She retrieved the water pitcher from a table in the main room, filled it with warm water, and returned it to Cole. She and Niall used the water to clean Cole.
Once they finished cleaning the wounds and Cole, Niall helped her dress his injuries with one of Sahira’s salves before bandaging them. Then they removed the soiled bedding and, with tender care, remade the bed with sheets she found stored in a closet in the hallway.
She still wasn’t entirely sure about Niall, but by the time they’d remade the bed and settled Cole onto it, she trusted him more.
“I should return to the hall,” Niall said. “My presence there will deter anyone from trying to bother you.”
Lexi followed him to the outer door. He moved the chair out of the way and stepped into the hall. He turned back toward her as she started to shut the door.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “If you need me for anything else, I’ll be here. Anything at all.”
“Thank you,” she murmured before closing the door.
She put the chair against the door again and returned to Cole’s room. Walking over, she brushed the hair back from his forehead and bent to kiss him. She still had two bottles of healing potion left and three-quarters of a jar of salve, but she’d wait a little bit before giving him more.
If she gave them all to him now, the pain-dulling properties would wear off, and she’d have nothing left to give him to help with it. If she kept them spaced out, then he shouldn’t experience much discomfort as he healed.
Grabbing the chair beside the window in the corner of his room, Lexi carried it over to the bedroom doorway. She retrieved the sword they’d pulled from Cole and went into the bathroom to wash the blood from it.
She scowled as the blood ran down the drain of the luxurious steam shower. She was tempted to climb inside, sit on the bench, and let the hot water pound onto her aching muscles and filthy clothes, but she turned off the water and returned to the bedroom.
Rifling through Cole’s things, she pulled out a clean shirt and pants. They were far too big for her, but she couldn’t stand the stench of blood and death cleaving to her. She stripped out of her clothes and threw them near the door to the hallway.
Pulling Cole’s clothes on, she rolled the waistband down and the bottom of the pants up. The shirt was short-sleeved and too big on her as the sleeves fell to nearly her wrists. She tucked the shirt into the pants to help keep them up.
Settling onto the chair, Lexi positioned herself to see the door to the hall and Cole. She placed the sword across her lap as she prepared to kill anyone who came through that door.
Chapter Seventeen
“That didn’t go as planned,” Brokk muttered as he peeled himself off the ground and brushed the dirt from his ass.
Sahira’s face scrunched, and her chin jutted out as she glared at the lodge like she was about to tear it apart with her bare hands.
“I am so sick of this shit,” she muttered. “Being half vampire doesn’t make me lesser.”
Brokk agreed with her, but there weren’t many witches who would. In their eyes, vamps would always be the scourge of the earth.
Sahira’s hands fisted as she rose and stalked back toward the lodge. Brokk admired her determination, but he wasn’t going anywhere near that pissed-off witch again.
When Sahira stopped outside the open flap, the phoenixes and pixies took flight. Brokk didn’t blame them as the deadened fire beneath the cauldron blazed back to life.
The purple mixture within the cauldron boiled as it spewed out of the pot and splattered the ground. Despite not wanting to get any closer, Brokk stepped toward the lodge to stop Sahira.
“I said no vampires!” the woman inside snarled.
“I am half witch!” Sahira retorted.
“Not good enough.”
Before Brokk could grasp Sahira’s arm, another blast of wind rocked outward, blowing the flap out and knocking Sahira back a step. This time, they were better prepared for the attack and didn’t go flying across the ground. It still took everything he had to withstand the tempest.
His hair blew back, and his clothes cleaved to his body as he leaned into the wind. Sahira’s mahogany hair tore free of its bun to whip through the air, but she didn’t back down. Though they fought it, it pushed them back a few feet as they leaned into the wind like climbers on Mount Everest.
When the fire beneath the cauldron increased, Brokk edged away as it nearly blistered his exposed flesh. The purple goo inside the pot shot everywhere. He jumped back to avoid being splattered by the witch’s brew. It might turn him into a toad.
“I am one of you!” Sahira snapped.
The wind only increased as the ground became coated with purple slime. More witches emerged from their homes as the exchange started to draw their attention. As they drew closer, the hair on Brokk’s nape rose.
None of them looked happy, and all of them could put a curse on them.
Sahira had said the journey to this realm wouldn’t be dangerous. He doubted she’d expected the wrath of the irate witch they’d come to see or for the other witches to look like they wanted to kill them.
“Nothing with vampire blood is one of us!” the witch battering them with wind declared as she emerged from her lodge.
Her silvery blonde hair tumbled in thick waves to the backs of her knees. Translucent, pewter gray eyes shone with fury as they fixed on Sahira. For an ancient crone and a pretty shitty hostess, the woman was unbelievably beautiful.
A thin, white dress hugged her curvaceous figure and floated around her as she glided toward Sahira. The slight cleft in her chin gave her delicate appearance and oval face an air of stubborn strength.
A ball of fire hovered above the woman’s hand. Sahira didn’t back down or try to conjure something to use as a weapon against her. Brokk’s fingers itched for the sword he left behind so as not to seem hostile to the witches.
Sahira had been certain they would not attack one of their own, even if she were half vampire. And now, he would give anything for a weapon.
He almost grabbed Sahira’s arm to pull her away but stopped himself. Right now, this crone wasn’t acknowledging him, but if he moved, he might draw her attention and her ire. And if she didn’t like a vampire who was half witch, she certainly wasn’t going to like him.
“We came for the harrow stone,” Sahira said.
Brokk admired her calm as she continued to lean into the wind battering them.
“You’ll never get it,” the crone replied.
“I have an extremely important reason for it. One that could save countless lives,” Sahira said.
The fire hovering over the witch’s palm swelled. Brokk was certain she was about to launch those flames at Sahira.
Sahira must have suspected the same thing as her chin rose. “If you do not give it to us, you very well could be dooming countless others to death. We have come here to use it for good; we have come here in the hopes it will help us stop evil, and we need your help to do it.”
When the woman stepped closer to Sahira, she had to tilt her head back to look up at the crone who stood a good four inches over her five-foot-five height. Brokk nervously eyed the women. He had no weapons, but if the crone tried to harm Sahira, he would take her down.
The crone studied Sahira before she closed her fingers around the fire, and the flames went out. Brokk nearly went tumbling forward when the wind abruptly cut off. He staggered a step before righting his balance.