Page 17 of Lucifer's Mirror

Maybe. But I also need to see what happens with Zayne.

I give myself a little shake and force myself to move. Holy crap, everything hurts. I swear I can hear my bones creak as I scramble out of the car. Khaosti raises a brow, but then turns and heads up the stairway to the front door.

I follow. He’s got a great ass. Then I shake my head. My mind must be rambling, because the fact that his ass looks super-hot walking away from me really should not be top of mind right now.

I need to remember that—at least some of the time—that super-hot ass is all furry with a big waggy tail. Not that it had been wagging much.

Inside is a wide hallway, with red walls and paintings and stuff I’ve only ever seen in movies. I don’t have time to appreciate it, though, because Khaosti’s already disappearing. I trudge after him and into a beautiful book-lined room that I assume must be the library. I stop and stare because this really is my idea of heaven.

Khaosti is lowering Zayne onto a wide leather sofa. I hurry over and crouch down beside him, taking his hand. I squeeze, but he’s out cold now, though his skin is warm to the touch.

“Let me see to him,” a woman says from behind us. I hadn’t even realized anyone else was present; she’d been so quiet and still. I presume she’s the doctor. I hope so, but when I turn around to face her, I realize she doesn’t look like any doctor I’ve ever seen. She’s beautiful, with long dark hair and the same golden eyes as Khaosti. She also appears young, maybe a little older than me, but not by much.

She gives me a smile. It seems genuine. And since I have no clue what to do to help Zayne, I have to trust these people. I shift out of the way, not far, and lean against the back of the sofa. My legs feel wobbly, but I can’t leave him yet.

Kneeling beside him, she brushes the hair from his face, then turns his head to reveal the ragged wound in his neck. I gasp—it looks horrendous—and nausea churns in my gut. We should have taken him to a hospital. I wrap my arms around my waist, instinctively trying to stop myself from falling apart.

The woman looks up at my gasp and smiles again. “He’ll be fine.”

How can he be?

She dips a cloth into the bowl at her side—where did that come from?—and places it over the wound. A sweet smell wafts up and swirls around my head, and suddenly my mind is clearer. She whispers some words in a language I don’t recognize, and the air around her glows. When she removes the cloth, the wound is gone, as if it had never been there.

What the hell?

I don’t know why anything surprises me anymore.

“Is he all right?”

She rises gracefully. “He’ll sleep for a while. But he’ll be fine when he wakes up. At least physically.”

“What do you mean? Is he going to be crazy or something?” Please don’t let him go crazy. I don’t have enough friends in my life to lose them.

“He’ll have things to deal with. Changes. Sometimes, if the mind is weak, it can’t cope.”

“Please tell me he’s not going to change into one of those things that attacked us.”

“No. That won’t happen.” She studies me, staring into my eyes; then hers widen, and she turns to Khaosti. “What is she, Khaos?”

Khaos? Somehow the name suits him. And isn’t it obvious what I am?

“I have no clue.” Khaos shrugs.

“And she knows nothing?”

Another shrug. “I’m wavering between either nothing at all or she’s a good actor.”

“Er… I’m still here. What’s going to happen to Zayne?”

“He’ll go through a change,” Sheela replies.

“What? Like he does—” I nod my head toward Khaos. “Into a wolf?”

She turns back to Zayne and touches him lightly on the forehead, closing her eyes for a second. “I don’t know. It’s unclear. But we’ll find out when the time comes.”

Holy crap. What have I done to Zayne? This is my fault.

Taking a step toward me, she holds out her hands. I place mine in hers, and she does the eye-staring thing again. Her nostrils flare.