Page 32 of Shift of Morals (Shifter Lords #2)
Chapter
Twenty-One
I was on the phone with Moira when a loud thump sounded from the back porch. Immediately on alert, I told the vampire I’d call her back.
“Soon,” Moira said. “Or I’ll come over and crash your party.”
“Yes, my party of one. It’s real wild around here.” I made a kissing noise and disconnected.
Hazel was off somewhere in the woods gathering plants to take back to Scotland with her. I’d made my spin on Bolognese and was inhaling it on the couch, a glass of wine next to the bowl I’d set down when Moira called.
Curling my magic around me, I ventured to the back and cracked open the door.
My eyes widened. “Seymour?”
The flytrap thumped his pot several times in agitation. I looked over and saw a prone figure lying on my porch. Sucking in a breath, I hurried outside, Seymour thumping beside me.
I recognized him immediately. “Caelan?”
He was out cold. “Dammit.” I rose and called vines from the earth to assist me, fresh, clean power roaring through me.
They came at my beckoning, wrapping around Caelan’s waist and arms. I directed them inside and had them rise high enough to put Caelan on the couch.
He was covered in blood and gore, his head lolling as I maneuvered him into the best position I could.
Maybe I’d send him the bill for the couch too.
First things first, though. I gently shook his shoulder. “Caelan.”
Nothing. I had hoped all the blood wasn’t all his, but his unresponsiveness sent worry spiraling through my veins. Throwing all decorum to the wind, I sat on my natural wooden floor, allowing my bare skin to touch the burnished mahogany.
When I bought the house, the floors had a polyurethane coating on the floor, the chemical smell long faded, but I felt the wood’s suffering on my first visit.
Once I had the keys in my hand, I removed every bit of that coating and refinished it with Tung oil.
Tung required several more coatings and a lot more effort, but the end result was worth it.
Everything in this house was as natural as I could make it because I needed to live in a space that breathed, but it was also excellent for emergencies.
Like right now. As soon as I touched the wood with my bare calf and connected to its energy, power roared through my blood. I placed a palm on Caelan’s chest and sent a spark of magic through his skin.
“Oh, Caelan,” I breathed, my power cataloguing his injuries. Several broken ribs, multiple lacerations, a few of them too deep, internal bleeding, a damaged spleen, a bruised kidney, and a collapsed lung.
Easy enough to fix, but why hadn’t his body’s natural healing process kicked in? I went deeper, my magic sweeping through his body.
There. My magic recoiled, pulling away from the source of Caelan’s failure to heal.
Poison raged through Caelan’s body, a type I’d never seen before.
It had overtaken almost his entire body.
I forced my magic closer, even though the power tried to rebel.
Whatever this was, it was the antithesis of life.
And it was trying to steal Caelan’s.
If I was going to heal him, I had to purge the poison first. Easier said than done with an unconscious Shifter Lord. An idea struck me. I pulled my magic from his body, opened my eyes, and called the vines back.
“Help me roll him onto his side,” I said quietly. The vines slid under his form and wrapped around his back. I put a hand on his shoulder and one on his waist. “Roll toward me.”
With a creak and a groan of the vinery, we managed to get him onto his side. I shoved pillows behind him to keep him in place and gently turned his head. Once he was as good as I could make him, I settled back onto the floor and put my palms back on his body, settling back in to find the poison.
Instead of attacking it, I moved it, pushing the thicker poison up, up, up until Caelan heaved, expelling the poison from his body.
I grimaced and held my breath, continuing to direct the poison out, not stopping until the last drop was gone.
Once that happened, I settled deeper into my power and began to heal the Shifter Lord’s wounds.