Ruby Fever (Hidden Legacy, #6)(42)

The currents bit at Gunderson like striking snakes. He made no move to evade. There wasn’t enough left of him to recognize the danger. They whipped around him and streaked upward.

A man-shaped sculpture made of grey dust knelt where Gunderson used to be. It collapsed and scattered into nothing.

The darkness turned toward Xavier. He was almost to the end of the parking lot. The currents shot toward him, pursuing him like a living thing, indifferent and hungry.

Xavier jumped onto a motorcycle at the edge of the parking lot.

The darkness was almost to him. The last set of lamps died.

The engine roared, and Xavier tore out of the parking lot at a reckless speed.

The darkness swirled at the edge of the lot, impacting into an invisible boundary, and streaked back to the building, withdrawn as if sucked back in. It churned around Michael and slipped behind him.

Michael looked at me. The power in his stare gripped me. I didn’t know if it was a warning, irritation, or a “you’re welcome.” I just couldn’t move.

He turned around and disappeared back into the building.



I sat in a small private waiting room just inside the ER. Gus lay by my feet. Cornelius had taken a chunk of shrapnel in his back while he was pulling the spike out, and the ER personnel adamantly refused to allow the Doberman into the room with him.

As soon as Michael had left, we pulled the spike out. Cornelius picked up my mother, and we hurried across the street to the Woman’s Hospital. They took Mom first, then Cornelius a few seconds later. I called home from Arabella’s emergency cell phone. The call connected and I gave them a thirty-second summary. That was all I had time for because the medical staff grabbed me and nearly dragged me into the room in the back. I didn’t even get to ask about Alessandro.

At some point during the fight, broken glass had punctured my legs. My pants hung in shreds and my legs had been drenched with blood. A few fractions of an inch deeper or to the side, and I would have bled out in that parking lot. I lay there as they cleaned and irrigated my wounds and prayed that Alessandro had survived.

I couldn’t lose him. I just . . .

I had this fear. It lived deep inside me like a small animal with sharp claws that had burrowed into my soul ever since I saw the recording of Arkan killing Alessandro’s father. I had been afraid before, I’d been anxious before, but this fear was a whole new beast. Whenever Arkan’s name was mentioned, it woke up from its hibernation and scraped me with its sharp hot claws.

Once they removed the glass and patched me up, I left the room in my hospital gown and underwear. I couldn’t stay in there. The walls were closing in. The brief brush of Michael’s magic kept reverberating through me, as if I had been stained by it, and that stain was now slowly fading. I needed to be somewhere in the open, where I could see people, so I’d come back to the private waiting room and found it empty except for Gus.

We’d almost died. Xavier could have killed us. Mom was hurt. Cornelius was hurt. It was a miracle that all three of us survived. A ghostly echo of Michael’s magic swirled around me. I hugged myself, trying to banish it. I was at my limit, and I’d been gripping all my emotions in a tight fist of my will for so long, they were choking me.

Gus rose to his feet and put his head on my thigh. I looked into his brown eyes and almost cried.

Not yet. We weren’t safe yet.

The door swung open, and Alessandro marched into the room. His expression was terrible. He looked like he would murder anyone who got in his way and not even notice.

I hugged Gus. If this was an illusion mage, Gus would know.

Alessandro saw me and stopped.

Our eyes met. There were so many things in his eyes: fear, fury, relief, and love. Not an imposter. Alessandro. My Alessandro.

He cleared the distance between us in half a second, dropped by me, and gripped my shoulders. “How bad are you hurt?”

I put my arms around him and stuck my face into the bend of his neck. His skin felt scalding. I was a Prime and the Head of a House. I should have maintained composure, but I had nothing left.

He hugged me to him, his arms strong, but his hold careful.

“Catalina, talk to me.”

I couldn’t. I didn’t have the words to explain it. I’d thought he’d died. I almost saw my mom die. I had felt everything, Xavier’s volatile power, driven by pure hatred; Gunderson’s deranged glee; Cornelius’ desperate song that made me want to throw myself on the ground and cry until my eyes ran dry; and, worst of all, Michael’s indescribable darkness that still clung to me.

He kissed me, his lips hot on mine, and pulled me closer. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Sono qui con te, I’m here . . .”

I squeezed myself against him and held on.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, love, it’s okay . . .”

My mouth finally worked. “I thought you were dead. I thought Gunderson and Xavier killed you.”

“Not in a million years. I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you.”

The fear clawed me.

“It’s okay. I’m here . . .”

“We need to go home. We all need to go home.”

“We will, angelo mio.”

My mind finally started, like a rusted water mill forced to turn by the current. “Konstantin set us up.”

“I know.”