He drew the dagger back—and time snapped back to normal as he swung it toward me a second time.

Bang!

The sound exploded in my ears, and the cultist keeled over, shock splashed over his face and a bloody hole in his forehead.

People were screaming. Shouting.

“Tori!”

People were running. Fleeing.

“Call an ambulance!”

The ground was hard against my back. Was I lying down? When had I lain down?

“Prop up her feet! You, put pressure on the wound—hurry up! Tori, stay with me.”

My vision was blurring. A face above me wavered in and out of focus, white as a ghost, hazel eyes just like mine shining with tears.

“Where’s the goddamn ambulance?”

Hands were touching me, prodding me, pushing on my chest. A sound, growing louder. Sirens. Wailing, crying. I’d never realized how sad the sound of sirens was.

“Tori, stay with me.”

“Tori.”

“Tori!”

Chapter Seven

Beep … beep … beep.

What an annoying sound.

Beep … beep … beep.

It wasn’t an alarm. Not a cell phone. What else beeped like that? And why hadn’t anyone shut it off already? So damn annoying. I was trying to sleep here. So tired. So exhausted.

Beep … beep … beep.

Just … shut … up!

“Relax, Tori.” The cool female voice was accompanied by the scuff of shoes against a tile floor, drawing nearer. “I’m on it.”

With a huge amount of effort, I cracked my eyes open. Light blasted my pupils, and my eyes were so dry they felt like sandpaper. Everything was so blurry that it took me a moment to make out the woman nearby.

She was in her late forties or early fifties with blond hair pulled up in a casual but elegant twist. She tapped on a monitor displaying a bunch of colorful numbers and lines, and the beeping went silent.

“Your blood pressure dropped again,” she remarked, turning toward me. “How are you feeling?”

I blinked slowly. My face felt strange, and when I tried to wrinkle my nose, all sorts of weird sensations assaulted me. There was something stuck to my face?

The woman caught my hand as I reached for my nose. “Please don’t pull out the nasal cannula.”

“The what?” I croaked.

“The oxygen line in your nose.” She pushed my arm down to my side, then produced a plastic cup of water with a bendy straw sticking out of it. She set the straw against my lips, and I greedily sucked down several mouthfuls of cool liquid.

Setting the cup aside, she perched on the edge of my bed. “Do you remember what happened?”

No images came to mind, but a horrendous rush of noise filled my ears—screaming and shouting and sirens and Justin calling my name over and over and over. Shuddering, I pushed the memory away and focused properly on the familiar face watching me: Elisabetta, the Crow and Hammer’s best healer.

I blinked against the scratchy dryness in my eyes. “I was stabbed?”

“Yes. Would you like the short list of your injuries, or are you one of those patients who wants to hear every gory detail?”

“Gory details. How else am I gonna brag about it?”

“Just like your friends.” She shook her head. “You were stabbed in the left side of the chest. The puncture caused a pneumothorax—a collapsed lung. The blade also nicked your heart, resulting in a condition called cardiac tamponade, which is where the sack around your heart fills with blood, squeezing your heart muscles. That caused you to go into cardiac arrest.”

My abused heart lurched sickeningly.

“Fortunately, the paramedics had just arrived and were able to save you by performing a pericardiocentesis—they inserted a needle into your chest to drain the blood—”

“Actually, I changed my mind. I don’t want the gory details.”

Elisabetta smiled with faint humor that quickly faded. “It was close, Tori. Your friends sleeping in the waiting room right now don’t even realize how close we came to losing you.”

Waiting room? I glanced around and realized I wasn’t in one of the converted rooms in Elisabetta’s spacious home. This was an actual hospital room—beige walls full of weird sockets and panels and equipment, a sink and cupboard, and an ugly padded chair in the corner. Tubes ran from an IV stand with two bags on it, disappearing under my blanket in the vicinity of my left wrist.

“Am I gonna be okay?” I asked.

“You’ll be absolutely fine—in a few days. We already removed your chest tube and healed the wound sites. Your X-rays look good, but damage to the heart is nothing to shrug off, even with healing Arcana to help.” She stood. “Now, let’s see how you’re doing.”

I submitted to a physical, too tired to do anything but answer her questions as she poked and prodded me. When she finished, she passed me the water cup for another drink.

“All right.” She set the cup on the overbed table beside me. “I’ll tell your friends you’re awake.”

“Can I see them?”

“Yes—if you can stay awake that long.”

“Of course I can.”

With a knowing smile, she headed for the door. It clacked shut, and I stared at it, determinedly ignoring the bone-deep fatigue weighing me down. I wanted to see them. The guys. My mages and my brother. They were here. I knew it. They were waiting for me, like we always waited when one of us got hurt.

They were here, and I’d stay awake so I could see them.

I kept repeating that to myself as the room faded and I slipped back into an exhausted sleep.

I spent two nights in the hospital, but no sooner was I discharged than Elisabetta shipped me straight to her house. She set me up in a healing room—significantly cozier than the hospital version, but the bed was the same—and only permitted brief visits from my friends. Probably smart since I was having trouble staying awake.

Still, I got to see Aaron and Kai, who fussed over me and tried not to show how freaked out they were over my near death. Justin, who’d seen the whole “almost dying” thing firsthand, didn’t hold it together quite as well.

And Ezra. He hadn’t said much, but he’d held my hand—his fingers ice-cold as he’d fought back his emotions.

The post-healing fatigue was intense, and time had gotten a little blurry. When I woke up to pale sunlight leaking through the drapes across the room’s large window, I couldn’t remember what day it was. My parched throat stung and I turned my head, searching for the ever-present cup of water.

Ezra was slumped in the chair beside my bed, his head resting against the wall and face slack as he dozed.

Forgetting about water, I stared at him. Just stared. Absorbing the sight. Letting it soothe me. The scruff on his jaw was thicker, approaching beard territory, and his long-sleeved shirt was wrinkled.

After a minute, I wiggled my arm out from under the blanket. My fingertips brushed his sleeve. He started, head jerking upright and eyes flying open. His attention snapped to me.

“Hey,” I croaked. “Water?”

Sitting up, he grabbed the cup off the table and passed it over. I drained it, sighed in relief, and passed it back to him. He set the cup aside and turned back to me, his gaze roving worriedly across my face.

“Am I allowed to have visitors for more than five minutes now?” I asked. “What day is it?”

“Friday.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Very funny.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m serious. For real serious. It’s Friday.”

“But I was attacked on Tuesday.”

He nodded. “You’ve been asleep. Healing always takes a lot out of a person.”

“But … over three days?”

“You were stabbed in the chest.” He brushed a scraggily curl off my face. “I thought we might lose you.”

“Pff. One little stab wound can’t keep me down.”

He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “There was nothing little about that dagger, according to Justin.”

“Where is he?”

“Work. Same with Aaron and Kai, but they’ll be back tonight to check on you.”

It took a bit of effort, but I sat up. “Any new developments?”

He studied me for a moment, somber and serious. “Aaron reported that Sin has been texting your brother.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re not sure when they exchanged numbers. They must’ve run into each other while visiting you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, but I meant real developments, not gossip.”

His grin flashed before his expression turned thoughtful. “Preparations at the guild are ongoing. Everyone who can help has been making artifacts and collecting weapons and gear, and Aaron’s been working the combat mythics hard.”

“What about Darius? Have the other guilds decided what to do about the Court yet?”

“MagiPol finally launched their investigation, but the other combat guilds haven’t done anything yet. With the temple in the cemetery destroyed, we have no hard evidence. Darius is trying to find the High Court so we have something to back up our claims.”

“You mean not everyone believes him?”

“They think he’s jumping to conclusions, either about the cult’s existence or about how bad it is. No one wants to believe there are demon mages in the city.” He shook his head. “He’s doing everything he can. Once my little problem is taken care of, he won’t have to tread so carefully.”

His little problem. He said it so nonchalantly, as though he were getting a filling at the dentist.

“The museum basement is working well,” he added. “We debated whether it was safe to use, but based on where you were attacked, Justin thinks the cultist staked out his cruiser instead of following you two to the museum. We haven’t found any signs of cultists in the area, and Robin and Amalia have been working on the ritual circle at night.”