TWO
Saetan lit the black candles on the Keep’s Dark Altar
and opened the Gate between Hell and Kaeleer.
Sometimes it was damn
hard not to interfere with the living, especially when children
were involved.
Especially when some
of them lately were arriving so mentally and emotionally damaged
they couldn’t be allowed to stay on the cildru
dyathe’s island, let alone be with the children now residing
at the Hall in the Dark Realm. He’d given mercy to the ones who
were too damaged, draining their remaining power to finish the
kill, giving them what peace he could in the process.
It wasn’t his place
to interfere or step in. He had held that line for thousands of
years—at least most of the time. But that last mutilated child had
come from Dhemlan, and he didn’t consider it interfering to inform
the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan about that boy—not when the Prince
was his own son.
*Saetan?*
A whisper of thought
on a psychic thread, barely strong enough to reach him. But no
matter how weak, he knew that voice, had loved that woman. *Sylvia?
Where are you?*
*Landing web. Keep.
Not sure which one.*
He left the Dark
Altar and moved swiftly, straining the muscles in his bad leg as he
moved through the corridors in the Keep.
*Draca,* Saetan
called. *Sylvia is here. Something is wrong. We need to find her
quickly.*
*I will inform
Geoffrey,* Draca said. *We will look.*
It wouldn’t be just
the Keep’s Seneschal and historian/librarian who would look. What
guarded the Keep would be aware of Sylvia and would inform Draca.
Meanwhile, he headed for the landing web most often used by people
who didn’t live in Ebon Rih.
*Saetan?* Sylvia
called again, her voice fading.
He found her sprawled
on the landing web, trying to push herself to an upright position
and too weak to do it.
He rushed over to her
and dropped to his knees, lifting her enough to hold her against
him. “Sylvia, what . . . ?”
Demon-dead. He knew
the scent, knew the feel. How could he not know after ruling Hell
for so many years? She was demon-dead and fading. Both of her
Jewels, the Purple Dusk and her Birthright Summer-sky, hung around
her neck and she wore both her rings. Only a drop or two of power
left in each of them.
“Saetan.” Her voice
was barely audible, but she still found enough strength to grab a
fistful of his jacket. “I know how you feel about interfering with
the living, but I’m begging you. Help me save my
boys.”
He didn’t ask
questions. He simply called in a small vial, flipped off the top,
and closed his hand around it to give the contents a moment’s
warmth. Then he pressed the vial against her lips and said,
“Drink.”
She swallowed once,
then tried to get away from him. He held her tight, and held the
vial away from her to prevent her from knocking it out of his
hand.
“Hell’s fire,” she
gasped. “What is that?”
“A vial of Jaenelle’s
undiluted blood,” he replied dryly. “If you think it’s bad now, you
should have tried it when she wore Ebony. A couple drops of
that used to feel like you swallowed
lightning.”
“You’re a mean
bastard.”
“And you want my
help, so stop being a whiny girl. Just hold your nose and take your
medicine.”
“I am not whining, you—”
He poured the rest of
the blood down her throat. Since he and Geoffrey usually split one
of those vials, he knew exactly what he’d done to the woman he
loved—which was why he let her swear at him until she wound down
enough to sound sane again.
He vanished the vial.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we can . . .”
That was when he
realized what was wrong with her legs.
Using Craft to take
part of her weight, he picked her up and headed for a guest room
located near his own suite of rooms.
*Lucivar!* he called
on a spear thread.
*Father?*
Jolting Lucivar awake
would hone the sharp edge of an always-sharp temper, but he’d deal
with that when he had to. *I need your Healer at the Keep. It’s
urgent.*
*We’ll be there.*
Lucivar broke the link.
Draca waited for him
at the doorway of the guest room. When she saw Sylvia, she looked
into the room. A marble slab appeared, heavily padded and floating
on air.
*It iss more
practical,* Draca said.
Nodding, he went into
the room and laid Sylvia on the padding.
“All right,” he said,
winding a soothing spell through his voice. “Let’s take a look at
you.”
“No,” Sylvia
said.
He ignored her,
pulled aside the torn coat and shirt, and stared at the knife wound
that had killed her. He vanished the coat and shirt, then hesitated
over the brassiere. It shouldn’t matter now, but it would, so he
didn’t remove it. Instead, he called in a blanket and wrapped it
around her so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed when Lucivar thundered
into the room.
Which Lucivar did a
minute later, followed by Nurian.
“Mother Night,”
Nurian said as she rushed over to the slab. She reached out, her
hands hovering over Sylvia’s ruined legs. “What
happened?”
Saetan put his arms
around Sylvia, pressing her face against his shoulder. “You need to
make a clean amputation, then force the healing to create a closed
stump.”
“But she’s . . .”
Nurian swallowed hard, but she met Saetan’s eyes. “I don’t think it
can be done when the flesh is no longer living.”
“When it’s done
within a few hours of dying, the body still remembers what it feels
like to be alive and will respond.”
Nurian looked at
Sylvia’s Jewels and shook her head. “It would drain her beyond
surviving.”
“She’s just had fresh
blood. That will sustain her and provide you with what you need to
draw for the healing,” Saetan said.
“Whose blood did you
give her?” Lucivar asked.
“Jaenelle’s.”
“Half a
vial?”
“A whole
vial.”
Lucivar looked at
Nurian. “Do it.You’ve got more than enough power to work with, so
tap everything you need because you only get one chance at this
kind of healing. If more blood is needed, I’ll supply
it.”
Holding Sylvia close,
covering her face with one hand, Saetan watched Lucivar call in a
small knife and efficiently cut away the trousers while Nurian
began making the cleansing brews she would need.
Lucivar studied the
jagged bones and torn flesh, saying nothing, but Saetan had the
impression those bones told his Eyrien son a great
deal.
There wouldn’t be
pain, because the numbing spells would take care of that. Some
discomfort, yes, because flesh so newly dead still remembered, and
the potency of the blood he could provide for her would keep her
close to the line that separated the dead from the living. At least
for a little while.
When Nurian was
ready, Lucivar shifted Sylvia’s hips, straightening the legs. He
pressed his hands on her thighs, holding her in place.
She cried, and it
ripped at Saetan’s heart. Lucivar’s body blocked most of her line
of sight, but Saetan still covered her eyes so she wouldn’t get
even a glimpse of Nurian’s work. And while he held her, he sent out
a call to his other son.
*Daemon. Daemon!*
No
answer.
*Jaenelle!*
No
answer.
*Surreal!*
No answer. Which
meant they weren’t at SaDiablo Hall or in Halaway. Or anywhere in
that part of Kaeleer, for that matter. Of course, if they were
riding the Winds, they couldn’t hear him.
Swallowing a snarl of
impatience, Saetan continued to wrap soothing spells around Sylvia
until he felt her go limp. Laying her down, he smoothed the hair
away from her face.
Lucivar gave him a
sharp look.
“I did that,” Saetan
said. “Her mind needs to rest. Lady Nurian, can you do without us
for a few minutes?”
“I’ll be fine,”
Nurian said.
He and Lucivar
stepped out of the room and moved a few paces down the
corridor.
“A blast of power hit
her knees, blowing them out and taking the lower part of her legs
with them,” Lucivar said, keeping his voice low. “If she was
shielded, whoever did this wore an Opal, a Green Jewel at the
most.”
“How can you
tell?”
Lucivar gave him an
odd look. “Because I know how her legs would look if I had hit her
with my Red strength.”
Of course. “Her boys
are in trouble.”
Lucivar nodded.
“There must have been a fight somewhere. Did she bleed out from the
legs?”
Saetan shook his
head. “She probably would have bled out if none of her guards
survived to help her, but a knife between the ribs is what killed
her.”
“What did Daemon
say?”
“He’s not
answering.”
“All right. You look
after Nurian, and I’ll go to the Hall and find out what’s
happening.” Lucivar hesitated. “Do you think her boys are going to
become cildru dyathe?”
“I hope not, but I do
need to talk to Daemon about some children who have become
cildru dyathe in the past few
weeks.”
“I’ll let him
know.”
Saetan watched
Lucivar walk away. His sons were strong leaders and powerful men.
He would trust them to take care of the living while he took care
of the dead.