Velvet Haven (25 page)

He reached for a large brown envelope and pulled a black plastic film from it. “I took these from Radiology. Don’t tell on me, okay?”

“Rowan’s MRI?”

He nodded and held it up to the light. “This is the one from the other night, when she presented with the seizure.” He gave it to Mairi to hold and then pulled another film out of the envelope. “This one was taken a month ago.”

“The tumor has grown.”

“Big-time,” Sanchez murmured. “It’s gone behind the periocular orbit; that’s probably why her vision has been a bit off. Not to mention the frontal headaches and the violent seizures.”

But the position didn’t explain Rowan’s weird visions, which her neurologist described as auras. Auras were things like smelling burned toast or hearing a sound. Not full-fledged hallucinations of other worlds.

“I’m not sure it’s going to be operable, Mairi. It’s grown so much and it’s intertwined with major nerves and blood vessels. I wouldn’t be surprised if your friend gets a call with the news her surgery is canceled.”

Closing her eyes, Mairi strived for composure. All along she had tried to prepare herself for the worst, but nothing could prepare her for this, this sick, hopeless feeling in her gut. She couldn’t lose Rowan. Hell, it was like losing a piece of herself.

Opening her eyes, she looked again at the latest MRI, amazed at the rapid growth the tumor had taken, as well as the shape. Quickly Mairi compared it to the previous scan. The first showed an oval growth, delineated edges, and little encroachment on nerves or blood supply. But in the latest one, it was more of a circle, with a septum in the middle divided into thirds.

Peering closer, Mairi held the film up higher to the lamplight in order to illuminate the tumor.
Jesus!

The film dropped from her hold. She was going crazy, she had to be.

“Mairi?”

Pushing away from Sanchez, she glanced down at the scan. Even without the light illuminating it, the tumor still resembled the triscale in the book she had taken from the library.

What she was thinking was absurd, but Mairi could not shake it. The Scribe of Annwyn had written the diary. She described a world of trees and sacred groves. Woods where magic prevailed and nature was worshipped. Where the Sidhe ruled by her side.

Rowan had described such a world. A world of peace and enchantment. Had Rowan seen Annwyn? Was Rowan part of this divine trinity, and the prophecy that had been written about it?

“Is there something wrong? You seem . . . shocked.”

Mairi shook her head, still staring at the film.

“You know, I really despise liars.”

Mairi looked up in time to see Sanchez toss the MRI film onto the carpet.

“Tell me where the book is.”

“What book?” she asked, laughing nervously. “Sanchez, you’re crazy.”

“The prophecy,” he sneered. “
That
book.”

She refused to allow her gaze to stray to the bookshelf where she’d hidden the book behind her stereo.

“I’ll tear this place apart, Mairi, and you’ll have a hell of a mess to clean up.”

“You’ve lost it,” she muttered, pulling away. “Get out of my house.”

He followed her, tracking her down as if she were an animal and he the hunter. “I want the book. Tell me where you’ve taken it.”

“I don’t know what book you’re talking about.”

“The one with the spells, the one that tells of the flame and the amulet and the way to destroy both worlds.”

She managed to hold back her fear. Somehow he had known about the book she’d taken. It had to be worth something, and Sanchez, the greedy pig, wanted it.

She turned away, and he grabbed her by her hair and whirled her around. With the back of his hand, he hit her, sent her crashing into the bookshelf, which rocked, dumping a row of novels around her body.

“Well, I suppose I’ve learned all I will by using the good doctor.” He put both hands to his mouth. One hand held his upper jaw; the other, his lower one. With one great pull, he unhinged his jaw, and Mairi screamed as the top of Sanchez’ head was slowly peeled back.

Mairi struggled to gain her feet, but Sanchez, or whoever he was, placed his foot on her stomach, stilling her. A limp body dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt fell beside her.

Slowly she looked up the length of the long black- leather-clad legs, past a silver belt with a knife hanging from it, and up to a black T-shirt with an inverted pentagram.

“Hello again, Mairi,” the man said as he flicked Sanchez’ medical ID badge to the ground. “I hope you don’t mind, but lover boy here made me a nice skin suit.”

“Aaron,” she gasped. The sick bastard who had stalked and terrified Rowan.

He crouched down on his haunches and smiled. Her gaze caught the body of Sanchez, lying boneless on the floor. Her stomach roiled and she fought the urge to faint. “If you’ve done anything to Rowan,” she gasped, fighting the blackness.

“Oh, what I did to Rowan is nothing like what I’m going to do to you, Mairi.” He gripped her chin, forcing her to look into his pale blue eyes. “Tell me where you’ve put the book, and while we’re at it, tell me what you’ve learned of the Oracle and I’ll let you keep your entrails where they belong.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of an Oracle.”

The sting of his hand on her cheek burned. Her head reeled back, and he grabbed her by the throat with one hand, hauling her up from the floor.

“Let’s try again, shall we?”

The room spun and Mairi felt the warmth of blood trickle from her nose to her lip. The metallic taste on her tongue confirmed it. She was bleeding.

“Speak,” he snarled, shaking her. “I want the book
and
the Oracle.”

“I—I don’t know what it is,” she said, her mind fuzzy.

“Do not lie to me,” he growled. He lifted her into the air so her feet dangled and the viselike grip of his fingers steadily increased on her throat.

“The book,” she gasped, clawing at his hand. “Is the Oracle the book?”

Through the haze of pain and anoxia, Mairi saw Aaron pause. His eyes widened “Is it?” he asked. “I thought it a person, but maybe . . .”

Clancy was suddenly there, jumping up, his paws digging into Aaron’s shoulders. With his arm, Aaron shoved him off. Which only made Clancy snarl and bite Aaron’s legs. With a vicious kick, Aaron sent Clancy spiraling across the floor and into the wall, where he lay unconscious.

“Now, if you don’t want the same treatment as your canine, start talking.”

“Aaron,” she choked, struggling for air, “let me go.”

“I want the fucking Oracle—now!” he raged, shaking her like a rag doll. “And if the Oracle and the book are
not
one and the same, I want them both. You know what I’m talking about, and don’t bother to deny it.”

“How?” she choked out, clawing his hands.

He laughed, squeezing tighter. “I knew one of you bitches had to have the book. I figured it was Rowan, being into the occult and all that. She was desperate enough for a fuck; it was easy to get her to let me in. But once I figured out she didn’t have it, I knew it was you.”

“Why us?”

“Because I was there that day in the library searching for it. And so were the two of you. Now, I want that book—”

There was a thunderous crash behind them and Bran burst through the door. Wood splintered and cracked, flying into the air. Aaron dropped her and she fell at his feet in a heap.

“Well, if it isn’t a little birdie.”

Mairi could see that Bran looked as shocked as he was angry. “Who are you?” he shouted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Smoke clouded the room, and Mairi swore she saw the mist arise from a wand that Aaron held in his hand. She knew she wasn’t in her right mind when Bran lifted the lamp and it became a metal sword slicing through the air.

Aaron dodged it and laughed. “Your magic is weak, Raven. But then the mortal realm is not your natural hunting ground, is it?”

The remote control lifted into the air, changed into an arrow with a vicious-looking serrated tip. It flew across the room, hitting Aaron in the shoulder, making him roar in pain. Bran charged forward, knocking Aaron flat. Together they struggled and pummeled each other, rolling on the ground.

She had to do something to help Bran. She reached for the baseball bat she kept hidden behind her front door, but a flash of light shook the room. Mairi saw the electrical current that seemed to crackle off Bran’s arms. Like static electricity, it zapped between the two men. Then Aaron reached out to her, the electricity a long forked line radiating from his arm. The aluminum bat she held in her hand attracted it like a magnet.

The force of the shock sent her flying backward. Her head hit the door and she slid down. The last thing she heard was a terrifying cry, and the world went black. She felt her body twitch, her heart lurch and spasm, the electrical shock shorting out her heart rhythm.

Despairing, Bran cradled Mairi in his arms. He had no knowledge of mortals and their bodies. Had no healing abilities. He held her, watching helplessly as she died in his arms.

“Come back, Mairi,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “Come back to me.”

It was no use. She was gone. Putting his head to her chest, he listened for the beat of her heart. There was none.

“Jesus, what the hell happened here?”

Bran looked up to see Rhys and Keir enter through the splintered door.

“What do mortals do when they are hurt?” he barked.

Rhys knelt and put two fingers against her throat. “Shit! She’s got no pulse. Keir, call 911.”

Rhys tried to pull Mairi from his arms, but Bran fought him.

“For fuck’s sake, put her down.”

For the first time ever, Bran actually listened to Rhys. Then he was sorry, as Rhys tore open her shirt and placed his mouth over hers.

“CPR,” Rhys hissed at he pressed both his hands to Mairi’s breastbone. “She needs this if she’s going to live. But, shit, I think it’s too late.”

Bran closed his eyes. His hand went to the fire opal pendant Cailleach had given him. It had protected him from the attack, but not Mairi.

“Ambulance is coming,” Keir murmured as he got to his knees. “Here, I’ll breathe, you compress.”

And so it went, cycles of breathing and compressing with no sign of life from Mairi.

When the paramedics arrived they took over. They started shoving needles into her arms as two men worked on her chest and mouth. They were shouting and saying things that Bran did not understand. He only knew magic. The bounds of his world. It frightened him, this ignorance. It angered him that he could not prevent her death, or help revive her.

“Stop! Where are you taking her?” Bran demanded as the men loaded Mairi up on a stretcher.

“St. Mike’s.”

“We’ll follow,” said Rhys, putting a hand on Bran’s arm. “Let them do their job,” he muttered. “It’s not like in Annwyn, where you can wave a wand. Mortals are different.”

With a nod, Bran allowed the men to leave with Mairi. When she was gone, he looked around the apartment, which was in shambles.

“I’ll follow the trail of blood,” Keir said. Aaron had fled once Mairi had fallen. But he was badly wounded. “I’ll report back at Velvet Haven.”

“Oh, Christ,” Rhys said. “Look at this.”

Bran went behind the couch and saw the dead body, all hollowed out except for the skin. “That’s how he got inside. He used the skin of someone Mairi knew.”

“Whose body is it?”

“Dr. M. Sanchez,” Bran read from the plastic ID card.

“Who the hell did the skinning?”

“The same person who butchered the woman in the alley.”

The thought of Mairi’s sweet body carved like that made his blood run cold. If he hadn’t arrived when he did, he would surely have her found her that way.