Bruja Born (Brooklyn Brujas #2)(72)

“How far away is your unit?”

He scoffs and pulls out the black device he showed Maks. He flicks the top off and pulls down on the wheel, igniting a small blue flame. I string together a series of curses at him.

“I’m glad our lives depended on your bluffing.” I lean my head back, dizziness taking hold of my sight. “Is letting people get away what the Knights of Lavant do best?”

“Look at me,” he says, voice deep and commanding. “Help is coming. All hunters have tracker implants. They’ll come for me.”

“That seems wrong somehow.” I try to breathe through the new swell of pain. “I need to get back to my family. They can heal me.”

“Don’t close your eyes. Not yet.”

I curse him because it’s the only thing that feels good. “If I have a concussion, it’s because of you.”

He opens the kit and riffles through Band-Aids and gauze pads. “You’re the one who ran off to find your precious zombie boyfriend.”

“You tried to arrest me.” I pull my hand away from his.

“Lula, please.” He takes hold of my wrists softly. “I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”

My heart is racing too fast and I want to throw up and pass out and cry. But he’s the only one here and even if I can’t trust him, I at least know he wants to put an end to this.

“Fine,” I say.

Rhett works quickly, cleaning my wounds with alcohol and peroxide. He bandages up what he can, but I need more. I need my family.

“Are you really a nurse?”

“All the Knights of Lavant receive medical field training.” The muscles on his face relax and a smile accentuates his sharp cheekbones. This close, I can see how deep his brown eyes are, like I’m being swallowed up by their darkness.

“Lula?” His voice is frantic. “Stay awake.”

When I breathe in, I inhale chemical fumes that burn my senses awake. I blink rapidly, willing my eyes to focus on his face. The broken ridge of his nose, the fierce frown of his brow, the raven-black hair that falls over his face when he leans closer to me.

“Lula, Lula, stop,” he tells me. “Help is on the way.”

A hot flash racks my body and nausea hits me in an unrelenting wave. I lean forward and get sick all over his lap. Because I haven’t eaten much the last few days, I throw up bile and the remnants of the black-and-silver-flecked elixir I’ve been drinking.

Rhett audibly groans. Still, he brushes my sweaty hair back and dabs at the corners of my mouth with a cloth.

“Tell them to hurry,” I say.

His hands reach for me, and for the second time today, he catches me.





31


Silver flecks and kraken’s ink,

weary bones and orchids pink.

Shake under a crescent moon to drink.

—The Art of Poison, Angela Santiago




Cold air burns my throat and my nasal passages. I’m on a hospital bed surrounded by bright-white lights that force my eyes shut.

“It takes some adjusting to,” Rhett tells me.

He’s beside me, dressed in that black leather suit he wore in the alley. I reach out and touch the sleeve. This close, I can see the scale pattern that makes it look like dragon skin.

“What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to see what it felt like,” I say. “I’m not sure if you’re a vigilante or a scuba diver.”

“Funny,” Frederik says, appearing as if from thin air. “I see why Marty likes you so much.”

It hurts to laugh, but it’s also satisfying. Maks tried to kill me and would’ve succeeded if it hadn’t been for the hunter who wanted to arrest me. I sit up and take inventory of the various needles hooked into my veins. They’re connected to thin tubes that pump an iridescent liquid into my bloodstream. It makes me feel like an experiment.

I take note of the black hospital gown I’m wearing and, all at once, feel exposed.

“Your mother changed your clothes,” Rhett tells me, like he’s reading my mind. “She’s downstairs with everyone else.”

“Did they heal me?”

Frederik steps forward, his presence comforting for someone so undead. “They couldn’t. They need to save their strength for the Circle.”

I wade through my clouded memories. Before Rhett showed up, we were going to summon the High Circle. I glance at the hunter, but he’s avoiding my stare.

“What is this stuff?” I ask of the liquid.

“It’s what’s healing you,” Frederik says. He disappears in a blur, then reappears holding a familiar flower in a glass vial filled with glowing blue water. “I’ve been working on a serum that can heal supernatural beings.”

“In your spare time?” I take the vial from him.

“I’ve found some time in three hundred years since I took up the endeavor, yes.”

“It was you,” I say, touching the deep-plum petals. The same flowers are in a vase in my house. “You left the bouquet at my doorstep. The flowers were just like this.”

Frederik’s dark eyes look confused. Then he looks at Rhett.

“It wasn’t this flower,” Rhett says, annoyed. Then turns to Frederik and says, “It was the batch you couldn’t use because the soil samples weren’t correct. It was meant to be a gesture of peace before all of this.”