Page 73 of A Witch-ish Guide to Protectors and Pendulums

Both Simeon and Madigan stood mesmerized by the fallen angel’s glowing beauty. “Luc?” Madigan breathed out. “I’ve never seen you outside the office.”

“I don’t get topside much.”

“It’s a good look,” she answered.

“Can we stop?” Simeon asked, snapping out of his fog. “She’smy mate andmy sisterisdying.”

“Luc’s an old friend, Sim,” Madigan said. They both looked tired, and I meant that in a physical and mental way. Her injuries had healed for the time, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t taken a toll on her.

“Sim?” Luc asked.

“Simeon,” he grunted.

It didn’t bother Luc one bit. “Well, Simeon. We need your blood. She needs a transfusion to live.”

“Does anyone know how to do one of those?” he asked.

“I know a guy,” Luc said. “But I don’t know if he’ll do it. We didn’t part on the best terms.”

“Are you talking about Raph?” Connor asked, highly surprised.

“If anyone can do it, it’s Raph.”

“But do you think he will?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Then Luc looked at me. “Simone, don’t die. I’ll be back.” He popped out of the room right as my consciousness began to wane again.

“Simone?” Connor’s voice sounded like he was shouting at me from the end of a very long tunnel.

Sorry, humanity. I think I just screwed over the world.

Chapter

Nineteen

“Lilith’s granddaughter?” someone shouted as the blackness lifted. “Only you, Luc. Only you would get involved with Lilith’s granddaughter.”

“He’s notinvolvedwith her,” Connor spat.

“Does your mongrel know who I am?”

“You know he does, and he’s not a mongrel. But sheishis mate. Can you help or not?”

I opened my eyes to see a handsome, dark-haired man with a copper glow surrounding him. He had deep-brown eyes and a strong jaw. One could call him conventionally handsome, but not drop-dead gorgeous like Luc or even blow-my-ever-loving-mind like Connor. He wore a copper breastplate, which seemed a bit over the top for the situation.

“She’s pretty, I’ll give you that,” the man said. “And she’s coming to. It’s best I knock her out again so she doesn’t feel this part.” He ran his hand over my body and the blackness settled in again. When I started to regain consciousness, I was… well, I was in an operating room. Bright blue-white lighting. The dark-haired man stood over me in a copper surgery gown and mask. His head was covered in one of those ugly paper head coveringsthat surgeons wore. I saw an IV and my brother on a bed next to mine. “Not yet,” the man said to me.

When I woke up next, the room had shifted to a type of recovery room. “How are you feeling?” the man asked.

“Tired,” I answered.

“I thought we lost you a couple of times. Rest now. I’ll check on you in a bit.” Who was I to argue? I closed my eyes again.

After drifting off to sleep a couple more times and waking up in the same recovery room, the last time I woke up, I was beyond glad to have Connor sitting by my bed holding my hand.

“Hey,” I said in a voice so scratchy, it sounded as if I’d dragged it over sandpaper. His head lifted, showing me those coal-black eyes I couldn’t get enough of.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he ordered while pressing his forehead to mine and he breathed in slowly.

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