Deception (5 page)

“Give her a breath,” Serafin instructed.

Quin quickly obeyed then returned his ear to her lips.

After a short moment, Serafin spoke again. “Her breaths should be coming easier now.”

Quin concentrated, but there was no change in her condition.

“Are they coming easier?” Serafin pressed.

Quin shook his head no, and Serafin cursed as he looked at Caitrin. “Are the lungs repaired?”

“Yes,” Caitrin answered, grasping a handful of his messy, blond hair.

Air tickled Quin’s ear as his fingers quivered over her heart. “Yes,” he choked, dizzy with solace as he found her face. “Layla.”

Her lashes fluttered as color seeped into her lips and cheeks, but she didn't respond.

“She should be waking up,” Quin asserted. “Why isn't she waking up?”

Serafin reached for the crown of her head and closed his eyes. “She’s okay, but between the drop in her blood pressure and the lack of oxygen, she'll have a hell of a headache when she wakes up.” He pulled his hand from her head and moved it to her ribs. “That was the most severe case of tension pneumothorax I've ever witnessed. I've never seen it hit that fast.”

Quin’s stomach churned as he swallowed a lump. “Maybe I missed it.”

“Missed what?” Caitrin asked.

“A punctured lung,” Quin answered. “Maybe I missed it when I healed her yesterday.”

“Small tears are easy to miss,” Serafin noted. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I should have caught it,” Quin disagreed, finding her serene face. “Come on, baby, wake up. I need to see your eyes.”

Her heart rate spiked. Then her hand flew to her forehead. “Quin?”

Quin’s heart sprouted wings as relief swept the air from his lungs and hastened his blood. “Yes,” he breathed, burying his face in his bicep. “I’m right here.”

“What happened?” she asked.

Quin took a deep breath. Then he pulled his face from his arm and sloppily mended her dress. “You punctured a lung and passed out.”

She blinked and raised her head, focusing on her surroundings. Then she squeezed her eyes shut on tears. “Oh god. Is everyone okay?”

Serafin ran a hand across his forehead and sat back on his heels. “Everyone's going to be fine.”

“Who's hurt besides Kemble?” she asked.

Caitrin handled that one, his sea-blue eyes bloodshot and shiny as he reached for Morrigan. “Belinos, Drystan, Kearny and Devlin.”

“Alana . . . ” Layla squeaked. “She must be so scared.”

“Alana and Brayden didn't see a thing,” Morrigan assured. “We made sure of it.”

“Do they know about Drystan?”

“No. They won't see their dad until he's doing better.”

“That's good,” Layla whispered. “That would scare them.”

“You need to stop worrying about everyone else,” Daleen countered, “and start taking care of yourself. This coven’s fate is not your burden to bear.”

“Yeah, right,” Layla breathed, slowly shaking her head. “I'm sorry, guys.”

“For what?” Caitrin asked.

“For passing out,” she answered. “They need you in there, and I'm out here causing trouble.”

“Everyone in the tent is stable,” Quin replied. “You almost died on this lawn.”

“It's my own damn fault. I should learn to control myself.”

“You've been put through hell this week. No one faults you for the way you’ve handled it.”

“Please stop, Quin. You shouldn't be out here reassuring me. You should be in there with your parents.”

“My dad's going to be fine. He's fairly peaceful right now. You, on the other hand, are as far from peaceful as a person can get.”

“What's this?” a cocky voice rang out. “Break her heart again, Quin?”

“Oh god,” Layla groaned. “Go away, Finley.”

“Why are you out here?” Quin demanded, glaring up at the intruder. “Has Layla not bruised your ego enough for one night?”

“How did she do that?” Caitrin cut in.

“You should have seen her,” Quin laughed. “Finley took flight with us earlier and used the opportunity to spout off a list of ridiculous reasons he thinks he's good enough for her; and she meticulously picked them apart, turning his pompous list to dust. She told him exactly how she feels, and she did it beautifully. Didn't you, love?”

“I only told the truth,” she mumbled.

“A wondrous thing, my honest angel, but I doubt Finley agrees.”

“You know,” Finley replied, “Layla has a mind of her own, and she might change it once she loses that blindfold. Maybe then you'll be taken down a notch.”

Layla opened her eyes, shooting Finley a look that would smash even the proudest man’s ego. “Why are you still here?”

“Because my life is my own,” he answered. “I don't have a team of hovering subordinates calling my shots. I do what I want when I want.”

“Well that's your problem,” she snapped. “You don't give a shit who you bother as long as you get your way. Well get it through your thick skull already – this time, you're not getting your way. So drop your own ego down a notch and make yourself scarce. Our family’s wounded, and you're adding insult to injury by being around.”

Quin smiled at Caitrin. “She's a firecracker, isn't she?”

Caitrin stifled a grin as he looked at Layla. Then he soberly turned to Finley. “It sounds like she's made herself clear. I suggest you give up the chase and move on, use this experience as a hard lesson learned. You don't get what you want by being hateful.”

Finley shrugged. “I’ll get what I want in the end. I have determination to burn.” He looked from Caitrin to Layla. “Want me to fix that headache? I could get rid of it faster than anyone else here, even your precious Quin.”

Layla sighed and closed her eyes. “No. I want you to leave.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” he conceded. “See you tomorrow.” He maliciously smiled and winked at Quin. Then he turned and strolled away, whistling as he went.

Layla groaned and shook her head. “Guess he's not taking the hint.”

“You gave him more than a hint,” Quin countered, watching Finley's back. “You shoved the whole thing in his smug face. He's just too arrogant to swallow it.”

Layla opened her eyes and touched Quin’s jaw. “My head really is killing me. Is there something you can do for it? I hate to ask, but I can barely think through all the pounding.”

“Of course,” he agreed, taking her cold hand. “And I want you to ask.” He breathed warmth throughout her body with a kiss to her knuckles. Then he softly held her skull while touching his lips to her forehead.

“Better already,” she whispered, sliding her fingers into his hair. “Thank you.”

He spent a few more seconds soothing her head. Then he kissed and pulled away.

“You guys should get back to the others,” Layla insisted, scanning her worried grandparents. “I’m fine.”

They looked like they wanted to argue as they stared with moist eyes, but they eventually yielded. Serafin lifted Layla’s fingers into a kiss. Then he passed her hand to Daleen so she and Morrigan could do the same.

The three of them straightened and entered the tent, but Caitrin stayed behind, holding Layla’s hand as he spoke to Quin. “The next time we see Agro will likely be the last.”

“Does he know she’s here?” Quin asked.

“If he knew,” Caitrin countered, “he wouldn’t have left.”

“What does he know?”

“Mostly lies, but we had to weave them with truths. He had… leverage, and we needed to do something fast. Belinos whipped up a story and told Agro we tracked Layla to Portland…”

“What?” Quin objected. “You confirmed she’s in Oregon?”

“We were in a tight spot. We had to do something, and Belinos spun a likely story that might work to our advantage. Your uncle did well, Quinlan. You’re not to hold this against him.”

Quin drew a slow breath and bowed his head, knowing the coven wouldn’t crack unless necessary. “What’s the story?”

“We told Agro the truth about Layla’s stay in Portland, including the hotel and when she checked out, but we claimed she told a waitress she was heading to Seattle.”

“That cover will last all of one night. Then he’ll know we’re full of shit.”

“That’s why we called our Washington contacts as soon as Agro left. Devlin’s cousin has agreed to pull some strings and pay off the hexless at a Seattle hotel. By tomorrow morning, there should be substantial evidence of Layla’s visit to the Emerald City, including a trip to the Space Needle. At the very least, it will buy us some time.”

“I guess,” Quin conceded.

“It was the best we could do with short notice,” Caitrin added. “But we want to play it safe, so we’re making some changes. Several of our members will relocate once we’ve healed and spent some time together. Serafin and Daleen are going to stay the night
at Cinnia's, and we want the two of you to take our guest bedroom. Layla’s house is on Agro’s radar now, so he’ll aim for it first when he returns.”

“Then we’ll stay in my room,” Quin suggested.

“No good,” Caitrin refused. “Agro saw your parents’ bonded lights, and his soldiers found your room and a photo of you. Once the lies started flowing, we claimed we sent you to Seattle to find Layla, but if the trail goes cold and Agro returns, he’s as likely to target your house as he is hers.”

Layla covered teary eyes as she shook her head, and Caitrin sadly watched her aura as he went on. “Our upstairs bedroom faces the forest, so if you need to leave, exit through the window. If for some reason you don't make it out in time, conceal yourselves and hide, then let us know where you are so we can protect the area while we hatch a plan.” He kissed Layla’s hand then laid it on her stomach. “I'll give you an update on everyone's health in the morning. For now, take her to our house and heal her some more. Double-check her lungs, and spend extra time on the ribs.”

Quin guiltily bowed his head, and Caitrin stood. “Goodnight, Layla Love.”

“Night,” she breathed. “Tell everyone I'm sorry and I hope they feel better soon.”

“I'll relay all of it save for the apology, because you don't owe them one.”

“Fine.”

After staring for another moment, Caitrin floated away, and Quin watched him go before pulling Layla's hand from her eyes. “You just scared the hell out of me, Layla. I thought I was going to have to watch you die.”

“I'm sorry, Quin.”

“I don't want you to say you're sorry. I want you to be more careful. I've never been more scared in my life. I know you don't like to be told what to do, but I'm begging you, please take it easy until your body heals.”

“I’m trying, but it's hard for me to control myself when stuff like this happens.”

“I know it's hard,” he conceded, “and I understand why, but I can’t handle seeing you like that, so put yourself first for once and try to take it easy. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, fighting more tears.

“Come here,” he said, sliding his arms underneath her. He cradled her to his chest as he stood. Then he looked to the tent’s entrance.

“Do you want to see your dad?” Layla asked.

“My dad's resting,” he answered, but he mentally called for his mom, who quickly emerged from the tent with her two cats in tow.

“Hey,” she wearily greeted. “Thanks for calling me out.”

“How are you doing?” Quin asked.

“I'm okay,” she assured. “Your dad's going to be fine.” She reached up and brushed a curl from Layla’s forehead. “How are you, honey?”

Layla swallowed a lump as she looked down. “I'm fine. Just really sorry. For everything.”

“Don't apologize,” Cordelia insisted. “We're okay, and we're thankful you're okay. You, too,” she added, looking at Quin. “Your dad will wake up to good news. He was worried about you when we sedated him.”

“Ease his mind for me,” Quin replied.

“Of course,” Cordelia agreed.

She floated from the ground to kiss his cheek, and he shifted Layla so he could pull his mom into a hug.

“I love you,” Cordelia whispered.

“I love you, too,” he returned. “Tell dad I'll see him in the morning.”

“I will. Goodnight, Layla.”

“Goodnight,” Layla murmured, fidgeting with her dress.

Cordelia followed her cats into the tent, and Quin sighed as he headed for Caitrin’s house.

“Your mom is wonderful,” Layla whispered, watching his handsome profile.

“Yes she is,” he agreed.

“You're wonderful,” Layla added, laying her head on his shoulder.

He kissed her forehead, and she was able to relax for the remainder of the trip, but the moment they entered Morrigan and Caitrin's guest bedroom, she jerked to attention.

Quin jolted and tightened his hold on her. “What?”

Stunned into silence, Layla scanned the chamber, taking in every detail. Some were different, but for the most part, the room hadn't changed in twenty-one years.

“What’s wrong?” Quin urged.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. “I just forgot.”