Knowledge Hurts E-Book

D.S. Williams

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

In book three of the Nememiah Chronicles series, Charlotte Duncan begins to master her gifts - but when she confronts her nemesis, will she be strong enough to face him?

After managing to rescue her friends, Charlotte finds herself in love with two very different men - vampire Lucas Tine and werewolf Conal Tremaine. As she struggles with her emotions, a dangerous group of supernaturals reveal sinister plans - leaving Charlotte no time to deal with the repercussions of her choices.

An engaging paranormal romance, Knowledge Hurts follows Charlotte's attempts to prevent the Drâghici Consiliului from achieving their goal of control over all supernatural creatures. Pursued as the object of half-angel half-vampire Archangelo's obsession, Charlotte must face deadly enemies - but will she manage to save the people she loves?

Leseprobe

Knowledge Hurts

The Nememiah Chronicles Book III

D.S. Williams

Copyright (C) 2015 D.S. Williams

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Chapter 1: Confusion

I rolled out of the portal, falling heavily to the floor and my arm took the brunt of a rough landing. Pulling myself onto my knees, I fought the wave of nausea which beset me from travelling through the portal - further complicated by dizziness from donating blood to the Tines.

It took a few seconds to gather my senses and I caught sight of Epi waving his hand across the closing portal. “No!” Lurching unsteadily to my feet, I watched in dismay as the pentagram disappeared from the wall. “Damn it, Epi! You've got to open it again, I've got to go back…” I swayed shakily and Conal caught me, lifting me effortlessly into his arms.

“Easy, Sugar. You're not going anywhere.”

“You don't understand, he's not dead! I saw him as I stepped through the portal! That thing, it's still alive!” I yelled heatedly, frustrated at my inability to make them understand.

Epi was staring at me as though I'd lost my mind and Conal was frowning as he held me firmly against him.

“Put me down, will you? I'm fine.” I wriggled until Conal lowered me onto the ground, his hand against my elbow to keep me steady. I inhaled sharply, calming enough to make some sense. “Archangelo - the other Nememiah's Child. I thought I'd killed him - but he's not dead.”

“I think you're hallucinating, Lottie. He was dead when we left. You threw the Philaris at him, he copped it straight in the chest,” Ralph stated uncertainly.

“I thought he was dead, but he wasn't. He must have been faking, pretending to be dead or he was unconscious the whole time we were preparing to come back. I saw him watching me when I went through the portal,” I explained bleakly.

Alarm was evident in Epi's wizened features. “Either way, there is nothing we can do about it now. You most certainly cannot go back through the portal again. You're bleeding,” he was scrutinizing my arm where the gash had split open, “and you look dreadful.”

Wrinkling my nose, I twisted my arm to study the wound. “Guess I hit hard on the way back.”

“That should not have made a difference, child. The blood sigil should have sealed it and healed it instantaneously,” Epi announced emphatically. He eyed me with open suspicion. “Why do you look so pale?”

“Gee, maybe because she supplemented the vamps' diet with some blood of her own?” Conal announced, intense sarcasm in his tone.

“You did what?” Epi apparently couldn't decide whether he was astonished or furious and decided on a combination of both. “That was extremely foolish, child. Unlike your vampire friends here, your blood needs are one of a kind. I'm fresh out of Angel blood to give you.”

“That's okay - I'll survive.” Glancing around for the first time since returning, I discovered the church had been altered yet again. The bookshelves and shabby furniture had vanished and beds which appeared to have been liberated from a hospital were lined up in two neat rows. The Tines were being settled into the beds by werewolves and shape shifters, while Nonny flitted between them, handing out bottles of blood. “I like what you've done to the place,” I stated drily.

“Lottie - for Christ's sake, can you never stay out of trouble?” The sound of Jerome's thundering voice startled me and I turned to discover him limping across the room.

“What are you doing here?” I wrapped him in a hug, delighted to see my favorite surly doctor.

Jerome returned the hug and when he spoke, his voice was brusque. “Nick requested my presence and I flew down. He thought I could be of assistance when you returned. Plus,” he threw Nick a dirty look, “I've been none too pleased with his behavior towards you recently.”

“It's good to have you here.” Looking around the room, it was evident that we needed him. We needed all the help we could get.

Lucas caught my eye and smiled, making my heart hammer a little harder. Butterflies twirled in my tummy as I returned his gaze, my feelings for him just as intense now as they had been five months ago. I managed a weak smile before my attention was captured by Katie. She'd been lying with William, held in his arms, but she'd managed to wriggle out of his hold and ran towards me. I dropped to one knee as she threw herself at me, squeezing me forcefully against her small body. “Hey, sweetie.”

“You brought William an' Gwynn back!” she announced with a happy grin. “You brought ev'body back!”

“I told you I would,” I replied with an affectionate smile.

She pulled away to study my face, the expression on her little face serious. “They is hurt.”

I bit my lip anxiously, worried about how this tiny little girl would cope with what she was seeing. I'd never dreamed they would be so badly injured, so hideously disfigured when we rescued them.

Any worry was quickly extinguished when Katie continued on without taking time to breathe, her voice filled with confidence. “You can fix them, you is special. An angel can fix them, no problem.” Wrinkling her nose daintily, she sniffed the air around me. “You smell stinky, Lottie.”

I couldn't help the chuckle which erupted. “Yeah, it is pretty stinky, isn't it?” A hellish mix of demon blood, dirt and sweat plastered my skin and clothes. “You think I should take a shower?”

Katie nodded, her pixie-like face solemn. “I think so.”

“I promise I'll go soon.”

“Shower first, Charlotte. You're covered in blood and that arm needs another healing sigil,” Conal insisted as I straightened up.

“They need healing sigils,” I replied obstinately. There were ten beds in the room, five down each side and every single one held a vampire desperately in need of help. Nick and Ralph were gently lowering Rowena onto a bed, keeping their eyes respectfully averted and handling her with the utmost care. Nick carefully drew a sheet up over her still form before he brushed a tender kiss against her forehead. They were all hurting, each and every one of them and I couldn't desert them now.

“They need blood more than anything,” Jerome announced, “and we've got that under control.” He eyed me with unabashed interest. “What the hell are healing sigils?”

“Hasn't Epi brought you up to speed yet?” I questioned, distracted by the hum of activity around us.

“He's given me a brief rundown on the history of Nememiah's children, but I only got in an hour or two ago. I hit the ground running.”

“You and me both, Doc.”

Conal rubbed my arm softly. “The healing sigils can come later, Sugar. Right now they need blood and lots of it.”

“It's the only thing we can do for them, unless these healing sigils will have an effect on vampires,” Jerome said, eyeing his patients with concern. “These injuries…” his voice trailed off and he visibly forced himself to relax, showing a level of professionalism I admired. “They're going to take some healing.”

“Trust me, Jerome,” Nick said, coming across to join us. “The healing sigils will have an effect. Be prepared to have your mind blown.”

“Why am I here, then?” Jerome questioned tartly, raising one bushy grey eyebrow.

“Because they'll need other help,” Nick said quietly. “This kind of torture… there are injuries that aren't just physical and you know it. We're gonna need your expertise.” Nick inclined his head towards me. “Go have a shower, Lottie, we can hold down the fort for now.”

I sought out Epi, found him rushing across the room with a bowl of water and some towels and he rolled his eyes. “The new shower facilities are through the door on the right. Anyone would think I was running a hotel here.”

“Terrific,” I responded drily. “I'll order room service when I've washed up. Don't suppose you could rustle me up some clean clothes?”

“I keep telling you, Charlotte,” Epi called towards my retreating back. “I'm not some two bit magician!”

Waving my hand in recognition, I stomped tiredly through the door which had magically appeared since our earlier departure. True to his word, Epi had created a large bathroom, with a row of showers against one wall and toilet cubicles on the other. The walls were tiled in pale blue, the floor covered in smaller squares of white and blue. A pile of white towels lay on a bench near the doorway. Glancing into one of the shower stalls, I was ecstatic to discover he'd even supplied shower gel and shampoo. I vaguely considered what Epi usually did for a shower and whether these alterations to the church showed on the outside of the building. Might check that out later. I stripped off my destroyed clothes and released my hair from the tight braid. Turning on the faucets, I stood under the pulsating jets of hot water and washed away the filth, easing the pain in my aching muscles. I scrubbed until I felt clean again, then wallowed under the hot water for a few minutes more. Wrapping up in a large white towel, I stepped from the stall and grinned at the clean clothes laid neatly on top of the bench. “Love you, Epi.”

I dressed in fresh underwear, jeans and a pink tank top, all of which seemed to have been spirited directly from my wardrobe at Conal's apartment. I retrieved the Hjördis and Katchet from my ruined camouflage pants, kicking them to one side in disgust. Turning on the faucet, I ran water over the blade to remove the demon blood, slipping it into my pocket along with the Hjördis.

Studying myself in the mirror, the first trickle of nerves slithered down my spine in a cold shiver. It had been five long months since I'd seen Lucas and a fierce dose of anxiety gripped me. What if he wasn't interested now? What if he found the changes Conal had mentioned too radical to deal with? Worse still, I needed to explain my actions over the past few months. For a few, brief seconds I considered marking a new fearless sigil, but quickly disregarded the notion. Maybe Conal was right and I was out of control with it. Thinking of Conal led to further consternation. How was I meant to act around him now? We'd become so used to touching one another, hugging and kissing. It was going to be incredibly difficult to stop doing what had become natural after so long.

Hell, what a mess. I was an idiot with a capital I… and D… and… oh, to hell with it. I'd gotten into this mess, now I needed to work through it.

The injury to my arm still seeped blood and a quick glance at the palm of my hand confirmed it wasn't holding together any better. I drew healing sigils against both wounds. A third sigil went against the cut in my forearm where the Tines had drunk my blood. I examined the wound and screwed up my nose at the enormous, plum-colored bruise which had blossomed around it.

For another few minutes I stared at the mirror, deliberately avoiding what would come next. For God's sake, pull yourself together, I warned myself sternly. Stop hiding out in here and go and help them. Don't be such a god-damn chicken - they're badly injured and you're worried about a relationship status? You're pathetic. Squaring my shoulders determinedly, I shook my head at my reflection and marched towards the door. An hour ago I'd faced off against a fifteen foot tall demon - how hard could this possibly be in comparison?

Chapter 2: Healing

It was a relief to find werewolves, vampires, shape shifters and one lone wizard getting along agreeably when I left the bathroom. At least they weren't trying to kill one another. Nick and Conal's men had spread themselves out amongst the beds, caring for our patients and I saw Nonny and Jerome leaning over Acenith, carefully cleaning the ragged stumps where her fingers had been hacked off. My stomach churned and I looked away. “Shower's free,” I called out, stepping down from the altar.

“Yes!” Marco shouted gleefully. He snatched up a pile of clothes from the end of one of the beds but Nick stopped him with a pointed glare. “I can wait,” he muttered, looking a little disenchanted. “Conal, you can go first.”

I knew it was some sort of pack hierarchy at work but I grinned at Marco. “There's more than one shower, Marco. In fact, there's enough for all of you. Go get cleaned up.”

Marco joyfully collected up his clothes again after seeing Nick nod his assent and the men exited the room in the race for a hot shower.

Conal passed me at the altar and smiled reassuringly. “You alright, Sugar?” he asked in a low murmur. He knew me too well. Although rescuing the Tines was something we'd talked about repeatedly in the past few weeks, having them here was creating a ferocious apprehension that I hadn't been prepared for. Explaining my relationship with Conal to Lucas was going to be more difficult than I'd ever envisaged. Recreating ties with my friends was going to be complicated.

“Yeah, I'm okay.” I swallowed nervously, brushing my still damp hair behind my ears.

Conal brushed a soft kiss against my cheek. “It's going to be fine, he'll understand.” He threw me a wink and disappeared into the bathroom.

I stepped down from the altar and approached the beds slowly. The men were tucked beneath the sheets, leaning back against pillows. The women had loose hospital gowns to cover their nudity and give them a degree of reassurance in trying conditions.

Jerome drew me to one side. “They're in a bad way, Charlotte. It'll take weeks for them to recover from these injuries, even if I could set up an intravenous line and feed them blood twenty four hours a day, it'd take weeks to heal the damage they've sustained. Nick tells me a lot of these injuries were caused by silver…” He trailed off, shaking his head in disgust. “Never dreamed it could affect vampires in this way, thought that was a myth, but here we are…” He stared down at me, his expression somber. “Nick says you can help them. If you can, you need to be doing it now. Vampire physiology is different, but they're in serious trouble and their bodies are in shock. I can't suggest what will happen if we don't do something soon.”

“Tell me where to start, Jerome. I'll do my best.”

He eyed me for a long moment, his grey eyes serious. “Let's start with the ladies first. That's what Lucas will insist on anyways.” He limped towards Acenith's bed and Nonny moved to one side so I could see Acenith's ravaged face. Her eyes were wide and glazed, pain shadowing her pretty features. Her hand had been carefully cleaned and rested against a soft pillow.

“Hey, Acenith,” I greeted her quietly, brushing my fingers across her forehead.

“Charlotte…” Acenith croaked weakly.

“Don't speak,” I cautioned her. “Just let me try to help you.”

She nodded feebly and shut her eyes, too exhausted and overwhelmed to do anything else. Nonny had given her a careful sponge-bath, as much as was possible in her current traumatized state. I wanted to cry as I looked at the dreadful disfigurement covering her cheek, where holy water had been dribbled until her face resembled a melting candle.

Nonny patted my arm and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “You can do this, Lottie.” She slipped away and headed towards Rowena's bed where Epi waited for her with a fresh bowl of water and clean towels. I watched them for a minute, saw them gently washing the accumulated grime and dirt from Rowena's abused body.

“Lottie.” Jerome brought my attention back to the here and now.

Drawing the Hjördis from my pocket, I ran a careful eye over Acenith, trying to decide where to start. “Jesus,” I muttered under my breath, not sure how to handle this. They were all so incredibly damaged - injuries which didn't come under a classification of either blood or poison.

Jerome squeezed my shoulder and I nearly snapped at him, until I saw the empathy in his eyes. “I know it's tough, Lottie, but you need to focus. One thing at a time, it's all you can do.”

After a quick discussion with the spirits, I began to work, their gentle murmurs soothing. The sigils were ones I hadn't known before, but I trusted their advice. I drew an intricate sigil on the back of Acenith's hand, close to where her fingers had been so cruelly amputated. I didn't realize she'd opened her eyes until I heard a sharp intake of breath and found her staring as the stumps began to glow. We watched as new fingers began to extend from the shattered bone remains. As knuckles and joints were created, a layer of muscle and tendons followed, wrapping around the bone before the skin followed, carefully molding itself around fingers. Then fingernails formed, perfectly shaped and evenly trimmed. The skin glowed for a few seconds more as it knit over itself at the tips of her fingers, then slowly dissipated, leaving us staring at her hand in open-mouthed disbelief.

“Holy mother of God…” Jerome gasped. He lifted her hand, requesting she wriggle her fingers and make a fist to confirm she had full movement. “Did that hurt?”

“Non,” Acenith whispered, still staring at her hand as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. “It was warm and I felt… a tingle, but no pain. Like épingles et aiguilles…pins and needles.”

I continued to work, leaning over her arm. The silver burns proved easier than I'd expected - the spirits identified the need for poison sigils because silver acted like toxin to a vampire. On the down side, they were also harder to deal with, because of the sheer number of them. We rapidly discovered a sigil could heal only a small amount of the damage before it faded and required repeating. It was going to be a long, time-consuming haul to repair all the damage. By the time I'd completed the poison sigils on Acenith's battered body, the men had started returning from the showers. Rafe headed towards us and brushed his fingers tenderly across Acenith's matted hair. “How's she doing?”

“Getting there,” I muttered, as I conferred with the spirits regarding the holy water burns to her face. “Do you want to sit with her?”

Rafe grinned. “Nah, I'll leave that for Ripley when he's feeling better.”

I glanced up. “I thought…”

“Your plan worked,” Acenith whispered hoarsely. “Ripley and I,” she glanced across the room to where Ripley lay, her eyes filled with affection, “are together.”

I smiled happily. “I'm so pleased for you both.” Aware this situation might be awkward, I slanted my gaze to Rafe, wondering how he felt about Acenith and Ripley.

Rafe took Acenith's hand and squeezed her fingers, winking at me as he did so. “Acenith's a good friend. She asked me to help out and I did.”

A giggle erupted from my chest. “It was all a set-up?”

Rafe nodded. “Somebody needed to give Ripley a good kick up the ass so he'd see what was right in front of him.”

Jerome returned from Lucas's bedside, his forehead creased in the almost perpetual frown he'd sported since we'd arrived. “I've spoken to Lucas, I'm worried about how much blood we can get into some of our patients,” he glanced at Acenith, who'd lain back against the pillows with her eyes shut, exhausted after our small talk. “I want to intubate those who are struggling to feed from the bottles.”

“We can do that?”

Jerome shrugged, the motion non-committal. “Can't feed them intravenously, but a nasogastric tube might do the trick. Intubate through the nose, directly into the stomach and feed them blood from bags. Lucas thinks it should be achievable.”

“Okay, let's do it,” I agreed easily.

“Charlotte, we won't have enough blood to keep up with demand,” Jerome warned. “You obviously didn't know how dire things would be and you don't have enough supplies to last out.”

“We'll get more,” Rafe announced, releasing his gentle grip on Acenith's hand. “How much do you need?”

“A lot,” Jerome admitted, glancing around the room and mentally calculating. “Given their injuries, we're looking at probably… eight to twelve pints apiece over the next twenty four to thirty six hours.”

Rafe was already moving, calling to Nick and Ralph who'd returned from the showers and they conferred for a few minutes in the corner. Nick strode over a few minutes later, his gaze taking in the work I'd already done with Acenith. “We're heading out to get blood. Be back as soon as we can.”

“You won't…” I began but Nick interrupted.

“We know the rules, Lott.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Keep working. We'll get what you need.”

Jerome bustled about, preparing to intubate Acenith while I gingerly approached her face. If this failed… I shuddered at the thought. They'd all received injuries from holy water, but to see Acenith's beautiful face so hideously disfigured… I was terrified I couldn't fix it. Would she be scarred like this forever?

Epi bustled across as I wavered in indecision, his owl-like eyes examining her injuries. “You have done well, child, but why are you hesitating now?”

I swallowed. “Her face… if this doesn't work…”

“She will still thank you for saving her life,” Epi announced. “Go on with your work and stop vacillating. Others are in need of your assistance.”

He hurried off again and I rolled my eyes. “Old bastard,” I muttered under my breath.

Jerome snorted and didn't bother to hide the amusement in his gray eyes. “Looks like you've got two of us to deal with now.”

Acenith's eyes fluttered open and she gazed at me for a moment, her usually sea-green eyes faded and listless. “Your friend is right,” she murmured. “I will thank you, regardless of whether I am completely healed or not. I have faith in you, Charlotte.” Her eyes closed again, her lashes creating dark fans against her too-white cheeks.

I licked my lips and did what I'd been told - stopped vacillating. With final verification from the spirits, I drew the sigil they'd recommended on Acenith's cheek, shuddering when my hand came into contact with the wax-like rivulets of skin running down her cheek like a gruesome living candle. Stepping back, I held my breath and watched. I noticed Jerome had also stopped and was watching Acenith's distorted features with undisguised interest.

Her eyes opened and she gasped, inhaling sharply as the damage on her cheek glowed and began to flatten and smooth out, the streams of damaged tissue integrating as though they were being melted into place by a hot iron. It took a few minutes, but by the time the sigil had vanished, so had the damage.

Jerome brushed his fingertips across the smooth skin, as if he couldn't believe it was real without physical touch. “Did that hurt?” he questioned bluntly.

Acenith shook her head minutely. “No, it was… again… a warm, a tingling sensation.” With a visible tremble in her fingers, she carefully touched her cheek and her eyes widened in astonishment.

I grinned broadly and whooped with delight, before encasing Acenith in a gentle hug. “Get some rest, I'll be back to visit later.”

Chapter 3: Heartache is hard, Numbness is easy…

Walking between the beds, I made my way to where Marianne lay beside Striker. After the success of treating Acenith's wounds, I was feeling more confident, but still far from comfortable. Those of Lucas's Kiss who had the energy to keep their eyes open were watching me cautiously, but it was Striker who broke the awkward silence. “So,” he remarked casually, “you left our place as meek little Charlotte and now - you're what? Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

“Something like that,” I couldn't help but smile at the comparison.

“So it's true, huh? Ralph says you really are an Angel,” Striker continued. He was coping better than some of the others, with three empty bottles sitting beside him on the bed it was apparent he was regaining strength, but there was worry in his eyes as he watched over Marianne protectively.

“That's the rumor,” I agreed easily, settling carefully beside Marianne on the bed. She watched me solemnly, her skin the same stark white as the pillow she lay on. Since I'd last seen her in Montana, she'd added dazzling aqua blue streaks to her hair, but they were muted by the dirt and detritus of captivity. “I'm going to put some marks on your skin, give those wounds a helping hand,” I explained.

Lifting her wrist carefully, I drew a sigil against the deep gouge where the silver chain had burnt into her skin, watching with approval as it began to heal. Within seconds, the skin smoothed over, leaving a faint scar.

“That didn't hurt,” Marianne whispered.

“Healing sigils don't hurt supernaturals, only the ability sigils cause pain,” I explained, placing a second sigil further up her arm.

“So we're supernaturals now?” Striker asked with a wry grin. He shifted on the bed and gasped with pain.

“Lay still, Striker,” Jerome growled. “You're not Superman.” He began to prepare a feeding tube, his actions belying years of medical experience.

Undeterred by Jerome, Striker continued our conversation. “So tell me, Lott. How'd you get strong enough to kick a vampire in the head and send him flying across the room?”

“The ability sigils give me extra strength.” A tiny smiled played on my lips. “And I wear titanium capped boots to stop my toes getting broken. One of Epi's innovations.”

“Ahh. That explains a lot,” Striker agreed huskily. His voice was hoarse and an octave deeper than normal. If he'd been human, I would have thought he was suffering from a sore throat. As it was, I knew it came from torture and probably screaming for mercy. A cold shiver trickled down my spine.

“How did you know the Consiliului had taken us?” Ben rasped. He was lying on the bed beside Striker with his eyes closed, but obviously he was listening to the conversation.

I worked steadily across Marianne's battered body, marking sigils. “The spirits told me as soon as it happened, then Nick called and confirmed it. The Tremaine pack was attacked by younglings on the same night.”

Straightening up, I moved further down the bed to treat the wounds on Marianne's legs. I forced myself to look at the calf which was devoid of flesh. Another quick word with the spirits confirmed which sigil was needed and I marked her skin, close to the edge where muscle and tendon lay brutally exposed. There was a numbness spreading over my body as I worked, a protective barrier against the horror I'd witnessed today. I welcomed it, embracing the numbness and nurturing it to keep me from screaming my frustration and anger and running away from the scene around me. The utter lack of sensation was better than the alternative for now.

“The Tremaines were attacked?” Ben opened his eyes, blinking at me in disbelief.

“Yeah,” I responded unhappily. “Lyell Tremaine was murdered, along with half of their people. Conal is Alpha now.” The back of my head had started to thump and there was a tremor in my hands which was becoming obvious the longer I worked. The initial adrenaline from having escaped Romania was fading fast, leaving me nauseous and weakened. I glanced over at Ben and Striker, then back to Marianne. “Let's talk about this later, when you're feeling better.” I was worried how more bad news would affect them when they'd already suffered so much.

To my utter relief, both men lapsed into an unsettled silence and I moved on from Marianne after pressing a kiss against her cheek, leaving Jerome to set up the nasogastric tube. He directed me towards Gwynn next, who looked so small and vulnerable, her glorious mane of copper red hair matted with dirt. She watched me warily as I approached, pale blue irises washed out. She looked as if she suffered from the milky blindness of cataracts.

“I need to shower,” she rasped, fingers plucking nervously at the gown she was wearing.

“Later, Gwynn. For now, we need to heal your injuries,” I insisted quietly.

She shook her head wildly, the plucking of her fingers against the material growing more agitated.

Nonny caught my eye and came over to stand at my side. “She won't allow me to bathe her,” she whispered, although I knew everyone in the room could hear her. “She won't allow anyone to touch her yet.”

Swallowing down the painful lump in my throat, I gazed down at Gwynn. “Please Gwynn, you're not strong enough to shower right now.” My eyes drifted across her arms studying the blackened pattern of deep wounds. “Let me heal your injuries first, then we'll see.”

“No, no, no,” Gwynn chanted hoarsely. “I have to get clean, I need to be clean…” Her pretty, heart-shaped face screwed up suddenly, as she fought to cry tears impossible for her to shed.

Jerome limped over from Acenith's bed and his practiced eye flew over Gwynn's body, shaking his head infinitesimally. “I'd dearly love to give her a sedative, but it's a useless wish, won't have any effect on her.”

“What should we do?” I asked in a low voice. Gwynn was obviously bordering on a breakdown and I wanted to avoid it, desperate to stop her from worsening. A bottle of blood sat by her bed, unopened and untouched and her fangs were run out, pressing against her blistered lips.

There was a flurry of motion from the other side of the room and I turned to see Phelan lifting William gently in his arms, carrying the vampire across the room. He laid William at his wife's side and William cradled her in his arms, ignoring the pain it must be causing him with his own grievous injuries. He whispered softly to her, holding her tightly against him and his pain - the agony which was not only physical, but psychological - was apparent in his grey eyes. Gwynn settled in his arms, burrowing her head against his chest and William continued to softly murmur against her hair.

We stood there - Jerome, Phelan, Nonny and I - four outsiders intruding on a moment between a husband and wife which was both acutely heartrending and breathtakingly tender. I wanted to turn and run, get away from this church, these horrific scenes which would be indelibly inked in my psyche forever. Subconsciously I took a step backwards, but Katie appeared at my side, reaching up to grasp my hand as her round grey eyes took in the scene before her. For long minutes she remained still, watching William and Gwynn vigilantly and flashes of emotion filtered across her face as she tried to in vain to comprehend the sight before her. Finally she tugged on my hand and looked up at me. “You gonna fix William an' Gwynn now?”

“Yes, Katie, that's exactly what we are going to do,” Jerome announced gruffly. He turned away and wiped impatiently at his eyes before turning back to the bed. “William, we need to intubate Gwynn, get some blood into her body and Charlotte will treat her wounds whilst I'm doing that,” he raised his head, looking around the room. “Epi?” he called when he located the warlock standing at Lucas's bed. “Do you have a bathtub? Gwynn would like to get cleaned up, but she's not strong enough to shower.”

Epi shook his head but started moving towards the back of the room. “I will arrange one.” On his way past Gwynn's bed, he haphazardly waved his hand towards us and curtains appeared, seemingly hanging from fresh air as there were no fixtures. They drew themselves around the bed, which would have amused me endlessly in a normal situation, but nothing was humorous in our current circumstances. “I believe the little one needs some privacy,” he announced gruffly.

Nonny kissed my cheek and hurried to follow him. “I'll make sure everything is prepared,” she called over her shoulder.

“I'll go and do a blood round,” Phelan announced, turning on his heel to slip through the curtains but I grasped his arm and he looked at me in surprise. I reached up to kiss his cheek gently.

“You're a good man, Phelan,” I whispered against his ear.

I could swear he blushed before he slipped through the curtain and I turned back to our patients. Gwynn was calmer now with William by her side, lying passively as I approached. “We're organizing a bath, Gwynn, but I really want to heal your injuries first… is that okay?”

She nodded her assent, closing her eyes with a sigh and nestling on William's chest.

“Charlotte… I need blood while you do this,” William said gruffly, “the scent of your blood too close…” he faltered, shutting his eyes. “My self-control is shot to hell.”

I took the full bottle from beside the bed and unscrewed the top, handing it to him. “You're self-control is just fine, William,” I announced as I began to work on Gwynn's injuries. “Your self-confidence about your self-control is the problem.”

He considered my words for a minute, sipping from the bottle as his dull grey eyes followed my movements. “You may be right,” he admitted quietly.

I continued to work silently until I'd healed all of Gwynn's injuries and then straightened up, groaning inwardly at the ache in my back and shoulders. “I am right, William. You haven't attacked a human in more than forty years,” I smiled at him. “I think it's time you cut yourself some slack. I'm going to go and work on Rowena.” I pulled open the curtain surrounding the bed and spied Nonny, requesting her help to get Gwynn into a bath. The sooner she had the opportunity to wash the memories from her skin, the better it would be for her, though I had to wonder how she was going to cope with the memories imprinted in her mind. They would be much harder to fix and it couldn't be done with soap and hot water.

Shaking off the thought, I strode towards Rowena's bed, feeling like I'd been on this ride for far too long already.

Rowena greeted me with unconcealed delight, holding me close for a very long time. “We have missed you so much, Charlotte,” she whispered, clenching my hands in her own injured ones. Of the four women, she seemed to be coping best and had managed to drink two bottles of blood. Her skin was still too white, she looked utterly exhausted, but her eyes were beginning to return to a more natural hazel. “You look so different.”

I caught her wrist in my hand and created a sigil, watching the skin heal over. “A lot of things have changed since I saw you last,” I murmured.

“I can see that. You look wonderful, despite having given us blood,” Rowena agreed softly. She took a deep breath, clenching her fists tightly. “I want to thank you, so much, for coming to our rescue.” A fine trembling set up through her limbs and a shadow passed over her delicate features. “I was certain we were all going to die.” Her attention flickered across to where Phelan was carefully carrying Gwynn towards the bathroom, Nonny hovering behind carrying the bag of blood which was now feeding Gwynn through a tube in her nose. “What they did to us…” she broke off and the trembling increasing exponentially as her slim shoulders shook with emotion.

I was grateful when Jerome appeared and he spoke soothingly to Rowena while I worked in silence. The numbness was wearing off, leaving the anger and rage and helplessness in its wake and I knew it wasn't a good thing. I still had six people to heal, still had to face Lucas. Still had so many things to deal with. I wished the numbness would come back and forced myself to focus on the present, to take one step at a time. I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and move on.

Conal reappeared from the bathroom. “That feels so much better,” he announced. “But I'm going to have a shitload of bruises again.” His hair was still damp and he'd dressed in jeans and a black American Choppers t-shirt. He stopped beside me, where I was working on Ripley.

“And thankfully, you don't stink like rotting carcasses,” I agreed with a sly grin. “What took you so long?”

“Epi provided plenty of showers, but not nearly enough hot water. I was just gonna give up when he appeared, muttering something about the need for a bathtub.”

“Thank goodness for that. You stunk.”

He grinned. “Just because you got to the shower first, Sugar.”

“Haven't you heard, it's always ladies first?” I replied easily.

“There aren't too many ladies I know who'll take on a demon, a transformed Angel and a pack of vampires,” he said with a wink. “And what was it you called the Drâghici leaders? The Three Stooges? Way to go to piss them off, Charlotte.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I call it as I see it. And you know as well as I do, the plan was to annoy them.”

“Well, you certainly did that. Which reminds me, I must have a word to Epi about that fearless sigil. Not such a good idea…” He laughed as I aimed a quick punch at his shoulder and he sidestepped it easily. “Agility has worn off too, Sugar. I'll rustle up coffee.” He studied my face for a couple of seconds, his brow furrowed. “You're still looking mighty pale. How's the head?”

“Throbbing,” I admitted.

“I'll get you some painkillers,” he offered.

“Thanks.”

Ripley watched this exchange silently, and he abstained from making any comment when Conal walked away, although his eyes revealed his curiosity. He motioned to the healing sigil I'd placed against the cross the Drâghici had branded on his thigh. “How does that work?”

I shrugged a little, unsure how to explain something of which I had little understanding. “To be honest? I haven't got a clue. Suffice to say, it works effectively.” I motioned towards the bottle he held clasped between his fingers. “Drink some more, Ripley. It'll help you feel better.”

Taking a steadying breath, I made my way next to the one person I was most dreading talking to. Lucas. I could have avoided him and treated one of the other men, but I needed to get this over and done with.

My heartbeat accelerated as I approached him and I struggled to control it, hyperaware that he would hear the tempo change. It was a strain to produce an unconvincing smile, which faded as hastily as it had appeared. “Hi,” I said warily.

“Charlotte,” Lucas responded, blue eyes gazing at me intently. “Wait a moment, please.” He raised the bottle he'd been holding to his lips, drinking until he'd drained the contents. When he lowered the bottle, he smiled sheepishly. “I'm struggling with your scent.”

“It's been a while,” I agreed quietly. I eyed the bottle cautiously. “Okay now?”

He attempted a shrug and winced. “I believe so.”

I settled down at his side, keeping my movements slow and cautious.

“It seems there were a lot of things about you we hadn't discovered.” His gaze grazed across my arms, where some of the sigils remained strong and blue against my skin. “Phelan says those markings give you special abilities?”

“Yeah,” I felt painfully self-conscious as I reached for his wrist, marking his skin and while the wound was healing I pointed to some of the sigils on my own arms. “Agility… Endurance… Strength… Courage… Stamina.”

“And fearlessness?”

I looked up sharply, but he was lying back against the pillows, his expression enigmatic.

“Yeah. It's my personal favorite. Without it, I'm not sure I could have worked up the courage to face the Drâghici.”

“I thought you were remarkable,” Lucas responded. “Seeing you walk into the Consiliului stronghold - you were incredibly confident.”

“It was mainly due to the fearless sigil,” I admitted. “When I walked in there - I really didn't have a care in the world. No fear whatsoever.” The liberating effect of the sigil had astounded me. “But Conal seems to think it wasn't such a good idea.”

“You and Conal,” he paused, visibly swallowed. “Are you a couple now?”

I met his eyes, stunned by the abrupt question. “Um… no…well…” I muttered lamely. With a heavy sigh, I shook my head. “It's complicated.”

“I'm good at complicated,” he replied evenly.

For a moment I stared at him, thinking of a dozen different ways to continue this discussion and discarding every single option as being too complicated. “Can we talk about this later? When we can have some privacy?” I glanced around, aware of everyone else in the room. Having this discussion with Lucas was going to be difficult enough, without having an audience.

“If you wish,” Lucas agreed. His gaze held mine for a few seconds more, then he directed his attention to the Hjördis in my hand. “When I first saw you in Sfantu Drâghici and you removed your jacket, the marks were all brilliantly blue and covered every inch of skin.” He studied my bare arm, his eyes tracing the marks. “Some of them have disappeared.”

I returned to my first aid efforts, forcing my attention to the burns on his chest and swallowed deeply, trying not to gag as I healed the deep slashes where a silver knife had gouged his skin open. “They're indigo when I first mark them. As the power of the sigil is used up in combat, they fade and then disappear. These were drawn early this morning, they'll fade away to nothing in the next day or two.”

“Do they hurt you?” He studied his own arm, where I'd hastily drawn the invisibility sigil above his wrist, but it had vanished. “When you drew the mark on me, it felt as if it burned.”

“They hurt you more. When I mark my skin, it's like being scratched with a needle.” I reached forward, bringing my face closer to his as I worked to heal the gash on his cheek. His aroma wafted towards me and I pushed down the crazy urge to hold my breath, to avoid his scent overwhelming me and making me do something crazy. Like throw myself into his arms and kissing him. The mere touch of his skin against mine was already causing electrical energy to spark through my fingers.

“Because you're an Angel,” Lucas responded huskily. “I can hardly believe it.”

I slipped further down the bed, continuing to work. “It takes a bit of getting used to,” I muttered.

Holden was lying beside us and he entered the conversation. “When did you discover all this?” Like Lucas, he held a bottle of blood balanced on his thigh and I realized he bore a remarkable resemblance to his brother. Holden kept his hair much shorter, but it was the same shade of blonde and his sky blue eyes watched me with interest.

“About three months ago. Conal took me to a cookout at his parents' home and I met Nonny. She's the Tremaine pack's secret keeper. When she began to understand what I could do, she brought me here to meet Epi and he confirmed what I was after a lot of tests and discussion.”

Conal appeared, brandishing a mug of coffee. He handed me a couple of painkillers and I swigged them down with the coffee, savoring the wonderful aroma of the brown liquid beneath my noise.

“Nonny's finishing up with Gwynn, once she's settled back into bed she's gonna get some food cooking. No doubt you're starving, Sugar.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed with a little smile.

Conal lifted his gaze to Lucas. “How're you feeling?” His voice was impassive, the look on his face carefully neutral.

Lucas's return gaze was equally blank when he responded. “Better, thank you.”

The tension between the two men could have been cut with a knife and I squirmed uncomfortably between them. I would have willingly faced off against another demon, rather than be sitting here with the two men I'd fallen in love with.

It was a mess, and it was all my own fault.

Chapter 4: Explanations

“Food's up!” Nonny announced from the kitchen doorway.

There was a noisy stampede as the Lingard men raced towards the kitchen and Nonny grumbled at them good-naturedly. “Charlotte, you stay there, honey. I'll bring yours out.”

I sank gratefully onto the floor, content to sit and relax after treating everyone's injuries. Nick, Rafe and Ralph had returned about half an hour ago, loaded down with bag upon bag of blood. Despite Conal's ministration of Tylenol, my head was still pounding and I was nauseated.

Nonny appeared with a tray and Striker whistled. “Lottie - you gonna eat all of that? Seriously?”

There was no comparison between the pile of food on my plate and what the men were eating - mine was at least double the quantity. Nonny had outdone herself with three large steaks, a couple of baked potatoes slathered in sour cream, collard greens and two cobs of corn, smothered in butter. “Absolutely,” I confirmed, licking my lips and tucking in.

Conal slipped down onto the floor beside me and grinned at Striker. “Charlotte has the metabolism of a hummingbird. We have to keep stuffing her with food, otherwise she starts dropping weight rapidly,” he explained. “With all the training, we discovered very quickly that you have to keep feeding her. Constantly.”

“She eats like a world championship wrestler,” Phelan agreed, his voice filled with admiration. “I've never seen anyone who can consume as much food as Lottie can.”

“She ate well enough at our house,” Striker said, eyeing my plate doubtfully. “But nothing like that.”

Jerome was chatting to Nonny, who'd joined us for dinner. “You're doing the right thing with the steak, Nonny, she'll benefit from anything with a lot of protein to help her body recover from the blood loss.”

Nonny nodded her understanding. “We've got protein shakes in the refrigerator.”

“Excellent,” Jerome smiled. “She should have one now, two more each day and she'll need iron rich foods for the next week or two. Plenty of leafy green vegetables, lots of red meat.”

I smiled at Jerome. “Back to being my Doctor?”

He grinned and winked. “Someone has to keep an eye on you, young woman. You have a penchant for getting yourself into trouble astonishingly quickly.”

“I'm not doing it on purpose,” I grumbled good-naturedly. The food was improving how I felt; despite Nonny's ministrations I hadn't eaten since before we left early this morning and it was apparent hunger hadn't helped my mood or the queasiness.

“Nah, trouble finds her naturally,” Nick remarked. He was sitting at the foot of Lucas's bed, plowing through his own dinner. “Though I gotta admit, she's a damn good fighter… for a human girl.”

“Thanks for the rousing endorsement,” I laughed and the sound surprised me. It felt like I hadn't laughed in forever. Glancing around at my friends, for the first time since this horror began I was both thankful and grateful for the blessings I'd received. The Tines were weak and had suffered enormous tribulations, but I'd healed their external injuries and they would regain the strength they'd once had in time. Already some of them were looking much better, despite still being covered in dirt and grime, their irises were gradually returning to normal and the blood intake had been put to work inside their bodies, their lips no longer blistered and cracked. Lucas and Striker had already discussed showering after dinner and Ben had requested his bed be raised as he was more comfortable sitting up now the wounds were healed over.

“You did good, kid,” Phelan agreed on his way back from the kitchen. He had a six pack of beers and handed them out to the werewolves and shifters before settling on a wooden chair. “Although I have to agree with Conal - that fearless rune makes you crazy reckless.”

I poked my tongue out at him and devoured some more food, taking the protein shake Nonny proffered. “I don't know about me being crazy - but I'm fairly certain the Consiliului are all nuts.”

“Why would the Consiliului attack a werewolf pack?” Ben questioned aloud, his forehead creased into a worried frown. “What possible reason would they have for doing that?”

“For the same reasons they're attacking other supe's - to start a war,” Conal stated soberly. “From what Charlotte's figured out, they want control of all the supernatural groups around the world. They're intending to kill anyone who isn't a pureblood.”

“They've attacked other packs? How do you know this?” Lucas asked.

As succinctly as possible, Conal explained the entire situation. How I received information from the spirits and the nightmares I regularly endured.

Epi joined in the discussion, explaining my role as Nememiah's Child and the history of the Angel children, their role on earth and my responsibility to create peace amongst the supernatural groups. He discussed his vast knowledge of Nememiah's Children, how they'd died out over a thousand years ago and how his study of them had become his life's work.

Conal took over again and I was happy to sit back and let them deal with it. I wasn't entirely certain the Tines were up to this discussion so soon, but looking at their shocked and worried faces, I knew it wouldn't make a difference whether they were told later rather than sooner - they were going to be distressed either way. “We discovered there was another Angel child - Archangelo. The Consiliului have created him and he's a hybrid vampire and angel. They wanted Charlotte to complete the set - they were planning to create Charlotte and then have Archangelo and Charlotte create a race of demon/angel hybrids.” The dark look in his black eyes showed exactly what he thought of that idea.

“Charlotte, you know that's an impossibility,” Lucas remarked.

“No it isn't, apparently.” I grimaced, laying my knife and fork on the now-empty plate. “Epi believes my blood is a genetic characteristic which can't be overridden. If I have a child - with anyone - whether they're human or supernatural, the child retains the angel blood. If the Drâghici had succeeded, the process would have created me, but Epi believes Archangelo and I retain the ability to reproduce and the children would be a hybrid mixture of both demon and angel blood.”

“That's entirely correct,” Epi agreed sharply. “I am rarely wrong.”

“Speaking of Archangelo, Lott, that was an outstanding throw. Never thought you'd be capable of something like that,” Striker announced proudly.

“I've had plenty of practice,” I said. “For the past three months, it's all we've done. Epi's teaching me everything he knows about Nememiah's Children, he and Conal have been training me to fight.” I glanced at Lucas and saw jealousy simmering in his expression, before he quickly swallowed it down.

“I thought you'd killed him,” Phelan remarked. He crossed his ankle over one knee, looking thoughtful. “You're positive it was him you saw?”

I nodded. “It was definitely him, standing at the gates in a bloodstained shirt. He watched as I entered the portal, not moving, just… staring.” I shrugged. “At least I gave the Drâghici something else to think about - I doubt they were thrilled that the tourists got an eyeful of Archangelo like that. Hard to explain away the blood.”

“If he really is vampire, he'll be difficult to kill,” Holden said. “A chest wound would never do it, Charlotte. You shouldn't have been able to pierce his chest with that weapon the way you did.” Holden sipped from his bottle, looking thoughtful. “Are you sure he's vampire at all?”

“You saw him yourself, Holden. He is vampire, undoubtedly. He smells like vampire,” Ripley announced. “But definitely something more.”

“We don't take a hit like that to the chest,” Striker argued. “A knife, a throwing star, whatever the hell that thing is that Charlotte threw - wouldn't have any impact on vampire flesh.”

“A silver knife did,” Lucas responded quietly. “You bear scars as proof. Perhaps the weapon Charlotte wielded has that same capability.”

A shocked silence descended in the room and Striker's eyes flashed with fury and blatant frustration.

“Charlotte's weapons aren't silver, that much we do know. Frankly, we don't know enough about Archangelo to ascertain what he's capable of, or how to kill him. There have been no Angel children for over a thousand years and never one that's been created as vampire. Obviously he bleeds and his skin seems as fragile as Charlotte's,” Conal said, his composure diminishing the tension which had permeated the church. “But I guess we don't know whether the usual ways of killing a vampire will work either, until we try it.”

“Killed many vampires?” Striker asked coldly.

“No, but I'd be a fool if I didn't know how it was done,” Conal retorted.

“Striker. Enough.” Lucas's voice was coldly authoritative. “These people have provided us rescue and shelter. You will give them respect.”

The battle Striker fought to still his tongue was in evidence, from the clenched fists to the sharp line of his compressed lips. He focused on his hands, until he inhaled visibly and the muscles in his shoulders loosened. “My apologies,” he muttered.

“I assume Archangelo must be killed,” Jerome questioned.

“There's no choice,” I announced. “The Consiliului are killing indiscriminately in their quest for power. They've already murdered dozens that we know of, maybe more and they're using Archangelo to help them do it. Archangelo's a dangerous weapon at their disposal. If it's a choice between killing him or allowing the Consiliului to proceed with their plans and attempt to capture me to… mate with him, I'll choose killing him.”

They all lapsed into thoughtful silence and I waited, wondering what they were thinking. Were they shocked? Were they repulsed that I would consider killing someone without a second thought? A quick peek at Lucas from beneath lowered lashes confirmed he was watching me, but his face was mask-like, with no emotion detectable.

“Come along, Katie. Time for a bath. And guess what? Uncle Epi has got a real bath for you now. No more showers.”

Nonny captured the little girls hand and led her towards the back of the church. I kept forgetting we had a small child amongst us and should all be careful about what we discussed in her presence. Would she have nightmares tonight? With everything she'd seen and heard today, it wouldn't be surprising. I knew I would probably dream about what I'd seen and done - and the dreams wouldn't be pleasant.

“How many of the vampires were at Sfantu Drâghici?” Epi questioned, after assisting Jerome to exchange empty blood bags for fresh ones on the women.

“Three,” Conal answered. “One of them was the blonde guy with the curls.” He glanced at me for confirmation.

“His name is Arawn. We met two others, Odin and Hyperion, but we didn't have photos of them.”

“So that makes six?” Epi confirmed.

“Seven,” Lucas said. “There are seven members of the Consiliului. The three you mentioned, plus Bellona, Qadesh, Bendis and Enlil.” He glanced pointedly towards the beds where the women lay, before his gaze returned to me. It was apparent he wanted this subject deferred and I nodded my acknowledgement.

“And there was one kickass demon,” Marco added with a grin. “That one was a monster.”

Epi abruptly sank down onto the edge of Holden's bed. “A demon? What did it look like?”

I shrugged, sipping my drink. “Big. Black. Ugly. Sharp pointy teeth, big snappy claws. The usual.”

“As I regularly tell you, young lady, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” Epi chided.

“Well on a humor scale of one to ten, sarcasm is the best I've got right now,” I replied. Epi's beady eyes studied me, pointedly waiting for an answer. I huffed out a heavy sigh. “About fifteen feet tall, two mouths, double rows of teeth, tentacle things all over its head, stood upright, big claws. How's that?”

Epi's brow puckered. “Who called this demon from the Otherworld?”

We all heard the change in Epi's voice. There was a tension, an edge which hadn't been there until Marco mentioned the demon we faced. “Archangelo. He created the pentagram.”

“You're certain of that?” He glanced from me to Nick for confirmation, his stare piercing.

Nick pursed his lips, raising one eyebrow. “Don't ask me, I was still a rock when this was happening.”

“Why, old man? What's so important?” Conal questioned.

“It means there is someone else involved in this plot and Archangelo is far more dangerous than I'd ever imagined.”

Nick straightened up, grey eyes narrowing. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Epi stood up and paced back and forth between the beds, deep in thought. “Archangelo is part angel, part vampire. He should not have the ability to call demons.”

“Well, he did,” I insisted. A glance at Conal confirmed his confusion mirrored mine. “Odin ordered Archangelo into the room when I called them on his existence. He told Archangelo to show me something to prove his power. He drew a pentagram and out popped an ugly big demon.”

“Who should have the ability to summon demons?” Conal asked.

“Warlocks, of course, as you have observed in the past few months, I can summon them. Some witches, although they tend to frown upon the practice. And wizards, although there are very few of them alive now.” He continued to pace up and down, while we silently watched.

“So you're saying?” Rafe pressed, losing patience with the protracted silence.

“I'm saying that the Consiliului have a warlock, a witch or possibly a wizard in their service. And whomever that is, they're teaching Archangelo the capacity to summon demons,” Epi explained impatiently, adjusting his glasses. “Of course I assumed with demon blood in his body, he would have extraordinary powers, beyond the normal abilities of an Angel child. But I'm stunned that he would be able to summon a demon. He should not have the magical talent to manage such a feat.”

“So… if you didn't expect them to be using demons, why, exactly, have we been fighting them for the past three months?” Conal asked dryly.

“Because I suspected we would come across them during this battle. It was the original role of Nememiah's Children to rid the world of demons. When I first met Charlotte, I thought that was why she'd presented herself now, because we faced a threat from the Otherworld. Now though, it appears we face a bigger threat than I first suspected. The demons aren't going to come from the Otherworld of their own volition. They're being summoned.”

Phelan caught my eye and lifted his eyebrows in question, and I shrugged blankly, shaking my head. I had absolutely no idea what Epi was getting at, why this was so important. “Okay, Epi. Spit it out. What the hell's wrong with this scenario that's got you so bothered?”