The thing lifted the glowing rod and pointed it toward Helen.
"No!" shouted Drake. Somewhere, he found the strength to jump to his feet and lunge at the thing. His sword sliced high, taking off the arm that held the rod.
Fire erupted from the place where its arm used to be. Drake threw his body over hers, knocking her to the ground beneath him.
Helen felt a blast of heat and sound, but could see nothing. Her face was buried in the greasy fur of one of the dead monsters and the heavy animal stench of it made her sick. She could feel the cold squish of blood under her knees and Drake's heavy weight atop her.
Drake's body stiffened and he let out a deep groan of pain that got louder and louder until it turned into a scream. Then he fell silent and limp atop her.
The heat abated and Drake's weight disappeared. Helen pushed herself up to scramble to her feet. All she wanted was to shove her shoulder under Drake's and help him get out of here, broken leg or not.
But it was too late.
Logan had been the one who picked him up off her, and now she could see the burns running down the right side of Drake's body. His hair and some of his clothes had been burned away, revealing blistered flesh beneath. Some beyond blistered to blackened.
Logan's too-pretty face became a mask of grief and pain, and Helen knew then that even if Drake was alive, he wouldn't be for long.
Drake had used his body to shield her from that fire and now he was going to die.
Logan had to get Helen out of here before another Handler showed up or before the fire near the stairway started burning out of control. Drake had killed the Handler, though Logan had no idea how he'd gotten close enough to manage that. Handlers were frail, but they rarely got closer than they needed to strike out with their whip. That was usually close enough for them to kill something. Even if it wasn't, the fire their bodies bled when injured burned hot enough and fast enough to take down anything unlucky enough to be in its path.
Thomas made sure the Handler was dead while Logan pulled Drake off Helen. He didn't like leaving Miss Mabel in the van unprotected, but Helen was the one who was important here. He had to figure out how she'd been able to absorb Drake's power. It could be the key to stopping the slow death of all the Sentinel races. The key to winning the Synestryn war.
Logan took in Drake's injuries in a sweeping glance. The broken leg and ribs were no problem, but the burns . . . Drake wasn't going to make it, not even if Logan put every ounce of his dwindling reserves into healing the Theronai. He just didn't have the strength. He'd fed tonight, but the bloodline had been weak and it hadn't even managed to ease his gnawing hunger, much less fuel his magic. Walking Helen's and Drake's memories had taken enough out of him that it was as if he hadn't fed at all.
It was so fucking unfair that Logan wanted to howl. To have the ability to heal his ally but not the strength made him furious—made him want to lash out and drain every blooded human he could find. Take their power and leave their corpses to rot. Why should he even care anymore what happened to the humans?
Thomas's wide shoulders blocked out the overhead light, forcing Logan to look up. This was the part he hated most—admitting his weakness, crushing Drake's friends with the weight of grief. Living with that weight himself.
"How bad is it?" asked Thomas, his deep voice thick with rage.
Logan just shook his head. "I can ease his pain. It won't last long."
"No," said Helen. Her voice was thin and high and breathless. Almost panicked. "He's not going to die."
Denial. It always happened and Logan hated every fucking second of it. "I'm sorry, Helen."
"You don't understand. He can't die. He has to watch me die."
Logan had no idea what she was talking about, but something in her words tugged at a memory.
"We don't have time for this now," said Thomas. "We have to get out of here."
Logan picked up Drake's heavy body, being careful to avoid getting cut by Drake's sword. The flames had seared his fist closed, locking the weapon in his grip. Thomas took Helen by the arm. Behind them, Helen's house was swiftly being engulfed by flames. Thankfully, she was too worried over Drake to really notice. A small favor.
Sirens screamed in the distance. The human authorities were coming. It was time to go.
They laid Drake in the back of the van on a clean white blanket. He didn't even groan. The stench of burning flesh stung Logan's nose and made his empty stomach twist with nausea.
Helen scrambled in behind him and reached for Drake, but Logan stopped her. "Don't touch him. He has enough pain as it is."
Helen swallowed hard and nodded. Tears welled up and slid down her dirty cheek.
The van swayed as it turned a corner, knocking Helen's head against the metal wall. "Careful," said Logan. "It's going to be a bumpy ride."
Helen didn't even feel the impact. She was numb. Overloaded. She couldn't take this all in. The monsters, her house burning down. Again. Drake's horrible burns. It was all too much and something inside her had just shut down. She felt as if she were moving through cotton, every motion slow, never really feeling anything. The only thing that stood out among all the fuzziness was her certainty that Drake would live. She held on to that, knowing it was the only thing keeping her going right now. And she had to keep going. Miss Mabel still needed her to focus, to get her home safely.
"Will they be able to help him at the hospital?" she asked Logan.
His skin had lost all its color and he looked gaunter than before. He was still beautiful, but there was a fragileness about him now that hadn't been there before. He looked tired. Frail. Even his voice sounded weak. "We're not going to a hospital."
"We have to. He needs help."
"They can't help him, Helen. Thomas knows where to go."
Helen thought about arguing, but bit her tongue. She was out of her league here. She was floundering around trying to figure out what was happening to her normal, tidy world. Nothing was the same anymore and likely never would be again.
"How's it going back there?" asked Thomas. He was driving the van a little too fast, but his big hands held control of the wheel without effort.
"Not great. How much longer?" asked Logan.
"We'll be off the highway in five minutes. It's another fifteen to the house. I've put in a call for help and we should have some Gerai showing up within the hour."
"He's not going to last that long," said Logan. His voice was even, but there was a mask of anger on his face that he didn't bother to hide from her.
"What's a Gerai?" asked Helen. "Medicine? A doctor?"
Logan pressed his elegant hand against Drake's brow. The side of his face was burned beyond recognition, and if he did survive, the scars would be horrific.
Which didn't synch up with her vision at all. For the first time in her life, Helen was beginning to doubt that the vision was real. She wanted to be relieved by that hope, but not if it meant that Drake was going to suffer. She just wished she'd known what he'd been doing when he knocked her down. She would have stopped him. She wasn't sure how, but maybe she could have found a way.
"No," replied Logan. "A Gerai is a special kind of person who can donate blood to help Drake. Though I'm not sure that even that will help at this point."
"I'll donate if it will help. How can I tell if I'm one of these Gerai?"
Logan looked up at her, and something frightening flashed through those silvery blue eyes. For a second, he no longer looked beautiful. He looked deadly. Hungry.
The look was gone so quickly, she almost convinced herself she'd imagined it. Almost.
Logan shot a furtive glance toward Thomas, then down at Drake, as if he was checking to see whether anyone was watching him. He spoke in a low whisper that was barely loud enough to hear over the sound of the van. "You would share your blood?"
"Will it help?"
"Absolutely."
"How?"
"I am able to use the power in your blood to heal."
"How?"
"It's what I do. I'm not human, remember?"
Right. Not human. And she'd offered him her blood.
Logan licked his lips and pulled his hand away from Drake's head. There was plenty of room in the back of the van, but suddenly it seemed much smaller. Logan leaned forward with a predatory gleam in his eyes and reached his hand toward Helen.
Drake's good hand shot out and gripped Logan's wrist. "Don't," he ordered Logan, the single word mangled by his ruined lips.
Helen gasped, not expecting Drake to be alert enough to move. Pain twisted his face, or maybe it was rage. She couldn't be sure, but one thing was clear: Drake did not want Logan to touch her.
"She offered," said Logan. "It's my right."
"Not today it isn't." Drake's words were slurred as his mouth tried to move against the tightness of the burns.
"I need her blood. You'll die unless I'm strong enough to save you."
"Then I die. I won't have her obligated to you." Drake's eyes squeezed shut and he gasped for breath.
"You're not quite so demanding without me dulling your pain, are you?"
Drake made horrible choking noises and she could see him struggling to breathe. Whatever Logan was doing, it was killing Drake.
"Stop it! Stop hurting him."
"What's going on back there?" asked Thomas, glancing over his shoulder.
Logan ignored him and looked at her again. There was no longer any question about whether or not she'd seen something odd in his face. She had. He wasn't human. Not even close. Logan was something else. Something frightening and powerful and hungry. "You can help him, Helen. All I need is a little of your blood."
"No," ground out Drake between choking gasps.
"What the hell is going on?" bellowed Thomas.
"Helen, are you okay?" asked Miss Mabel.
"He'll die without your help," said Logan. "He'll suffer horribly and then he'll die."
Helen was not going to let that happen. "You can have as much blood as you need."
A triumphant light glowed in Logan's eyes. "Swear it."
"No," gasped Drake, barely audible. He was dying. Getting weaker by the second.
"I swear it." Helen felt the power of her vow wrap around her, become part of her. A sliver of her free will shriveled up and turned to ash. She had no idea what she'd just done, but whatever had just happened had changed her life forever.