To heal a Rogue

BRADLEY

I crossed the gravel to meet her before the car door had fully swung shut, extending my hand the moment she stepped clear of it.

”The royal family is grateful you honored our invitation,” I said.

”The pleasure is mine,” Madeline replied, her grip firm, her eyes moving past me toward the estate itself with quiet, professional assessment. ”I’ve been taking something of a sabbatical, but if it’s for a worthy cause, I’m happy to make an exception.”

”Come with me,” I said, already turning toward the main doors.

Two sentinels fell into step behind us, and I raised a hand without looking back. ”You stay here.”

They nodded and dropped away, understanding without needing an explanation.

”How long has she been injured,” Madeline asked as we walked, her stride matching mine without effort. ”The duration affects how effective witch healing can be against damage of this nature.”

”Not long,” I said. ”Less than seven hours, perhaps less. I’m confident you can do something for her regardless.”

We entered the infirmary, the antiseptic smell hitting us both at once, and I led her straight to the private room where the Delicate lay, bandages still wrapped tight around her eyes, dried blood crusting the fabric in dark and uneven patches.

”I’ve brought a witch,” I told her, keeping my voice level, and reassuring. ”She can heal your injuries.”

The Delicate let out a long, shaking breath, something between relief and disbelief. She reached her hand out blindly, and Madeline crossed to her side, taking her hand in one palm while her other settled against the woman’s shoulder.

”Everything will be alright,” Madeline murmured.

I watched her release her magic, and not all was a show, but this was and I watched as a soft golden shimmer spread from her fingertips into the Delicate’s skin, and it was followed by a scent. A sweet and pungent smell that curled through the room like something alive and charged.

Something in my chest went cold. How had I missed that?

I’d smelled that exact scent before. In the room where the rogue had disappeared, and where my loyal sentinels heads had been reduced to nothing. Even though the walls had been scrubbed clean of every trace of them, I’d noted it then and let it slip past me entirely, distracted by the carnage, by the missing rogue and, by everything except the one detail that should have mattered most.

Witch magic left a scent which was sweet and distinct. And I’d smelled it there too.

Willow...

The realization landed with the force of a physical blow, and I opened my mouth to say something, to ask Valentine’s daughter if she could help with my new burning theory, when the Delicate gasped and reached up, tearing the bandages away from her own face with trembling hands.

She stared down at her fingers, then touched her own cheeks, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

”I cannot believe it,” she said, her voice cracking with something close to tears. ”I had nearly given up hope.”

”You have your sight back,” I said, elated that it had been successful. ”Do you remember what you promised me?”

”I do...” She swallowed.

”So... Are you up for helping the royal family one more time?”

”With this witch nearby,” she nodded, ”I feel considerably more confident about taking that risk again.”

She looked toward Madeline, something steadier in her expression now than I’d seen since the moment she’d woken from the last attempt.

”Let’s do it,” she said.

Her head swelled.

The skin stretched grotesquely, her features warping beneath it as her skull seemed to expand from within. Then it ruptured with a wet, thunderous crack. Bone, blood, and chunks of flesh exploded outward in every direction, the force of it ripping what remained of her head apart and spraying the room in a thick, steaming mist. The wall behind her disappeared beneath a violent splatter of red and gray, while hot fragments struck my face, neck, and chest, sliding down my skin as the metallic stink of blood flooded my lungs.

Madeline had been faster than either of us. A shimmering barrier had already snapped up around herself the instant before the explosion, and I watched blood slide harmlessly down an invisible dome inches from her skin while the rest of the room took the full force of it.

That scent hit me again, thicker now, unmistakable beneath the copper stink of blood. The same sweet, pungent note that had clung to the ruined room where the rogue had vanished.

Madeline’s head snapped up.

Her eyes narrowed, and I knew instantly she’d caught it too.

She spun toward the door and thrust out one hand. The wood detonated from its hinges with a violent crack, splinters and fragments blasting across the hallway. She was through the opening before the debris had finished raining down, moving with a speed that didn’t belong to the composed, almost unhurried woman I’d been watching only moments ago.

I ran after her, blood still dripping from my jaw. Fury burned through my chest, drowning out everything else as I pushed my legs faster, ignoring the sharp protest of muscles that hadn’t fully recovered from the morning’s chaos.

”Wait,” I shouted, though I doubted she intended to.

She didn’t slow. She followed the scent like a hound with a fresh trail, weaving through the infirmary’s corridors with a speed and certainty that told me she knew exactly what she was chasing.

I pushed harder, closing the distance between us as we burst from the side corridor into the main hall of the infirmary. Omegas and healers scattered out of our path, pressing themselves against the walls as alarm spread across their faces at the sight of us. Mostly me, blood still streaked across my face and clothes, moving like whatever had happened had personally offended every instinct in my body.

It had. I was going to kill whoever did this.

”That scent,” I demanded, drawing level with Madeline for a few steps. ”This is the work of another—”

”A witch,” Madeline finished.

She didn’t slow. Her gaze swept over the Omegas and healers around us, lingering on each face with a suspicion that made several of them look away.

”A powerful one, too.” Her nostrils flared as she drew in another breath. ”They’re among these people.”

She glanced at me, her expression tightening.

”They must be a talented shapeshifter.”