Page 115 of A Monstrous World: The Complete Series

Chapter Fifteen

Nadia

W e’re in the air for several long seconds before the thunderbird catches us. He holds on to the bigfoot in a move that has to hurt. His talons are sharp and jagged, but if the bigfoot feels any pain, he doesn’t show it.

Air beats against my face as we fly, and I try to remind myself that his mate is in trouble. They won’t let me die, because they need me alive. My magic isn’t worried that they’re a threat. It was very clear about those demons and vampires. They intended to harm me.

We fly for several long minutes before beginning to descend. My stomach flip-flops as we plummet toward the ground. When we land, my teeth gnash together, and my brain feels like it rattles around my skull.

The ground shakes as the thunderbird touches down in the clearing about twenty feet in front of where he dropped us.

Fae and elven magic works differently than how shifters transform from their animal form.

One second, I’m looking at a giant bird, and the next, a giant puff of black smoke dissipates to reveal a slender man with black hair and glasses.

“Hurry.” He pivots and runs into the woods without waiting for us.

Brant, the bigfoot, takes off with me still in his arm. Fifty yards into the forest, the lights from a small house become visible. The closer we get, I can make out a collection of fae and elves standing around the cabin. They’re all tall and slender, a trait of both their kinds.

Brant runs for the door and the crowd parts. He sets me on my feet and transforms into his human form.

Okay, so that’s just bizarre.

In human form, he’s slender, with blondish-red hair.

I would not have accurately guessed him out of a lineup. That’s for damn sure. Well, not unless he had that arrow protruding from his forearm, which he definitely still does.

The cabin is lit with a warm yellowish glow that spills out the windows. It’s a modest home, and the thunderbird doesn’t hesitate before opening the door and heading inside.

My magic pulses wildly and my fingertips tingle.

“Oh, shit,” I hiss.

I don’t hesitate or wait to be invited inside.

There’s a beautiful woman on some type of bed or cot, right inside the living room, and she’s dying.

Her face is so pale that it’s clear she’s not going to last long.

One brownie has her face buried under a sheet, giving the poor woman some modesty, and trying to stop the massive amount of blood flow.

Two others stand aside, rocking a set of freshly born babies.

Oh, fuck!

This is significantly worse than I expected.

First time dads are often overly dramatic, but not this time.

“Everyone needs to bleed,” I say, spinning to make eye contact with the thunderbird. “Nadia. You are?”

“River Belfort.” He slices his inner wrist.

Okay, fuck me. The Belforts are the line of elven royalty.

River grimaces. “Octavia couldn’t reach you, but she said you were in town. We spent the last half hour searching for you. Please save her.”

“You need to bleed too,” I tell Brant. “And maybe a few of your guests outside.”

Brant doesn’t hesitate. He rips the arrow out of his wrist. It makes a grizzly sound as it tears through his flesh and maybe bone. Spinning around, he marches to the door. “Bleed for your queen,” Brant snarls.

A shiver runs down my spine. He’s not my king, or even my alpha, but the command in his voice almost has me spilling blood that I can’t afford to lose at the moment. My hand cups the brownie’s shoulder, and I gently pull her back.

“They’re beautiful, Milania. You’re going to be fine,” River says to the woman. He leans over and brushes a kiss on her forehead. “You’ll hold them soon.”

My lip wobbles, watching the intimate moment, but also...no pressure, right?

I don’t ask for permission; my magic is insistent that there isn’t time for pleasantries or even questions of consent. Normally in Haven, I use a dye that’s been saturated in drops of my blood. It helps keep the true nature of my magic hidden, but there’s no time for that.

River growls as I bunch the sheet, baring her middle, but keep her lower half covered. I’m light-headed as I draw runes across her stomach. I don’t want to know whose blood I’m touching, but my magic ensures my finger stays wet with someone’s lifeblood as I work.

The gatherers must have heeded their king’s request, because a potent buzz of energy hits me square in the chest. My hand lands over Milania’s heart, and I focus on pouring all that excess life energy back into her. I have no idea why her body isn’t healing.

“Is she human?” My eyes bug as I blink at River. Fuck, how did I forget that very important fact?

“Aye, she is,” Brant says from behind me. “Does that change things?” His tone is ice cold.

I go rigid.

I thought I’d be seeing her in a midwife capacity and maybe help by magically encouraging the babies to come out if they were getting too large for her to carry and deliver safely. I’ve never had a life-or-death emergency with one of my human patients.

I need help.

More specifically, I need Nan. She always manages to stay calm even under the direst of circumstances.

Glancing over my shoulder at Brant, I say, “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never used my magic on a human, not outside of fertility magic. I promise I’ll do my best...”

He nods and moves to his mate’s other side.

A dark swirling mass appears at the door to the cabin.

My jaw falls as I glance from the new mother to the reaper standing in the doorway.

That’s a really bad sign.

“ Hell , no.” I spit the words before I can stop myself. My magic yanks me across the room, and I’m drawing sealing runes before the grim can fully manifest. “You’re not needed here. See yourself right the fuck back to wherever you came from.”

A low, raspy chuckle fills the air as a pair of white irises flash in the space right outside the still open door.

My instincts scream that my magic isn’t enough to keep him out if he wants to make it inside.

Ripping the pin out of my bracelet, I slice my skin and redraw the runes a second time.

This time, I add a protection rune to all three sides.

I’d do the floor, but I don’t think taking my eyes off him is smart.

The white eyes flash before darkening to a shade blacker than night. My magic still flows to Milania, but my focus is on the reaper.

“How do you know she’s worth saving?” a low, growly voice asks. “She could be a murderer.”

“She could,” I agree. I don’t blink as I stare into the spot I’m sure holds a pair of dark eyes that burn back at me in return. “That doesn’t matter today.”

“Ah, I see. You’ve claimed her soul already,” the masculine voice says, his tone lined in humor.

“No. I’m not that kind of witch.” But I am, aren’t I? Echo is tethered to me as my vessel. Maybe not willingly, but I’m already teetering a little too close to the edge of going dark.

“Are you sure you wish to take my meal?” the reaper asks. His tone is oddly melodic, and I still can’t blink. Why does he feel so familiar?

My magic doesn’t seem as enamored. It lines my voice when I speak. “Find another meal. You’ll not reap here.”

Silence fills the air as my magic pulses.

Is my magic seriously posturing against a grim reaper right now? This town has destroyed my self-preservation skills.

My heart races as I stare into the black abyss of the grim’s eyes.

Finally, a faint shadow of the hood covering his head nods. “I will not,” he replies. “It’s been too long since someone stared straight into my true eyes and didn’t flinch.”

The trance fades away as I take a heavy step back. My feet and arms feel like lead weights as I stagger.

“You’re spent. No matter how much blood they shed, it won’t matter.

You won’t be able to save her,” the reaper says in a level tone.

“And yet, I feel I must honor your commitment.” I can practically hear the smirk in his tone.

“Tell me, is she that important to you?” His head tilts like he’s appraising me.

“I lost my mother when I was young. Those two won’t even have the chance to remember her if she doesn’t make it,” I whisper, swallowing around the lump that’s formed in my throat. “I’m committed to doing everything I can.”

A claw manifests from the long, flowing robe. A pale palm appears from the other sleeve, and the reaper slices his flesh. Barely three drops of blood drip from the wound before it seals. My fangs descend and my tongue reflexively runs over them.

The reaper takes a step forward as his hood rises. He pushes through the protection barrier of the door with little effort.

I swallow thickly as my chin tilts in the air. This could go very badly.

My heart races, which is likely sending my blood out dangerously fast.

“Next time you need us, don’t wait until it’s dire to make the call,” he murmurs, swiping his blood over my lips.

My tongue flicks out, lapping it up. The taste slams into me with the force of a freight train, but it’s the level of his power that has me stumbling back.

I stagger my way over to Milania. My head spins around, and it’s then I realize everyone except for me is frozen in place. They aren’t blinking or breathing.

The reaper is gone.

I ignore the utter fucking craziness of what just happened and again draw runes over the new mother’s skin.

Healing, health, life.

A strange urge inside me isn’t satisfied with simply healing her womb. I repeat the pattern over her forehead, her heart, each arm, and her legs. As I finish, my hands fall to the bed. I grip tight to keep from keeling over.

Being a conduit for the blood everyone else is spilling doesn’t normally take my energy, but it’s almost more than I can handle at the moment.

A light popping fills the air and time seems to start. A baby cries, and the low murmuring of River’s voice fills the air as he reassures his mate. Her heartbeat stalls, and for five long seconds, I hold my breath.

How did I fuck this up?

Oh god, tell me I didn’t accidentally draw the rune for flatulence in my half-delirious state. Oh, well. She just gave birth to two babies. If she’s gassy, then these motherfuckers better grin and bear it.

If she wakes up at all.

This is not good.

It’s a very serious moment, but I deflect with humor whenever possible. It’s a defense mechanism. You don’t survive nearly being murdered by your own mother without developing some very questionable coping skills.

It’s several agonizing seconds of pure silence before her heartbeat begins to pound.

My magic pulses with excitement as the slow, steady thump turns into a racing cadence. Oh fuck , that’s not right either. A human heart beats on the slower end of the spectrum in comparison to species like wolves and fae.

A low, feral growl sounds outside the cabin. My tether to Echo snaps tight in my chest. My hand flies to rub away the radiating pain. He’s here and he’s furious .

My shadows form a coffin-like shape around Milania.

Maybe I could try to escape while they’re watching to see what will happen next? My hand clenches the sheet as my other falls to keep myself upright.

Come on. She really needs to be okay, but there are no guarantees.

I’m in the dark as much as they are.

Commotion outside draws my attention, and I stagger to the doorway. Several fae and elven males are blocking Echo and Ridge from coming any closer.

“For fuck’s sake. We’re all on the same team here,” I call out to the men involved in the testosterone pissing match.

A sharp gasp fills the air behind me, and I spin around in time to see Milania sit straight up. Her lips are a deep rosy color, and her cheekbones are slightly more pronounced, but it’s the pointed ears that send my heart racing in my chest.

Holy fucking shit.

She’s fae.

That was not my doing.

I’m not getting blamed for this.

Not today, Satan. Not today.

That’s the last coherent thought I have before everything goes black.