Zurlo, Michele - Torment [Daughters of Circe 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (24 page)

Except that she got wet, nothing happened.

Torrey sank down to sit in the tub, rested her forehead on her knees, and cried. She was too weak to try again. The water made her aware of every inch of her body. The egg-sized swelling on the back of her skull was from hitting the corner of the dresser. It was the injury that knocked her unconscious for an entire night. This was definitely a concussion. She hoped her skull wasn’t fractured as well.

Her wrist was a mottled mass of purples and blues. As she finally gathered the courage to peel away her wet clothes, she saw the deep gashes marring her left side just below the ribs.

Gingerly, she tested the bones that shielded her heart. They were bruised, but not broken.

When the water turned cold, she reluctantly gave up. She was exhausted. The water hadn’t done a thing except to clean her wound.

Using the mirror, she assessed the damage. Bruised wrist. Bruised ribs. One ugly shiner on her right cheekbone from where she’d hit the floor. A large swelling on the back of her head. Various lighter bruises on her back and on her right side.

All of that paled in comparison to the four parallel gashes on her left side. She needed stitches and some replacement skin. Torrey wasn’t sure she had enough skin there to knit together.

Rummaging through Shade’s bathroom cabinets produced gauze and tape. A wolf wouldn’t need antiseptic. They were impervious to most infections, and they would heal much too quickly to invest in bandages.

She did the best she could, dragged herself to her bed, and passed out.

* * * *

Time passed. Whenever she woke, she forced herself to go to the kitchen and eat something. She brought water and broth to Shade, but he never regained consciousness.

A nearly full moon floated on clouds in the sky. Torrey sat under her tree, clutching the black cloak from Caiden around her shoulders. It was a magical item. She wore the beads around her neck, and she leaned carefully against the trunk of her white pine.

She had never been a quick healer. Though her head felt better and she hadn’t passed out in two days, she battled nausea that would rise from nowhere to torment her.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated her energy on the white pine. After several moments she could feel the pith. Nutrients whizzed past cells. She reached out to grab something, but it wasn’t the right kind of sustenance. She followed the flow to the roots, checking to see if the damage she caused was repairing.

A low growl jerked her from her trance. If she had the energy, she might have leapt to her feet or at least leaned forward. Slowly, her eyelids rose. Tiffany stood before her, the blond goddess with her three faithful lieutenants.

“I warned you, witch.”

Torrey’s eyes shifted to peer behind the foursome. “You came alone.”

She shifted, tossing her long mane of hair over her shoulder. “Soren is fully aware you are staying with Shade. When he wants you, he will come for you.”

Torrey didn’t have time to play games with Tiffany. At another time, she might have loved some verbal sparring. Besides that, the she-wolf hadn’t followed through on her promise to bring Riley. “He poisoned Shade with wolf bane. I tried to heal him, but I couldn’t. I need your help. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t know how else to find you.”

“Wolf bane?” Tiffany’s jaw dropped. Behind her, two of her three men gasped. “This is a serious charge.”

“I need you to bring him here,” Torrey said. “I can’t lift him.”

One of the lieutenants stepped forward. With their bronze skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, the trio so closely resembled one another that they must have been brothers. “Why would we bring him to you? Why should we trust you not to kill him?”

Torrey’s eyes narrowed in derision. “I love Shade. I would never hurt him.”

Tiffany motioned him back. “If what you say is true, then you’ve had over a week to finish him off.”

Lumbering to her feet, Torrey swayed before stabilizing. They had to be able to smell her wound. It hadn’t stopped oozing blood and pus. “I’m in no condition to be a threat to you. Go to his house. He is in his bed. Bring him here. If I kill him, then you have my permission to kill me. I will not fight you.”

Tiffany waved her hand at the man who had questioned Torrey. “Marius, you stay here with the witch. If she makes one wrong move, kill her.” With one last, distrustful glare, she turned on heel. The other two werewolves followed her.

Torrey sank back to the ground and rested her back against her white pine. Marius stared at her, watching silently. Tiffany returned not more than fifteen minutes later. Her men carried an unconscious Shade wrapped in his sheet.

Again, she struggled to stand. “Lose the sheet. I need him to be touching the ground.”

Despite the frigid air temperature and the colder ground temperature, Tiffany didn’t argue. Perhaps she recognized Torrey’s anguish. “Do as she says.”

Marius cleared the area of rocks and sticks. The other two gently lowered Shade to the bare earth. His fevered, naked skin glistened in the moonlight, drawing strength from that orb that belonged exclusively to a werewolf.

“Light a fire.” Torrey pointed to a spot not far away. The warmth of the flames would reach them. Shade needed this element.

Marius rushed to obey. Torrey deduced he must be the lowest-ranking wolf in the pack. Being a fire creature had perks. Marius had a nice blaze going in no time.

“I need you to hold him down.”

Again, Marius followed the order. “At the shoulders?”

“Everywhere,” she said. “Shoulders, arms, legs, head, everything. He fights this.”

Tiffany and the others bent to do as she directed. “It is the nature of a wolf to fight a witch.”

“It wasn’t always so.” Torrey knew this without a shred of doubt. Or proof. Like magic and the Daughter of Circe thing, the knowledge simply appeared.

Opening her blanket caused a bit of a gasp from her onlookers. Torrey wore no clothes under the heavy garment. She knew she could only heal him where she touched him. This would guarantee maximum coverage.

“What happened to you?” This was from one of the lieutenants whose name she didn’t know. He didn’t bother to hide his shock.

Torrey didn’t bother looking down. “I told you he fought me.”

If they noted the wide, weeping bandage and wondered at its significance, they didn’t voice anything.

She arranged her body on top of his, spreading her arms and legs to rest on top of his. “Hold him tightly.”

With four powerful wolves holding Shade, keeping her perch on top of him still proved challenging. The second she began her magic, he fought with everything he had. His body writhed and bucked. Marius slipped an arm between them and used his awesome strength to hold down Shade’s midsection.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated the magic. Soon, she sensed the poison. Just like before, the words came to her tongue and fell out, whispered magic. The beads burned where they touched her neck.

The poison left his liver and heart and lungs to soak into the loamy soil underneath them both. She worked to heal the cells in his arms and legs.

“What is this travesty?”

Soren’s voice sounded from a distance, but it had never gone far, not really. It haunted her nightmares. Fire shot through her skull as he lifted her by the hair, ripping her from Shade’s body. She hung, limp in his grasp, unable to summon the strength to move her feet to where her weight would rest on them.

“My magic is almost gone.” The hate in her eyes pierced him, though he didn’t seem to notice. “Shade will live.”

He bared his teeth at her, the growl transforming his handsome face to something menacing. “But you will not.”

“No,” she agreed. “But you’ll get nothing from me. What I didn’t give to Shade, he took from me. I will die before the moon is full.”

At that, she ripped away the makeshift bandage covering her side. The four weeping gashes stood out in vivid contrast to her pale, sickly skin.

“We thwarted you, Soren. You can kill me again and again and again, and we will make sure you get nothing from me each time.”

The fever must have stolen her sanity. For a moment, she believed with her whole heart and soul that she was Hope, reincarnated.

The edges of her vision grayed, then faded altogether as she lost her battle with consciousness.

Sunlight streamed through the window, beating like little hammers inside his skull. Before he even opened his eyes, Shade knew he was in his old room. Given the state of his head, he had no doubt enjoyed too much moonshine with Soren the night before. This was one hell of a hangover.

His bare feet thumped softly against the dark cherry flooring his mother insisted be installed throughout the house over a hundred years before. As the sheet fell away, he noted his naked state. Where were his clothes?

The frown hurt too much, so he settled for thinking grouchy thoughts as he lumbered into the bathroom. The jets sprayed warm water over his body. He found the water soothing, but the hiss of the water as it poured out of the showerhead hurt almost as bad as sunlight had.

A hair of the dog, that’s what he needed. With nothing more than a towel around his waist, he headed to Soren’s room. If that bastard had taken Shade’s clothes, he had no grounds on which to object to sharing his own.

Soren wasn’t in his room, but that didn’t surprise Shade. Because he was in charge of the entire village, Soren was often called upon to mediate disputes or perform ceremonies. Today was Saturday. Right?

Shade grabbed a pair of boxers from a stack of clean laundry on Soren’s dresser and slipped them on. He did the same with jeans and a flannel shirt. Digging for socks took a little longer. Soren didn’t have those lying in the open, so Shade was forced to surrender to his compulsion.

It served Soren right. Who took a man’s clothes when he was sleeping?

He would have thundered down the stairs, but sounds made his head pound. He crept to the kitchen, heading straight for the cupboard where Soren kept the good stuff. Regular alcohol didn’t have a real effect on a wolf. Moonshine, which hillbilly farmers adapted for their own ends, was the only thing that could make a werewolf drunk.

Smells assaulted him, halting him before he made it more than a step into the kitchen. Eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Human female.

A pretty one, with hair the color of sun-kissed straw. She turned to look at him, her smile originating in friendly round eyes the color of walnuts. She was beautiful. Shade felt a pull toward her, but not because he found her attractive. She was familiar.

“Hi,” he said.

She waved toward the table. “Sit. Soren said you would be up eventually. I heard the shower and decided to make breakfast for you.”

“I… Thank you.” He did as he was told. “Have we met?”

She laughed, an innocuous sound that invited him to laugh with her. “Soren said you might not remember much.” Lifting the skillet, she poured food onto a plate. “I’m Riley. I’m staying here with Soren for a little while.”

The aroma of freshly cooked sausage links was impossible to resist. Shade inhaled his food. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in a week. As he ate, his headache faded.

Riley watched, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “There’s some steak in the refrigerator. Leftovers from last night. I could heat some up for you.”

Shade nodded. “I have no idea why I’m so hungry.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “What day is today?”

That laugh sounded again. “Thursday, you goof.” She set a plate in the microwave.