“They’re following us!” Kynlee yells, the first note of panic entering her voice.
“Get down. Crawl,” I say when we reach the first line of cars. I lead her on a zigzag through the parked vehicles. If the fae can’t see us, they can’t fissure on top of us.
I pause in between a sedan and an SUV. The taller profile of the latter casts a shadow over us but the cement is still scalding hot. It’s been baking in the hot Vegas sun all day.
Kynlee looks at me. She’s biting her lower lip and trying not to put her hands on the ground. Or her feet. I’m just now noticing she’s not wearing shoes. Damn.
The SUV beeps.
Double damn. We don’t have time to scurry to another hiding place, a woman with a shopping bag comes around the back of the vehicle, then freezes when she sees us.
I grimace when she drops the bag, then backs away, but what was I expecting? I have a sword in my hand, and I’m pretty sure my face is scratched up from my slide over the fence.
I curse again then pull Kynlee up.
“In the store! Hurry!” I yell, catching only the briefest glimpse of the elari as I turn and run.
We make it to the wide sidewalk, but the fae fissures in front of us, cutting off our path.
“Can you fissure inside?” I ask Kynlee, not taking my eyes off the elari.
“Maybe, but—”
“Do it.” I bring my sword up as he rushes me.
He snarls tchatalun as he swings. I block his attack, but my angle of defense is wrong. His blade slides off mine, slashing down my left knee, which I’ve left too far forward.
He swings again. I backpedal under the blow, step off the curb, and lose my balance.
I land hard on my back, my head slamming into the concrete. I blink black splotches from my vision, look up, and see the elari sneering down at me.
He smiles. I do, too. Then, sweetly, I say, “Go to hell,” because I see Aren step behind him.
The elari’s sneer turns into a gasp of shock as Aren’s blade slides through him. A second later, his body poofs into a soul-shadow.
Aren reaches through the white mist and lifts me to my feet.
“You okay?” he asks between quick, shallow breaths.
“Me?” I touch his face. “God, Aren, you were already hurt.”
“I couldn’t . . .” He fades off, maybe because he doesn’t have enough air to speak, maybe because he doesn’t have the words. Instead, he pulls me into his embrace.
I wrap my arms around him, hug him tight. Over his shoulder, a number of humans gape at me. Someone asks if this is a prank or a TV show. Fae are naturally invisible in my world unless they choose to be seen by un-Sighted humans. They didn’t see me fighting the elari. They don’t see Aren holding me now. They see a crazy woman with a sword. Right now, I don’t give a damn.
Aren stiffens. I move back slightly, just enough to see his gaze is focused behind me.
“Inside,” he says.
I keep hold of his arm as I turn. It’s Nimael . . . and Cardak. The false-blood himself came to kill us.
“Come with me,” I say, pulling Aren toward the entrance. He resists.
“You’re hurt, Aren. They’re not.”
His jaw clenches, but he nods, lets me pull him inside the automatic doors, and into . . . the electronics store.
Crap. It’s wall-to-wall tech: flat-screen TVs, sound systems, computers, laptops, even refrigerators and freezers. Aren sways under the bombardment of it all. Even Kynlee looks uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the aisle.
I look over my shoulder, praying Nimael and Cardak won’t risk this much tech. They’re standing just on the other side of the threshold.
“Hey, you can’t bring that in here,” a human, one of the store clerks, says, eyeing my sword. Most people in here are smart. They’re backing away.
“Sorry,” I say, keeping my arm relaxed at my side. I don’t want to look threatening, but I’m not about to let it go, especially not when Cardak cautiously steps into the store.
“Damn it,” I mutter. “Come on.”
I pull Aren toward the back of the store. He’s way off-balance. If Caelar hadn’t beaten the hell out of him less than twenty-four hours ago, he wouldn’t be affected quite this badly, but this isn’t good for him. I need to get him and Kynlee out of here as soon as I can.
Kynlee glances behind us. “They’re both coming!”
“In here.” I lead us through swinging doors and into the store’s back room. It’s filled with boxed electronics, but there should be an exit somewhere.
A few TVs and computers are plugged in along the right wall, awaiting repairs it looks like. A workbench is behind them, and an employee drops his screwdriver as he leaps to his feet.
“Is there an exit this way?” I ask him. He nods, then he hurries back the way we came.
He passes Nimael and Cardak. My heart pounds, hoping they don’t turn their swords on him.
They don’t. Nimael opens a fissure. I hear the sharp shrrip of him reappearing behind us. We’re sandwiched in.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Aren can’t fight both of them. Neither can I.
“I’ve got Cardak.” Kyol’s voice cuts through the air. My adrenaline’s been pumping way too hard to realize how close he was. He’s just entered the back room and is standing a few strides from the false-blood.
I nod, acknowledging Kyol’s words, then look at Aren. He’s facing Nimael, but his brow is furrowed.
“McKenzie?”
Crap. The elari is illusioned.
“Swing!” I shout as Nimael rushes him. I shove a rolling cart forward. Aren’s wild swing makes the elari twist out of the way, but the cart hits him. A toolbox and a small TV topple over.
Sparks erupt when the TV smashes to the ground. They’re blue sparks, bright and sizzling. Aren leaps back, but Nimael falls on his back with a cry.
“Drop the sword!” someone shouts.
I wouldn’t pay any attention to the order except that it comes from a human.
I look behind me, see a security guard with a Taser pointed at me. Kynlee’s standing next to him.
Kyol sees the Taser, too. He fissures away from Cardak’s attack and knocks the device out of the human’s hand.
It skitters across the floor, landing by my foot.
“Behind you, Taltrayn!” Aren shouts at the same time I yell, “Kynlee, run!”
Kyol sidesteps, barely avoiding the false-blood’s attack.
Aren’s back on his feet. He and Kyol close in on the fae. Cardak’s glare shifts between the two of them, then, ever so casually, he raises his sword and slashes through the security guard’s stomach.
Kyol and Aren both lunge forward, but Cardak fissures out of the way. Some instinct tells me he’s going to appear behind me so I sweep up the Taser, turn, and fire.
The cartridge shoots out, striking the false-blood’s cheek. Edarratae explode across his skin like a million blue veins. He drops to the ground, shaking, vomiting.
His legs kick out, striking me so viciously I’m knocked off my feet. A surge of electricity flows into me, but it disperses quickly, and I watch Cardak twitch as froth bubbles out of his mouth. I don’t feel a twinge of remorse. I remember Sosch and Shane and a countless number of others who are dead because of him and when his body gives one last twitch before it disappears into the ether, I know that this is a death that I will never regret.
“Are you hurt?” Kyol kneels in front of me. He searches for an injury.
I grab his hands, hold them still. “I’m okay. Lena?”
“I fissured her to the Realm,” he says.
He fissured her to the Realm. She’s safe. The false-blood’s dead.
My breath whooshes out of me, carrying with it a thousand worries. I squeeze Kyol’s hand as I look past him, searching for Aren. I find Nimael instead. He’s still here, still alive. His eyes are wide, like he’s just witnessed the death of someone he worshipped, and he’s still on his back with the TV and the tools and
parts scattered around him. I don’t think he’s a threat, but—
No. He is a threat. The edarratae draw my attention first. They’re leaping and spiraling and crashing over the hand he lifts. The hand that’s holding the Taser I dropped when I fell.
“Kyol!” I scream, but I’m too late. Nimael lunges forward, firing the Taser as he slams it into Kyol’s back. Light explodes all around us, then . . .
THIRTY-ONE
ALL I SEE are shadows upon shadows. In this emptiness, I should feel nothing, but there are sensations. Sensations of falling. Sensations of burning.
Sensations of loss.
I try to catch hold of something, anything that will ground me and make me whole again.
• • •
THERE may be light in the shadows, bolts of blue and white and shades of silver at the edges of my vision, but every time I try to focus on the flashes, they disappear. I think they might be remnants of my soul. It’s missing, and I’m a shell of what I was before. Shells can be crushed. They can be ground into powder and scattered in the wind. I feel scattered. I feel lost. The only way to find a path home is to follow the lights. There’s a certain color I need to hold on to. It can sew my soul back together, so, blindly, I search the shimmering night . . .
• • •
LOW, incoherent murmurs invade the darkness. The shadows fluctuate with the volume of the voices, but I’m still lost. Still cold. Still wandering.
“. . . better when . . . together.”
“. . . loves him.”
“Of course . . . Ten years. Not even you can erase that . . .”
The conversation should make sense. If I listen harder, if I climb my way out of the abyss, I can understand.
“I want her to be happy.”
“So does he.”
He. Kyol. Aren. The names twist through my memory. I have to climb out of this abyss. For them.
• • •
HOW long has it been?
My question is attached to a voice. Not my voice, though. It’s Aren’s.
“Long enough that I’m ordering you to leave.”
That’s Lena. I’m almost there. The fuzziness in my brain is fading, but something’s still not right. I don’t feel . . .
Kyol. He’s lying beside me, his cold arm touching mine. I try to make my hand reach out for him, but I don’t have command of my body yet.
I don’t have command of my voice either, so I reach out with my emotions. There’s no response from him, just emptiness.
“I’m not leaving her,” Aren says. “She could wake.”
“She may not. And if she does, Aren, she may not be well. The tech . . .”
“She’ll pull through this,” he says. “They’ll pull through this.”
“You need to prepare yourself for the possibility . . .”
• • •
I’M in the Realm. That accounts for some of the lightness I feel. The air has a different quality to it, a different viscousness than Earth’s. My head hurts, my mouth is dry, and I feel so weak, like I’ve been lying here for weeks.
I try to open my eyes. I can’t.
Kyol?
“Any change?” Lena asks.
There’s no response. I know Aren’s here, though. I smell cedar and cinnamon, and I can feel his presence.
“She was angry,” he says. “She didn’t understand why I claimed to be the garistyn.”
That’s not true. I told him I didn’t understand why he didn’t leave with me afterward.
“You’re an idiot,” Lena tells him.
A small snort of laughter. “That’s what she told me, but I did what I had to do to protect her, and to secure your seat on the throne. Hison arrested you. If news of that became public . . .”
“We would have found a way to secure the throne despite his interference.”
“Would we have?” Aren asks.
I want so much to open my eyes. I think I might be able to now. I should try. I shouldn’t lie here and let Aren immerse himself in guilt.
Lena sighs. “If Taltrayn had stepped forward instead of you, he wouldn’t have let any harm come to her. He would have fought for his freedom. If he didn’t achieve it on his own, he would have left when she found him in Hison’s offices.”
“She took down half his guard,” Aren says, admiration softening his voice. “She thinks so little of herself, but she’s strong. She’s amazing.”
“She’s okay,” Lena says.
I almost smile.
I really should open my eyes now.
“We finished identifying the documents Taltrayn and Caelar found in Jythkrila,” Lena says.
“You can link him to Thrain?”
“Yes, not that it matters now. There were letters between Cardak and his brother. There were also several old documents. One was a map of the Sidhe Tol. It’s old and faded, but the Sidhe Tol he gave to Caelar was on it. So was one other we hadn’t learned about yet.”
There’s a long pause. This would be the perfect moment to groggily open my eyes, pretending I’m just now waking. The only reason I don’t is that emptiness I’m getting from Kyol. It feels . . . different now. More like a wall than a bottomless chasm. I try chipping away at it.
“She thought I was dead,” Aren says.
“We both did. There was no word from you, and Taltrayn heard rumors of your death.”
“He was there for her. I’m glad.”
“Are you?”
I think he nods. Or shakes his head. I hear some kind of movement. I could open my eyes to very narrow slits. They might not notice. They might not be looking at me at all.
“Staying away from her was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Oh, come on, Aren.” Lena’s voice is gently scolding. “You didn’t stay away from her.”
“I didn’t talk to her for three weeks.”
“So you never once fissured to her apartment or to the library to check in on her?”
Silence. My ears strain to hear another nod or a shake of his head, something to indicate his response.
“Her friend is here,” Lena says after a moment. “She’s offered to watch her for a while.”
My friend? Paige? That has to be who she’s talking about.
“I already told you I’m not—”
“You are,” she cuts him off. “You’re going to eat and sleep and live. Get out of here now, or I’ll have you removed.”
I hear Aren sigh, hear him standing, moving away. My thoughts aren’t completely centered on him, though. There’s a tightness in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s mine or an echo of someone else’s.
The door clicks shut.
Cautiously, I open my eyes, focus on the ceiling, then—
“If he doesn’t fight for you, he’s a fool.”
“You’re awake, too!” I accuse, turning my head and lightly punching Kyol’s arm. A smile curves my lips. He’s looking at me. I’ve never seem him so pale and weak, but his gaze is sane. His magic might be fried from the Taser, but it will return. He hasn’t turned tor’um.
God, he could have turned tor’um. He could have died.
My body is under my control again. I roll on top of him, ignore his oomph, and hug him tight.
“That was too close,” I say.
He wraps his arms around me. “I agree.”
Chaos lusters careen across me. They’re heating his skin, but I don’t pull away. He’s cold. I saw what happened when I Tasered Cardak. The life-bond is the only reason he’s alive.
I move back just a little, lifting myself up enough to look in his silver eyes. “You’re okay?”
He reaches up and touches my cheek. The gesture is tender, but it holds no little amount of sorrow. I close my eyes, that emotion cutting through me. I want so much to make him happy.
“I will be okay,” he assures me, sensing the pain within me. “I was content during the ten years we worked together. I can be content again.”
Oh, Kyol. Don’t you know I can fee
l your lie?
I sit up, help him do the same. He’s so much weaker than I am right now. The electrical current that was pumped into him . . . I’m thankful he survived it, but I wish it would have severed the bond. I don’t think he’d hurt as much if it were gone. Sure, he would be broken-hearted, but he could take his mind off me more easily.
I have to find a way to sever the bond. Kelia and Naito might have tried everything she could think of to end hers with Lorn, but that was a fae-to-fae connection. Mine is human-to-fae. Surely, that makes it weaker. I’ll try everything I can to break it. For now, though, we have to be okay.
“It’ll be easier once you move on and find someone else.” I’m not sure if my words are meant to assure me or him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at me, but I can feel the doubt circling through him.
“You will find someone else, Kyol. I’m not the only girl for you.”
He doesn’t believe me. Not yet, at least.
“Jacia’s pretty,” I say, attempting to lighten the mood.
His gaze slides my way. “McKenzie.”
“So is Lena, but that would be a conflict of interest, I think. Plus, we hate each other.”
“McKenzie,” he scolds again, but my words have helped. There’s a smile in his stormy silver eyes. “We should tell them we’re awake.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Probably.”
The door to our room opens. Paige steps inside, then does a double take when she sees us.
“They said you weren’t awake.” She grins and rushes forward, throwing her arms around me. Her hair is down, cut into sharp layers, and it’s bleached blond except for the ends, which have been dyed red, purple, blue, green. Basically, all the colors of the rainbow.
She grabs my shoulders, putting distance between us. “You are the absolute hardest person I’ve ever known to get in touch with.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” I tell her. “You’re doing okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, but her voice takes on an odd note. “I’m fine.”
“You know about the Sight serum? That it might not be fatal?”
“It’s not,” she says. “At least, not the serum I was injected with.”
The Sharpest Blade Page 33
