Seduced by Crimson (38 page)

Hank blinked, barely hiding a smirk. Beside him, Slick gave a thumbs-up to Xiao Fei.

Patrick gave a grunt of disgust, slammed his empty glass down on the bar, and stomped out. Of course, once outside, there was nowhere for him to go. The sun was up, the sound of helicopters thumped through the air, and a couple of vamps ducked and swerved around treetops trying to hide.

Patrick frowned. No, those weren't vamps. It was full daylight, and these guys were barely dressed. These were demons then. Flying demons.

He dropped down on the curb, feeling defeated. He didn't even know why he felt so awful. Exhaustion? Maybe. Anxiety about tonight? A little. But none of that was unusual. The steady drain of Earth's energy through the portal was giving him a royal headache, but he'd already taken a double dose of painkillers and that was fading. Which meant what?

"So, you're in love and you're not handling it well," drawled Hank, stepping through the bar door. He passed Patrick a beer as he plopped onto the ground beside him. "You intellectual types always make things complicated."

"You don't understand!" Patrick turned to his friend, struggling with words. "Yeah, I feel…
everything
for her. She's everything—and more."

Hank shrugged. "What's the problem? Buy her some flowers, get it on, and get it off. If it's really good, get her a ring. Been a while since we've had a good druid wedding."

Patrick groaned and let his head drop into his hands. The helicopter noise was louder now. As was the sudden eruption of gunfire. "She nearly died this afternoon, Hank. We've got demons everywhere searching for her. I can't protect her."

Hank clapped a meaty arm around his shoulders. "That's why you've got us. We've got your back, bro. She'll be fine."

Patrick shook his head. "No, she won't."

"Course she will. We'll do the ritual thingy tonight. Wham, bam, gate's slammed. Then you and her have a nice little wedding, followed by a nice big honeymoon. Nothing could be easier."

"I'm burnt," Patrick groaned. "There's almost no power left in me."

Hank looked surprised. "But you've got enough to close the gate, right? I mean, I thought you weren't the power source anyway. You…" He gestured vaguely with his hand. "You shape the patterns, right?
She's
the power source."

"Her blood," he agreed.

"Right. The Cambodian female hemophiliac—how whacked is that?"

If only Hank knew. Patrick felt his body clench so tight that his breath came as a shallow pant. Oh, God, he was about to be sick. He abruptly dived to the side, wrapping himself around the corner of the building as he heaved.

"Damn, man," Hank said from somewhere above his left shoulder, "a little demon blood gets spilled and you—"

"It's not the goddamned blood, you idiot," Patrick growled between gasps. "It's Xiao Fei's blood. That's the power source—her blood."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that," said the other druid.

Patrick straightened, stripping off his shirt to wipe his face. "And do you get that she's a small woman, Hank? Do you get that the last time anyone did this, it took thirty of her kind? Thirty small women to close the gate?"

Hank blinked. "Thirty?" he echoed lamely. "But… do we even have thirty of them?" At last, the man understood.

"There's just Xiao Fei and me."

"But… you ain't got any juice left. You just said so."

"I know."

"Oh, fuck." Hank looked away from Patrick, his gaze rising to the treetops, where a few dozen demons had just erupted across the skyline, all aiming for the helicopter. They flew fast—damn fast. Too fast for the pilot to compensate. Within seconds the demons swarmed the machine. The thing dipped and swerved and went into a dive. Moments later a booming crash rolled through the streets. A pillar of fire rose up into the air.

"We gotta close that gate, Draig-Uisge," Hank said softly.

Patrick didn't answer. He knew what had to be done.

Hank suddenly refocused his eyes on Patrick. "I've been practicing. I can kinda feel energy. Can I help?"

Patrick closed his eyes to scan his friend. He desperately hoped to find the same type of power inside Hank that he sensed in Xiao Fei, but try as he might, the answer remained the same. He shook his head. "You're honing the same skill I have—to shape energy. What we need is
more
."

"But the Earth's got energy" Hank suggested.

"Less and less every second it bleeds into the demon world."

Hank took a step forward. "But it's still got it, right? It's still got power. Can't you use that?"

Patrick nodded. "Yeah, sure. That's the plan." But his voice lacked conviction, and they both knew it wouldn't work. If things were that easy, they wouldn't need Xiao Fei. It wouldn't have taken the blood of twenty-nine Phoenix Tears in Cambodia to close the last portal.

"Well, sheeeeit." Hank spun away from him, grabbed Patrick's beer, and downed the last of it. Patrick sat beside his friend, and they both stared morosely at the pavement.

"She know?" Hank finally asked.

Patrick nodded.

Hank cursed again. "So, what're you gonna do?"

"Everything I can."

Hank tossed the beer bottle into a rusty garbage can. "Earth comes first, right? I mean, I know you love her and all. Still, Earth comes first. It has to."

Patrick didn't answer. He couldn't say it.

Hank wouldn't let him off so easily. The man twisted to stare him right in the eye. "Earth comes first—right, Draig-Uisge?" he repeated. "I mean, we're the entire planet: billions of people, plus birds and plants and shit. We come first, right?"

Patrick nodded. He had to; it was the truth. "Yeah," he finally said, because Hank wasn't going to release him until he admitted the truth. "Earth comes before Xiao Fei."

"Yes," came a soft female voice from behind him. Both Patrick and Hank twisted to find Xiao Fei standing in the door. "Yes," she repeated, "Earth comes first." Then she spun on her heel and walked out into the open parking lot.

Patrick cursed under his breath and leaped to his feet. "Xiao Fei! Xiao Fei!" he called.

"Shut up," she snapped when he caught up with her. "Just shut up. I know what's important. I was raised in a monastery, remember? All of us Phoenix Tears were raised to live a life of service. I know the score, I can connect the dots. I—"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Patrick grabbed hold of her arm and held her steady. Then he thought better of it and tucked her close. Surprisingly, she let him.

"I'm being American," she grumbled against his naked torso. "I'm speaking in sports and leisure metaphors."

"Of course you are," he murmured. Then he bent down and claimed her lips. The kiss was tender and sweet—or at least it started out that way. Then Xiao Fei wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to inhale him. He wasn't the least bit resistant, and so, within moments, they were wrapped around each other.

A low whistle sounded behind him. It was Slick, not Hank. Patrick knew because Hank promptly tried to quiet her.

"Don't shush me," Slick snapped. "They should get a room. And what the hell happened to his shirt?"

Patrick broke the kiss, but it was a really hard thing to do. Xiao Fei looked equally reluctant. He stared down into her eyes, seeing tears glitter there. "Xiao Fei—"

"Yeah. Exactly where
is
your shirt?" she asked.

"I, uh…"

"He hurled," Hank supplied. Then, to make up for it, he offered Patrick a spare tee he pulled from the compartment on the back of his motorcycle.

Xiao Fei wrinkled her nose. "Really?" She shook her head. "And they say Asians can't hold their liquor."

Given that he'd been drinking soda, Patrick felt particularly wounded by that remark, but he couldn't comment because he was pulling on the too-short tee. When he had it stretched down almost to his belt, he opened his mouth to say something really clever. Xiao Fei beat him to the punch.

"Why'd you bother? We're going to have to get naked soon enough." Then, while his mind and body were still dealing with that, she rolled her eyes. "Don't speak. Just get on the bike and let's go save the planet." Then she gestured to Slick. Within moments, the two women were mounted and had roared away.

Hank stared at Patrick, a dazed expression on his face. "I can't decide if you're the luckiest bastard on the planet or the most cursed."

Patrick looked at his friend, the reality of the situation descending once again. Hank, too, slowly sobered. As they climbed onto his bike, Hank shook his head.

"Yeah," Hank said on a sigh. "Your life sucks."

Life had patterns and rhythms, internal beats that became so ingrained that they usually remained unnoticeable. Even life in a war zone had its own beat, but unlike the Americans who surrounded her in Peter's office reception area, that rhythm was familiar to Xiao Fei.

She slid easily into that constant anxiety that left a body hunched and the eyes restless. The druids who surrounded her were jumpy, like nervous birds, punctuating their talk with unnecessary laughter or abbreviated sentences. They kept trying to reestablish the old rhythm—the safe one—and yet remain vigilant and hyperaware. That mixture too was a rhythm, but it was one that could not be sustained for long.

Patrick, of course, was tending to his own rhythms. After returning to what was now druid central, Patrick had gone into professor mode. He'd taken the plant and fruit she'd gotten from Sandy and disappeared into a lab. An hour later, he'd given her a vial containing a deep red juice.

"Drink this. It'll boost your power," he'd said. "And your blood volume."

She'd downed it without a word. He'd stayed beside her long enough to stroke a tender caress down her cheek, then Peter had demanded his attention. Seems there was some problem with drumming up vamps and werewolves to help tonight.

But that was an hour ago. Whatever the difficulty, Patrick had solved it. Especially since Keeli, the head werewolf, and her vampire friend were now slipping into the room. Xiao Fei heard them apologize to Patrick. Something about the werewolf who had betrayed them being punished. Xiao Fei tuned it out. That was irrelevant now. She barely even acknowledged Pei Ling and crew who were also arriving. Now wasn't time to acknowledge friends.