Page 61 of Discovered Magic
“There’ll be no talk of that, Thorne.” Castor bent to examine the wound. He swore. “Spine.” Quick on his feet, he managed the onlookers like a professional. “Back up, folks. Nothing more to see here.” Then, under his breath, he said, “Freeze time and heal him, Masters. He’s not long for this world if you don’t.”
“I’m not able to fix him. But I know someone who is.” Pressing his palm flat on Wilder’s wound, Draven lowered his voice and said,
“His blood be stilled,
Flow bound until willed.”
Only the barest hint of light emerged from beneath his hand. Not enough to raise questions, but if asked, they could say Castor had struck a match for them to see better.
“He can be carried now. Assist me.”
Wilder grunted. “I’m still awake here, fellas. Just prop me up and go after Abbie.”
“We’ll find her. But your life is at risk, son.” Castor gripped him by the arm and flung it around his neck, waiting for Draven to do the same. When they had him supported, they set off for the hotel.
“Mercer had two others with him, and there were shots from that direction,” Wilder said between pants. “They knocked Abbie out. What if she woke and?—”
He was working himself into a state, and the only way for Draven to calm him was to knock him out.
“Dors!” he snapped, forgetting to lower his voice with the spell.
No less than three people rushed forward to open the actual door, earning a huff of approval from Castor.
“Two for one.”
They managed the stairs with ease, thanks to another boost of Draven’s magic, and settled Wilder facedown on the bed. “I will find Jonas. You go for Roxanne,” he ordered.
Castor’s brows shot up. “They aren’t together?”
“C’est douteux. It’s a Friday night. She has business to manage.”
“Does she have abilities?”
“Non, but she receives visions. She could give us a location on Mercer.”
Without another word, Castor strode out the door.
Leaving a fatally injured man defenseless didn’t sit well with Draven, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Abbie was in peril.
Bart had offered to pay for her “services” in the past, refusing to take no for an answer. Over time, he’d become more obsessed with the prize he couldn’t have. Men like Bartholomew Mercer didn’t care to be denied and found ways to gain what they wanted, regardless of objection or morality.
The secondary problem was the sonofabitch’s greed. If he decided her bracelet was valuable, he might try to take it, unaware of the danger they all faced if her magic was unleashed. Abbie couldn’t remove it until she was of sound mind, but Draven had stupidly failed to add a contingency in case someone else stole it off her person. He planned to rectify the situation once they found her.
Closing his eyes, he envisioned the Thorne homestead at the edge of town. Pulling from his third eye, he sent a thread of energy to scope out the place ahead of his teleport. When the way appeared clear, he visualized himself in Jonas’s front yard. Before his cells warmed to burning, he’d arrived.
Draven took the steps three at a time and banged on the door.
“Masters? What’s wrong?” Jonas’s expression altered, becoming alarmed. “Christ! Where did all that blood come from? Are you hurt?”
Unfortunately, Draven had given little regard to his appearance, failing to notice the bloodstains. “Not me. The other Thorne.”
Evie sailed through the door, little black bag in hand. “Take me to him.”
“Aunt Evie?—”
“I won’t hear another word of objection, Jonas.” She waved her nephew off, much to Draven’s silent amusement.
“There’s another problème. Marie—er, Abbie—she is gone.”
