Page 3 of Incurably Cupid (Moonhaven Cove #5)

Chapter 3

Indie

“Love protects.”

Cupid Inc. New Recruit Training Manual

I t was now Wednesday evening, and I was at the Leto Villa in invisible cupid mode, which allowed me to phase into the ether while remaining present so that paranormals and humans couldn’t see me. It was a skill all cupids learned at Cupid University.

Leo was not with me. He couldn’t keep his circuits quiet enough for these covert observations, so I’d left him behind, and he was sulking. I could, however, connect with him through a small, discreet gel earpiece that I’d placed in my ear canal earlier, but I’d muted him to avoid distractions.

Being at the Leto Villa was distraction enough.

I was considering using my sleep magic on the couple in the room.

King Draven and Consort Mia were sitting on a sofa in the living room while Mesmer stood several feet away, trying to give them privacy, though I sensed he could hear everything they were saying.

“Are you not feeling well?” King Draven asked, an expression of tender concern on his face.

Consort Mia grimaced. “I think I picked up some kind of flu bug.” She touched his face tenderly. "I'll be okay." They were cuddling on the couch in front of a crackling fire, and I was trying to ignore their adorableness. It wasn’t easy. Their love for each other was palpable, filling the entire room. It made me want to congratulate the cupid who had found King Draven’s mate and arranged for them to meet. Truly, they were a genius. Maybe I could take notes on how it had been accomplished. Finding Consort Mia in the human world couldn’t have been easy.

I stood next to Mesmer, watching him closely. His eyes were averted, but I knew he was tuned into them—not in a creepy stalker way, but in a I’d-like-to-keep-you-both-alive way. I shifted, unable to remain as completely still as Mesmer was.

I had been trying to spend as much time around him as possible to see if I could get a sense of where his soulmate might be. I’d made his rounds with him, accompanied him when he took Consort Mia to the store to buy two boxes of her favorite candy. And then, when she’d hidden them in her desk drawer in her and King Draven’s office, I’d squirmed when King Draven caught their scent as soon as she entered the room and then lovingly teased her about her sweet tooth. I didn’t believe in true love, not even for soulmates—inconvenient when matching people up was my job—but Consort Mia and King Draven tempted me to reconsider. I was chalking it up to them still being in the honeymoon phase.

It wouldn’t last.

Nothing did.

Zian, Consort Mia’s overly large familiar, sat alertly in front of me as though he could sense me, which shouldn’t be at all possible. I kept trying to shoo him away, but he was a persistent kitty cat.

“Zian, come here, boy. My feet are cold. You can lay on them to warm them up.”

“I’ll warm them for you,” King Draven said, and I kid you not, I almost blushed. I didn’t blush. At all. But his voice had dropped in volume and pitch, and I knew he was implying more than just warming her feet. My annoying cupid bonding powers were attuned to people in love. I couldn’t help the information those powers gave me, whether I wanted that information or not. For most cupids, being around couples in love was said to feel pleasant—like a warm fire on a cold day.

It did not feel like that to me.

They started kissing, and I was sorely tempted to leave the room and explore the villa further. It was a beautiful place, adorned in creams and golds with pops of color here and there. The style resembled many Italian villas I'd seen, which King Draven had obviously intended.

I sighed, shifting again. “How do you stand the lovey-dovey stuff all the time? It must drive you crazy,” I said aloud, not expecting a reply because no one should be able to hear me, enmeshed in the ether as I was.

Except... Mesmer’s eyes flicked to me and then away. I blinked at him in astonishment. “Can you hear me?”

He jerked his chin in a nod.

“Can you see me?”

He nodded again.

What was happening here? This shouldn’t be possible. He shouldn’t be able to see me. Granted, I’d never been assigned to a gargoyle before, so I wasn’t aware of all their capabilities, but I’d been assigned to many other paranormals, and they’d never been able to see or hear me.

“I have no idea what’s happening right now. You shouldn’t be able to see me.” I moved closer into his space. It was a pity I only came up to his collarbone, which wasn’t all that impressive, but I couldn’t do anything about my vertically challenged height and his massive gargoyle size. He was close enough for me to smell his natural scent—snow and pine, with the faintest hint of stone warmed in the sun. I watched his light gray eyes for the slightest flicker that he could feel the warmth of my body in his space bubble.

His eyes flicked down to me, perfectly tracking where I was and then away, and I gasped.

“You can really see me! I have no idea how that's possible! How are you doing this?” I demanded, stepping back and placing my hands on my hips. “No one can see cupids when they’re enmeshed in the ether. I’ve been here a year, and you’ve never hinted that you could see or hear me!”

He cleared his throat and glanced at King Draven and Consort Mia to remind me that we were in a room with other people. A servant was bringing Consort Mia a glass of something fizzy—I would bet ginger ale. But I didn't care about them at the moment. I glared at Mesmer.

“Answer me,” I growled.

He sighed, seeing that I wasn't going to drop it. “You never interrupted my work, so I never interrupted yours.” His voice was deep and gravelly, exactly what you’d expect from a being that could turn to stone. For a brief moment, vulnerability washed over his features. “Besides, I want a mate, and I didn’t want to distract you from finding one for me. I know you’ve been working hard on that for the past year or so.” His piercing eyes met mine. “Thank you for trying. I appreciate your efforts.”

I swallowed hard. He didn’t seem very hopeful that I’d find his mate, and I knew it wasn’t because he doubted my cupid skills. My eyes stung slightly, and I cursed as I glanced at the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

“Mes, who are you talking to?” Consort Mia peeked over the sofa, looking at him in confusion. She didn't look well. Her face was pale, but her cheeks were flushed.

“My cupid, Consort Mia.”

“Mes, don’t call—what? Your what?!” She stood up quickly, too quickly, evidently, because she swayed on her feet, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she dropped like a stone. King Draven caught her before she could hit the floor, holding her tenderly to his chest, his face etched with concern. “Sweetheart?” He patted her flushed cheeks gently.

Mesmer moved to help them but halted mid-step, jerking toward the huge window behind us. The long curtains were closed for the evening, but he must have heard something outside because he practically flew toward the two monarchs. “Your Majesties, take cover!”

I gasped and moved to follow him, but I had only taken a single step when the window behind me shattered, peppered with bullets. The bullets struck Mesmer mid-transformation, hovering protectively over his monarchs, who were crouched behind the couch.

He grunted, staggering to his knees as several bullets pierced his broad back, exiting his chest in small sprays of blood before he completed the change to his rock form. After that, the bullets pinged off him, scattering in all directions until finally, there were no more bullets, and everything fell silent.

I raced to Mesmer, going corporeal, and tried to catch him as he fell sideways to the floor. But even though I was strong, I wasn’t as strong as a gargoyle in full rock form, so he fell with a hard crunch against the hardwood floor.

King Draven gently laid his unconscious wife on the couch and was beside us in the blink of an eye. His gaze flicked to me and away, dismissing me as a threat. His vampire eyes were blood-red with rage. I removed my shirt, leaving only my cami underneath, and started applying pressure to his wounds, leaning into them with every ounce of strength I had. Mesmer had managed to revert back to his skin form after he fell to the ground, which meant his blood was flowing out of him at a faster rate now.

I swear I only blinked once and King Draven suddenly held a phone between his ear and shoulder, using both hands to pack the wounds I couldn’t reach with his jacket. “I need an ambulance. Mesmer’s been shot.” He let the phone fall to the floor without bothering to disconnect, coming up onto his knees for more leverage to apply additional pressure on the wounds. I did the same, cursing Mesmer the entire time under my breath.

Stupid heroes. Always getting themselves killed.

The whole villa had become a beehive of activity as security swarmed the room. I could hear dogs barking outside, probably trying to sniff out the shooter. There were likely shifter security out there in their shifter forms doing the same.

“Your Highness, the villa is being swept. Until the perimeter has been cleared, we need to get you and Consort Mia to the safe room,” a large male said, hovering over the king uneasily, his eyes constantly shifting around the room.

“I’m not leaving Mesmer,” the king answered firmly.

“But, Your Highness?—”

The king’s blood-red eyes flashed to the man standing over him. “I will not. Leave. My friend.”

The security officer backed down instantly. “Yes, Sire.”

Consort Mia regained consciousness and sat up, blinking dazedly. Her expression cleared when she saw her husband and bodyguard on the floor. “Draven? Oh my gosh, Mes!” She ignored her husband’s command to stay down behind the couch and crawled over to Mesmer, the king, and me. “What happened?” she cried as she touched Mesmer’s face.

It was obvious, wasn’t it? He’d been shot.

I could faintly hear the sound of a siren making its way up the long, winding road to the villa.

“How did he get shot? He has an impenetrable stone body, for heaven’s sake!”

It must still be the wooziness because she was not winning any points for piecing things together quickly.

“He was shot several times before he was able to change,” I informed her curtly. “After the change, the bullets pinged off him.”

She jerked her head up, as if noticing me, the woman with bubblegum pink hair and pink wings, in the room for the first time. Seriously, had someone drugged her?

“Your Highness,” I asked King Draven, “has someone drugged your wife?” It was a distinct possibility, given what had just happened, and I was becoming concerned.

King Draven took the towels from the servant and, with hands stained red from his friend and bodyguard’s blood, changed out his jacket for the towel before gazing at his wife. His expression was a mix of grief for his friend and tense anxiety for his wife. “Mia, come here.”

She jerked her head up; tears streamed down her face as she soothingly ran her hands through Mesmer’s short hair. “Why?”

“I need to taste your blood.”

Consort Mia spluttered, then glared at him. “Absolutely not! This is hardly the time for that!”

“Mia,” King Draven growled, “I need to test your blood for poisons.”

Mia bit her lip as she looked down at Mesmer, then sighed. “I need something sharp.” A security officer handed her a well-sharpened dagger, and she pricked her right index finger before offering her blood to her husband, who licked the drop without any fanfare.

“It’s clean,” he said after a moment, and I had to believe him. Vampires were well known for being able to detect even the slightest traces of poisons and foreign contaminants in blood.

The EMTs finally arrived and began assessing Mesmer, who regained consciousness as they lifted him onto the gurney. They had to be shifters because Mesmer looked to be 250 pounds of solid muscle, and they lifted him without even a grunt of effort. They checked his airway to ensure he was breathing okay, checked his other vitals, and then started packing and dressing his wounds with thick rolls of gauze along his chest and back.

Consort Mia clung to King Draven as he bent down and whispered something to Mesmer. Mesmer nodded, pain etched on his face as he lifted his head off the gurney and met my gaze in the crowded room. “Come with me?”

I blinked, surprised, then nodded, following the shifters as they began wheeling him toward the ambulance. The red lights of the sirens illuminated the courtyard, casting the darkness in bright red flashes.

I climbed in and sat next to Mesmer while the EMT driver closed the door after his partner entered the back of the ambulance with me, and then we took off, sirens and lights blazing.

My list of things to do today did not include riding in the back of an ambulance. Then again, I doubted it had been in Mesmer’s plans either. I knew he must be in extreme pain, but he patiently endured the ministrations of the EMT who was fighting to keep him from bleeding out without making a sound.

“Will he be okay?”

The shifter’s hands hesitated, then continued. “I don’t know. Gargoyles are tricky because magic can’t be used to help heal them. Their bodies are immune to it. Normally, he could take an elven potion keyed to his DNA to assist with surgery and recovery, but it won’t work on him.” The shifter looked up at me, tawny eyes blazing with determination. “I can tell you that his vitals are holding steady, and my sense of smell tells me the shots went clean through. They didn’t shatter bone or get lodged in an organ. That doesn’t mean they didn’t pierce one, though.”

I winced, glancing down at Mesmer as his eyes slowly closed. Alarms began pinging in the cramped space, and the shifter cursed, gently snapping an oxygen mask over Mesmer’s nose and mouth. “His O2 is dropping.” He watched the oximeter continue to plummet, then quickly reached for a blood pressure cuff and tried to wrap it around Mesmer’s massive bicep. But it didn’t fit because Mesmer’s arms were too large. The shifter cursed again and fumbled for one that looked large enough to fit around my thighs. He quickly secured it around Mesmer’s bicep and took his readings. “His blood pressure is dropping.” He spun and smashed a button next to a speaker, and I could hear his voice both in the back and in the front of the ambulance say, “Code Blue.”

The ambulance sped up significantly, careening around turns so quickly that I had to hold on for dear life. I wrapped my wings around my body, hoping they wouldn’t get damaged.

We screeched to a stop in front of the hospital, and the EMTs wasted no time getting Mesmer out and through the automatic doors into the ER. Doctors and nurses crowded around us, receiving the hand-off stats from the EMTs before he was wheeled into a private room on the ground floor.

They were about to shut the door in my face, but Mesmer growled at them to let me in, gasping as he did so. Reluctantly, they allowed me in and ushered me toward a corner chair by the window, ordering me to stay out of their way. The room was complete chaos as they worked to stabilize him. They inserted a PICC line into his right arm, then injected several medications, waiting briefly to see if they helped stabilize him. When they didn’t, they injected something else.

Another nurse checked under the dressings the EMT had applied and continued to take vitals, while another worked on one of the machines he was hooked up to, inputting commands.

Then Mesmer’s heart stopped.

I drew my knees to my chest, wrapping my wings around myself for comfort as they tried to resuscitate him. The heart monitor had been beeping like crazy, but now it was screaming one high-pitched note, a flat unbroken line skimming across its surface.

My fists clenched around my knees as I mentally yelled at him to fight for his life.

A doctor injected another medication into the PICC line while another doctor and nurse performed CPR. The rest of the emergency medical staff waited tensely, staring at the heart monitor. A full minute passed. Then a minute and thirty seconds. Finally, a tiny beep sounded from the machine, followed a few seconds later by another. I released my held breath at the same moment the other medical professionals did, tears stinging my eyes.

A kind nurse crouched in front of me, gazing at me with compassionate eyes. “They’re taking him to surgery.”

“Is that good?” I asked, clearing the thickness from my throat.

Her smile was cautious. “It’s what’s necessary. A doctor will keep you informed about his condition. Expect several hours of surgery.”

I nodded, letting my wings unfurl as I stood. “I’ll go wait in the waiting room.” She nodded and hurried away.

I found the waiting room for emergency surgery and sat in one of the tan plastic seats, gazing blankly at the other occupants of the room. After a few minutes, when I felt steadier, I touched the gel tech in my ear. “Leo, Mesmer was shot. I’m staying at the hospital tonight. Can you get a substitute for my class tomorrow?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Leo’s warm voice responded. “I’m sorry, Indie.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, a nurse approached and gently led me to a cleaning station, where she cleaned and disinfected my bloody hands. I hadn’t even thought about it. The blood had crusted over, getting underneath my nails and sinking deep into the lines of my palms. I watched as she efficiently finished cleaning and sanitizing my hands, then returned to the waiting room to sit. And wait. A few minutes later, King Draven, Consort Mia, and ten guards entered the ER area. King Draven immediately moved toward me, his security flanking him, while his wife clutched the vampire king’s hand like a lifeline.

I would have bet a dragon’s hoard that more of his security were around the perimeter of the hospital, and they hadn’t wanted their monarchs to come, but King Draven and Consort Mia had insisted.

“What is his status?” King Draven asked, sitting in the plastic chair next to me and drawing his wife down onto his lap.

“Critical, I think. At least, I’m inferring that because his heart stopped. They had to resuscitate him, and then they took him immediately to surgery.”

Consort Mia began to cry, leaning her head against her husband’s chest. King Draven closed his eyes, kissing the top of her head. A single tear traced down his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

King Draven nodded but kept his eyes closed. I leaned back in my uncomfortable chair and curled my wings around myself again. For maybe the first time in my life, I cursed the fact that I was alone.