He ferried our small group over to a corner, where he started to work on healing my arm.
“No, Shea first.” I pushed his hand away.
His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to retort.
“No. Her ear is hanging off. Shea first,” I repeated. “I’ll work on myself a little. Noah taught me how to self-repair last week.”
Lincoln frowned. “It depletes your energy.”
I pointed to my best friend. “I’ll take one of her energy lozenges.”
Shea waved in front of my man’s face. “Hello? Ear falling off.”
Lincoln sighed, lighting up his hands and dousing Shea with the sunflower-colored magic. He looked tired, his normally upright posture slouched, sweat shining on his forehead while he winced as if in pain.
“Any tips for us?” I asked him as I started to rev up my own magic.
I’d set Sera on the floor so she could hopefully cool off inside of my cuff.
Lincoln nodded. “Yeah, you both need to be quicker, fight dirtier, and you should’ve killed that bitch. She nearly set you on fire,” he barked.
“Gee, is that all?” I should have known my lover would never go easy on me. Not if it meant protecting me, and teaching me how to protect myself.
“I sent Luke to watch the other fights. They aren’t making other people put weapons in the middle,” he added.
“Yeah, I’d figured that.” My voice shook a little as the pain in my arm transferred into my hand. Self-healing was doubly painful, and I was a total newbie, so I needed to take it slow. My one goal was to stop the bleeding and form a thin scab. Noah said small healing goals were good and attainable, so I wouldn’t be worrying about tendons and ligaments and all that.
Stop bleeding, form a scab.
Shea’s face finally relaxed; Lincoln had taken a good chunk of the pain, I could tell.
“Oh, I forgot something,” he said.
“Hmm?”
How could there be more?
My boyfriend’s cobalt blue eyes cut right through me. “Stay the hell away from that Abrus demon. He reeks of hellfire.”
The second Lincoln said it, I knew Lucifer had sent the Abrus demon to watch over me. Goose bumps invaded every square inch of my skin, and I was reminded of James’ prophecy. The one they apparently told at Tainted Academy. A far cry from the one our sweet Raphael believed in.
I pinned my eyes on the ceiling, praying for the first time in forever.
God, let me get through this night alive and end up in Angel City by morning.
With my mom.
And all my limbs.
Amen.
Chapter Eighteen
Lincoln hadn’t had time to heal me, as it had taken the entire break time just to re-adhere Shea’s ear. I was exhausted after healing myself, but Shea’s energy spell lozenge was akin to chugging three energy drinks. After taking them, I’d felt zippy and ready to throw down for the next two fights.
They went well. And by well, I mean I’d broken my pinky, probably needed some stiches in my left eyebrow, and was missing some hair from my ponytail, but we’d won. These kids were freaking badass scrappy hood kids. They knew how to survive, but so did we.
When we exited the cage of our third fight, Chloe and Luke were there, but no Lincoln.
“What’s wrong?” I limped over to Chloe, whose face was giving away that something bad had happened.
She immediately lost the ‘something’s wrong’ face and smiled. “Oh, no big deal. Lincoln just… fainted, so my dad’s guys took him back over the border.”
“He fainted!” Oh God. Maybe we overestimated how long the Celestials could be in Demon City. How many hours had passed? I didn’t know, but I was freaking exhausted.
Shea reached out a shaky hand and gave me one of those energy lozenges.
“Thanks.” I popped it on my tongue and my heart jackknifed in my chest as the adrenaline shot through my body.
Limping to the corner that was now our healing space, I struggled to get to my chair. It was basically two chairs and a sleeping bag that had been set up for us. We were fighting every fight in the main cage, whereas other smaller fights were going on outside in the field. It was totally to exploit us. I’d also learned that freaking gray-haired Abrus demon was in charge of the night, and was the one donating the million dollars to the winner. He was front and center for every fight, watching me like a monster watches prey. My leg was killing me, my pinky hurt way more than you’d think a pinky could hurt, and there was no way I could see myself doing four more fights.
“Lincoln’s calling,” Luke said, then thrust his cell phone in my face.