“I care,” Jeremy confirmed.
“As do I. My wife is in this house, tending to the girls Spencer brought in,” the old man said, and I distinctively heard a shotgun cocking. “And those girls are already scared as jackrabbits hunted by wolves. They don’t need to get caught up in this.”
Spencer murmured something under his breath, but all I could make out was “them,” and the rest was too weak.
Viv was at his side, sliding the needle into his arm and then lifting the bag of blood. “It’s okay, Spencer. Everything is okay. I’m going to look at your chest while these overly aggressive aliens take their beef outside. Isn’t that right?” she asked, and I knew without seeing her that she was staring at Hunter and Luc. “Or at least take it to another room.”
“What do you say, Hunter?” Luc’s voice was closer, his energy tickling over my skin. “Kitchen? Outside?” Then he was in front of me, his entire body humming with power. “Or option C?”
“What is option C?” Hunter’s lower half solidified.
White lightning crackled across Luc’s knuckles. “Option C is me ending this before you even realize it’s started.”
Shadows and smoke pulsed around Hunter, snapping out against the threshold of the doorway. Where the inky substance touched, a scorched mark was left behind. What Hunter wielded was the darker and equally dangerous form of the Source.
Fully expecting Hunter to strike out, every muscle in my body tensed. I would not allow Luc to come to harm.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Luc murmured, having picked up on my thoughts.
I was hoping it didn’t, because I had no idea if I really tapped into the Source, I could control it, but in that moment, I realized I would risk it to protect Luc. I didn’t care how crazy or wrong that was.
“My brother is dead, and something like her killed him.” Raw pain turned Hunter’s voice to chips of ice.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and his gaze shot to mine. The hatred and grief was hard to see. “I met your brother briefly, outside Luc’s club. He was … he wasn’t mean to me.” Couldn’t exactly say he was nice, but he hadn’t wanted to kill me, so there was that. “I really am sorry to hear that he’s dead, but I’m not like whatever killed him.”
“And I’m just supposed to believe that because you claim so?” Hunter demanded.
“Or because I’ve spent the last however many minutes of my life telling you just that,” Luc replied.
Several tense moments passed. “What are you?”
“I’m not quite sure,” I answered. It was a shock to realize how true that was. It finally struck me that I really wasn’t like other Trojans.
“Luc,” Viv called, urgent. “I need you. He’s sprung another leak.”
Luc didn’t budge. “I need to know I can trust you, Hunter.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “Help them.”
Hunter solidified, the wisps of shadows and black fire fading into nothingness. “Help the human. We’ll be waiting outside.”
Luc turned back to Spencer only when Hunter had stalked into the kitchen, arm wrapped around his wife. Grayson caught Luc’s eye, and with a nod, he pivoted, following them out.
I stood there for several moments and then stated the obvious. “She’s human.”
“They love each other.” The white glow appeared around Luc’s hands as he placed them just above Spencer’s chest. “Obviously, Serena doesn’t have the greatest taste.”
“Is that common?” I asked while Eaton took over holding the bag of blood and Viv rolled out a leather satchel. Medical instruments gleamed in the light.
“Not particularly.”
“How can I help?” I looked around, seeing that Eaton had established another IV and Jeremy had his fingers on Spencer’s wrist.
“Stay right where you are.” Luc’s brows furrowed in concentration. “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, but I’m going to worry nonetheless, and then I’ll get distracted.”
Every muscle in my body twitched. I wanted to go outside and talk to Hunter so I could find out as much as I could about this other Trojan and what had happened, but Luc being, well, Luc, he would worry. Right now, he needed to be 100 percent focused on Spencer.
“You can help me,” Viv offered, glancing up from Spencer’s chest as she worked alongside Luc to close the wounds. “I’ve got a bag over here by Georgie’s feet,” she said, and I was assuming the older man was Georgie. “In there, you’re going to find a lot of stuff. I need you to find the clear pouch. It’ll be full of needles.”
Hurrying to the zippered tote, I knelt and quickly peeled it open. She wasn’t lying about there being a lot of things in there. Stacked boxes and rolls of gauze among other medical-looking thingamabobs. Rooting around, I quickly found the zippered pouch, and boy, was that a trigger for anyone scared of needles.