And then, he found her.
Crystal, Crystal, my own beloved.
“Can ye call to him, Crystal? Can ye answer him—make him stop?” Frankie asked. He was about to destroy everything…
Frankie heard Crystal’s voice, weak, but still alive say, “Do not do this…I am here…”
In the flash of a moment, the darkness was gone, the sun was out in a blue sky, the hum of electric power returned and the Dark King was back in his glorious Fae form standing over them.
He reached for and easily scooped up his consort into his arms and held her to him tightly as he turned to Frankie, “I can smell it. They injected her with Zolem blood. In another hour she would have died.”
Frankie could see he was about to leave and she wanted him to know and hurriedly said, “It wasn’t the humans…it was Pestale.”
“I know, but I must attend to my beloved. Be at peace, Frankie of Sluagh, you and the Fios, Jazmine Decker will ever be welcome in our world.”
He was gone but Frankie called after him, “Dark King…aren’t ye forgetting something? Dark King? What about yer wicked sons?”
She turned to Jazz and said, “Will he, do ye think, get back to us?”
In spite of Jazz’s discomfort she burst out laughing and the two hugged one another fiercely.
“Here comes Trevor,”
Trevor grabbed them both and kissed Jazz’s face and said, “I came as soon as you called and I hunted all through the catacombs for you. I thought I would lose my mind, Jazmine Decker. I shan’t allow you to go off without me during times of unrest, ever again.”
“Trevor, you must not try to control…” she tried to tell him but his lips were on hers at that moment making it as hard to think as it was to speak and Frankie laughed.
“Right then, I’ll leave ye two to…right…” and she shifted.
She knew, only one thing would have kept Graely from coming to her—iron. He must be locked up in an iron prison, and she knew where that was.
She shifted directly to his cell, and found the door opened wide. He wasn’t there, but she not only picked up on his scent, but on another’s…a wolf.
She tracked it to the Shapeshifter’s forest and there found them huddled around Graely, trying to force herbs and such down his throat.
“He was dying…but we had a recipe that helped him, but only helped. He is still dying.” Darmon said.
Frankie saw Essie and almost tore into her, “Don’t ye go near him…”
“It is okay, Frankie. Essie knows she was wrong. She has been trying to help with her magic and it has helped.”
Frankie didn’t care at the moment. She had but one concern. She bent to her beloved and told him, “No, Graely, I can’t lose ye…don’t ye go…Graely…”
She had to heal him, but she was depleted. She had been drained herself by poison.
She needed help.
How could it end this way?
It couldn’t, it simply couldn’t. She would take him to the cottage. Jazz would know what to do.
Brushing away her fears, and tears, she held Graely’s shoulder and shifted him to the cottage in the highlands.
She managed to situate him on the couch and covered him with a green knit throw blanket. She got a rag and dipped it in lukewarm water and began wiping his head.
Her tears dropped on his cheek, “Graely, stay with me, Graely…don’t ye hear me, love?”
He opened his eyes and she held his face in her two hands, “Graely, don’t ye die, don’t ye. I forbid it.” She could feel his life ebbing away.