Velvet Haven

inflicted more pain. Bran swallowed back the agony.
    “I saved your ass because I want something from you, and I can’t get it when you’re dead.”
    “Go to hell. I’m not making any deals with you.”
    “Look around you, Sidhe—this is hell. I’ve been trapped in this fucking cesspool for nearly a thousand years all because I got my dick wet.” Suriel lifted his boot. “Now listen to me. I know the identity of the one prophesized to kill you. I know of a way to find your brother. All I need is your help to find one small book.”
    “I wouldn’t make a deal with you if my last breath depended on it.”
    Suriel laughed and stepped on his arm harder, making him scream inside. “So much pride,” he said. He clicked his tongue as if he were chiding a child. “It’ll be your downfall, you know. You’re not in Annwyn, King . You’re among mortals. And you know what mortals love? They love knowledge, science. They hunger for it. And wouldn’t you make a nice little science project for the doctors at the hospital.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Imagine what they would say once they started examining you, system by system.”
    In the distance Bran could see the big blue square with the large white H . “You blackmailing son of a bitch!”
    “It’s an even exchange, my friend. I need you, and you need me. So, what is your answer, Sidhe? Join me in my quest, or join the mortals at the hospital.”
    “Fuck you.”
    Suriel yanked on Bran’s hair, pulling his head up to face his. “That wasn’t one of the options.”
    “I’d rather die than help you.”
    Suriel let go, and in his weakened condition, Bran couldn’t hold up his head. His forehead smashed to the rough asphalt, making him see stars.
    “Then die, King.”
    Bran fought to remain conscious as he watched Suriel’s boots splash away through the puddles. The hellhound venom was poisoning him, and he was weak from blood loss. He had one of two options left. Die as a man, or die as a bird.
    It wasn’t a difficult choice. There was no way in hell he was going to be dissected by mortals. Dead or not, he had his pride.
    Using the very last of his strength, he reached inside the neck of his shirt and pulled out the fire opal pendant. Brushing his thumb across the smooth surface, he felt one last jolt of stored magic. With a flash, he was the raven, lying with wings spread, waiting to die in the middle of the road.
    And wasn’t this a glamorous fucking death for the king of the Night Sidhe and the protector of Annwyn? He wasn’t dying as a warrior. He was roadkill.

CHAPTER TEN

    “So, that Dr. Sanchez is a wet dream, isn’t he?”
    Mairi turned the wipers on high as rain pounded the windshield. “Still trying to play matchmaker, Rowan?”
    Her friend laughed, but it sounded weak and exhausted. “You know me, an eternal romantic.”
    That she was. Not to mention the strongest woman Mairi knew. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw Rowan sitting in the backseat wrapped up in a blanket. Her head was pressed back and her eyes were closed. She looked pale—too pale. She probably should have stayed the night at St. Mike’s, but Rowan being Rowan, she flatly refused. Her seizure hadn’t lasted as long as some of the other ones she’d endured. That fact, coupled with Rowan’s surliness, had provoked Sanchez to discharge her into Mairi’s care.
    “I made a deal with Pretty Boy Sanchez, you know,” Rowan murmured sleepily. “He let me go only because I promised I’d convince you to go out with him.”
    Mairi smiled and shook her head. “You see me with a doctor?”
    “Actually no, I don’t, but he’s desperate, and I didn’t want to spend a night in the hospital, so I figured the deal was the way to go.”
    Mairi turned her econo-compact onto Sanctuary Street. The street sign made her recall it was the spot where Lauren’s murderer had dumped her body. She couldn’t let the image of the girl’s mutilated body go. The symbols were always there in the back of her mind, haunting her, just like the memories of her dream lover. Somehow the two were linked. She felt it in her gut. Years of listening to that sixth sense had served her well in her nursing career. But Mairi didn’t know what to make of this crazy night.
    “Wow, this is some good shit,” Rowan grumbled. “What’d they give me this time?”
    “A little Valium and lorazepam cocktail. You’ll sleep well.”
    “Sorry for interrupting your evening with Mr.