Passionate Investigations (15 page)

Hope soared through Zahra. She could see the tiny beads of
sweat forming on Miles’s brow. If she could just hold out for a few more
minutes he should become sick enough for her to overpower him. Even if he didn’t
touch his coffee further it appeared as if what he had already infused was
enough to set the wheels in motion.

“No one would ever believe my father would kill me,” she
argued. “He loves me. Not even in the wildest rage would he harm me.”

“You naïve little girl,” Miles sneered. “Grant’s whole world
is based upon the reputation of your family, on the prestige, the power and the
strength of your good name. When he ‘discovers’ you cavorting like a horny
nymph with a disgraced, traitorous criminal like Padden any wizard with a child
would know exactly how he felt. Killing you in a rage would be a simple matter,
easily believed. Now shut the fuck up and move over to that chair so I can
arrange you all and make certain you’re positioned correctly for the scene I
will set.”

When Zahra hesitated once again, madly trying to think of
something further to say, Miles came around the kitchen bench and grabbed her
arm painfully.

“Ouch,” she cried out as she tried to drag her feet and slow
him down.

“Let her go, you fucking bastard!” Rob shouted. This
distracted Miles for a second, but as hard as she tried to pull out of his grip
it was like a steel band around her arm. Her wound leaked blood once again, the
burnt flesh of her skin throbbing agonizingly in his grasp.

“Miles, you really don’t want to do this,” she insisted.
With a mental curse she wished she’d grabbed more of the herbs, it evidently
hadn’t been enough to incapacitate him.

With a wrenching motion Miles pushed her hard toward the
chair. Stumbling, she fell into it as Rob continued to curse at Miles. Zahra
grabbed at the chair to stop herself from falling over onto the floor.

“What did you do to me, you witch?” Miles moaned as he
clutched his stomach and bent over.

Hope soared in Zahra. Panting from the mixture of
adrenaline, fear and pain coursing through her body, she glanced up barely in
time to recognize this moment as her long-awaited chance. Distractions
abounded. Her father writhed in his chair, his muffled shouts behind the gag
and the scraping of his chair on the floorboards causing a scene. Rob spewed
vitriol in the most impressive display of imaginative cuss words she’d ever had
the pleasure of hearing.

These coupled with the evident discomfort Miles felt, hunched
over as he sweated profusely and clutched at his stomach as he attempted
valiantly to keep a watch on her had Zahra certain it was now or never.

“You donkey-ball sucking, slimy little hamster-fucker. If
you so much as lay a hand on Zahra I’m going to gnaw your fingers off with my
teeth and stick them directly up your asshole while I—”

Impressed despite the crudeness of his words, Zahra launched
herself at Miles, tackling him down to the ground as the
pfft
sound
accompanied shattering glass. Everything happened at once. Two of the enormous
panels of glass that were the back windows exploded, shards flying in every
direction. The muffled sounds of her father’s shouts rose in volume as did the
desperation of the chair scraping over the floor.

“Down, stay
down
, sunshine. Circe, knock him out,
now!” Rob shouted but there was a ringing in Zahra’s ears that made it seem as
if she were moving in slow motion. Miles wriggled like a worm beneath her, each
of them straining against the other as they fought together in a bizarre kind
of intimacy. Zahra had managed to pin Miles’s hands beneath him, her weight on
top of him hampering him for now. But the strength with which he bucked showed
her he would not be restrained for long.

Breathless, her whole upper right side on fire with
excruciating pain, she wondered if she had somehow made the damage on her arm
from earlier worse.

Morals flew out the window as Zahra realized in the heat of
the moment, during a struggle like this, Miles could very well kill her and
claim self-defense. That knowledge made her fight all the harder.

All the guilt, shame and loss from Tanya’s death, the fear
for her father’s safety, the knowledge that her next action might save Rob from
being murdered before her eyes, every suppressed iota of rage, fear and love
rose within her like a conflagration. With no real skill, she balled it all up,
her magic rising within her soul to defend those she loved and protect herself.

With an incoherent shout that was nothing like a word, she
screamed as she let loose the magical energy and it burned a trail out of her
hands and into the back of Miles’ shoulders where she clutched at him. Green
sparks shot in every direction as the heavy sound of multiple boot steps raced
into the room.

Utterly drained, Zahra couldn’t even raise her hands to
protect her face as Miles threw her from him. She slammed into the floor
painfully hard, her right shoulder, arm and chest screaming in agony at the
abuse. Her eyes fluttered shut, an instinctive reaction to try to block the
pain that seared through her.

There was a crunching sound, then a deep masculine voice
shouted, “Target clear!”

Lifting her head, unable to move her aching body just yet,
Zahra saw Ben in a tight black sweater with a beanie covering his bald head,
clutching an automatic weapon as he ran through the enormous hole that had been
one of the back windows. Two wizards leaned over Miles, blood streaming from
his broken nose.

She assumed one of them had hit him in the face with the
butt of their guns, figuring that had been the crunch she’d heard. The two
wizards divided, one moving to remove the magic surrounding Rob, the other to
cut the ties that bound her father. Ben stormed toward her, anger and worry
clearly etched on his dark face.

“More than two hundred and fifty clear shots I had,” he
complained, frustration dripping from his tone. “Two hundred and fifty. I held
the Chicago record for the most consecutive accurate shots. Everyone knows that
if you want the shot to go where you want, call Ben Jackson. Another thirty
shots and I’d have held the regional record. But you, you had to go fuck it up
for me.”

Pain swamped her and for a moment Zahra felt certain she’d
fallen into a different dimension. What the hell was Ben raging at her for?
Nothing made sense anymore. Dimly she saw Layla scampering in through the
window, last and clearly lagging behind the wizards, huffing for breath. Her
delicate face showed concern, her blue eyes meeting Zahra’s as she hurried
over.

“Are you all right? I told him something seemed off and he
should wait, but Ben was playing the macho hero and insisted he could take the
shot,” Layla’s words tumbled over themselves as she pushed past Ben.

Rob crouched down next to her, cradling her face in his
hands. Zahra shifted her head, still not certain why the pain continued to
ravage her body. She wasn’t paralyzed—she sure felt the pain—but neither could
she seem to move in the manner she wanted just yet.

She tried to look at Miles, but Rob was in the way.

“Miles,” she said huskily. “Is he still alive? We need him
to stand trial. We have to give the Enforcers the evidence for the Tribunal, so
make sure we clear your name, Rob. And he has to pay for Tanya, for arranging
her murder and—”

“Shhh, love,” Rob soothed her. His fingers stroked her cheek
and wiped away the tears she hadn’t even known were falling. “He will. He’s
fine. His face won’t be so pretty anymore, but otherwise he is as fit as ever.
Just rest, love. Ben, where the fuck is your Healer?”

Zahra tried to lift herself, but her arms shook and heat
shot once again all over her right side. She collapsed back into Rob’s warm
body. Turning as she fell, she saw for the first time since tackling Miles that
the whole right half of her white shirt was soaked red. Panic seized her.

“Rob, my shirt, why is it—?”

Images and words swam before her eyes. She could hear her
father snapping out commands, insisting on calling their family Healer to meet
them and consult. Dimly she heard Ben apologize profusely, insisting he’d never
have shot her if she hadn’t moved in front of Miles at the exact wrong second.
Rob’s voice seemed to float above everything, repeating over and over how much
he loved her and she needed to keep those beautiful blue eyes of hers open.

It was all a bit much. She fell unconscious without even
noticing.

* * * * *

Rob cursed himself. If he hadn’t been so focused on the
undeniably scary show of Zahra’s magical prowess he might have managed to shout
a warning to her. Two petite but blistering hand marks were burned into Miles’
shoulders. Never having seen anything like it, Rob had stared until he saw the
spreading blood blossom over Zahra’s chest.

He couldn’t lose her. He just couldn’t.

Miles screamed and ranted in the background, but Rob didn’t
even turn to pay attention.

“Stay with me, sunshine, I miss those beautiful eyes of
yours,” he pleaded. “Please open them. How can you shame Ben for his revolting
aim if you don’t look at him? Please, baby, come back here. Open those gorgeous
eyes.”

“You can’t do this,” Miles insisted angrily. “Do you have
any idea of who I am? I’ll have your careers for this.”

Rob tuned out the wizard and focused on Zahra, pressing down
on the bullet hole to try to stem the flow of her blood. He gathered his magic,
tried to use the basic first-aid Healing spell he knew, but the damage was too
great—he barely made a dent in her wound.

“Our family Healer is on her way. She said to keep her chest
elevated, to slow the blood flow.” Grant knelt on the floor next to them, his
worried gaze drifting over Zahra.

Rob nodded, his focus not wavering for a second.

“Get your hands off me,” Miles screamed. The sound of magic
exploding filled the air with a loud
boom
. Both Rob and Grant instinctively
covered Zahra with their bodies. A half-dozen short, sharp bursts of power
filled the air and then the empty hush of deadly silence reigned.

When Rob lifted his head he looked around. Ben had dragged
Layla to the floor, his enormous frame obscuring her practically from sight.
One of the wizards Ben had called in as backup lay sprawled on the floor, his
gaze vacant and his arm ripped from his body, a giant cavity of raw red meat
and blood splashed across the wooden boards.

The second wizard climbed shakily to his feet, clearly
distressed as he tried to gather himself. Miles lay on the floor, his body
twisted to a strange angle, the back of his skull caved in. Blood and brain
matter oozed nastily.

The silence took on a life of its own, filling the room as
each of the survivors collected themselves. Rob noted Ben turned Layla away,
protecting her from the ugly view.

“You don’t need to see that, babe,” Ben murmured. Layla’s
glance flickered close to the bloody mess and then away instantly. She nodded
and Ben escorted her back out into the yard.

Rob pulled Zahra up into his lap and he rocked her to and
fro, his hands stained red as he pressed against her wound. The blood appeared
to be slowing, but it was hard to tell.

“Come on, sunshine, open those gorgeous eyes for me, I’ll
protect you, I swear it. There’s nothing scary here anymore. You were so brave,
a miracle. Come on, baby.” He murmured nonsense and repeated himself
ad
nauseum
, his only focus on keeping her with him. Nothing else mattered.

It could have been minutes or hours before Grant’s Healer
arrived. A short, plump middle-aged lady with iron-gray hair hurried through
the house and dropped a large bag next to Zahra.

“All right, mister,” she spoke in a no nonsense tone of
voice. “Let me have a look here. Give me a bit of space. You too, Grant. Move
off.”

Rob clung tighter to Zahra, his instinct to hold her
fiercely battling with the logic that insisted he obey the Healer. A warm hand
pressed gently down on his shoulder.

“Come on, son, give Gerri some room here,” Grant said. Gerri
took hold of Zahra’s shoulders as Rob reluctantly let her go and stood up.
Zahra shifted uncomfortably, her eyes fluttering as she moaned in abject pain.

Gerri tutted at her. Grasping the blood-soaked shirt in both
her hands, Gerry shredded the material, exposing the pale delicacy of Zahra’s
skin, but also the bullet wound and raw-looking hole in her shoulder. Rob
choked, unable to control himself as he felt an almost physical pain in
response to Zahra’s torso.

“I’m wizard enough to admit when I was wrong,” Grant spoke.
It took Rob time to understand Grant not only directed the words at him, but
what he meant by them.

“I was framed,” Rob replied without removing his eyes from
Zahra. “It’s understandable you bought into it.”

“I should have looked deeper beneath the surface,” Grant
admitted. “But in truth I was so relieved to have the pressure off Tanya, and
anyone else to blame, I rushed into it. Miles and his cohorts had guessed I’d do
something like that. I played right into their hands and I’m not proud of that.”

Rob couldn’t think of anything useful to say to that, so he
watched Gerri use a mortar and pestle to freshly grind various groupings of
herbs, trickling a glass beaker of water into it to make a paste. Rob couldn’t
help but think Zahra would be intrigued by this, curious as to what herbs would
be used and how the Healer put it all together.

He wished devoutly that his love would open her eyes. He
could last through anything, if only she were with him, watching here with him
right now.

Gerri smeared the paste lavishly over first Zahra’s wound,
then continued to spread more and more over the spot, angling it outwards in a
starburst pattern. A pungent odor rose from the paste, but Rob couldn’t have
cared less. It could smell like manure and he’d accept it, anything that could
speed up the healing process and take away Zahra’s pain.