Chapter
Morgan
I don’t have time to give Dylan the full treatment, but I lead him to the clinic and assist him while he cleans up. I press my lips against every wound. I stroke his skin until the ache in his muscles ease. I do my best to ignore the hunger in his eyes and below the belt. It’s impossible to turn that on and off. We don’t have the luxury of immersing ourselves in one another right now.
By the time he’s suited up, wearing the all black uniform and matching the other members of the Raven Guard, Nevis is knocking on the door. She asks if she can come in. I give her a welcoming nod as Dylan secures his blades in the suit. Bunny slips in behind her. He’s suited up and my heart cracks a little seeing him unified with us, at least for now.
She’s followed by one of the healers I’d seen in the clinic earlier. He’s a small man with graying hair. “I’d hate to meet any of you in a dark corner of the castle,” she says, giving us the once over. “I’d like you to meet Kuwan. He’s our lead healer. His wife is the Morrigan’s personal assistant.”
These people are like an army of spies. No wonder their community has survived so long.
I step forward. “Thank you for helping, everyone. I know it was unexpected and probably taxed your resources. We will do whatever we can to repay you.”
Kuwan nods his thanks and says, “Nevis told me about the virus that the Morrigan is spreading in your world. It sounds similar to a sickness we had here, many years ago.”
“Years ago? You mean no one gets sick from it anymore?” I ask.
Dylan chimes in. “Was it cured? Eradicated?”
“No. Not exactly,” Kuwan says. “When the Morrigan unleashed her fury on this realm, she destroyed all living things. After the wars were over there were still survivors, but she solved that when cold and dark days rolled over the land. Sickness wiped out the remaining clans.”
“Except this one,” Clinton says.
Kuwan nods. “Yes, except this one.”
“How did they manage that? Just by coming underground?”
“No,” Bunny says. We all look at him in surprise. “The Queen drinks from a vial like those on the counter. It keeps her young. Vital and strong—especially when faced with Morgan and her power.”
“Is that true?” I ask
“Yes,” Kuwan replies
“What does she take? What keeps your people alive?”
“You notice the heat—the warmth. Our ponds are filled by warm springs of clean, clear water that warms the air as well as provides sanitation for cleaning and drinking. The people on the upside were freezing to death. The water sources were contaminated. That only sped up the plague set loose by the Morrigan, and they died.”
I look at Dylan and then Nevis. “You’re saying the water saved your people.”
“Yes,” Kuwan says. “We believe it has healing properties.”
“The water heals people,” Damien repeats.
“Yes. Healing, longevity…”
Dylan’s expression is neutral but I see the wheels turning in his head. “You’re serious.”
Nevis smiles and her eyes twinkle. “How old do you think I am?”
Upstairs, when she was nothing more than my servant, I thought she was a girl—a teenager. Younger than me. Her skin is smooth and her black hair is sleek and shiny. Once she saved me I saw more wisdom in her eyes but not much more age. I take a guess and high-ball it. “Twenty-five.”
The others agree.
“Sixty,” she announces. “This is the year I turned sixty.”
“Years old?” Sam asks. Bunny watches the whole thing from the side, unable to hide his incredulousness.
“Yes.”
“That’s what you used on their wounds right? I noticed they’d started healing before I even came in here.”
“Water,” Kuwan says. “Nothing else.”
There’s a moment of quiet as we reflect on this. Dylan is the first to speak. “So you think this water may help cure the virus plaguing the realm we’ve come from?”
“The properties may shift from one realm to the other, but it’s worth a shot.”
The idea is exciting, liberating, but introducing a miracle cure back on Earth seems too good to be true. It’s also life-changing—the kind of thing that alters the fate of mankind. The uneasy look on the Guardian’s face tells me they realize the ramifications as well.
“Are you offering this to us to take back to my people?” I finally ask. The glance between Nevis and Kuwan make it clear it’s not that easy. I didn’t think so.
“We’re willing to share—at the very least you can take it to your medics and they can assess its purposes,” Nevis says.
“But…” I prompt.
“But the Morrigan must be destroyed.” Kuwan stares at me. “And we can’t do it alone.”
I feel every male around me tense. Every single one of my guardians shifts into protective mode. A low growl rumbles behind me and I’m not sure who it comes from, but I hold up my hand. “So you want to trade our services for the cure?”
“Possible cure,” Clinton bites out.
Nevis flinches from his tone, aware of the lethal power behind his words. She speaks in a calm voice. “It’s not like that. We know you’re already here to stop her and cure the virus. We can help with the virus, but please don’t just take it and leave. We just hope that future generations can live above ground—free and not bound to the Morrigan.”
I assess my men. Their expressions are hard, complicated masks. But I know they’ll do what’s right. Or at the very least, try. Sure enough, Dylan confirms this.
“Then we fight her,” Dylan says. “We’re strong. A forceful unit at maximum power. It should be easy to take her out.”
“After, we’ll leave,” Sam says. “We go back and give the cure to the sick.”
Damien nods. But his face is stoic—staring right at me. I mutter my agreements and look away, securing the blade in my boot.
It’s solved. Easy as that.
Or so I want everyone to think.