he would have snatched it away from her, she jerked him around. “I took the creature out of the hospital. He’s not here right now, unless he found a way back.”
He went as still as a lamp post. “Where did you take him?”
“Phillips Court… some sort of apartment and housing complex—”
“Shade’s old place. But why would he go there?” Eidolon was talking to himself rather than her, which was good, because she didn’t know the answer. She did feel incredibly guilty, however. Finally, he shook his head. “I’ll figure it out. You need to find Lore. I’ll find Shade.”
Sin so did not want to go back to the hospital. Her brothers were asses, and the whole place gave her the creeps.
The only positive thing that had happened lately was sex with Conall and outing him for making that bet. The two-sixty she’d gotten out of it would buy her a new pair of Fae-crafted stun darts.
Except… she wouldn’t need them, would she? She was almost done with Deth, and then she could… what?
Something splashed painfully in her stomach, as if a stone had been skipped across a lake of acid. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Since the age of twenty, she’d never been free, unowned, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do with herself if she suddenly had no orders.
She stepped out of the Harrowgate and into the emergency department… and right into chaos. Shade and Eidolon were rolling around on the ground, throwing punches and, as far as she could tell, not holding anything back.
Conall and Luc were watching, each holding a handful of bills. Another bet. Wonder how I can get in on that one. Conall’s molten silver gaze locked with hers, and she took a sudden, hot breath. He was every woman’s fantasy, from his perfect body to his remarkable eyes to his dangerous masculinity. Nice girls would tremble before him, even as they entertained wicked, private fantasies. Bad girls would make those fantasies reality any time, anyplace.
Sin was a bad girl.
And her inner bad girl—well, her inner demon—was itching to do anything that might get in her brothers’ faces.
Fucking one of their paramedics might just be the ticket. Plus, as she’d already learned, sex with Conall wasn’t exactly a hardship.
The battle raged as she crunched all the delicious possibilities in her mind, until suddenly, Shade rolled away from Eidolon, clutching his stomach, his mouth open in a silent gasp. Sin instinctively stepped forward to help, and was surprised when Eidolon did the same. They’d been fighting as though they hated each other, were bloody and bruised, but the fear in Eidolon’s expression left no doubt that they were not enemies.
“Shade?” Eidolon was on his knees next to his brother, his dermoire glowing. “What is it? Dammit, Shade, talk to me!”
Shade shoved to his knees. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Runa. She’s… she’s… in trouble.” He struggled to his feet and lurched toward the Harrowgate. “E. Send Tay to my place. The house. Fucking hurry!”
Eidolon wasted no time in fishing his cell phone from his pocket as Shade disappeared into the gate.
Sin had no idea what had just happened, but a sinking feeling told her this was just the beginning of something horrible.
Eighteen
The female named Runa sprawled in a rapidly spreading pool of blood, Lore’s knife impaled in her gut. She’d tried shifting into a warg, but Rariel had been prepared, and he’d jabbed her in the neck with a silver pin.
Don’t kill her, Roag said. I want her to live. To suffer for the rest of her life, forever hearing her children’s screams and knowing they died in excruciating pain.