Stacy clenched the cup between her palms. “I won’t let that happen. Spencer’s death won’t be for nothing.”
Rowan drew a deep breath before he dialed the number.
It had been decades since he last called her, and he hoped this would work. It’d be one thing if she answered, another if he could convince her to do him a favor.
“Yes?” came a crisp female voice on the other end.
“Hello, Wraith.”
A low laugh followed a pause of surprise. “Rowan. You’re the last person I expected to hear from. It’s been a long time.”
A very long time, Rowan amended inwardly. He didn’t apologize for losing touch, though. He’d had plenty of reasons not to speak to her over the years.
“Something awful must have happened for you to call me.” Her voice made Rowan feel like oil was sliding through his veins. “Tell me, have Kiera or Miles fallen deathly ill?”
He resisted a shudder. “This has nothing to do with them. I need your help with something else.”
“Of course,” she crooned.
He imagined her lounging on a decadent sofa, long black nails curved like claws tapping against her dark-skinned cheek. Yellow-green eyes shining in the dark with a feline quality. Then, of course, that voice like oil and honey. He wondered where she was. She could be anywhere. Wraith had never been able to remain in one place for long. That was one of the reasons she no longer hung around him, Miles, and Kiera.
Memories flooded his mind, many of which he’d shut away years ago. Once, the four of them had roamed the world. Everything had been fine until Rowan got into a messy situation with Wraith and Kiera. Feelings had become tangled, and Miles, always drunk during that time, had been no help whatsoever. That had been forever ago when they were young and rash and had too much time on their hands.
The years had slipped past, and Wraith had gone off on her own. She was barely friends with them anymore but still an ally in her special way. Rowan hoped asking for her help wouldn’t bite him in the ass.
“Did you miss me, Rowan?”
“That’s not why I’m calling,” he replied tersely.
“We used to have fun.”
“Fun” was not the word he would use, though the memories of ecstasy and vigorous times in her bed remained sharp and clear in his mind. Rowan hoped to God Kiera wasn’t anywhere nearby hearing this.
“I need your help,” he repeated, more firmly this time.
“What happened?”
“A friend of mine is wounded, and I have no way of reaching her without…complicating a matter I’m in. I need you to go there and heal her for me.”
“A friend?” Wraith’s tone was cool and coy. “Her?”
“A friend,” he repeated.
“One you’ve taken to bed?”
“No.” Rowan remembered the teasing and flirting between him and Amy when they first met. The thought of it was strange now. He was like a grumpy uncle to her, or so Stacy had told him.
“Well, as long as she wasn’t a lover, I might consider helping,” Wraith continued.
“I’ll owe you one.”
“You already owe me several.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Add it to the list.”
She laughed softly. “I love it when you’re in my debt, Rowan.”
He ignored the comment. “Her name is Amy Greentree.” He told her the address of the hospital and impressed upon her that time was critical. “How soon can you be there?”
“Well, you’re in New York, and I’m in Georgia.”
“You’ve found ways to travel quickly before,” Rowan reminded her. “Portals, the wind. Use whatever you need to.”
“Georgia the country, not the state.”
“I know you can make it work.”
Wraith clicked her tongue. “You can be so uptight sometimes, Rowan. I ought to pay you a visit when I’m finished healing your friend and…unwind you.”
That was the last thing Rowan wanted, especially with Kiera in the same house. “No unwinding necessary. I’m quite busy.”
She sighed deeply. “Another time, then.”
“How soon can you help?”
“I’ll do it tonight. It’ll take a fuck-ton of portal magic to get there, but I’ll do it. Just remember, Rowan, when I come knocking for favors, you cannot deny me.”
