Sin & Spirit (Demigod of San Francisco #4)(55)

Desperation clawed at me, reminding me of the improbability of all this working. The first person I’d killed with my power had been a shifter—I’d ripped his soul out, and although I’d put it back, he’d died upon shifting. The prongs hadn’t held up.

But I had to try.

“Is there a way to force him to change?” I asked, one of the prongs crumbling in my magical grasp. “Is there a way to force a change?”

“Yes.” Boman searched through his pockets with amazingly steady hands. He was clearly good in a bind. “Yes! Because of Jack, I always carry one when we go to battle.” He pulled out a little vial as well as a Q-tip. The Q-tip went back in his pocket. He searched another side. Then two more pockets. “I don’t have a syringe. How can I not have a syringe?”

I thought back to moving into this house. “We have one. It should be in Mordecai’s bathroom.”

“Give it.” Kieran reached forward and snatched the vial. He leaned the tip against the ground and used his other hand to smash off the top. Half spilled out, and Boman and I both sucked in a breath. Kieran poured some from the jagged top into the horrible wound at the side of Mordecai’s head. “I don’t think dose matters at this point. Alexis, get ready.”

But I was already working on him, gingerly repairing each prong as it broke over and over again, the body trying to eject the soul. Kieran kept pumping the heart, not giving up.

Tears ran freely down my face. Boman and Thane waited with us, ready to take over for Kieran if need be, I had no doubt.

“Come on, buddy,” Thane said softly. “You can withstand pain better than anyone I have ever met in my life. If you can do that, you can withstand death, too. Come on. Fight it. Heal.”

“Steroids.” Boman hopped up. “Steroids! That’ll give him a boost. I have some back at my house. All he needs is a boost and the shifter will kick in.”

“Adrenaline is what he needs,” Kieran said, holding out his hand. “Give me your knife. My blood can act as adrenaline.”

“He can’t be an alpha one day if he is bound to you,” Thane said.

“He won’t be bound to me. This is a gift, freely given, to save a life I have put in jeopardy. Give me your knife.”

I stared, mute, knowing this was unheard of. Kieran had freely given his blood to each member of his Six, amping up their power and abilities, but they were bound to him. He’d given it to me, too, but he’d also marked me. We shared a soul link. He had been thinking about forever. But Mordecai wasn’t his kid. He wasn’t his responsibility. And if Mordecai lived—when he came around, I corrected myself—he’d one day go off and lead his own life. Lead his own people. Hell, if Kieran went crazy, Mordecai might even use the gifts he’d received from a Demigod against said Demigod. That was how a Demigod would think, anyway. That was how my biological father would have thought. Or Kieran’s father.

But I would not dare voice any of that. Kieran’s blood might be the only thing that could save my ward.

Kieran pricked his finger with the knife as his power ramped up around us. Waves sounded like they were crashing right outside the closet. The tides pulled in the distance. He lowered his finger to Mordecai’s lips.

I focused on the prongs, another crumbling. The Line throbbed in the room, trying to suck Mordie’s soul toward it.

Heart in my throat, sweat and tears running tracks along my cheeks, I struggled to keep his soul in his body, to get him to hang on, as Kieran’s magic reached a fever pitch. It throbbed around us, as though we were in the middle of a squall way out at sea.

Mordecai’s soul continued to pulse, each one sending a wave through the spirit around me. It strengthened.

And then the shifter emerged.

The density of his soul casing changed, followed by the shape of Mordecai’s body.

Somehow, I kept his soul from ripping loose.

Kieran kept pumping his heart, trying to change position with the morphing form. When Mordecai’s face turned into a bloody wolf head, Kieran closed Mordecai’s snout with his hands and breathed into his nose. Still he kept up the CPR, not slowing.

Thane and Boman leaned forward, their eyes on Mordecai, looking hopeful.

Sobs convulsed my body and I closed my eyes, working on those prongs. Slowly, ever so slowly, they stopped ripping away. They stopped breaking and needing to be reattached. Mordecai’s body stitched itself back together.

Eventually, when minutes felt like they’d stretched into years, Kieran straightened up, his back clearly stiff. Thane let out a ragged breath.

“He’ll live,” Boman said, and I bent over as sobs of relief racked my body. I welcomed Kieran’s arms around me, holding me tightly. I welcomed Thane’s hand on my back, and Boman’s on my head, all of them wanting to share in my relief.

“That kid is his own miracle,” I said, wiping my eyes.

“No,” Kieran said. “You are his miracle. You are our miracle.” He fell silent for a while, resting his hand on Mordecai’s fuzzy ribcage, clearly making sure his heart kept beating. When Mordecai’s soul burned brightly once again, and his side rose and fell naturally, Kieran said, “There’s something I need to ask of you, Alexis. Jack needs your help.”





22





Alexis