Haelan’s Desire (Walk Through Shadows Book Four)

Haelan sagged against a tree with an exhausted breath. For a second, the ferocious sound of feet chasing each other reached him. Then the forest fell into silence. His eyes closed as he rested his temple on the rough bark, and his empty hand gripped his amulet. He murmured the incantation to remove his wings. To maintain his balance during the fight, he’d been forced to call them out, but the battle was over now. The searing pain in his chest and back eased slightly as the weight lifted from his body. At least, since he was alone, his healing magic was no longer sapping his strength with its quest to help anyone, and everyone close to him.

He sucked in a shallow breath, opened his eyes, tightened his grip on the sword he still held, and scanned the area immediately in front of the tree. The edge of his other sword gleamed at him from a dozen feet away. It was standing upright, firmly in the chest of the elf he’d heaved it at near the end of the skirmish. Right after, Drem and Beamard had entered the fray. Upon seeing the other faeries joining the fight, the four elves Haelan hadn’t killed yet, took off for the surrounding tree. To Haelan’s left there was a hurried crunch of dead leaves as someone came back.

“Milord,” Drem called out. He moved around the side of the tree with a stumble and came to a stop.

Haelan shoved himself from the tree he was leaning against. “What happened?”

Drem looked down at his stomach, where he’d pressed his hand. His fingers, along with the bottom half of his shirt, were coated with deep red blood. It crept down the front of his tan trousers as they watched. Drem swallowed. “Almost caught that pointy eared bastard,” he murmured, then turned his gaze up to Haelan’s face with a disappointed sigh. “Got a souvenir for my efforts.” Drem lifted his hand away for a second. To show Haelan the stunted pummel of an elven palm dagger protruding from his abdomen.

Haelan dropped his sword and lurched toward the guard as Drem’s knees buckled, sending him crashing to the leaf strewn ground. He caught Drem against his uninjured side and eased him the rest of the way down. Haelan pulled Drem’s hand away from the wound to look it over. “We need to keep this in until you get to the healers.”

Drem’s face twisted with pain. “Is it—?”

Haelan shook his head as he gingerly touched the skin next to the blade. “It feels like it’s gone in at an angle, thank the stars. Likely shallow enough for them to cauterize and sew you up.” He looked into Drem’s eyes. “Let’s try to keep as much of your blood in your body as we can.” He reached up to tug at his own sleeve. Once the fabric was freed, he wrapped it around the blade, then placed Drem’s hand back over it. “Keep pressing.” Drem nodded with a pained grimace. Haelan looked up as Beamard came back to the small clearing. “Can you fly?” he asked as he sat back on his heels.

“Yes, milord,” Beamard answered.

“Good.” Haelan waved at Drem’s other side. Beamard bent down and grabbed a hold of his arm. The two of them pulled Drem to his feet. Beamard threw Drem’s free hand around his neck. “Did you see where the twins landed?”

“They were farther east than the rest of us. Taveon was making his way to them when I last saw him. I sent Elmas after them when we got under the clouds.”

Haelan’s breath caught in a painful hitch. His eyes shone with a faint yellow glow as the healing magic reignited. “At least they’re not alone out there.” He took a step away from the pair and looked over his shoulder, in the direction he’d sent Em. “Take Drem directly to the healing centre, then raise the fighters to find the twins. Tell Cedarshadow I want every available sword we have but don’t leave the border unprotected.” He turned back to face Beamard. “In case this was some sort of ploy.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Beamard asked.

Haelan turned slightly, so they could see the arrow sticking out behind his arm. “I can’t fly—”

“Leave me here!” Drem cried out. “They can come back for me!” He tried to move away from Beamard, but Haelan whipped around and grabbed his arm to hold him in place.

“Em is out there,” Haelan said in a firm tone. “I sent her after Sable but if they didn’t find each other, she’s alone. Defenseless and lost.”

Drem’s hand clenched around Haelan’s wrist. “Milord please. I’ll find her—” His voice faded as Haelan gripped his shoulder with his other hand.

“I know you would try,” Haelan said gently. “But you can’t even stand on your own.”

“He can get to the castle faster if he’s not carrying me,” Drem said.

Haelan closed his eyes for a second. “You’re losing blood too quickly to wait.” He turned his gaze up to Beamard’s. “You have your orders.”

Beamard reached down to catch Drem’s knees and lifted him against his chest. “Yes, milord.”

Haelan squeezed Drem’s shoulder, then took a step back to watch as Beamard leapt up and traversed the open spaces between the branches above them. Drem kept his anguished gaze on Haelan until he couldn’t see him anymore. Once the pair had disappeared from view, Haelan turned away to scoop his sword from the ground, then strode to the fallen elf, and yanked his blade free. He turned to the north with a stagger. Little dots of black danced along the edges of his vision. He closed his eyes before he continued forward, past the spot where he and Em had landed. His head swam in an unsteady circle. He shook it to clear his vision, reached out to catch his balance on a tree as he passed, and kept going.

Fifteen minutes after leaving the clearing behind, as his steps drifted farther and farther to the east, shaking his head was not working to clear his blurry sight. His hand stretched out to a nearby tree. His swords fell from his fingers as he stumbled toward it, his vision doubled. He aimed his hand at one of the two trees in front of him.

His fingers passed through the duplicate trunk his exhausted brain had created and, before he could redirect his momentum, he tumbled forward. The thick bush clinging to the base of the tree cushioned his decent somewhat. With a quick series of angry cracks and snaps, he landed face down in the greenery. He laid there for a few moments, sucking in deep painful breaths as he gathered what strength he had left, then pushed himself onto his uninjured side.

“Hold fast, my love. I’m coming,” he murmured. “Just need to rest a minute.”

Em turned to Sable, who was making his way around the clearing in a quick circuit, scanning the ground for any clues to which direction Haelan had gone. The ground was a mess of scattered leaves, broken branches, and dead bodies.

Once he’d finished his search, he went back to her. “He must have flown—”

Em shook her head as she wrapped her arm across her chest to point at her side. “He took an arrow, here—” Her fingers tapped her body. “He could barely break our fall. There’s no way he flew out of here.”

“Perhaps one of the other guards found him,” Sable said as he turned his gaze back to the bodies.

Em sucked in a big breath and looked over at the discarded bags. “Or the elves took him.” She shot past Sable to snatch her bag off the ground. “We need help,” she said, then yanked the zipper open.

Sable spun around to watch her. “What are you doing?”

“Before we left, Isabelle gave me Alasdair’s incantation,” she said as she pulled her make-up bag free and dropped the bag. “She worries way too much—” She held up the folded paper triumphantly. “I won’t bitch about that anymore.” She tossed her make-up bag into the bigger bag, unfolded the paper, and read the words out in a rush.

Nothing happened.

“I think there were a few mispronunciations,” Sable said.

She shoved the paper at him. “You do it.”

He accepted the note after a breath, read through it quickly, then said the spell aloud. They waited for two heartbeats, then the image of Alasdair appeared in front of Sable. He was sitting in the big comfy chair in their living room, holding a book in one hand. Celene was cradled against his chest with the other. His eyes went wide for a second, then he tossed the book onto the couch next to the chair and got to his feet.

“Darkbriar?” he asked. Em stepped closer to Sable. “Emmeline, what’s happened?”

“Milord, we haven’t enough time to explain,” Sable said. “May I bring her to you?”

“Bring her—” Alasdair frowned at Sable’s image. “You mean use a portal.”

“Yes,” Sable answered. “I know it’s forbidden, especially for me, but I have to get her somewhere safe while I search for your brother.”

“Bring her,” Alasdair said, and the image faded.

Em grabbed the bags as Sable cast the spell, then hurried through the shimmering with him. They emerged near the edge of the trees in the couple’s backyard. “Did you just break a law?” she asked as they hurried across the lawn.

“Yes,” Sable answered. “Only the royal family and their emissaries are permitted to move between the realms. The privilege of doing so was forbidden from the rest of us a long time ago.” He glanced at her questioning look. “When this is over, I’ll tell you about it over a glass of dwarven whiskey,” he said as they reached the bottom of the stairs to the back deck. He looked up at Alasdair, who was waiting at the railing. “Your highness.” He dipped his head respectfully.

“Get inside,” Alasdair said, and pointed at the French doors. The pair rushed up the stairs and through the open doors.

Isabelle was hurrying into the room as they entered. She came to an abrupt stop. Her distressed gaze landed on Sable for a second. “Em,” she said as she moved forward and grabbed her cousin’s shoulders. “Where’s Haelan?”

Em’s eyes filled with frustrated tears. The bags in her hands fell to the floor with a heavy thud. “We don’t know.”

“Were you attacked?” Alasdair asked.

Sable nodded once. “First by a storm then, when we were forced from the sky, by a band of elves. I don’t know how many there were.”

“What happened to the others?” Alasdair asked as he moved to Sable’s side, then waved him toward the table on the other side of the island.

Sable opened his left wing to show him the foot sized bloody hole in the membrane as he crossed the room. “I was separated from them after Em fell from my back.” He pulled out a chair and sat down with an angry sigh.

“Haelan caught me but he got shot with an arrow, so we had to land,” Em said. Isabelle gave her a little push toward the table, then went around the island to grab a couple of dish towels and wet them down quickly. “When we got to the ground, Haelan sent me to find Sable.”

“Because he was hurt?” Isabelle asked, and handed a towel to Sable.

“He said the arrow was near his Magus node,” Em said as she swiped the towel Isabelle had thrust at her along her jaw. “There was something or someone behind me, but he wouldn’t let me see what it was.”

Alasdair sucked in a harsh breath. “Are you sure that’s what he said?” he asked.

Em nodded. “He wasn’t able to control his magic.” She turned her gaze to Isabelle. “Healing and mating,” she said with a pointed stare. “He said I had to get away from him because he was going to need all his strength. He told me to find Sable.” Alasdair glanced at Isabelle, then turned his focus on Sable. Em frowned as the two faeries held each other’s gazes for a second. “Sable ended up finding me first.”

“She’d been captured by a group of elves,” Sable added. “They were trying to tie her up when I got to them.”

“He fought all three of them off,” Em said.

Sable shifted around in his chair to look at her. “Almost all,” he murmured.

“Anyway,” Em said as she looked up at Alasdair. “When we got back to where I’d left Haelan, he was gone.”

Alasdair took a step back. “I’ll get my sword. Isabelle, can you get a bandage for Caernach’s head?” She turned away to go to a bank of drawers at the end of the island and pulled out a first aid kit as Alasdair strode from the room.

“Em, do you need one too?” Isabelle asked as she set the small white box on the table.

Em left the towel on the table and stood. “That blood wasn’t mine.”

Isabelle eyed her for a second, then turned to Sable. “Here, let me see that.” She took the towel he’d been using to wipe the side of his face, then leaned closer as he tilted his head for her. She smoothed the fabric along his hairline. “Bad scrape but I think it’s stopped bleeding,” she murmured, then dropped the towel on the table and plucked a package of gauze from the kit. She ripped it open, folded the white square in half, and placed it over the wound. “Hold this,” she said to Sable. He reached up and held it while she tore a strip of tape from a roll, then secured it to his skin.

“Emmeline,” he said as he turned to look over his shoulder at her. She was watching the kitchen doorway for Alasdair’s return. “Are you certain Haelan said the arrow was near his Magus node?”

Her eyes narrowed as she continued to stare at the opening. “Positive.” She lifted a hand and pushed a stray hair from her face. “Why?”

Sable ran his fingertips over the tape as he stood and faced Em. “Lass, if that’s where he’s injured you will need to prepare yourself.”

Em dragged her gaze from the doorway and settled it on him. The shiny silver of his eyes was dimmed by the sadness echoed in the lines of his face. “What do you mean?” she asked. “You guys are going to find him and take him to your doctors, right?” Sable’s expression didn’t change. “Why the fuck not?” Her eyes swung over to Isabelle. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Isabelle had picked up the first aid kit and was holding it against her chest, as if she could somehow shield herself from the truth of Sable’s words. “They don’t have doctors,” she said in a low voice. “They have healers.”

“What’s the difference?” Em spat.

“They can’t handle the same injuries that a doctor could,” Isabelle answered. “They don’t have the tools that we have here.”

Em flung her hands out. “So, we’ll take him to a hospital.”

Isabelle moved to grab her shoulder. “We can’t—”

Em ducked away from her hand. “Why not? He has an amulet for his wings—”

Isabelle tossed the box onto the counter and latched onto Em’s arm. “We can’t let other humans see what he is.”

Em tried to shake her off. “Without his wings he looks just like us.”

Alasdair came through the doorway. His hands were working the chest strap of his scabbard. “Only on the outside,” he said as he came to a stop a few steps away from the trio. “Inside we are different.”

“Different how?” Em whispered.

“Denser muscles and bones,” Isabelle said. “More blood.”

“And a Magus node,” Alasdair said. “If he’s right about the arrow’s location, a healer cannot risk removing it. They would most likely kill him.” He finished the sentence in a tight, pained voice.

Em stared at him for a second, then shifted her gaze to Sable. “So even if you find him…”

“We’ll bring him home,” he said gently.

“To die,” she said in a miserable little whisper. “You’ll bring him home to die.”

Alasdair reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “To make his ascension surrounded by his family,” he said softly.

Em’s eyes closed for a second. Her breath hitched with a sob, then she wrenched her arm from Isabelle’s grasp. “No,” she hissed at Alasdair. “That’s not good enough. He’s your brother! You can’t just give up on him!” She glared at Alasdair for a moment, then turned her heated gaze on Sable. “There has to be a way.” She spun around to face Isabelle. “You can bribe someone—” Her voice caught for a second. “Or threaten—” Isabelle moved a step closer and wrapped her arms around Em. “Don’t you know anyone that can help?” She collapsed into Isabelle’s embrace. Isabelle smoothed her hair and looked at her mate.

Alasdair swallowed the tears clogging his throat. “If a human doctor were to discover what he is, who knows what they’d do to him,” he said softly. Isabelle blinked away the tears filling her eyes and hugged Em tighter. Sable moved to Alasdair’s side. “Emmeline, I will bring you to him once he’s home.” He looked down for a moment, then cleared his throat. “So you can be with him.” He lifted his head, swiped at his eyes, then gave Isabelle a brief nod, and turned to leave. Sable followed him to the door.

“Wait!” Isabelle cried. Alasdair turned back to her; his eyes filled with the weight of his despair. She shuffled Em to a chair, pushed her down onto it, then pulled herself free and rushed to her mate. “What about the Blackwells?”

Alasdair’s eyes narrowed for a second, then hope smoothed the pained lines on his face for a second. “But Mother won’t allow me to make that request. The other packs could misconstrue—”

“I don’t see how, considering what they did for us, but I won’t tell them it’s on her behalf,” she blurted. “Just another personal favour to me.”

Alasdair pulled her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, lass.”

“You should hurry,” she said as he let her go. “We’ll meet you at the Blackwell’s.” His brows lifted with an unspoken question. “I’m going to beg, bribe, or whatever else it takes but it’ll be harder for them to say no if we show up on their doorstep.” He pulled the door open and hurried out. Sable paused for a second, to give Isabelle a grateful smile, then followed. Isabelle turned to Em, who was wiping her cheeks as she got to her feet. “Are you going to be okay to drive?” Em nodded quickly. “Good. I just need a minute to get Celene’s bag and then we can go.” She pointed toward the closet near the front door. “Grab a jacket to throw on. I’ll be right back.”

“Belle!” Isabelle stopped in the doorway and spun around to face her cousin. “Thank you—”

Isabelle threw her hand up to cut her off. “Don’t jinx us.” She turned away to continue her journey upstairs. “We need all the luck we can get right now,” she muttered.

Em watched her for a moment, then wiped her hands across her cheeks and straightened her shoulders. Isabelle was right, a happy ending was no where certain at that point.