Page 83 of Demon Loved
And then they were gone, and the stars shone overhead. A cool night breeze touched her cheeks as she felt Belshegar sink into the dry grass and cradle her head in his lap.
Oddly, it felt good to be here.
She thought she’d rest for a while.
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The others crowded around him.
“Is she…?” Levi said, and then stopped there, as though he couldn’t bear to give utterance to such a terrible thought.
“She breathes,” Belshegar replied. The rise and fall of her chest was very faint, but it was just enough to let him know Brianna was still alive. “I think that last push was too much for her.”
“We need to get her down off this hill,” Tricia said. Once again, she sounded brisk, but he guessed she was trying to be practical in an attempt to hide the very real fear that one of their own might have suffered irreparable harm while trying to protect the clan.
However, he knew the elder was right. Lying on the hard earth in this cold wind would certainly not do Brianna any good.
“I will take her to her apartment,” Belshegar told the assembled witches and warlocks, and added, “In my way.”
They seemed to understand he meant that he would transport her instantaneously rather than waste time carrying her down the hill and then over to her home, because they all appeared to relax slightly at those words.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t have our healer look at her?” Angela inquired, delicate features still anxious. “She’s only been officially on the job for a year or so, but….”
“I think what Brianna needs most is rest,” Belshegar broke in, but gently, so the prima would understand he hadn’t meant to be rude. “But if it seems she is outside herself for too long, then yes, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have the healer examine her.”
To be sure, he didn’t know whether even a witch healer — especially one who sounded as if she was young and only beginning to ease into her position — would be able to help Brianna. She had tapped too deeply into her powers, knowing she was the only one who stood between her clan and utter destruction. Perhaps if she had had more time to learn to work with her gifts, she wouldn’t have found it necessary to tax herself so much.
But there hadn’t been any time. Now all they could do was wait and see if she could recover on her own.
“I will go, then,” he said simply, and gathered her into his arms. A nod toward the watching witches and warlocks, and then he imagined himself in Brianna’s apartment, with the cheerful yellow paint on the walls and the whimsical collection of local art and pottery and the table full of house plants clustered in front of the main room’s picture window.
Of course, that was not his true destination, but since he’d never been in her bedroom, he had to send himself to a place he knew. From there, it was simple enough to take her into the room where she slept and to lay her down on the oversized bed there.
The walls in here were painted a soft sage green, a color he’d guessed had been chosen because of its soothing qualities. She didn’t stir as he placed her on top of the quilt, which was a friendly patchwork of soft greens and blues.
Although he wouldn’t presume to undress her, he did pause to unlace her hiking boots and set them on the floor next to the bed. She didn’t even stir during that procedure, and he found himself frowning.
What if she’d caused herself a deeper injury than he’d first imagined?
As best he could, he pushed that unwelcome thought out of his mind. No, she was just weary, and now all he could do was allow her to get the rest she desperately needed.
He turned on the floor lamp in the corner of the room, which cast a soft glow upward but didn’t reflect directly on the bed the way the light on her nightstand might have. And since he could tell she was still breathing, he went out into the living room and then on to the kitchen so he could make himself a cup of tea.
Wasn’t that what humans did when they were watching and waiting and worrying over a loved one?
He didn’t have any personal experience of such things, but he’d witnessed that sort of behavior in the shows and movies he’d watched with Elena, so he assumed this particular choice of activity wasn’t too unusual.
Because he’d already done this the night he’d slept on Brianna’s couch, he knew where to find the box of oolong tea and how to fill the kettle on the stove. Standing there and watching the flames from the gas burner dance under the turquoise enamel of the kettle helped to ease his thoughts somewhat, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to truly rest until he knew she was going to be all right.
The water inside the kettle began to make popping sounds before the whistle truly got started, so he turned off the gas and poured hot water into the cup he’d set out on the counter. Although Brianna had looked as though she wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, he also didn’t want to make the kind of noise that might rouse her from her sleep.
He hoped that was all she was doing, that she wasn’t lost in a faint…or worse.
Perhaps he had been wrong to say that the healer didn’t need to look at her right away.
But when he paused at the doorway to her room, cup of tea in one hand, he saw that Bree had opened her eyes and was staring at him, expression halfway confused, as if she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten from that windy promontory to her bedroom.
“Did I pass out?” she asked, then pushed herself upward so she was resting against the pillows stacked in front of the padded headboard rather than lying flat.
