Chapter 25

I quickly cast a knockback spell. I wasn't the best at offensive magic, but I could do it in a pinch. Besides, I wasn't trying to get involved. I was just trying to even the odds a little. One of the four men tumbled backwards and I cast the spell again. The group began to turn their attention towards me. I hastily looked around, but there was no one else around and I doubted Hollis would be coming to help. Maybe Sean would notice I was missing...

"Leave her alone," Leech croaked, trying to stand. One of the men kicked him again and I quickly muttered a fireball spell, even as I backed away. If they tried to physically attack me, my defensive magic wasn't going to last long against four of them.

"Shut up, traitor," one muttered.

"Stop it," I demanded. He just looked so broken, there on the ground. He had to be letting them do this. He was too big and strong just to let this happen without his permission.

"Be quiet, little girl," the one closest to me hissed. "We could do things to you that would give you nightmares for years."

Little girl? Please.

I cut his air off. His friends didn't take the choking too well. They advanced as one. Defying all expectations, Leech stood up and grabbed one of them.

"Leave her alone," he repeated and punched the guy in the jaw.

They started brawling right in Thomas Nast's backyard as I tried to stop the others from both joining in and attacking me.

None of them tried any magic—they must all have been necromancers. And with the absence of dead things, they were pretty much helpless. That didn't mean they weren't capable of good old-fashioned physical violence. When two of them dove at me, I was only able to repel one with the knockback spell. The other grabbed me, kneeing me right in the stomach.

I fell to the ground, but he yanked my up by my hair. The knockback spell failed this time and I screamed as he swung back to hit me. The only way to avoid the full force of the blow was to throw myself at him, clawing and kicking. It threw him off balance enough so his fist didn't hurt as much as it could have. As we fell, a voice rang out:

"What is going on here?"

It was Sean, standing at the opening in the clearing, looking stunned. One look and all four necros jumped up, standing as far away from us as possible. The presence of a Cabal prince had thrown the balance of power decidedly in our favour. Still, there's one in every crowd.

"Necromancer business, sir," the stupid one replied.

"Really?" Sean asked, his tone implying that all business was his business. The stupid one got off lightly. Bryce would have slugged the guy by now. "On my family's property?"

"He was trespassing."

Leech stood up, wincing slightly, and waved hello. "I'm sorry; I'll just go."

Sean looked even more puzzled. "Martin? Is that you?"

"Hey man. Long time no see."

"It's been forever. What are you doing here?" Friendly, joking, as if he couldn't believe someone had voluntarily come to this torture-fest. That was good. If Sean was happy to see Leech there was much less chance that he would abandon us to the wolves.

Leech looked helpless. He couldn't exactly admit he was he guarding the insane, illegitimate sister. I wondered where Savannah was, that she had let this happen. She could have stopped researching for five seconds—that wasn't fair. Savannah was never afraid of a fight. She probably hadn't realized he wasn't guarding the library door anymore.

"Bryce called him to come pick me up," I said as I dusted of my dress. The goon had actually gotten most of the dirt. While I was sure to have a bruise on my stomach, I was alright otherwise. He, on the other hand, was going to have scratch marks on his face for days. And that was ignoring all the burn marks on everybody else. "I told him I wanted to go, and he promised Leech would bring me home."

If Sean was wondering when this imaginary conversation had taken place, he didn't ask. Maybe he could imagine Bryce not telling him something like that, or he was just glad he had a good reason for yelling at the necros. He ignored the implausibility and addressed the four men.

"That will be all."

And just like that, they disappeared into the night. The joys of being a Nast.

I rushed over to Leech, as he swayed dangerously in the wind. He was a mess—and my magic wouldn't help if I couldn't diagnose a bruise from a concussion. The weight he put on me almost knocked me over, but I managed to stay up right with only a few staggered steps.

Sean walked up to Leech. "Why—?"

"They have to. I'm a disgrace," Leech responded. "I should go. I need to get to my car."

"You can't drive like that," Sean pointed out.

"Gillian can take me. She can't got back in there looking like that anyway."

"Thanks," I muttered even as I knew he was right. It would create too much of a scandal if it looked like Thomas Nast had brutalized a harmless little witch, because that was who everyone would think did this to me. Damn. That hair had cost over a hundred bucks. "We should have a doctor look at you first."

"It's just superficial. You should be able to patch me up fine."

"I won't be too sure about that." My knowledge of healing was extensive, but I couldn't fix what I didn't know to be broken. And healing spells took too much out of you to just guess.

But no one bothered to listen to me. Sean went to Leech's other side and the three of us began exiting the garden, Leech limping along between us. Leech kept Sean distracted by asking about his life, all sorts of new projects and hobbies that Bryce must have told him about. It kept Sean from asking the obvious questions. It wasn't until we reached the front and Sean had sent a valet for the car that he asked:

"What was that about?"

"Let it go, man," Leech replied. "I'm not worth it."

"Martin, don't tell me what to worry about."

Leech sighed and I had to work very hard to make sure he didn't get blood on my dress. It was the nicest piece of clothing I was every going to own and I damn sure wanted to be able to wear it again. "Just don't tell your brother."

"He's going to figure it out. And he's really never going to forgive Hollis at this rate. I'll tell him you've gone," Sean told me and I smiled my thanks. We settled Leech in the back seat of his car and Sean handed me the keys. "Drive safely. It was a pleasure to meet you. Sorry about letting you get hurt."

I rubbed my head, where my skull still burned. "Yeah, that wasn't so much fun."

"If it makes you feel better, my brother's going to kill me when he finds out."

"If your grandfather left him alive."

Sean winced—he knew I was right—then waved goodbye. The second he was gone I got into the car, slammed the door shut and demanded: "Where's Savannah? And why the hell did you let her talk you into this?"

Turning the keys, I realized I couldn't feel the pedals. It took me a while to move the seat forward—meanwhile Leech attempted to explain.

"She went home a few minutes ago. We came in separate cars. I was walking towards mine when Mariah saw me. She didn't use to mind me so much, but she owes Hollis and so...she had to. It's not a big deal."

"That doesn't explain why you showed up in the first place."

Leech shrugged, wincing at the pain. "I miss these things. She's never been and she wanted to see and I...I wanted to see everyone again. Even if I couldn't say hello. That's how we got in, you know. Not everyone there hates me."

"Honestly, how could anyone hate you?"

"It's complicated Gillian."

"You keep saying that. Maybe you should try explaining. I'm not as dumb as Bryce keeps saying. If you use tiny words I might be able to understand."

He sighed. But he was injured and I was the one taking care of him. So he told me.

His mother had been a powerful necromancer. Not ambitious, but powerful and proud of what she could do. Her name was Fidelia and she had been beautiful, he said. Always smiling and shouting after him to do his chores. She had talents few necromancers had, secrets handed down through her family, and the Cabal hadn't hesitated in using that. Of course not—she wasn't a woman, she was a tool.

She was thirty-six when the doctors declared her officially unhinged. Leech had been fourteen and was already showing his mother's talents. And when she died two months later—his father was the first to find her, cut her down himself and the old man went from a hard-hearted bastard to a complete and utter one in that time—Leech tried to kill himself.

"Bryce obviously didn't like that plan. So he came up with a better one."

Making deals with Lucifer didn't exactly seem like the brightest of ideas, but it had worked. Lucifer suppressed the glow that marked Leech as a necromancer, which kept the ghosts away. He could still talk to the dead, but only when they explicitly knew they could talk to him. He couldn't use any of his other powers, like creating zombies or opening portals. If he did that, Lucifer would break his part of the deal. And that couldn't be allowed to happen, not after the things Leech and Bryce had done to bring the deal about.

I shivered, even as I tried not to understand. How far would I go to stay sane? I really hoped I never had to make that choice.

I had gotten Leech into a warm bath and was in the kitchen mixing up some herbs when the front door slammed open. I didn't need to hear my name shouted down the hall to know it was Bryce. Assassins usually have better manners.

"In the kitchen," I called out, finished mixing up the poultice. It should help keep the bruising down—I was especially worried about the one's on Leech's ribs. Could he be bleeding internally? I knew that was bad. I just didn't know how you were supposed to check. What good was all my magic if I didn't even know how to apply it?

"You were supposed to stay with Sean," Bryce snapped as he entered the kitchen.

I ignored that. He was still pristinely dressed while I had gotten attacked by a man twice my size. He could cry me a river.

"You left me. And while you were off smoking cigars with your grandfather and ruining people's lives, the necromancers were trying to beat your best friend to death."

He stared at me for a long while, blue eyes wide and uncomprehending. "I think Sean may have left something out."

So I told him. I knew I shouldn't, because he just kept turning a deeper shade of red as I spoke, but there was no way I could hide what had happened. I didn't want to. If he knew, he would fix it. And even if I suspected I was missing things, I knew there was something to fix.

"Where is he?" Bryce demanded.

"In the bathroom. I thought getting rid of the dirt—Bryce!" I raced after him as he tore down the hall. I had left the bathroom door unlocked and it took him no time at all to throw open the door.

Leech was lying back in the tub, almost relaxed, a state that was immediately disrupted by his friend's arrival. Bryce took one look at the battered man and spun right around, crashing into me as I stood in the doorway.

"Man, calm down," Leech said sitting up. He flinched, body rejecting the sudden movement.

"Calm down? Calm down?" Bryce spun around and stalked forward, anger steadily rising. "This is the last straw. I'm going to fucking kill him."

"He didn't do anything. Hell, he told Gillian to come find me."

"Which almost ended up with her black and blue. Hollis sure does make great fucking plans."

"He only did it because Mariah saw me. You know he can't back down in front of her—she'll have his job so fast—"

"Not that I like the bitch, but I fail to see how that would be a bad thing. Man, you don't do this. Not to your own. It's just not right."

Seeing Bryce Nast try plead the moral high ground was surprisingly more effective than it should have been. Business was clearly wasted on him—he should have been a politician. Demanding faith in something he had no faith in himself was inspiring.

"Dude, you're wrong. And I really don't want to have this conversation naked, so do you mind?"

Leech looked pointedly under the water, where he was trying to cover himself. Bryce turned to glare at me, like this was somehow all my fault. "I'm going to kill him," he called over his shoulder as he pulled me from the room.

I shut the door as Bryce slammed his fist into the closest wall. The noise made me jump a little. He didn't even notice, just flexed his fingers to make sure they weren't broken and then doing it again. I interrupted him when the swearing started.

"This isn't helping," I pointed out. "You need to calm down. I'm already out of my depth here—there's no way I can treat a burst blood vessel."

Bryce struggled for the words: "He just keeps—why would?—how can he do something like that?"

"Well, he did. And there's nothing you can do, I'm assuming, or you wouldn't still be hear blustering."

"You're right. I'd be..." he trailed off, smile appearing as he chuckled darkly.

I shivered even as stirred the bowl of mush still in my hand. I wanted the poultice done as soon as possible. When Bryce still seemed furious, I changed the subject. "So when's your grandfather going to send me my check in the mail?"

He leaned against the wall and slowly banged his head backwards a couple of times. Eyes closed, he might even have been praying. I reached a hand out tentatively. "Bryce?"

Slowly he opened the eye closest to me. It was startling to see just how tired he looked. When he spoke, his voice was lifeless. "He was not impressed. Worse, the occasion of his eighty-fifth birthday inspired him...he wants to punish me. So next Monday—he was kind enough to wait until my vacation officially ends—he's going to name Sean heir."

"He was always going to do that."

"Yeah, but now I really can't quit. Sean can't run the Cabal by himself. He needs someone to take care of the ugly side of things for him—and someone he can name heir eventually. I'll be...stuck."

"I'm sorry." I was. I knew that feeling all too well to wish it on other people, even if they were Nasts.

"Can we not talk about this, Gillian?" he asked me. He begged me.

"You're stronger than I am. Help Leech out of the tub, dry him off and get him into his bedroom. It'll be better if I put the poultice on in there."

He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. Because having him hover over Leech as I applied the poultice just aggravated the bigger man, I ordered Bryce to take a shower, to get him out our hair and to hopefully cool off. The big man looked at me gratefully when Bryce left.

"This doesn't mean I don't think he's partially right," I said. "You're allowed to be mad about what they did to you."

"I don't want to be mad. I want...you know, if this had happened to Bryce he would already not care. But he won't ever forget that Hollis did this to me. And he won't let me forget. I want to forget. I don't want to be useless."

"You're not. Savannah wouldn't hang around you if you were useless. Hell, neither would I."

"She calls me the useless human, you know."

"She stopped when she realized it wasn't true." I could guarantee it.

"How did you know?"

"Rest," I ordered. I muttered a calming spell and he fell asleep in moments. I quietly slipped out of the room. Bryce took forever to come out of the shower, so I used the time to try and call Savannah. I only got her voicemail. As usual. I don't know why she bothered to own a cellphone if she never actually picked up. But since I didn't have to talk to her, I really didn't have anything much to do but make myself a little more comfortable.

The six-inch heels left my feet red and tender and close to bleeding, but I could still wiggle my toes, so I figured it was okay. I was stretching out my ankles, sitting on his bed, when Bryce came back out of the shower.

He was still wearing his suit pants, but his white shirt was plastered to wet skin and his jacket and tie were over his arm. Bryce seemed surprised to see me there.

"Massage my feet?" I asked, lifting one foot off the mattress.

"Why are you in here, Gillian?"

"Why do you think?"

"This is a bad idea."

"I thought it was a good idea in the library. Why can't it be a good idea here?" I may have pouted just a little bit, for good measure. He didn't appear convinced so I stood up and wandered over until his damp shirt was just brushing against my breasts.

"Because there, in my grandfather's house, we had to be careful. We had to keep things contained because there was always the chance that someone would come looking for us. Here...neither one of us has much self-control. The only way this ends is with me inside you."

He shouldn't have said that. Because suddenly I really didn't care that this was a bad idea. "That's sort of the idea, silly."

"You really want to do this, Gillian? Fine. Just remember to name the kid after my grandfather, won't you?"

"Alba—"

"I trust Alba more than I trust anyone in that company and I wouldn't trust her to look both ways for me before I crossed the street. If there's any chance that you being pregnant means I die, then we're just not having sex. Ever. Got it?"

"Fine. Then can I have a ride home, please?"

"You really want to do that to Grant? It's late, Gillian. There is a couch with your name on it."

I could have kept arguing, I suppose, but he had found my weakness easily enough. I wasn't about to force Grant to drive me across the city just because I didn't want to sleep on a couch.

"Could I at least have something to wear? The dress is the only thing I have with me."

He dropped his jacket and tie in a heap on the floor, pointedly ignoring my disapproving look. Over to the dresser he went, throwing open drawers, flipping through piles of t-shirts. "Sorry I don't have a Pussycat Doll shirt."

"Shut up." I caught the shirt he threw at me anyway. The Eagles. I could live with that. There was just one last favour to ask him. "Could you help me with the zipper? Please?"

"Tease."

"Prude."

But he came over, stopping somewhere behind me. I could feel the heat emanating from him and the wet shirt sometimes brushed against my arm causing me to shiver. Warm hands found the top of my zipper. He unhooked the top and I found myself arching a little.

His fingers brushed against my bare back and my eyes fluttered closed as I stayed perfectly still, as if I could frighten him away. I released a shaky breath and tried to ignore the goosebumps appearing on my skin. Or how soft his fingers felt as they brushed the skin on my back. Or how I could feel his breath on my neck as he spoke.

"Thank you for coming tonight."

"You're welcome," I said as I pulled away. I began tugging the straps of my dress over my shoulders, down my arms.

"What are you doing?"

But he didn't sound angry. I found myself blushing but informed him, "I need to hang the dress up in your closet."

I slipped his shirt over my head. Just like I thought. It ended mid-thigh. I tugged my dress down underneath the shirt and then stepped out of it. Picking it up, I offered it to Bryce, almost as proof, and he wordlessly pointed to the closet.

When I turned around it was to find him sitting on the bed, almost the exactly the same position that he had been the other time I had come into his bedroom uninvited. Only this time he was already topless. Where the hell had his shirt gone? Who cared if it was wet? He needed to keep it on. Maybe I should take a shower.

"I have to do something with the jewellery."

"Throw it on the desk. This house has more security on it than most banks. You want me to buy you a car to match? Let's do that tomorrow. I have a sudden desire to spend money."

"Wow. Passive-aggressive looks terrible on you," I said as took off the jewellery and he flipped through the different stations.

"Shut up. Dracula 3000 is on if you want," he offered as he passed over a pillow. I placed it against his thighs and then rested my head on it. Tugging his shirt a little lower, I asked, "How can you watch this crap?"

"Crap? This is a quality cinematic experience."

"I can't believe we're spending our last night together watching this."

"You're not going to write me?" Bryce smirked as I hit him in the arm. "Who knows? Maybe you can come with my sister to Sean's coronation. Give everyone there heart attacks so I don't have to deal with them all."

"I cannot see me ever being that crazy." I forced myself not to fidget, to ignore the easy intimacy that had somehow begun to settle over us. "Hey, Bryce? You know that spell you used at the house and the warehouse? The one that made the buildings shake? You want to teach me how to do it?"

"I'm tired, Gillian. You're tired."

"We can't just sit here. Come on, Bryce," I begged, sitting up, "Don't you want to teach me something new?"

He was smirking as he shook his head.

"You just have to be taking advantage of me somehow, don't you?"

"Well...yeah. Teach me? Please?"

Bryce chuckled. "Sean wouldn't believe this. He thought no one out there would ever be more full of shit than I am."

"Shut up." Sitting up, I glared. "Are you going to do it?"

With a brisk nod, he began to recite slowly, stopping so I could repeat after him. We worked on the spell for a little while, but I was tired and we were not quite done before I fell asleep.

I couldn't make out much in the darkness. But I could feel his hands on my arms—smooth and cold, I tried to jerk away but found I couldn't. Why the fuck couldn't I see anything? Struggling, I found myself unable to move, tied up like I was some kind of prisoner. Only it was much less cool than it was in the movies.

Why was I always getting kidnapped?

"We're very sorry," he said, hands checking the bindings. "But this is the only way."

"Fuck you."

No one tied me up and got away with it.

The pain hit me then. I didn't know what the hell it was, only that it fucking hurt. I would have tried not to scream, but by the time I thought of it, it was over. He had stopped. For now.

"Please understand this is the way it has to be. You can scream if you want. Whatever makes it more bearable."

"Go to hell."

Fuck. More pain, sparks in the darkness, barely enough to illuminate his arm. Some sort of cattle prod, I guessed, trying to focus on anything but the feel of it. That son of a bitch was using a cattle prod on my stomach. I tried to think about that, to keep calm, but it wasn't working. Tears began to leak out. Bastard. I was going to kill him. No one did this to Savannah Levine—

"Fuck! I think you broke my nose."

I sat upright in bed to find Bryce crouched down beside me, gingerly holding his nose. The lights were on and—was I under a sheet?—Grant was standing by the closed door looking unsure if he should be there or not.

"Sorry," I muttered, sitting up, trying to get my bearings. "Do you want me to take a look?"

"It's fine," he announced. Typical—he would only complain until you cared. "Well, since you're not being attacked, I think we should be alright here, Grant."

"Yes, sir," Grant agreed. But he looked worried.

I glanced over at Bryce and noticed he was wearing sweat pants. When had that happened?

"What the hell was that?" Bryce snapped. "You sounded like a drowning banshee."

He sat down on the bed and I shifted over further, so that we could both sit with our backs against the wall. It was the reverse of our normal positions, since it seemed like I was in the bed. His skin was cool to the touch—the whiff of smoke that I picked up told me what he had been doing, most likely outside.

"I don't usually have nightmares," I said to say something.

Bryce regarded me carefully. "You didn't move at all. You just lay there curled up and screaming. You don't ever move when you sleep."

"Every time you move in your sleep you make noise. When you share a room," I explained, "Making noise is a bad thing. It's just a habit." I got my own room the day my sister ran away—I forgot to celebrate.

"What were you dreaming about?"

Before I could answer, the door started shaking. The pounding on the door scared me and I jumped as I heard Leech yell: "Open up this second, Bryce! Now."

Bryce actually hurried off the bed to open the door. It was open for a split second and then Bryce was on the other side and I could only hear snippets as they shouted...no fucking S&M in my house...bad dream...bullshit...swear...Savannah...

It hit me right in the stomach. Because what if it hadn't just been a dream? I didn't waste any more time. Kicking off the sheet, I hurried to the door. Both men shut up when I opened it, which let me say, "Could one of you get my phone? It's in the bag by the door."

Leech nodded and went to get it, while Bryce looked down and muttered, "I'll get you some pants."

I tired dialling Savannah's cell again, but that didn't work. Then I tried my home phone and hers, both in L.A. and Portland. There was no answer anywhere. She could have just been really tired, or maybe she had decided to go someplace else afterwards. Dreaming something didn't make it true.

Leech was standing right outside the door, waiting, panicking. I demanded, "Are you sure she left?"

"No. I brought her to the garage, but then Mariah saw me. She was twenty feet from her car, but I don't—I thought she got in."

"Bryce—"

He handed me pair of shorts. "Get dressed and we'll go check out your house. Give me your phone."

He hit redial as I tried to put on the shorts—thank goodness for drawstrings. I tried not to think about how I had been screaming loudly enough for them to hear me from outside...we were being ridiculous. Savannah was probably at my house, lying in bed and wondering when the damn phone would stop ringing. But just in case she wasn't... well that was what we going to make sure of.