“I hear you.”
Wraith hung up.
A shuffling sound had Rowan turning in the estate’s war room to find Miles leaning against the doorframe. He wondered how much Miles had overheard. The groundskeeper frowned. “Please don’t tell me you called her, Rowan.”
The dryad nodded. “I had to.”
“Fuck’s sake. Must be bad, then.”
“She can help.”
“Yeah, for a price! Last time I asked her for help, she said she’d do it if I cut off my own balls.”
“It was probably a joke, Miles.”
“I think she has several jars full of testicles.”
Rowan’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement. Miles grew grim. “Well, whatever. Do you think she can help Amy?”
Rowan turned to gaze through the window and spotted Stacy coming up the garden path. Finally, he replied, “She’s the only friend I have who can get in and out unnoticed. I hope she does what she promised.”
“I still think it’s a deal with the devil,” Miles muttered.
Rowan eyed him. “We all have to make agreements we don’t like.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The hospital was quiet and still when Wraith slipped in, cloaked in invisibility granted by a whispered enchantment.
Getting here, as she’d told Rowan, had taken much effort, but now the task seemed almost too easy. Find a room, find the girl, and bring her to life. Easy.
The people who had taught Wraith this magic would be surprised to see her using it, especially since she still went by the name “Wraith” and not her birth name. As opposed to squandering it on useless endeavors, she thought with a roll of her eyes. I can still do good things.
Wraith thought about Rowan as she strode through the corridors, evading the notice of security, alarms, and cameras. The medical staff on the floor did not notice her, though one or two might have wondered at a strange shadow flitting over the wall.
One nurse rubbed her eyes, swearing under her breath. She was nearing the end of a sixteen-hour shift and convinced herself she was seeing things. Wraith let her and moved on.
She reached the room Rowan had mentioned. Inside, the young woman was alone. She lay on a bed, propped up by pillows with multiple cords running from various machines to her body. Her face was pale with pain.
Poor girl.
This had better be worth it to Rowan, Wraith thought.
She hadn’t asked further questions, but now she wished she had. What was special about this one? She was a mere human. Wraith sensed no magic on her. Why did Rowan care? He always had soft spots for strange people, she considered.
He had disappeared from her life because a powerful witch had enchanted him. Rowan would have denied the use of the word “enchantment,” but Wraith could think of no other way for Catherine Thorn to convince the dryad to walk away from the life he’d led to stay trapped on the grounds of one estate for decades.
Wraith leaned over the bed, spreading her long, elegant fingers over the patient. She closed her eyes and summoned her magic, speaking the healing enchantments she had learned so long ago. She hadn’t healed someone so broken in a long time. For the past several years, she’d been healing small things. Scratches, cuts, burns. Nothing like this. Good that she was here, she thought. Practice was never a bad thing.
Wraith imagined the woman was Rowan since she had healed him many times in the past. She’d brought him back from near death.
Her magic flowed, rich and warm. The room grew sweet with the scent of her magic.
Come back, she whispered into the woman’s mind. You have much left to do here. Live.
Amy did not know where she was, but it didn’t feel real.
Am I dreaming?
She was lying on something. It wasn’t the most comfortable place she had ever been, but it wasn’t bad, either. She had the sense she was propped up but not quite sitting. Anchored but floating at the same time.
Everything before her was hazy, colored milky white with hints of soft purples and blues ebbing in and out. She wondered if this was what it was like to glide among clouds. She felt something warm float over her body, then through her. It melted into her bones, sang in the blood flowing through her veins. Her skin tingled, and all the pain she’d felt for the past few hours dulled until, finally, it was gone.
What is happening to me?
Her thoughts grew muddled. She pictured Spencer and Stacy. She wondered where they were and if they were okay. She tried to speak, but words would not push forth from her tongue.
A voice came through the haze. It was not hers. She didn’t recognize it, but it was the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard. It said, Come back. You have much left to do here. Live.
Another surge of warmth went through her.
Who are you? Amy managed at last. She had not spoken the words but thought them. The other voice heard and responded.
Your savior. They seemed proud of the fact.
As quickly as Amy heard it, the voice vanished. Long, elegant brown fingers extending from the white haze faded. Amy reached out, hoping to see her supposed savior, but her body grew too heavy and warm. She couldn’t move.
