Praise for Blind Salvage(18)

“Rylee die?”

Liam let out a growl. “No. They’re going to save her.” He had to believe it. There was no room for doubt in his head or he’d lose it completely, the wolf in him already making it hard to stay calm. Surely, they wouldn’t be brought back together just so he could watch her die. He closed his eyes, fought the panic that gripped him, forced it down as he would the wolf in him. Opening his eyes, he stared at the witch in surprise.

Pamela held a hand out to him. He clenched his jaw and ignored her offer of comfort. He wouldn’t hurt her, would help her survive, would even carry her if he had to, but he didn’t have to be her friend. The wolf in him agreed. Pamela was a part of their pack, but on the outskirts as far as he was concerned. She could never be fully trusted, not like he’d like to. Again, he paced the living room, his bare feet slapping against the floor with each step he took. The whole place smelled like a hospital: astringents, bandages, sterilization. There was almost no smell of a home that was lived in.

The witch sat up, struggled to get her legs out from under Alex’s weight. “The Shaman knew we were coming. There were bandages and everything already laid out for me and when they put me on the couch … .”

Liam paused in his pacing long enough to stare down at her. “What happened?”

She bit her lower lip. “They already knew that it was Rylee that had been hurt. The Shaman muttered under breath, ‘That’s what you get for tangling with a giant’. I think she didn’t know I could hear her.”

He rocked back on his heels. “How the hell did they know?”

The sound of footsteps brought him around to see a grim-faced Dox.

“Crystal, the other Shaman, is here helping Louisa.”

Pamela beat Liam to the question burning through his mind. “Is Rylee going to be okay?”

Dox gave a slow nod. “I think so. They’re shifting the rib back in place. Once it’s there, then she should heal up.”

“How are they shifting it back in place?” Liam asked, a cold pulse of dread thrumming through him.

Dox swallowed hard, the glint of his lip ring catching the light. “They had to cut her open. I left before—”

Without another thought Liam bolted for the door, but Dox caught him around the waist and threw him backward.

Snarling, Liam charged forward again, but he hadn’t taken two steps, and then he couldn’t move at all. Not even his head. A spell held him fast, took away his freedom. Just like before. Sweat and fear slid through him, which only enraged his wolf.

“I’m sorry, Liam. You have to stay here,” Pamela said, but all he heard was Milly’s voice, her taunting words, and the feel of the collar around his neck.

No, Pamela would never be trusted. And if she wasn’t careful, that lack of trust would bring them head to head.

And just like the other witches he’d dealt with, she’d lose.





The thing with being unconscious is that your mind can play tricks on you. Nasty ones, as usually is my case.

I could have sworn that there were hands inside of me, moving bits and pieces around. I didn’t feel pain, just pressure and soft voices, then the sound of my skin popping, as a needle and thread sewed me up in layers. But how could that all be when we were in London, at Jack’s place … no, there had been a giant and red caps. The memories slid through me as the last stitch tightened, pulling my wound together. I lay there on my back in the back seat of Dox’s truck, my body slick with sweat and blood, the smell of whatever herbs and poultices the Shamans had used were heavy in the air and gave me a pleasant, tingling numbness all over.

“Good afternoon, Rylee.” Louisa stood hunched over in the backseat of the truck and stared down at me.

I took a shallow breath, noting that the pain had lessened to the point where I could at least breathe without wincing. “I don’t know about the good part.”

She smiled and put her hand above my ribs. “Any day you wake up on this side of the veil is a good day, Tracker. We were able to put you back together, and your ribs are already healing.”

“Point taken.” I itched to sit up, but when I tried to move she tsked at me.

“Give yourself a few hours before you attempt anything even remotely strenuous. I’m going to send you home with Dox. You can recuperate there. Before heading home to Bismarck.”

I didn’t bother to argue with her, what was the point? As a Shaman, she was used to being listened to. But I did have questions, and I needed them answered. Even if I was half-baked on herbs.

My words came out in a slurry jumble. “Louisa, how did you know we were coming through? How did Dox know when we would bust across? Was it you who opened up the block on the veil?”