Authors: Evi Asher
Burning Ember (13 page)
She jerked her hand. “I won’t be doing that again.”
His body arched back on the bed, and Scarlet had to suppress a scream as a three-inch long tear opened up above his breast bone. Blood poured out and Scarlet’s hand flew to her mouth.
She looked around the room for something to staunch the flow. Spotting his shirt by the ruined sleeping bag, she darted forward to pick it up.
Ruined sleeping bag?
She shook her head and turned back to Archer. Balling up the shirt, she pushed it against the wound, causing him to hiss in pain. “I’m sorry, Archer, I have to do this. I know it hurts, but hold on for me, okay?” She spoke, though she knew he was unconscious and couldn’t hear her.
What was she going to do? She didn’t know anything about first aid except what she’d seen on TV, and that was first aid for humans, not an immortal werewolf.
She tried to stay calm, keeping pressure on the wound so the bleeding would stop.
Please, God, let the bleeding stop
.
While she waited, she tried to think what to do next. She was alone in a motel room with Archer, and he was hurt. She could call 911, but she had no idea what kind of physiological differences there were between Eternals and humans, so she couldn’t risk taking Archer to an emergency room. She needed help—the kind of help only other Eternals could give her.
Scarlet lifted the edge of the scrunched up shirt to check the bleeding, then breathed out in relief when she saw it had slowed down to a small trickle. Archer’s blood was clotting well.
She let go of the shirt and stepped back, not taking her eyes off the wound, scared that Archer’s chest would burst and send out a fountain of blood. When her over-active imagination was proven wrong, Scarlet looked down at her hands and found them covered in Archer’s blood. She’d need to wash them before she went looking for his cell phone.
Scarlet left the bathroom door open so she could check on Archer, then went to the basin and turned on the faucet. She took the soap in her hands and lathered up, still glancing out into the room to be sure that Archer was breathing and not bleeding out.
When she looked back, her eyes caught the mirror over the basin and she gasped in shock.
Not because she was pale, though she resembled fresh cream at the moment, but because she’d seen someone else in the mirror.
Scarlet spun and searched the corner of the bathroom for the woman she had seen. There wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom. She spun back to look in the mirror again. Scarlet would have doubted her sanity, but the vision had been too vivid to be her imagination. For one thing, the woman’s hair color was something Scarlet had never seen, natural or out of a bottle. It was red, but red with streaks of orange and yellow, like living flame, and it rippled around the woman’s hips as if it were blowing in a strong, confused wind.
As good as her imagination was, and even though she was riding shock like a bucking bronco, there was no way she’d imagined that woman.
She stared into the mirror, determined to try to see the woman, but the sound of running water brought her focus back to the fact that Archer needed her. She had no time for vision quests now.
She bustled into the room, searched around for his cell phone, and found it on the table next to the old TV. She scrolled through the contacts, passing over Dimitri and finding Outsiders Inc. in the list. She pressed the call button.
The chances that Zane would answer the phone were great enough for Scarlet to risk it. Of the men that lived in, and worked for
Outsiders Inc.
, she would rather deal with Zane.
She held her breath as the line rang and almost dropped the cell when a voice answered in a rush. “Damn it, Archer, you were supposed to have checked in already.”
“Zane?”
“Scarlet? Why are you on Archer’s cell? Where is Archer? Is he okay? Are
you
okay?”
He shot the questions at her in a rapid fire.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Slow down, one question at a time please, but make it quick—I need your help.”
“What happened?” His voice came through strained.
“Archer is hurt. I don’t know how it happened, but he has a wound on his chest.”
“Start at the beginning, and tell me everything you know.”
She could hear he was making his voice calm. He must have sensed the underlying panic in her own voice. Keeping to the point, she told him everything she knew. When she’d finished, she took a breath and waited for his reaction.
When it came, it surprised her.
“You could kill me with a kiss if I know what is going on.” He sounded puzzled, and she could almost see him scratching his head.
“Zane.” Her voice held a note of warning, “You aren’t helping me here.”
“Give me a second to think.”
Scarlet shut her mouth, compressing her lips to keep from spitting out a sarcastic reply the vampire didn’t deserve, and clenched the cell phone tighter in her hand until the alarming noise of plastic straining made her loosen her grip.
“We have to get him conscious. I’m sure Archer will know what happened and then we can work from there,” Zane announced. “Have a look at the wound and see if it’s started closing yet.”
She nodded, not caring that he couldn’t see her, and bent over Archer to lift the edge of the make shift compress. “It seems to be getting smaller. The top and bottom edges are starting to knit,” she said, relieved.
“He hasn’t regained consciousness, yet?”
“No. Shouldn’t the wound be closing faster, I mean from everything I’ve seen in the movies, werewolves heal fast?”
Zane made a worried sound. “Yes, he should be healing faster. Stay where you are. I’ll come at nightfall. If we can get him awake, I have something that wills jumpstart the healing.”
“I don’t know the address, but I’ll go to the office and get it.”
“No!” Zane yelled into the receiver. “Sorry,” he apologized, as if he knew he’d made her jump. “Stay where you are, and don’t leave that room. I’ve got your location from the GPS chip in Archer’s phone.”
Scarlet thought of something. “Dimi can come out in the day, right?”
“Yes, but he’s under the radar at the moment. He’s working another case. Before you suggest Poe, he’s in the vampire court, taking his punishment.”
“For the map?”
“Yeah, so you are stuck with me. I’m going to be bringing someone with me, so, don’t be alarmed when I’m not alone.”
“Okay.” Scarlet nodded again, glancing over at Archer. “Zane?”
“Yeah?”
“Hurry.”
“I will.” He hung up the phone, and Scarlet turned to Archer.
* * * *
Zane stared at the button on the board he’d used to disconnect the call and drew in a deep breath. No one had a choice about allowing him into field work now. He was the only one here who could provide the backup Scarlet and Archer needed, and he was going to make sure he didn’t fuck this up. He was excited, but at the same time, he had a rabble of butterflies that had taken up residence somewhere in the general vicinity of his gut.
Never mind the colorful fiends
, he told himself as he flipped on the switch for the answering machine and spun in his chair, rolling it on smooth wheels over to his personal laptop. He opened the notebook and booted it up.
Zane had been part of The Outsiders for about a hundred years. In that time, he had collected as much information about the immortals in his life as he could. It wasn’t because he wanted to spy on them, but rather, he needed to know as much about them as possible.
Zane knew he had issues. Collecting the information on the males and females he worked with was obsessive compulsive, and he could do nothing to stop himself. He had never used the information, and he’d been proud of that, but there was a time to put aside his pride and dig into the files, and it was now.
There would be repercussions. Zane was sure about that. Archer guarded his privacy with a fierce violence, and if he knew how much information Zane had acquired about him, it wouldn’t surprise Zane if Archer popped an aneurism from rage.
That was something Zane was willing to risk—he had no idea what was wrong with Archer, and that scared the hell out him. The only eternals that might know what was wrong were the Lycans, and who better to call than Archer’s old pack?
Maybe it was risky, but Zane had the contact number for someone who might be able to help, someone Zane had unearthed when he’d done his research into Archer’s history.
Zane looked up the number in his file and opened a line out. As he dialed the number, he was saying a fervent prayer that this Lycan from Zane’s former pack would help him save Archer.
“It’s not normal for me to answer unregistered numbers, but you caught me in a good mood, so talk fast and tell me why I should speak to you.” A woman had answered the phone, her voice like warm low chocolate in Zane’s ear, and he forgot to speak.
“Well?” she demanded.
He stumbled over the words. “I’m…I’m looking for Selene.”
“And who is
I’m
?” she asked.
“My name is Zane—I’m a friend of Archer. He’s in trouble—hurt, and I don’t have the ability to heal him, or even know why he’s hurt.” He spoke in a rush, hoping she wouldn’t hear
Archer
and put the phone down on him.
“Well, you found Selene, now tell me the whole deal.” She sounded curious and tense at the same time.
Zane told Selene what he knew, ending with, “I know if he eats something special…” Zane didn’t supply
what
that something was. “It will boost his healing and the wound will close.”
There was silence from the other side, then with abruptness she stated, “You aren’t Lycan.”
“No, I’m a vampire.”
More silence.
“Look.” Zane scrubbed his face with his free hand. “Archer is family to me, and I’m risking my ass by calling you, but he needs help, and I don’t know who else to ask.”
The silence stretched out a long time before she spoke again. “Give me your address. I’m on my way.”
Grinning in relief, Zane gave the address for
Outsiders Inc.
“I’ll be there in about twenty or so.”
“Thank you for helping.” He smiled into the phone, and he was sure she could hear the smile in his voice.
“Don’t thank me, blood sucker. I haven’t helped, yet.” She hung up without a goodbye.
A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he started to doubt he’d done the right thing.
* * * *
The day dragged on as Scarlet paced the room and hovered over Archer in turns. She kept checking her cheap wrist watch. Five minutes, then one minute more, then another thirty seconds, and so it continued.
A biting sense of frustration ate at Scarlet from the inside while Archer remained in a deep state of unconsciousness, but her frustration morphed into helplessness when he started to toss and turn on the bed.
She rushed to his side. “Archer?”
Was he emerging from his mini-coma?
No response from him. Scarlet laid the back of her hand on his forehead, and snatched it back with a hiss. His skin was dry, but he was burning up.
Fever, what did you do with a fever? Feed the fever? No, you broke it.
She decided, then marched over to her bag with a determined step and rummaged around until she found a washcloth. Racing to the bathroom, she wet the cloth, then went back to Archer. She laid the cloth on his forehead and cheeks to try to bring his temperature down. Within seconds, the cloth was hot enough that steam started rising from the thin water-soaked cotton.
She lifted and shook the cloth out and turned back towards the bathroom.
* * * *
Archer knew he was in deep shit. He was trapped in a delirium nightmare. It
had
to be something like that. There was no other real explanation. In the dream, his beast ran next to him. They were being pursued through a surreal landscape that melted like a Dali painting.
The two of them were not alone. Shadowed creatures pursued. High-pitched screeches echoed through the distorted landscape.
Archer and his beast argued as they ran, unable to decide on the best course of action.
“We have to keep running because, we don’t know what we are facing,” Archer told his beast, Lycan falling from his lips like sweet water.
“No, turn and fight, we fight them, bleed them,” his savage beast insisted, then stopped, so Archer had to stop, too.
“No.”
“Yes, we are torn, and only with fight can we unify,” the beast growled.
Archer opened his mouth to ask his beast what it meant by torn, but the question was moot as they were attacked.
Grotesque winged creatures descended from all directions. They swooped in, leveling lethal talons at the pair. The monsters oozed black gunk that burned like acid if it hit exposed skin, and Archer and his beast were soon standing back-to-back fighting with teeth, claws, fists and kicks to keep the monsters at bay.
To be Continued…
About the Author
Evi is a die-hard romantic who firmly believes in happy endings and loves all things paranormal. She lives in South Africa, with her (very patient) husband, two children, and too many pets, including a cockatiel who loves to sit on her desk and chew the pink rhinestones off Evi’s mouse while she’s trying to write.
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