Chapter Nine warnings: Character death, violence/gore, discussions of death
Chapter Nine
Come On, Eileen
Knowing they needed to get to Bard Records was one thing. Getting there was something else entirely.
Still, this form was faster than Mick’s tank of a dragon form but stronger than his human self, and that, combined with Eleanor’s willingness to stay still in his arms, made staying one step ahead of the literal demon army behind them a bit easier.
Emphasis on a bit—because though the demons couldn’t seem to work magic, that hellish centipede Adelaide turned into certainly could. As the centipede creature bound after them, followed by seemingly every other demon in the building, she fired beams of brilliant silver at Mick, one after the other. Some beams fried her own troops. Others nearly caught Mick’s wings. He dove and bobbed in the air, swooping over and under each beam while keeping himself and Eleanor out of reach of the demons.
Okay. Regroup, Mick told himself as he dodged yet another beam. Get to Bard Records. Get your violin. And . . . then what?
He searched inside himself. Power of music. Power of music. How was he supposed to stop a demon queen with the power of music?
A beam cut a little too close to home. Mick felt its heat sear the back of one wing and cut through his hair, and he yelped and rolled in the air. By a miracle alone, he managed to stay airborne, but now he was facing Adelaide and fluttering desperately backwards. Her skull face opened its terrible maw, and within the darkness behind knife-blade teeth, another ball of light grew.
Chanticleer slid under him, taking a position just in front of him. They hummed and raised their tiny, yellow-gloved hands in the air. Adelaide fired, slicing the air between them with a thick beam of energy, but as it got closer, Chanticleer’s voice rose in pitch, and a barrier of rainbow light burst into existence in front of them.
It wasn’t much. The force of Adelaide’s attack still exploded through the barrier and drove Mick, Eleanor, and Chanticleer backwards. But it was enough to deflect the brunt of the attack, enough to buy Mick enough time to turn over and escape. As he flew, he peered down and was half-shocked to find Chanticleer dashing along beneath him—keeping up with him as if he wasn’t flying full-speed and they weren’t running on stubby legs hidden by swaths of cloth.
“Important lesson for the one of you who wasn’t there,” they shouted. “Music is magic. You put your heart into song, and magic is shaped by intent. Put two and two together.” They peered up at Eleanor. “Important for you too.”
Mick furrowed his eyebrows at Eleanor. “Did that make sense to you?”
She shrugged. “Power of music. What did you think I meant?”
“You mean that wasn’t a metaphor?”
Eleanor gave him a worried look. “Please tell me this makes sense to you.”
Mick rounded a corner. Bard Records was dead ahead, its neon sign glowing like a pink lighthouse beacon. But just as it loomed ahead of them, Adelaide fired another beam, and Mick rolled out of the way just enough that the only thing it seared was the very tip of his tail. He flicked it and pushed himself a little faster.
“Honestly?” he said. “I don’t actually know what I’m doing; I’m making it up as I go.”
To his surprise, Eleanor’s expression softened at that.
“You really are back,” she said.
He had no time to ask her what she meant by that, because right then, he and Chanticleer crossed the threshold to Bard Records. While Chanticleer skidded to a stop, Mick extended his feet to land, tripped, stumbled, and finally twisted around to crash-land onto his back on the floor. Most of the thirteen other mages gathered at the doorway to erect a barrier of light, of earth, of vines, of a dozen different things, layered together to block out both the demons and Adelaide. It did nothing to block out Adelaide’s angry scream, though, and the barrier shook under the power of one of her strikes.
On the floor, Mick and Eleanor quickly untangled themselves.
“Sorry for the rough landing,” Mick said quickly. “Are you all right?”
Eleanor nodded. “Yes, of course. Are you?”
Mick flicked his wings, then folded them against his back and rubbed his shoulder. “A little rug-burned, but not bad.”
Eleanor nodded once more, then reached up to touch his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she began to hum “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms” again. Light ebbed from her body and washed over Mick, and all of a sudden, he felt . . .
Warm. Comforted. Any pain he felt from that flight and that landing, from the burn on the tip of his tail to the bruises on his back and shoulders—it all melted away, all at once. And as Eleanor opened her eyes, Mick felt his voice catch in his throat. She was close. Very close.
“What did you do?” he whispered.
“Healing spell.” She sat back on her heels. “I wanted to see if what Chanticleer said was true. And it is.” With that, she rolled onto her feet and offered him a hand. “Come on. You’ve got work to do.”
She smiled confidently down at him, and Mick found he couldn’t fight that look. Did he have any idea what he was doing? No, absolutely not. But damn if he wasn’t going to try.
He took her hand and let her pull him to his feet, and for a second, they locked eyes. Mick was no mind reader, not even with magic, but he wanted to think they were on the same page. That they were making a silent promise to each other that no matter what happened, they would see the sunrise. Together.
Alistair cleared their throat. Mick turned to find them standing behind him, his violin in hand.
“I’d hate to interrupt,” they said.
Mick cocked a grin their way and took back his violin. “Not at all! Thanks for holding onto this for me.”
“Tuning it too. You’re welcome,” Alistair said with a slight bow. “Ah, reminds me of my old roadie days. Though Jagger never had to fight off a murderous, reality-destroying witch.” They paused for a second. “Well. Except for that one time. Anyway, I trust you know what to do from here?”
He didn’t. Not really. Except . . . as soon as he rested his violin on his shoulder, he felt something stir.
Could he name what he had to do? No. But glancing back at Eleanor, who stood there with her trust in him in full display across her face, he could sense the magic in him welling once more.
“I’ve got an idea.” He flicked his bow across the strings and let several short bursts of music fly. “Any requests?”
“We’ve got ‘Come On, Eileen’ spooled up for you,” Alistair replied matter-of-factly.
Mick stopped. He glanced over his other shoulder at Eleanor, who responded with a sheepish shrug.
“I was going to use it to snap you out of it,” she explained.
Ah, good ol’ Eleanor. Mick felt his face burn. He cleared his throat in a mixture of embarrassment and love, then turned back to continue warming up.
It wasn’t easy, though, especially as he sensed Eleanor slide a little closer.
“Hey, um. I know this is far from the right time, but I just want to say I’m sorry for never being there for you,” she said.
He frowned at the floor and continued sliding his bow across the strings of his violin in quick bursts. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father’s death,” Eleanor explained.
Mick felt his heart shudder. His bow jerked, but he tried to pass it off as another warm-up exercise. He said nothing, though. He kept his eyes on the floor and let instinct take over when it came to his violin. All of his attention slipped to Eleanor.
“It was hard on you,” she continued, “and I know that, but I left for Eldaven anyway.”
He swallowed. “Eleanor, do you think I would’ve been happy if you threw away your future for me?” he asked carefully. “I’m glad you went to Eldaven. I just wish you’d go now.” Wait, no. Mick shot up, twisted around, let his bow fall to his side. “Not because I don’t want you here! I just . . . I just think it’s—”
“It’s wonderful that the two of you are finally talking,” Alistair interrupted. “Really, it is. But we have more pressing concerns right now.”
Mick swiveled around and set his bow on his violin’s strings again. “Right! Sorry! I’m ready.”
Eleanor, on the other hand.
Eleanor drew closer, squeezed his arm, leaned in to whisper urgently into his ear.
“I’m trying to say these past two days made me realize something,” she said.
Mick inhaled sharply. “Eleanor, can we talk about this la—”
“I love you.”
He felt as if the entire world stopped right then. Or maybe it was just his heart. He couldn’t tell. He could only whip his head around to stare at her, dumbfounded.
She loved him? She loved him.
A fire rushed through his entire body. His magic danced. His soul danced. His head swam, and he couldn’t help but melt.
“E-Eleanor,” he said.
The barrier before the door fell, and a choir of screeches rose from beyond it.
And just like that, Mick spun on his toes and struck his first chord. Behind him, on the store speakers of Bard Records, a familiar tune matched his.
Oh, believe me, if all those endearing young charms that I gaze on so fondly today . . .
She loved him. She loved him. Those words played like a prayer in his head, drumming into his soul like a beat. It set his tempo and carried his feet out into the mall. She loved him.
. . . were to suddenly leave you or fly in the night . . .
Adelaide was waiting for him. The army was waiting for him. Teeming white insects swarming in a carpet in the corridor, in the food court, over nearly every surface, except a neat semicircle around the entrance of Bard Records. And in the center of that semicircle was their queen, squatting in the hall like a defecating dog.
. . . just like fairy gifts gone in the sky.
“There you are,” Adelaide growled. She planted one insect leg on a spot in front of her—heavily, like a tree trunk slammed into the floor. “Done saying your goodbyes, guardian?”
Ah. So she did know what he was. Mick smirked like a folk hero before the Devil. Well, didn’t that just make things easier?
He didn’t even need the tape to know what came next. His bow struck the first bright notes of “Come On, Eileen,” and he unfurled his wings and jumped. A literal wave of demons crashed down behind him as he sailed through the air. He bounced on his toes, twirled, taunted them to follow him. Adelaide’s bug form flowed his way, clattering and screeching as she went, but he leapt deftly out of her way and swooped under her silver beam without missing a beat.
“Poor old Johnny Ray sounded sad upon the radio, moved a million hearts in mono.”
Though he put more space between himself and Bard Records, the voice of Dexys’ lead singer rang out loud and clear through the mall, as if the music was following Mick. And maybe it was, taking cues from his violin, matching his dance step for step. He hadn’t told the Godcleaver to do that, though. Not that he was worried about it.
“Our mothers cried, sang along—who would blame them?”
Mick whirled around and skipped backwards along the corridor, watching the stream of demons and Adelaide follow him. And beyond them, bringing up the rear and picking off demons at the back of the pack, were the watchers.
And among them was Eleanor, carried by Ophina.
“You’re grown up. So grown.”
She didn’t even need Ophina’s light or the mages’ magic to stand out. She glowed like the full moon in the night sky: brilliant, beautiful, and with a magic all her own. Mick dodged yet another one of Adelaide’s spells and yet more of the demons’ claws, all without taking his eyes off Eleanor.
And Eleanor sang, with the watchers and Dexys singing backup.
“Now I must say, more than ever . . .” Her voice was crystal clear, as if the only sound in that mall were her and Mick’s violin. “Toora, loora, toora, loo-rye-aye! And we sing just like our fathers!”
Faster than he’d anticipated, Mick hit the end of the spur and burst into the courtyard. He twisted around, shaking off his surprise. Focus. The important part was just about to happen. He leapt onto the half-wall at the edge of the second floor. His claws clung to the banister as he leaned back, as the demons streamed at him.
“Come on, Eileen! Oh, I swear—”
“What he means—”
“At this moment, you mean everything!”
Eleanor’s voice intertwined with the mages’. Mick let go, falling backwards into the air. Demons leapt from the walkway. He dodged as best as he could, but a few caught his legs and tail. His voice jumped in his throat at the weight—and then at the sight of Adelaide arcing above him.
“You in that dress—my thoughts, I confess, verge on dirty—oh, come on, Eileen!”
He swung his body in a futile attempt to shake off the demons and dodge Adelaide. His violin wailed the next few bars while the demon queen swirled around him, opened her jaws, readied another spell.
Focus. Put your heart into song. Shape your intent.
“Come on, Eileen!”
Eleanor was there, standing just at the edge of the walkway with Ophina by her side. Mick caught her gaze, then caught fire. A blaze of magic burst from his body, incinerating the demons latched onto him and driving Adelaide back.
Somewhere above him, the music in Bard Records finally leeched into the mall’s PA system. Dexys echoed out from all directions, all at once. Adelaide hesitated, black eyes rising to the ceiling. Mick took this opportunity to dive out of her coils and make a beeline straight for the stage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of gold and knew Ophina and Eleanor were by his side.
“These people ‘round here wear beat-down eyes sunk in smoke-dried faces, so resigned to what their fate is.”
Adelaide’s skull swung down and locked onto the stage. Mick flit just an inch above its surface, skipping into a dance he was frankly making up as he went. Ophina set Eleanor down beside him, then soared up to join the watchers in their rainbow-lit battle against the steadily shrinking army of demons.
It was just the two of them, right there on the stage. Eleanor gave him an encouraging nod, and nothing else mattered.
“But not us,” she sang. “No, never! Not us! No, never! We are far too young and clever!”
Adelaide shuddered as Eleanor sang. “You—you passed it to her? You could’ve kept the Godcleaver for yourself, but you gave it away—and to her? Oh gods above. You’re so cute.”
She dove down, claws aimed at Eleanor. Mick whipped his tail around Eleanor’s waist and pulled her out of the way, just seconds before Adelaide crashed into the stage where she had stood. Without stopping, Mick pulled her further, dancing backwards with her to get her out of Adelaide’s reach.
“Toora, loora, toora, loo-rye-aye . . . ! Eileen, I’ll hum this tune forever!”
Eleanor jumped into step with Mick, her eyes locked with his, and the two of them circled one another to the beat, like twin stars in orbit. Adelaide screamed and rose up, but a light flared to life around Eleanor, around Mick. Eleanor held his tail, Mick played on, and their magic intertwined and lashed out, hammering back Adelaide’s flailing claws.
“Come on, Eileen! Oh, I swear—”
Mick beamed and joined Eleanor in song. “What he means—”
“Let’s take off everything!”
Adelaide screeched and fired another silver beam. Mick swept Eleanor out of the way again, and the beam blasted a crater into the stage. And once more, their magic intertwined, this time in a beam of their own: blue and rose red and blazing into Adelaide’s chest.
Eleanor bumped her hip against Mick’s. “That pretty red dress, Eileen!”
And he bowed in return. “Tell him yes!”
“Ah, come on, Eileen!”
“Please!”
Adelaide crashed into the ruined stands. She growled, twisting back onto her belly. Her teeth clacked. Her claws stretched. The black in her eyes glinted.
“Why won’t you die?” she screamed.
As if in answer, Eleanor drew herself closer to Mick. He kept his eyes on her, not Adelaide, as he lead Eleanor into the bridge.
“Come on, Eileen, ta-loo-rye-aye. Come on, Eileen, ta-loo-rye-aye.”
And she, in response: “Now you are grown, now you have shown, oh, Eileen! These things, they are real, and I know how you feel.”
Something in her voice reached into Mick. He felt his heart shudder. His magic pushed at him. Fire welled in him, demanded that he make his move.
And once again, he knew exactly what to do.
“Now I must say, more than ever,” Eleanor sang.
He drew close. Nearly close enough to kiss her.
“Things ‘round here will change,” he promised.
Eleanor fell silent, and her smile vanished into surprise. Mick gave her a confident grin in return. That look on her face made everything worth it.
He bowed once again to her, pulling away just a little. “I said, toora, loora, toora, loo-rye-aye . . . !”
No, not quite right. She made everything worth it. Put your heart into song? Sure, Mick could do that.
He put all the love he had for her into that song.
Every last mote of it.
“Come on, Eileen!” Mick sang. “Oh, I swear, what I mean . . . !”
Mick fired off the next notes and pulled Eleanor back into the dance. At first, she didn’t sing—only spun at the guidance of Mick’s tail. But as they danced, her smile returned, wider and brighter than it had been a moment ago—than it had ever been, as far as Mick could remember. There was a sparkle in her eye, a spark of recognition.
She knew.
“At this moment,” he continued, “you mean everything!”
And Eleanor fell into step with him. “Everything.”
Adelaide took to the air again, spreading her claws. Before her, silver light burst into existence, filling the space between her myriad legs. Her voice rang out in a rising scream; she was clearly gearing up for one last attack.
But that was fine. The light around Mick and Eleanor flared brighter and harder, rose red and bright blue flames that engulfed the stage. Embers snapped out and caught what few demons had escaped the wrath of the mages to incinerate them into dazzles of glittering ash.
“You in that dress . . .” Mick drew himself close to Eleanor, leaned down until his forehead touched hers. “My thoughts, I confess, verge on dirty.”
She laughed and pushed him away. “Oh, come on, Eileen!”
Adelaide unleashed her magic, and the courtyard filled with silver light. But Eleanor grabbed onto Mick’s tail and pulled him close—so very close—and the red and blue fire around them cut through Adelaide’s attack. Swallowed it whole. Swallowed her whole.
And Mick and Eleanor continued on in perfect duet.
“Come on, Eileen! Oh, I swear! What he means—at this moment, you mean everything. You in that dress! Oh my thoughts, I confess: well, they’re dirty! Come on, Eileen . . . !”
As the music faded, so did the light. Mick didn’t bother looking at Adelaide just yet. She didn’t matter. All that mattered was how this ended. With one last note on his violin, he wrapped his tail around both himself and Eleanor until they stood hip to hip.
“You mean everything,” he sang softly.
They stood there in silence for a long while, just staring into each other’s eyes. Slowly, Eleanor’s fluttered shut, and she drew even closer, her lips inching little by little towards his. Mick relaxed and leaned down, his heart aching for the conclusion of a song drawn out over far too many years.
Unfortunately, Adelaide took this opportunity to scream—this time not in murderous rage but in, of all things, despair.
Eleanor pulled away, leaving Mick cold, but as he followed her gaze, he was brought right back to reality. Adelaide sat on the floor at the edge of the stage, peering down at her perfectly human hands. She was back, with no trace of the demon queen she had been anywhere in sight.
“No,” she whimpered. “No, no, no! I was so close!” She glared at Mick, her face twisting quickly into one of pure hatred. “What did you do?”
Had the wielder of the Godcleaver slice through your magic long enough for me to erase it from existence, the magical part of him casually said. He flicked his eyes to the ceiling and silently told his magic to kindly shut up.
“Adelaide,” Eleanor said, pulling away from Mick’s tail, “it’s over.”
Adelaide scrambled to her feet and recoiled hard away from Eleanor. “Get away from me!”
Undaunted, Eleanor extended a hand, palm up. “You have to move on. We can help you.”
Mick watched, hesitantly lowering his violin and bow. Don’t do it, Eleanor, he wanted to say. Get away from her. But she continued, inching closer and closer to Adelaide.
Adelaide, on the other hand, vaulted back up to place herself between Eleanor and the portal.
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t need to move on?” Adelaide snapped. “I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help. I am perfectly—”
The portal hummed. Mick’s gaze was drawn straight to it, and something inside him curled up and shuddered.
So did the portal.
As in, it shuddered. Shrank. Expanded. Wavered around the edges until it blurred.
Well, that couldn’t be good.
“Wait! No!” Adelaide cried.
Eleanor looked back to Mick. “What’s going on?”
“Why would you think I know?” he yelped back.
“No, no, no, no!” Adelaide whipped her hands up, palms to the portal, as if to smooth out its fraying edges. “I’ve come too far to let it end like this!”
“End like what?” Eleanor demanded.
Mick looked up, to the second floor. The mages were gathered around the charred remains of the last of the demon army. They peered down, faces exhausted but alarmed. They knew what they were dealing with, but not a single one of them had magic left to do anything about it.
Or almost anything.
“Get back!” Alistair shouted, leaning over the banister. “That thing’s collapsing!”
Eleanor jumped at those words, then turned and lunged before Mick could stop her. She grabbed Adelaide by the wrist and tried to pull her back, but the witch rounded on her and scowled. Her hand twisted around the front of Eleanor’s shirt. Eleanor let go, eyes widening in realization as Adelaide took one step towards the portal, dragging Eleanor with her.
And that was Mick’s cue.
He darted forward and swung himself around, tail snapping hard against Adelaide’s wrist. Her bones crunched beneath his strike, and she released with a squeal. Mick latched his tail around Eleanor, pinned her back against his, and anchored them both to the floor with his claws. Adelaide rose back to her feet, with one hand wrapped around her broken wrist and both eyes searing with malice.
Mick brought his violin back to his shoulder and rested his bow on its strings.
“Eleanor?” he said.
She leaned against him. “Right!”
And Mick summoned every bit of his magic, every last drop of it, everything he had inside him and put it into one long note. At his back, Eleanor matched his tone, singing with everything she had. And together, they reached out and fired one last blast of rose red and bright blue and bold violet at Adelaide.
She didn’t stand a chance. The fireball struck with full force and sent her flying into the portal. Mick pulled away from Eleanor and snapped his bow off his violin, flinging the light around him directly at the hole in time and space. His magic slashed through it, and it responded, first solidifying into a perfect circle, then contracting into a dot . . .
. . . and finally exploding into a rain of glitter and light.
It took another second for that light to fade and for the last mote of magic to fall softly at his feet, and when they did, exhaustion finally caught up to Mick. He lowered his violin and his bow to his sides and trembled. He felt weaker. More vulnerable. Significantly both.
“Mick,” Eleanor said quietly. “You’re . . . !”
Human. He knew. He just needed a minute before he could enjoy that fact.
Unfortunately, the mages weren’t interested in giving him a minute. Or Alistair wasn’t. They approached, examining the space where the portal had been. A low whistle sang from their lips.
“Stabilization spell and a traditional guardian’s banishment—from a beginner, no less,” they muttered. They threw a glance to Mick. “That boy is a natural.”
Mick responded with an undignified noise, shortly before he flopped onto his now-wingless back.
“Mick!” Eleanor dropped to her knees and scooped his head and shoulders into her arms. “Are you all right?”
He thought about it for a second, then shoved his violin out of the way, snaked his arms around Eleanor, and yanked her down to the floor with him. She yelped but didn’t fight him as he wrapped his legs around one of hers and pulled her into an embrace.
“Better than I’ve felt in years,” he said.
And then, gazing into his eyes, he let himself ease into a state of calm.
“Listen. Eleanor,” he began. “About what you said before. The thing is, I haven’t been honest to you either, and I’m sorry.”
She furrowed her eyebrows at him. “What do you mean?”
This was it. The moment Mick had been both waiting for and dreading since he’d been seventeen. Talk, you idiot.
He took a deep breath. Steadied himself.
And let go.
“I love you too,” he said. “I-I’ve been in love with you for . . . well, a long time. Years, even.” He gently gripped her shoulders. “But that’s why I don’t want you to stay here. It’s not fair to you. You could do amazing things; you shouldn’t let me hold you back.”
Eleanor’s smile wavered into light confusion. She brushed a hand against Mick’s face and pressed her forehead to his. “Who said you’d hold me back? I’d have a job in Eldaven. I have roots there. If you went with me, it would just mean I can pursue my dreams without having to leave you behind.”
“But—”
She looped her arms around his shoulders, and his thoughts died in his throat.
“And as for you,” she continued, “there are plenty of things you can do in Eldaven, with or without me. I know you. You’ll be able to find your way. You just need to give yourself a chance.”
Mick frowned. What did he say to this? That there wasn’t anything in Eldaven for him, just as there wasn’t anything in Southwind? That she should be thinking about herself only, not him?
Except . . . that was her side of the problem, wasn’t it? Didn’t she apologize to him for thinking only of herself? He didn’t think she did, of course, but Eleanor, for whatever reason, had convinced herself she had.
He tried to look away from her, but her hand gently guided his gaze back to hers.
“Earlier tonight, I panicked,” she said. “I couldn’t stop thinking this was all my fault—not just the dragon thing, but . . . leaving you alone like that. And then a certain someone said I should talk to you about that, instead of just assuming you thought I’d abandoned you. And they were right, weren’t they? You didn’t think I abandoned you.”
“Because you didn’t,” Mick replied softly.
Eleanor lowered her eyes. “I know. But more importantly, I know you have people you can talk to. Not your father, obviously, but . . . do you think Bill and Marcie would want you to stay here?”
“I can’t abandon them. It’s-it’s different.”
“If you love them, you’ll live your life to its fullest, not kill yourself trying to help. I know they hate seeing you like this.”
Mick exhaled slowly, realizing this wasn’t an argument he was going to win. Not when he was already half-dead from exhaustion and frankly more intent on just holding Eleanor. This might have been his first and last opportunity to do it, after all. Couldn’t they just . . . not talk about this? Sure, he’d brought it up, but . . .
Was Eleanor closer than she was a moment ago? He felt her arms tighten around him, and at once, his face burned. Oh. All of this was a mistake.
“Listen,” she said, “if you don’t want my advice, that’s fine. It’s your choice. But please don’t make me lose you again, even if you decide to stay here. Promise me.”
And once again, for what felt like the millionth time that night, Mick felt his throat contract. He wasn’t alone, was he? And he wasn’t going to be alone, no matter how much . . .
Gods above, he loved her.
“Eleanor,” he murmured.
There were no adequate words that could possibly follow her name. The best he could do was plant a soft kiss on her forehead—a promise for a promise. He would think about it. When he had some sleep, he’d figure out exactly how that would work, with her in Eldaven and him—
She planted her hands on his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss the second he tried to separate from her. And at first, he was too shocked to understand what was happening, but then . . .
Slowly . . .
He slipped. Guard not just down but completely annihilated at his feet. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her warmth, her softness, her everything close to him, as if he was terrified of having all of her ripped from his arms.
And the funniest and damnedest thing was . . . he was.
How could he think about giving this up?
But . . .
No. He’d figure out what to do about his family later. Now, the only thing that mattered in the universe was this.
And then Alistair had to cough.
Mick winced hard, eyes shut tightly as he fought off a groan. It was Eleanor who pulled away enough to look up at the mage.
“As much as I’d hate to interrupt you lovebirds,” Alistair said, “maybe you’d like to take this elsewhere? Not only for privacy’s sake, but also . . .”
Mick slid his eyes open and found Alistair motioning to the half-destroyed mall around them. More than that, behind them were literally all of the other watchers. Just standing there. Watching them. Faelen was even frowning deeply at the two of them, as if they’d done something deeply offensive.
“You’re in our way,” Faelen said bluntly.
Kaedra’s eyes widened, and she smacked the huntress in the arm with the back of her hand.
“Faelen!” she hissed. “Is that any way to treat two mages who did so much for us?”
“When they’re in our way, yes.”
Ah hells. Mick struggled to sit up, less because doing so meant pulling himself away from Eleanor and more because his body would have preferred lying sprawled on the floor right then. Still, he managed. Even managed a frown at the watchers.
“About that mage part,” he said.
One of them, a red-headed woman dressed in a sharp, crimson business suit, lifted a well-manicured hand to wave Mick’s concerns off. “Tomorrow morning, after we’ve cleaned up here.”
Eleanor shot up with a gasp, her eyes locked on the woman in red.
“Hey,” Mick began.
But before he could finish, Eleanor wrapped an arm around his. “Uh, Mick? Maybe we should do as they say and give them space.”
Mick stopped to shoot her a confused look. That didn’t sound like Eleanor. And that awkward, tense look of for the love of all things good, just trust me on this one certainly wasn’t Eleanor either.
“Atta girl,” Alistair said. “Now if you two will follow me, there’s a very lovely bed display in JCPenney you can use to sleep for the night.” Their eyes settled heavily and sternly on Mick. “Only sleep.”
Mick shot to his feet, whoever the lady in red was be damned. “Hey!” he shouted. “What do you take me for?”
“A gentleman, from what Miss de Lepaute has told me about you,” Alistair responded smoothly. “But one can never be too careful these days, even about gentlemen.”
“Hey!”
Eleanor was on her feet and at his side at once, her arm around his again. “Mick!” And then, to Alistair, in far softer a voice: “That’s nice of you. Thank you.”
Mick could tell his face was beet red by then, purely by the way his skin burned and his heart thundered in his ears. “E-Eleanor! You know I wouldn’t—I mean, maybe somewhere else, but—”
She patted his arm. “Of course. You know I trust you.” Then, she turned her attention to the woman in red. “Ah, before we go, I’m curious. When you say ‘after you’ve cleaned up here,’ do you really mean . . . ?”
“My dear girl, one thing you’ll soon learn about magic is that in the right hands, it can truly work wonders,” the woman said. “Sweet dreams, both of you. You’ve deserved it.”