16
“No, no, it can’t be,” Artan wheezed out. He shot to his feet and raced to the corner of the room, to throw up.
“Who is he?” Kane asked in a low voice.
“Artan’s cousin,” I said, feeling queasy too. “He died about six weeks ago during our last mission. Artan blames me for that.”
Like a medical examiner used to cadavers, Trina knelt beside Sloan’s head and body and poked around. I averted my eyes before I, too, spilled the contents of my stomach.
“Heart maiden, I need your light,” Trina said.
I couldn’t get too close, so I looked around. I found an empty vial like a wine decanter on the table. As if it was a solid ball, I placed my fire in there and handed the vial to Trina, then I retreated a few steps, needing to stay away from the scene.
Ramon shifted back into his human form. H
