Page 100 of Caller of Crows
It was finally over.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Sven didn't remember much about their journey back to Rubyville, the part of the city where Altair's coven had its base. He'd been too tired after all he'd been through and low on blood as well. He vaguely recalled the touch of cool fingers against his, a comforting presence beside him. A solid arm holding him upright when he stumbled. A long car ride during which he dozed off.
And then they were back in the basement of the club and a doctor was checking him over. At least Sven assumed the person examining him was a doctor—he seemed competent enough. Sven's arm was broken, and he had bruises and cuts on various parts of his body, but overall, he was fine. "You've lost a lot of blood," the doctor said as he checked Sven's vital signs. And with a glance at Altair, he added, "You're not to drink from him any time soon."
"I understand," Altair replied, sounding as worn-out as Sven felt.
"Good," the doctor said. He put Sven's arm in a splint and gave him a shot. "Just a little something to make you heal faster and feel less pain. Sleep and don't strain yourself."
Sven nodded and thanked him politely. Altair walked the man out of the room, leaving Sven lying on the bed alone, surrounded by pillows. His eyelids grew heavy as soon as the doctor left the room, but his thoughts wouldn't rest, and every time he tried to close his eyes, his brain conjured up images from the day. The memories came fast, overwhelming him until he could no longer keep them contained in his skull.
When Altair returned, he lay down next to Sven on the huge mattress and wrapped one arm protectively around Sven's chest. Sven could sense Altair's concern, but he couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and talk to Altair yet. Instead, he pressed his face into the crook between Altair's shoulder and neck, breathing in the scent of his lover's skin. Altair smelled like blood and danger, but underneath that, Sven detected hints of spice and something else, something warm, and familiar. A scent he was starting to associate with comfort.
And comfort was what he needed right now. More than anything. Much as he tried to resist the urge to say anything, though, he eventually found himself asking, "What happens now?"
"You get some sleep." Altair kissed the top of Sven's head. "Everything else can wait."
"No," Sven said, pulling away slightly. He needed answers. Now. "Where's Rhyme? Is the other coven going to retaliate and attack us?"
Altair sighed. "Rhyme is in another room recuperating. The doctor is looking after him right now."
"Is he going to be all right?"
"Yes," Altair replied. "Physically, anyway. He won't come to harm here."
Sven let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "No one's going to bite him here?"
"No." Altair's expression turned grim. "I assigned him a guard to make sure of that. We need Rhyme to testify against the Black Spades for us."
"You want to involve the authorities?"
"They're very pro-mortal in this city," Altair replied. "The Black Spades will be forced to change their territory and I'll finally be rid of them."
"You're not scared to come under scrutiny yourself?" Sven asked.
"Would you speak against me?"
Sven blinked at him, surprised at the question. "No," he said truthfully. "I wouldn't betray you."
"Interesting choice of words." Altair brushed the tips of his fingers along Sven's jawline. "You ran away from me last night."
Sven winced at the reminder of his stupidity, but he wasn't going to let that accusation stand, either. "I never meant to run away from you. I only wanted to attend my mom's funeral. If you hadn't been so stubborn about it—"
"I had good reason to be stubborn, didn't I?"
"I know that!" Sven snapped, frustration bubbling over. "But I wasn't thinking clearly. I just… I needed to be there for my mom… After everything…" His voice trailed off as grief threatened to overwhelm him.
Altair's hand covered Sven's, squeezing it lightly. "I don't blame you."
Sven studied the vampire by his side. Altair had risked so much to come and save him. In spite of his vampiric powers and the blood Sven had fed him, his skin was still not fully healed, showing patches of burned red that made Sven wince. His face chest and arms, which Sven could see, were scratched up too. He'd probably had to fight his way down to Sven's prison cell. God knew how many members of the Black Spade vampire coven had died tonight because of Sven's foolishness.
God knew how easily Altair could have died too.
Up until now, Sven hadn't had a quiet moment to properly appreciate the fact that Altair had come for him in spite of the danger his brother posed, in spite of thesunlight, even.
"Why did you come for me?" Sven found himself asking. "With the sun out…"
