Eighteen

The main floor of the house appeared empty when Magnus rushed in, but he could hear the murmur of voices from upstairs. Hurrying around the kitchen counter, he headed for the stairs, his feet stumbling to a halt when he spotted the blood splattered on the front door and the pool of it on the entry floor.

Desperate to find Allie and assure himself she was all right, Magnus turned and ran up the steps. The door to Allie’s room was wide open, showing that it was empty. His footsteps slowed a bit as relief coursed through him. She hadn’t been hurt, then. It was someone else, he thought, and then a surly voice barked, “She saved my life, Harper. If she hadn’t screamed out that warning I wouldn’t have my head. We have to get her back.”

“I know, honey. And we will. But you have to let them give you more blood so you’ll heal. You took a terrible wound.” Harper’s voice drifted down the hall to him, sounding as anxious and upset as Magnus had been feeling just moments ago. Turning that way, he headed down the hall to see what he could do to help . . . and get a look at Allie. He’d feel better once he could actually see her and know for sure that she hadn’t been injured.

“No. We have to go look for her. I’m an Enforcer. I have to find her. She saved my life.”

“Honey, I’ll go look for her. I promise. But you have to stay here and let them give you more blood.”

“No. She saved my life. I have to—”

“No, she didn’t, Drina honey,” Mabel said now, obviously trying to help calm her. “She maybe saved you getting a more serious wound, but immortals can survive a beheading if the head is replaced quickly enough. You know that. So just take your blood and leave finding her to the men. You need to—”

“Not always. Sometimes it doesn’t work,” Drina muttered, and then, voice rising to a shout, she told them, “It wouldn’t have worked on me!” and then almost in a whimper, “I need to find her, Harper. She saved my life.”

Magnus reached the doorway as she said that, and stared at Drina with shock. The woman was seated on the side of the bed, hunched over, holding her head and rocking slightly. If he hadn’t recognized her voice, he wouldn’t know who she was by looking at her. Drina was covered with blood from the gaping wound on her head, almost to her waist, and the deep red stain was spreading even as he watched.

“I’ll go look for her. But you have to let them give you more blood, Drina,” Harper said pleadingly. When she shook her head and tried to stand, he grasped her shoulders and held her down, but finally lost it and barked, “Jesus, woman! There’s a gaping wound in your head. Stop being so bloody stubborn and let them give you blood.”