Page 37

Kit

S oft, creamy white walls surrounded us. Quiet music played softly from somewhere.

The door at the end of the hall was closed. When it opened, we could go inside, or somebody would come out and answer questions.

I was getting a headache from staring at that fucking door.

Next to me, Damon dozed.

His wounds had healed. He’d finally eaten the food Chang had rounded up and his body had taken over from there.

But despite his exhausted state, his hand still gripped mine.

I stayed still.

If I so much as moved, he woke up. So, I stayed still. He needed the rest. He was exhausted.

I wasn’t.

I’d been awake for more than thirty-six hours now and I still wasn’t tired. It would wear off—the head healer in the Red Branch house of witches housing us had told me I’d been healed using some archaic form of soul magic and once the effects faded, I’d probably crash and sleep a day straight.

I didn’t want to sleep.

Not until we had news.

So far, there was nothing.

The door was still closed.

I’d feel better if Colleen was here, but she was on the other side of the world. I couldn’t even impose on Frankie to bring her here, because Frankie was also taking up space in the medical ward.

Exhaustion, Angus had told me.

Angus had said she just needed a good, solid rest and a couple of decent meals and she’d be fine. He also asked a couple of not-so-subtle questions about the ‘soul-healer’ who had helped Frankie and I’d ignored him.

I had nothing I could tell him, anyway.

I hadn’t heard anything from Lemeraties since waking. I knew she’d helped Frankie heal me—Chang had been the one to fill in the gaps.

Frankie had transported out to get Chang when she couldn’t get Damon to let her get close.

Chang admitted he hadn’t believed her, but then she’d told him a secret.

The last time she’d been on the island had been decades earlier—when Damon had been held hostage there.

She’d seen Lemeraties dragging a boy into the forest and he’d been in bad shape. She’d attacked, thinking the lemera had done the damage. It had been a safe assumption—the Dominari had just finished and Fanis had so loved using the lemera as a weapon against those she deemed as weaker.

While still under Fanis’s control—and probably thanks to whatever magics Arsay had learned over the years—the Lemera had been forced to feed on her own kind, on our youth.

It was a horrifying thought. The one bright spot was that sending the Lemera after me was what had allowed that control to weaken enough so Lemeraties could free herself from the chains.

But Frankie had seen what she thought was a monster about to abuse a young, teenage kid. She’d been there trying to track Arsay—her half-sister— down. Instead, she’d given up on that mission to save the kid.

They’d both been hurt and she’d teleported them to Africa where she had family and friends.

At some point, some of his true heritage had showed through and it freaked her out, so she left him behind, but she made sure he had people watching over him as he healed.

A door opened—I jerked my head, then sighed wearily. It was the wrong door.

Out of habit, I checked the door, but it was still stubbornly closed.

They were more strict about how many people could go in and sit with the injured here—more like a hospital ICU than a witch’s healing hall, but they’d taken us in and Colleen vouched for Angus, so I’d put up with it.

But I wanted news. I wanted that door to open.

Next to me, Damon stirred and I stroked my thumb over the back of his hand, willing him to go back to sleep.

He needed it.

A curvy woman with warm brown skin walked into the room and sat in the seat across from me. Something about her struck me as familiar and I studied her. Her hair was dyed red with an undercut that showed a bright, vibrant purple—

“You’re from East O,” I said.

Damon’s eyes snapped open.

“Hey, Damon.” She wiggled her fingers at Damon in a little wave before smiling back at me. “Yes. You come into my sister’s barbecue joint a lot—you love her smoked wings.”

“Bridie’s.” Suspicious, I studied her. I didn’t believe in coincidences. “Aren’t you a little far from home?”

“No farther than you.” She was still smiling. “A friend of mine is here. I wanted to check on her. I’m Trish.”

Damon sat up straighter. “You know Frankie.”

Even though my mind was all vibrating with curiosity, I reached for the tall thermal cup of water on the table next to me and passed it to him. “Drink.”

He rolled his eyes but did as I asked before giving the cup back to me, half empty. I’d have to refill it again.

“We’re friends, yes. She…helped Bridie and me out once. We became friends over the years.”

A taut silence stretched between them. Warily, I looked at Damon.

He squeezed my hand gently, but kept watching her. “Your sister told me a while back that we’d met before. I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.”

“That’s not the case now, is it?”

He inclined his head. “I still don’t remember either of you.”

“I’m not surprised.” Her smile was sad. “You weren’t in very good shape. Bridie had her hands full those first few weeks. I had to leave…work.” Her shoulders moved and she looked away. “When I returned, she had word that somebody…powerful was looking for you. That you were his ward. We thought it might be best to leave you in the hands of one of the witch houses. We had our own monsters we were avoiding and you were getting better. We knew we could trust your safety with the Blue Sky house and that they’d reach out to us if the person seeking you wasn’t, in fact, your family. We received word later that he collected you and was grateful.” A hint of a smile curved her lips. “He left money. We let the house keep it. We didn’t do it for money and neither did Frankie.”

He was quiet a long moment, then, in a soft voice, he said, “Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank either of us.”

And that was that.

I had a thousand questions.

But the door at the end of the hall opened.

Angus McTierney, the head healer of the Red Branch house located in the far north of Scotland, stood there and he had a wide smile on his broad face.

“The boy’s awake and he wants to see Kit and Damon and he wants some fuckin’ food. Now.” Crinkles formed around the corners of his eyes as he added, “And those were his words—says he’s fair starving and if we’d wanted him to die, why couldn’t we have just left him up on that forsaken rock to do it instead hauling his arse all over the world.”

I hurled myself off the chair and at Angus, planting a hard kiss on his smiling face.

He burst into laughter.

“There now, lamb. Don’t go doin’ that. I’m not up to taking on that man of yours.”

I turned back to grin at Damon and saw that he had his face in his hands.

Angus retreated in silence and Trish quietly left the room.

Moving to Damon, I knelt in front of him. “Damon?”

“This is all my fault,” he said, voice muffled by his hands. “All of it—”

“No.” I caught his wrists and dragged them down. “Look at me.”

He did and the dull set of his eyes tore my heart into shreds.

“You acted like an idiot, yeah.” I stroked his cheek. “But I think we can safely say there were extenuating circumstances. Your protective instincts have always gone into overdrive and after learning about Nene…and whatever happened to you…”

His mouth spasmed.

“I’m not saying it was okay —and I’m not saying you can keep doing that shit. But now that you know, you can learn how to cope better. We learn to live with our scars, right? That’s something you taught me.”

I stood and tugged on his hands. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to mine.

“You’re coming with me,” I told him.

His mouth spasmed.

“You’re coming with me because he wants to see you—and you need to see him. And when you’re ready, you’ll tell him everything that happened—and why you messed up. He loves you, Damon. He’s not going to blame you because a batshit crazy…ghost hijacked his body. That wasn’t your fault.”

He pushed to his feet and pulled me up against him. “I don’t deserve you.”

Brushing my lips over his neck, I curled my arms around his torso.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But you’re stuck with me. I’m kind of attached to you.”

“Thank God for that.” Another shudder went through him and he let go, reaching down to take my hand.

Turning, we headed for the door.

On the other side, Angus waited.

“Are you ready?” His gaze was somber now, although a hint of a smile lurked.

I nodded and together, we walked with him down the corridor to the room at the far end. I’d been in here half a dozen times already and knew the window faced over the water, knew the lights could be set to brilliant white so the healers could see to work, or soft and gentle for the wounded or sick person to rest.

Right now, they were at a neutral setting, most of the light spilling in from the window to fall across the long, too-lean form in the bed. An IV pole hung on the bed behind Doyle but it was no longer connected to his body and when we walked inside, he was scratching at the area where it had been inserted.

He stopped and jerked his head up, eyes widening when he saw us.

His throat worked.

“Hey, kid,” I said, my throat tight.

“Kit.” His voice cracked as he said my name.

I flew across the room and hugged him, groaning as he wrapped me up tight in his arms.

“I saw her cut you—I couldn’t stop her—I couldn’t—”

“Hush.”

Hard, erratic breaths burst out of him. “I didn’t think I’d ever be me again.”

“Yeah, well, you are. You’re too stubborn to give up.”

The sound of a booted foot scuffing the floor had Doyle stirring and he pulled away, cheeks flushing as he scrubbed the tears off his face.

“Ah…” He eyed Damon nervously.

“Kid.” Damon looked like he wanted to be anywhere but that.

I reached out and caught Damon’s hand, dragging him closer.

Rising from the bed, I nudged Damon into my place.

That was all it took.

Doyle reached out. Or maybe it was Damon.

It didn’t matter.

Father and son held on.

And that’s who they were, in the end…father and son.

And both of them mine.

We’d made it.

We’d survived .

Damon snagged my arm and hauled me into the embrace and I went willingly, the cold, icy places in my heart melting away.

We’d made it.