“That’s bullshit.” Catty stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t even know anything about this. The first I heard of Guardians being in trouble was when Lucien found me. I had no idea this was going on.” She looked to him to gauge his reaction.
“It’s true. Catty doesn’t know anything about this.” He knew when someone was lying to him and he knew without a doubt she was telling the truth.
“I see what I see.” Ella glared and stood. She lost her balance and grabbed for the tree for balance.
“Are you all right?” Lucien placed his hands on her shoulders to support her, but she waved him away.
“Doing that spell drained the energy out of me. I would love some water if you have it.” She gave him a weak smile.
He cut his eyes at Catty.
“I’d go, but I’d have to jump over the fence, and I know how much you hate that.” Catty shrugged.
“Fine.” He held Catty’s gaze before heading back to the bike.
He jogged toward the gate. He could grab the extra water bottle out of his saddlebag and be back in less than a minute.
When he reached the wrought-iron gate, he wrapped his hands around the metal and scaled the fence. He landed on his feet on the other side.
He opened the saddlebag and felt around for the water bottle. His fingers brushed against the cool plastic.
He stuck the bottle into the pocket of his leather jacket and headed back to the fence.
A scream rang out through the night, sending chills up his back.
Catty.
He leaped for the fence, cleared it, and landed on the other side. He ran toward the witch’s grave with his heart jumping in his throat.
“Catty,” he growled.
“Lucien, help me!” The sheer agony in her voice had his heart beating out of his chest.
Frantic, he turned toward a copse of trees near the back of the cemetery and raced toward her.
She was leaning against the tree, her face twisted in agony.
“Catty, what’s…” His voiced died off when he reached her. A large sword stuck out of her shoulder, impaling her to the large oak tree. Blood streamed down her chest, and she struggled to take a breath.
“Fuck.” He shouldn’t have left her.
“Just get me down.” Tears streamed down her face.
He cupped her face between his hands. “This is going to hurt, sweetheart.”
“I don’t care. Do it.”
Nausea washed over him as he griped the handle of the sword in his sweaty palm. With his other hand, he pressed his palm in the middle of her chest to hold her still. “Catty…”
“Just do it,” she begged.
When he found that fucking witch, he was going to gut her.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled the sword from her body. She screamed as the blade passed through her flesh, and then she crumpled.
He dropped the sword and caught her. Gently he laid her on the ground to better assess her wounds. Grabbing her T-shirt, he ripped the material away. A large wound near her shoulder gushed blood with every beat of her heart.
He took his jacket off and pulled off his T-shirt. He made a bandage out of her ripped shirt and held it to her wound.
“Hold this, sweetheart.” He held her hand over the bandage. He made quick work of tying his T-shirt over the bandage to secure the dressing.
“She escaped.” Catty looked up at him. “After she stabbed me, she said something about my blood being her key to getting out of here. I don’t know where she went, Lucien.” Her face pale from the blood loss.
“I don’t give a fuck about that bitch. You are my concern right now. Right now I need to get you out of here.” He looked up and fixed his gaze on the fence in the distance. There was no way he could scale the fence with her. She didn’t have the strength to hold on.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?” He brushed the sweaty hair out of her face.
“For letting her go. For messing this up.”
“Baby, you didn’t mess anything up.” His voice cracked as emotion filled his chest. He had to get her out of here.
“I need to go get my bike, okay? Do you think you can ride?”
“I can hold on with one hand.” She nodded weakly.
He pressed her hand harder on the dressing, and she flinched. “Keep pressure on this, okay? I’ll be right back.”
He raced across the cemetery, the adrenaline pumping through his heart and into his limbs. When he reached the fence, he jumped, clearing it with one leap. Landing on his feet, he looked at the lock on the gate.
He grabbed the lock and pulled. The metal twisted and groaned in his hand until it fell free to the ground. He swung open the gate and ran back for his Harley. He started the engine and the bike roared to life. Gunning it, he headed inside.