I’d been prepared for an attack, a spell, but I had forgotten. Doyle was a creature of faerie. There was no mortal blood in him. Nor brownie. There was nothing in him but some of the wildest magics that faerie could offer.
“His vitals just keep going down, Doctor,” the nurse said.
The doctor had turned from the now-closed door and was looking at Doyle’s chart. “We’ve treated the burns. He should be improving.”
“But he’s not,” the nurse said.
The doctor snapped at her. “I can see that.”
The uniformed policeman was still looking at the door. “Are you saying that someone’s using magic to kill Captain Doyle?”
“I don’t know,” the doctor said, “and I don’t say that often.”
“I know,” I said.
They all turned toward my voice, frowning but still seeing nothing. If it had been my glamour hiding us, my speaking would have been enough to break the spell and reveal us, but Sholto’s power was stouter stuff.
“Did you hear that, Doctor?” the nurse asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“I heard it,” the cop said.
“I can save him,” I said.
“Who’s there?” the cop asked, and he was standing, with his hand going for his gun.
“I am Princess Meredith NicEssus, and I have come to save the captain of my guard.”
“Show yourself,” the cop said.
Sholto did two things: he made his tentacles back into their lifelike tattoo, and he dropped the glamour. To the humans in the room, we simply appeared.
The cop started to raise his gun, then stopped in mid-motion. He blinked and shook his head, as if to clear his vision.
“So beautiful,” the nurse said, and she looked at us with wonderment on her face.
The doctor looked frightened. He backed away from us until the bed was against him. He clutched Doyle’s chart as if it were a shield.
I tried to think how we must look to them, crowned with living flowers, covered in the magic of the Goddess, but in the end, I couldn’t imagine. I would never be able to see what they saw.
We moved toward the bed, and the policeman recovered himself enough to try to point his gun again. But the gun eased toward the floor once more. “I can’t,” he said in a strangled voice.“Take the needles and tubes out of Doyle. You’re using man-made medicine on him, and it’s killing him,” I said.
“Why?” the doctor managed to ask.
“He is a creature of faerie, and there is no mortal blood in him to help ease him around such modern wonders.” I touched Doyle’s arm, and his skin was cool to the touch. “We must hurry, Doctor, and remove him from this artificial place, or he will die.” I reached for the IV in Doyle’s arm. “Help me.”
The doctor looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head, a frightening one. But the nurse moved to help me. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Disconnect him from all of it. We need to take him back to faerie with us.”
“I can’t let you take an injured man out of my hospital,” the doctor said, his voice regaining the ring of authority it had started with, as if now that he had a concrete fact, he felt better. Sick people didn’t get taken from the hospital; it was a rule.
I looked at the policeman. “Can you please help the nurse free Captain Doyle of these machines?”
He holstered his gun, and moved to the other side of the bed to help.
“You’re a cop,” the doctor said. “You’re not qualified to disconnect him from anything.”
The cop looked at the doctor. “You just said that he wasn’t improving, and that you didn’t know why. Look at them, Doc, they’re dripping magic all over the place. If the captain is used to living like that, then what is all the machinery doing to him?”
“There are channels to go through. You can’t just walk in here and take my patient.” He was looking at us.
“He is the captain of my guard, my lover, and the father of my children. Do you truly believe I would do anything to endanger him?”
The nurse and the cop were already ignoring the doctor. The nurse directed the cop, and between the two of them they turned everything off and left Doyle lying in the bed free of it all.
Now we could touch him; it was as if the magic knew that he needed to be free of all that was hurting him before we could heal him.
I touched his shoulder, and Sholto touched his leg. His body reacted as if we had shocked him, spine bowing, eyes wide, breath coming in a gasp. He reacted to pain a second later, but he looked at me. He saw me.
He smiled, and whispered, “My Merry.”
I smiled back and felt the bite of happy tears. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I am.”
His eyes lost focus, then fluttered closed. The doctor checked his pulse from his side of the bed. He was afraid of us, but not so afraid that he wouldn’t do his job. I liked him better for that.
“His pulse is stronger.” He looked at Sholto and me on the other side of the bed. “What did you do to him?”
“We shared some of the magic of faerie,” I said.
“Would it work on humans?” he asked.
I shook my head, and the crown of roses and mistletoe moved in my hair, like some serpentine pet settling more comfortably. “Your medicine would have helped a human with the same injuries.”
“Did your crown just move?” the nurse asked.
I ignored the question, because the sidhe are not allowed to lie, but the truth would not help her. She was already staring at us like we were amazing. The look on her face and to a lesser extent the policeman’s reminded me why President Thomas Jefferson had made certain that we agreed to never be worshipped as deities on American soil. Neither of us wanted to be worshipped, Sholto and I, but how do you keep that look off someone’s face when you stand before them crowned by the Goddess herself?
I expected the roses that bound our hands to uncurl so we could pick Doyle up, but they seemed perfectly happy where they were.
“Let us pick him up from the other side of the bed,” Sholto said. “That way you will be carrying his legs, which are lighter.”
I didn’t argue; we simply moved to the other side of the bed. The doctor moved back from us as if he didn’t want us to touch him. I couldn’t really blame him. It had been so long since the Goddess had blessed us to this degree that I wasn’t certain what would happen to a human who touched us in this moment.
Sholto bent over, putting his arms under Doyle’s shoulders. I did the same at his legs, though I didn’t have to bend nearly as far. It took some maneuvering, like an arm version of a three-legged race, but we picked Doyle up. He seemed to fill our arms as if he were meant to be there, or maybe that was just how I felt about touching him. As if he filled my arms, filled my body and my heart. How could I have left him to human medicine without another guard watching over him?
Where were the other guards? That policeman shouldn’t have been on his own.
“Meredith,” Sholto said, “you are thinking too hard, and we must move together to get him home.”
I nodded. “Sorry, I was just wondering where the other guards are. Someone should have stayed with him.”
The policeman answered. “They went with Rhys, and the one who’s called Falen, no, Galen. They took the body of your—” and he looked hesitant, as if he’d already said too much.
“My grandmother,” I finished for him.
“There were horses with them,” the cop said. “Horses in the hospital, and no one cared.”
“They were shining and white,” the nurse said. “So beautiful.”
“Every guard who they passed seemed to have a horse, and they rode out of the hospital,” the cop said.
“The magic took them,” Sholto said, “and they forgot their other duties.”
I hugged Doyle to me, and gazed at his face cuddled against Sholto’s body. “I’d heard that a faerie radhe could make the sidhe forget themselves, but I didn’t know what it meant.”
“It is a type of wild hunt, Meredith, except it is gentle, or even joyous. This one was for grief, and taking your grandmother home, but if it had been one of singing and celebration, they might have carried the entire hospital with them.”
“They were too solemn in their grief,” the nurse said.
“Yes,” Sholto said, “and good for your sakes.”
I looked at the nurse, gazing up at Sholto. She looked damn near elfstruck, a term for when mortals become so enamored of one of us that they will do anything to be near their obsession. It can happen about faerie in general, but we didn’t have glorious underground places to give the mortals now. So that wasn’t such a problem, but Sholto’s face was as fair as any in faerie, and, crowned with the blooming herbs, in their haze of colored blossoms, he was like something out of the old fairy stories. I supposed we both were.“We need to go, Sholto.”
He nodded, as if he knew that it wasn’t just Doyle’s health we were attending to. We needed to get away from the humans before they became any more bemused by us.
We started for the door, having to use our bound hands to steady Doyle’s body in our arms. The thin gown moved, and we were suddenly touching the bareness of his body. The thorns must have pierced his body because he made a small sound, moving in our arms like a child disturbed by a dream.