Velvet Haven

it?”
    The remote control lifted into the air, changed into an arrow with a vicious-looking serrated tip. It flew across the room, hitting Aaron in the shoulder, making him roar in pain. Bran charged forward, knocking Aaron flat. Together they struggled and pummeled each other, rolling on the ground.
    She had to do something to help Bran. She reached for the baseball bat she kept hidden behind her front door, but a flash of light shook the room. Mairi saw the electrical current that seemed to crackle off Bran’s arms. Like static electricity, it zapped between the two men. Then Aaron reached out to her, the electricity a long forked line radiating from his arm. The aluminum bat she held in her hand attracted it like a magnet.
    The force of the shock sent her flying backward. Her head hit the door and she slid down. The last thing she heard was a terrifying cry, and the world went black. She felt her body twitch, her heart lurch and spasm, the electrical shock shorting out her heart rhythm.
    So this is what it’s like to die.

    Despairing, Bran cradled Mairi in his arms. He had no knowledge of mortals and their bodies. Had no healing abilities. He held her, watching helplessly as she died in his arms.
    “Come back, Mairi,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “Come back to me.”
    It was no use. She was gone. Putting his head to her chest, he listened for the beat of her heart. There was none.
    “Jesus, what the hell happened here?”
    Bran looked up to see Rhys and Keir enter through the splintered door.
    “What do mortals do when they are hurt?” he barked.
    Rhys knelt and put two fingers against her throat. “Shit! She’s got no pulse. Keir, call 911.”
    Rhys tried to pull Mairi from his arms, but Bran fought him.
    “For fuck’s sake, put her down.”
    For the first time ever, Bran actually listened to Rhys. Then he was sorry, as Rhys tore open her shirt and placed his mouth over hers.
    “CPR,” Rhys hissed at he pressed both his hands to Mairi’s breastbone. “She needs this if she’s going to live. But, shit, I think it’s too late.”
    Bran closed his eyes. His hand went to the fire opal pendant Cailleach had given him. It had protected him from the attack, but not Mairi.
    “Ambulance is coming,” Keir murmured as he got to his knees. “Here, I’ll breathe, you compress.”
    And so it went, cycles of breathing and compressing with no sign of life from Mairi.
    When the paramedics arrived they took over. They started shoving needles into her arms as two men worked on her chest and mouth. They were shouting and saying things that Bran did not understand. He only knew magic. The bounds of his world. It frightened him, this ignorance. It angered him that he could not prevent her death, or help revive her.
    “Stop! Where are you taking her?” Bran demanded as the men loaded Mairi up on a stretcher.
    “St. Mike’s.”
    “We’ll follow,” said Rhys, putting a hand on Bran’s arm. “Let them do their job,” he muttered. “It’s not like in Annwyn, where you can wave a wand. Mortals are different.”
    With a nod, Bran allowed the men to leave with Mairi. When she was gone, he looked around the apartment, which was in shambles.
    “I’ll follow the trail of blood,” Keir said. Aaron had fled once Mairi had fallen. But he was badly wounded. “I’ll report back at Velvet Haven.”
    “Oh, Christ,” Rhys said. “Look at this.”
    Bran went behind the couch and saw the dead body, all hollowed out except for the skin. “That’s how he got inside. He used the skin of someone Mairi knew.”
    “Whose body is it?”
    “Dr. M. Sanchez,” Bran read from the plastic ID card.
    “Who the hell did the skinning?”
    “The same person who butchered the woman in the alley.”
    The thought of Mairi’s sweet body carved like that made his blood run cold. If he hadn’t arrived when he did, he would surely have her found her that way.
    “Well, c’mon, I’ll take you to the hospital. I’ll send someone from the club to replace the door and secure the apartment just in case . . .” Rhys coughed and looked away.
    “She will make it,” Bran said quietly. “She will make it,” he growled, this time louder and more forceful. “And I have the thing that will ensure she does.” Then, crossing the room, he picked up the limp body of Clancy. “Take me to Suriel.”

    Suriel looked down from the railing he was perched on and laughed at the sight of Bran holding a large