“You don’t have time for this now, Nai. I promise, soon, I’ll answer all of your questions. Now, you must go to the Keeper of Souls and give him this.” He held out his palm and closed his eyes. A small turquoise jewel, translucent and insubstantial, appeared in his hand. I stepped away from Rage, closer to the transparent form of the high mage. As soon as the stone touched my palm, it immediately solidified.
“Will this help us bring Honor back with us?” I stared at the thumbnail-size jewel, far heavier than its size would indicate.
His form flickered and he shook his head. “No. It is just enough to get you and Prince Courage back to the magic lands. From there, you can retrieve Honor’s soul—if you’re able to broker a bargain with the Keeper and you have a body to place your friend in.”
“Wait, so we didn’t even need to come here?” I growled. I wasn’t mad at him. I was mad at myself and that damn witch.
“No. Not in human form, you didn’t.”
Hate wasn’t a strong enough word for how I felt about Surlama.
Another negotiation? With this Keeper of Souls? Just great. “Okay…” What was I supposed to call him? I didn’t even know this dude, but he was helping me … because he was my grandpa.
Weird.
“Thanks … Mr. Drudner … or Grandpa Geoff. Or is that too weird? Or too soon?” Ugh. I offered him an uneasy smile. “What do I call you?”
Dude I barely know…
A ghostly smile lit his features, and I waited, wondering what I’d said to please him because, so far, nothing seemed to be going right.
“I’ve always wanted to be called Grandpa,” he said softly, almost as if speaking to himself.
Then he disappeared.
What the hell?
“Please tell me I’m not delusional.” Rage gasped, still clutching his side. “We’re stuck in the Realm of the Dead, I’m dying, and you’re worried about what to call your new … grandpa…”
It took two full breaths before I realized his wheezing was laughter. I sidled up to my mate and slid my arm around his waist again. Shaking my head, I muttered, “I’m glad you’re seeing the humor in all this because I’m seventy-five point three percent sure I’m losing my mind.”
I rubbed at my temples.
Rage tucked me closer to him until our bodies were flush from my shoulder to our hips, touching almost like we were teammates for a three-legged race, except my mate had several inches on me and weighed at least twice what I did. We walked toward the white castle, and dread tightened its hold on my chest as he leaned on me more every step we took.
“Well, at least if I die, Madame Surlama won’t be able to collect those lame-ass favors,” Rage wheezed.
I shook my head. “That isn’t funny. I’m not going to let you die.”
Rage groaned, holding his stomach as he doubled over. “Are you sure? I feel like I’m dying.”
He grunted and moaned with the next three steps before he stumbled and pitched forward as his legs gave out.
Time slowed as he swayed, panic holding me captive, and then Rage collapsed to the ground.
“Rage!” I dropped to my knees beside my mate, my heart hurtling desperately against my ribs. “Rage?”
No response. Didn’t Grandpa Geoff say we had, like, at least an hour? I was 100.6% sure that our time wasn’t up; we’d only been here all of fifteen minutes!
I grabbed Rage’s shoulder and, with a grunt, rolled him over onto his back. One look, and my stomach sank. His skin, once golden-tan, was now ashy and gray, and his lips were tinged blue. Resting my head on his chest just over his heart provided a measure of relief. His chest still moved up and down, a little, and I could hear his heartbeat although it was faint and reedy. He was alive. Now, how could I keep him that way?
Rolling thunder reverberated through the air then, and I glanced up to the sky, frowning when I couldn’t spot a single cloud.
What the heck was that? The last thing I needed now was a storm on top of my mate’s fatal illness.
I threaded my fingers through his and then straightened, glancing toward the castle. How fast could I get there? Once there, would I find help? Given the fact that Grandpa gave me a gem to bargain with, I was only 10.2% sure someone at the castle would help me. Even worse, I was less certain I’d return to find Rage alive if I left him here.
Another rumble of thunder made me glare up at the pale purple expanse. All of the beauty of this realm seemed to mock my dire circumstances.
Months of lessons at Alpha Academy were worth exactly nada in this situation. How was it that healing ability wasn’t taught until second year of water studies? I didn’t even know what was wrong with Rage. Other than the whole body-decomposing thing.
His breathing grew more shallow. More rapid.
Crappity-crap, crap, crap.
Did I need to perform CPR? Maybe he was having a heart attack. Could a werewolf even have a heart attack?
“Please don’t make me do CPR on you,” I muttered, shoving the small gem into my back pocket. “I don’t even know how to do that!”
One of the facets of the gem raked over the tip of my finger and, with a yip of pain, I withdrew my hand. I cursed Surlama as fresh blood oozed down my finger. Wrapping my finger into the hem of my shirt, I applied pressure to staunch the flow of blood.
Think. Think. Think.
I slid my other hand into Rage’s, and his fingers twitched. My gaze dropped to our entwined fingers—then zeroed in on our mate marks. Kissing Rage for the first time had bonded us with magic. Would it help now? Did it even count as “kissing” if the other person was unconscious? Pretty sure that was creeptastic. And desperate.
Do something, Nai!
“Please wake up.” I leaned over him and traced his lips with my finger, cringing at the streak of glowing purplish-red left by my touch. Yikes, that was my blood. I lifted the hem of my shirt to wipe off the gruesome streak but froze as the purplish glow melted into his skin, leaving behind only a small smear of blood. Was that … magic?
“Sorry,” I muttered and wiped my shirt’s hem over the streak, which smeared more blood on his lips.
Eww. Crap, I’m making this worse.
I dropped my shirt hem and reached for his. That was seriously gross, but…
Once again, the glowy magic seemed to melt into his skin and disappear. I wiped away the blood and frowned. His lips no longer had that blue tinge to them. If my blood was magically helping him somehow, then maybe…
Forgive me, Rage.
I pried open his teeth and slipped my bleeding finger into his mouth, enough to get at least a drop of blood on his tongue.
Clearly, I was desperate and psycho, treating my mate like a vampire, but I’d do anything to save him. No way could this day get any worse.
I watched him—full-on stared—and when Rage took several unlabored breaths, I sagged with relief.
Maybe it was working…
His chest shuddered, and he released a long exhale. At least, his breathing was getting better.
Except he didn’t take another one.
I counted to ten and then counted to ten again.
Oh, mage.
Scratch kissing. If all those Grey’s Anatomy reruns were right, now it was time for mouth-to-mouth. Had my blood only hastened his death? The thought punched me in the stomach, and tears burned my eyes as I yanked my finger from his mouth.