Logan pushed Hope behind him, putting her back to the barn. Nicholas was on their right, fighting off another pair of demons. Logan could smell the Theronai’s blood, proving that at least one of them had landed a strike.
The Handler lifted his whip again. It burned through a thin branch overhead. The branch fell at Logan’s feet, the severed end still smoldering. He grabbed it up and swung at the Handler. His injured shoulder and thigh burned. He’d stopped the bleeding, but the pain was sucking up his strength, making him weak.
His blow missed and the Handler’s whip wrapped around the branch, slicing through it in three places. The burning chunks of wood fell, useless.
“Nicholas,” he called. He used one hand to maneuver Hope so she was between him and Nicholas.
“Almost there.”
A ragged yelp of pain rose up and Logan hoped it was the sound of a dying Synestryn.
Logan gathered his power and sent another burst of light streaking toward the Handler. The beam landed on his face. He shrieked and jerked back, growling through his bare teeth.
Nicholas’s sword appeared, gleaming in the moonlight. With one strike, he severed a paw from one of the demons. The one next to it turned its burned-out eyes onto its brother and attacked.
The two rolled away in a snarling ball of rust-colored fur.
The Handler backed up, out of melee range—out of reach of Nicholas’s blade. The demon lifted his whip. Nicholas charged. Only one of the two furry demons lived, and it pounced over the ground, lunging for Nicholas’s throat.
The chain slashed out, striking a thick limb overhead. It wrapped around the tree, sizzling and popping as it burned through the heavy wood.
The limb started to fall. Logan pushed Hope back out of the way. He reached for Nicholas, but there was no more time. The branch fell, slamming both men to the ground.
Logan heard the unmistakable sound of bone breaking. He was too stunned to figure out whose it was. He was hurting all over, from whatever had tried to burrow into his shoulder, and the deep burn on his thigh. Add to that the crushing weight of the branch and his whole world was pain.
“Run!” he screamed at Hope.
He couldn’t see her. His body was pinned in place so that he couldn’t lift his head. He didn’t think she’d been under the branch when it fell. Maybe she could get away.
A feral cry of rage filled the icy air. That was Hope’s voice, roughened with a battle cry. She was still alive.
One of the rust-colored beasts flew across the sky, landing out of his line of sight. Nicholas shoved at the branch. Pain exploded in Logan’s hip, but he ignored it and helped Nicholas push.
The branch rocked but did not move.
The Handler stepped up onto the branch. Nicholas cried out in pain and swiped at the Handler’s legs with his sword. The angle was awkward and he missed. The Handler snapped his chain whip, wrapping it around Nicholas’s blade.
Nicholas jerked his arm back, trying to pull the Handler off balance. Logan smelled burning flesh and saw smoke rising from the sword’s hilt.
Nicholas refused to let go. To give up his sword to a Synestryn could cause his entire life’s work to be undone. A Theronai would die before he let that happen, and from the looks of it, that was exactly where this situation was heading.
The Handler stepped over them toward where Logan thought Hope was. His whip slithered away from Nicholas’s blade, but the damage was done. The back of his hand was blistered, some of the flesh charred black. Logan could only imagine what the man’s palm looked like.
Hope’s terrified scream filled Logan’s ears. Then suddenly, it was cut off.
The Handler came back into view. Hope was draped over his shoulder. She was struggling weakly, her head hanging down over his back.
He stepped back onto the log, crushing them beneath it. Bone grated against bone, sending his nerve endings into a frenzy of agony. Logan strangled on a cry of pain.
Hope met his gaze. Her focus seemed off, but she was looking at his face. “Logan,” she whispered, reaching for him.
He couldn’t reach her hand. He couldn’t touch her. The Synestryn was dragging her away and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The Handler let out a shrill whistle, and the remaining demon came to heel.
His whip stuck out from his belt, looped in a neat bundle. As he stepped over the branch, Hope grabbed it and tossed it back over the branch. The wood started to smoke as the chain sank through it, burning its way down.
It was going to take only a few seconds to burn through. Then Logan could push the branch away and take Hope back.
And then the Handler broke into a run, sprinting away on its oddly jointed legs. It ran faster than Logan could have thought possible, disappearing into a stand of evergreens a few yards away.
“Help me,” ordered Logan.
Nicholas didn’t respond.
Panic spread through Logan’s blood, thickening it until his heart had to struggle for each beat. The chain burned so slowly it was maddening. Logan shoved with all his strength, needing to go after Hope.
Finally, the chain burned through and the section of branch holding Logan down became moveable. He pushed it up and slid out from under it. As soon as the weight was gone, the extent of his injuries became clear.
His pelvis was broken. So was one of his legs.
There was no time to do this gently, so he jerked the bones into place and knitted them together as fast as possible. It felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to his bones, but they fused together, leaving him panting and sweating.
He levered himself up and leaned over to check on Nicholas. He was unconscious. Now that Logan was closer, he could smell the man’s blood being driven away by the wind.
If he didn’t get them out of here, more demons would descend upon them and Logan was too weak to fight them off.
He stood, holding himself still while the dizziness passed, then reached down and lifted the burned end of the branch. He pivoted it off Nicholas.
The smell of blood grew. Logan wasted no time debating what he had to do. He knelt down beside Nicholas and lifted his arm to feed.
Blood flowed weakly into his mouth. He sent his senses out, sliding through Nicholas’s veins until he found the openings. He closed them systematically, healing the worst ones first. It took only a few seconds to finish, but every one took Hope farther away from him.
He could still find her. Her blood was within him. He’d always be able to find her. He simply wasn’t sure if he’d find her in time.
The need to run after her pounded at him, but he couldn’t leave Nicholas here to die. There was no time to clean him up, so he dumped him onto the backseat of his SUV and got behind the wheel.
Logan dialed Dabyr. One of the Gerai answered.
“I need help. Locate Nicholas’s vehicle and send every Theronai in the area.”
The woman on the other end of the line sounded young, but she responded to the emergency with a calm, even voice. “Yes, sir. I’m tracking you now. Morgan is in your area. I’ll guide him to you.”
Logan hung up and focused on his driving—on taking the roads that most closely corresponded to the path the Handler was taking overland.
The sun would be up soon and he’d have to go into hiding. He had to find her before then. He’d seen the things Synestryn had done to young women. That couldn’t happen to Hope. He had to find a way to stop it. Before the sun rose and Hope was lost.
Chapter 27
Paul and Andra left for some emergency. Jackie had gone back to Dabyr with a pair of heavily armed Gerai. Baby Samson slept the whole way, waking only when she pulled him from his car seat.
His eyes opened, showing signs of the demon who’d fathered him, but it was the only hint she could find that he wasn’t fully human.
Jackie carried him inside, heading straight for her suite. She’d already talked to Joseph, who had grudgingly allowed her to bring him here. She wasn’t sure what these men thought an infant would do, but they all seemed to think he was like the others—the children that had been born more Synestryn than human.
She’d seen those things, and knew firsthand that Samson was different. He had no teeth or claws. He had no scales, no tentacles, no extra limbs. He was no threat and she was going to prove it.
Both Gerai followed behind her, lugging in the purchases she’d asked them to make along the way. They needed a car seat for the ride, and while they were at it, she had them buy a few clothes and other essentials.
They laid everything inside her suite and left just as Joseph arrived at her door. He looked at the infant sitting quietly in the carrier, then back to her. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? A baby can’t hurt me.”
“Iain said you were attacked.”
Embarrassment rose in her cheeks. “Oh. Sorry.”
He nodded. “Can I see it?”
“Him. You can see him so long as you don’t call him an it.”
Joseph crossed to the carrier and crouched beside it, moving as if he were nearing a box of live snakes.
“Samson’s not going to hurt you,” she said.
Joseph lifted a brow and looked up at her. “Samson?”
“His mother is dead. He needed a name.”
“Okay. Samson.” Joseph unfastened the clips and eased the baby from the carrier. His big hands wrapped around him, making Samson look tiny and fragile. “What do you propose we do with him?”
“Take care of him. He’s innocent. He deserves a chance.”
“So, you think it’s a good idea to have a part-demon child running around, playing with all the humans?”
Sadness made her limbs feel heavy. She slumped onto the couch. “Chances are he won’t live that long. The human-looking babies never do.”
“You mean there are more like him?”
“Were. Three that I know of. All of them died within a day or two of birth.”
“And you saw this? With your own eyes?”
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump of regret and pain in her throat.
Joseph carefully set the baby down and buckled the straps to hold him in place. He sat on the chair across from her, leaving plenty of distance between them. She was sure it wasn’t an accident.
His voice was low and gentle. “Jackie, are you sure you want to put yourself through that again? Watching another baby die?”
“Of course I don’t want to!” she shouted, unable to contain the sudden roar of anger that erupted inside her.
Samson jumped and let out a squeal of fear.
Jackie gathered her emotions and got them back under control as she gathered up Samson in her arms. She jiggled him until he calmed down.
“We’ll take care of him,” said Joseph. “I don’t know if it will help, but we’ll get Tynan to look him over and see if there’s anything that can be done.”
“The sun,” she said. “He needs to spend time in the sun.”
“Why?”
“I think it combats whatever part of him is Synestryn. He doesn’t seem to like it, but I think it might help him survive.”
“Okay. I’ll make sure to mention that to Tynan.”
“I’ll do it.”
“I have to insist that you let me place him with a family—people who can watch out for him.”