Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5)(13)

I had another idea. I still had no clue where I’d left my cell phone, but Gabrielle had one. I slid it from her pocket. “Call Nash,” I said. “Tell him to get his ass over here.”

If he wasn’t on his way. Nash always knew when something was going down in his town.

Gabrielle snatched the phone from me, which I’d already dialed. I got to my feet, ready to keep the demons away from her.

More demons poured through the window, going flat like the other one until they dropped into the room. The new ones weren’t bothering to look like humans. They were human-shaped, but gray-skinned and granite-faced, with fire dancing beneath their surface like magma.

John got up off the floor. I yelled at him to stay down, but rushed me. I saw the fire in his eyes, and realized he was not on our side, just before his fist came at my face.

I ducked. Gabrielle said, “Nashie?” in her little girl voice. “Um, we have a little problem at the Flat Mesa motel …”

John came at me again. Possessed or demon-born I couldn’t tell, and I was a little too busy for an interview.

Mick turned, saw, and got bit with fire on the side for his trouble. I waved him off, brought up a surge of Beneath magic, and faced John. I wasn’t allowed to hurt humans, on pain of death or worse, but if John were demon …

I let fly. At the same time, John hit me with a powerful fist.

I didn’t get to find out whether my Beneath magic dusted him. A pain I’d never known split my body, as though someone was trying to tear me in half. I heard the scream leave my mouth as I dove for the floor and unconsciousness.

The last thing I saw was the gleam of flame on wire-rimmed glasses and a pair of steel-gray eyes behind them.

“Emmett?” I tried to say, and then … nothing.

***

I woke in a bed, in a motel. I was unclothed, between thin sheets, my head on a flat pillow. The sun was up, the window open, fresh air pouring in, as well as normal sounds—birdsong, cars starting up, people talking, maids trundling their carts between rooms and chatting to each other as they worked.

No smell of fire, ash, demon, or Beneath magic. Nice.

Mick was there, his back to me as he watched out the window. He wore low-slung jeans and nothing else. The jagged fire tatt across the small of his back was stark against his skin, familiar and comforting.

“Hey,” I croaked. My throat was surprisingly pain free—no soreness from all the heat and smoke.

Mick turned. His eyes were brilliant blue, his dragon tatts calm, his smile lighting up the room. “Hey, baby. Ready for breakfast? We had a long ride yesterday.”

We had? I stared back at him, part of me liking the way he let his gaze flick to my body outlined by the sheet. “Where are we?” I put a shaking hand to my face, pleased to find my skin unburned and smooth.

“South Dakota,” Mick said. “East of Rapid City. You were so tired last night, you nearly fell off. I carried you in here and let you sleep.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and touched my face with his big hand. “Ready to wake up now?”





Chapter Five

Mick’s touch warmed and calmed me, but my mind reeled in disorientation.

“South Dakota?” I repeated. “What the hell happened? Is Gabrielle all right? Did Nash make it? Was John really a demon? What about Monica? I saw Emmett—I swear I did before I passed out. Tell me he didn’t get my mirror shard …” I tried to scramble out of bed. I needed to find my jeans and make sure the pocket still held the bag with its sliver of magic mirror.

A strong hand pushed me back down. “Janet.” Mick’s brows drew together. “Take it easy. You were dreaming.”

I fell against the pillow, confused and shaken. “What?”

“You were crying out in your sleep, thrashing around.”

Mick brushed my cheek, and I immediately calmed. I knew that the tingle I felt was his magic, soothing me, trying to heal my hurts.

“I don’t blame me,” I said. “It was a hell of a fight, which we obviously survived. But why did you bring me to South Dakota? Did we fly up here? I need to get back to my hotel.”

Again, I tried to rise, and again, Mick caught me. He framed my face in his hands and looked deep into my eyes.

More magic? Mick couldn’t read minds, but he could sense when something was wrong with a person—for example, if his girlfriend had been smacked with a serious spell.

“No airports nearby,” he said. “Easier to ride. And this motel is better than the last one.”

I’d meant fly as in him scooping me up and carrying me off in his dragon talon. Plus, what did he mean this motel is better than the last one? I opened my mouth to question, but closed it again. Mick was contemplating me not only in worry but with suspicion, as though he thought maybe I wasn’t really me.