The Trouble with Demons (Raine Benares #3)

The Trouble with Demons (Raine Benares #3) Page 32

I was incredulous. “Grad students? You’ve got to be kidding?”

“I wish I was.”

“Talk about a final exam,” I muttered.

“I didn’t like the idea, but Sora reminded me that’s the kind of job her grad students will soon be doing out in the real world. She assured me that they’re trained and qualified for it, and she’d rather they had their first on-the-job experience with plenty of backup.”

A college student facing down a hungry Volghul in the dark. Shit.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Mychael’s silence was all the answer I needed.

“Wait. Let me guess. I’ve helped enough already.”

“Raine, the demons want to open the Saghred, and for the foreseeable future, you and the Saghred are one and the same.”

Gulp. “I see your point.”

“I’m glad.” Then he grinned slowly, like a little boy with a secret. “And I managed to get you back into the citadel without tossing you over my shoulder.”

My mouth dropped open, then I drew breath to let him have it. “You—”

“It’s too late for you to leave tonight, Raine. The streets to the harbor aren’t safe.”

I just glared at him. He was right and I knew it; and worst of all, so did he. “So if Piaras hadn’t gotten into a fight with those guards, what were you planning on doing when we left Sirens?”

His blue eyes narrowed. “Whatever I had to. After what happened in Sirens with the demon queen, you wouldn’t be safe on the Fortune. If you’d stayed there, you would have been putting Phaelan and his crew in the worst kind of danger. I don’t know if you’re completely safe here, but it’s the best I can do.”

I didn’t like it, but I had to agree with it. Truth was I was too tired to do otherwise. “Thank you,” I said simply.

“My job and my pleasure.”

The silence stretched until I felt a twitch coming on. There was something I wanted to ask Mychael for, but awkward didn’t even begin to describe how it was going to feel asking him for it.

“You’re exhausted, right?” I asked.

He regarded me warily. “I’m still on my feet.”

“Solidly on your feet or about to collapse on your feet?”

“I’m not going down for the count anytime soon,” he assured me with a playful glint in his eyes. “What do you want?”

Just spit it out, Raine.

“The other week after I did that link with those kidnapped spellsingers to find out where they were being held—”

“And you were taken inside the Saghred by Nukpana, and you kept an entire stage full of mages from collapsing—all in the same day. How could I forget?” His eyes went from playful to gentle. “Do you have another headache you need for me to heal?”

“Actually, my head’s the only part of me that doesn’t hurt.”

“I can take care of it.” He took a step toward me.

I took a step back. “See, here’s the problem. I really want you to. I ache and I’m so tired I’m about to drop where I stand, but what happened this morning might make the hands-on part of—”

“It won’t be a problem,” he said with quiet confidence.

“It won’t?”

“When I was this close to you this morning, I could feel the pull of your magic. I’m not feeling that now.”

“Probably because I’m so damned tired.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think so.” He extended his hand to me. “There’s only one way to find out.”

I looked down at his hand and then up at him. “Touching is necessary for healing, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

I swallowed hard and extended my hand until it almost touched Mychael’s. He quickly stepped forward and enfolded my hand in his before I could pull away.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. The touch of his hand was a warm and gentle pressure. No fire, no surging magic, no urges. Well, maybe one or two urges, but magic didn’t have a thing to do with those.

I blew out a couple of quick breaths. “Okay, that went well.” I still expected the fire, but it still didn’t happen. “Uh . . . since all of me hurts, what do you have to touch to make it not hurt?”

“I could work with just your hand, but it would be more effective with full-body contact.”

My eyes must have gone as big as saucers.

“A hug would work nicely.” He managed, just barely, not to smile.

Yes, it would. It’d also take care of one of those urges. Still, I felt a little flutter of panic. “Do you think it’s safe?” I was talking really fast. “I mean, I could really use a hug, since I was five times close to death and all that, but what if you—”

In an instant, I was in his arms with my face smushed against his chest.

“And it helps if the patient doesn’t talk.”

I felt his words rumble deep in his chest against my ear. I turned my head and managed to look up at him; he looked down at me.

“Do you know how distracting you are?” he asked me.

“I wouldn’t want you to be distracted.”

“It’s too late for that,” he said quietly.

I meant talking. I don’t think he did.

Mychael pulled me even closer and a slow warmth radiated from his entire body that was pressed full length against mine. A shiver ran through me all the way down to my toes as that warmth flowed through me as if my skin were no barrier.

My breath caught in my throat. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Possibly not,” he murmured against my hair. “But what I’m feeling tells me that you need it.” Mychael’s voice had dropped into that lower, velvety register, softer and more soothing than the barest whisper—his spellsinger’s voice. I felt him smile. “And if your tomorrow’s anything like your today, you’ll need it to survive.”

I nodded against his chest. “Survival is good.”

“I thought you’d see it my way.” He loosened his hold just enough to place his hands carefully on the small of my back. Then with agonizing slowness, he kneaded his way up the length of my back, past my shoulders to my neck, leaving a trail of tingling heat in his wake.

Oh. Yes.

I was intensely aware of the magic flowing out of Mychael into me, and suddenly I saw myself lying on a powdery white sand beach, water that was the tropical sea blue of Mychael’s eyes gently lapping against and over my body, the golden sun overhead warming my bare skin. Something inside me that I’d never known was there took what Mychael gave me and spun it into threads of flickering golden light, fed by that warm seawater and sunlight, and sent it back into him. I felt his breath catch in surprise as it flared to life and spread through his body. We stood pressed together as wave after wave of pulsing light warmed, healed, wrapped around us, joining us together. It intensified, faded, then it was gone. Mychael’s breathing was ragged as he gazed down at me in wonder.

It was what had happened this morning and more, much more.

And the Saghred had absolutely nothing to do with it.

“Ever read about that in any of your magic books?” I managed.

“Never had the pleasure.” Mychael’s voice was a husky whisper. “I would have remembered if I had.”

There was a quiet knock at the door. “Sir? Ma’am?”

Vegard.

I laughed quietly. “Vegard can knock. Who knew?”

“He learned his lesson from last time.” I felt Mychael’s warm breath against my temple. “Though his timing needs work.”

Last time. I’d fallen asleep in the bathtub, and Sarad Nukpana had invaded my dreams. Mychael sensed something was wrong and knocked on my door. When I didn’t answer, he essentially disintegrated the door. Vegard had seen me moments later in a towel. Mychael had gotten there first; he’d seen me naked.

Vegard’s combination grimace and apologetic smile told us he knew what he’d interrupted. “The healer is finished with Piaras, sir.”

“Show him in.”

Vegard did and closed the door behind him.

Piaras’s posture was ramrod straight, his chin up, ready to face the consequences of his actions, to accept the punishment for what he did. But most of all he was scared to death and determined not to show it.

“How much trouble am I in?” Piaras was also ready to get it over with.

“You’re not in trouble,” Mychael told him. “Not from me or the archmagus. But you are in danger.”

“Inquisitor Balmorlan.” Piaras had to force his voice to say the words.

“Him, too,” I said. “But mainly Sarad Nukpana.”

Piaras was confused. “But he’s—”

“Yeah, inside the Saghred,” I finished. “Problem is the containment spells around the Saghred are gone.”

Piaras looked at Mychael in disbelief. “They failed?”

“Eaten away from inside over the past few days,” Mychael said. “And our best spellweavers haven’t been able to repair them.”

“Meaning that there’s nothing between me and the souls inside the Saghred,” I told Piaras. “I’ve spoken with my father—and with Sarad Nukpana. Through dreams at first, then in a more direct way, like a voice in my head.”

“Piaras, have you had any dreams about Sarad Nukpana?” Mychael asked quietly.

Piaras swallowed hard, and the pulse throbbed in his throat. That told me all I never wanted to know. Sarad Nukpana was a master of lies, but he hadn’t lied to me about Piaras. The goblin had been inside Piaras’s head while he slept and influenced him while he was awake. He’d taken the first steps to carrying out his threat. He’d made his move, now he expected me to make mine. Get the Scythe of Nen, get him out of the Saghred. If I refused, Piaras’s fate—and his blood—would be on my hands.