I glance at Kyol. He doesn’t seem to be worried about an attack. He never once looks over his shoulder to check for pursuers, and only three of his fae are traveling with us. Even if he thinks we’re safe, I’m surprised he hasn’t brought along more guards. My jeans and T-shirt mark me as human. I usually change into fae clothing when I’m in the Realm, but I didn’t know I’d be needed to shadow-read so soon.
Despite how tired I am, I’m able to keep up with Kyol. We’ve worked together long enough for him to know the quickest pace he can set. Any faster, and I’d wear out too quickly. It helps that I’m anxious to get away from the city. I was lucky twice today. The remnants could have killed me at my apartment complex, or they could have killed me just now in Spier. They had the chance, but Jielan chose to swing his fist, not his sword, at me, and that last remnant was definitely trying to capture me, not end my life.
“Why do the remnants want me alive?” I ask Kyol. There’s the briefest break in his stride, like his thoughts were wandering and he’s just now remembering I’m here.
“They can use you against us,” he finally responds.
“They already have humans helping them, and even if they didn’t, they should know I won’t shadow-read or uncover illusions for them.” At least, they should know it if Kyol is right about their leader being one of Atroth’s high-ranked officers. Those officers know I willingly betrayed their king.
“That’s not why they want you,” Kyol says. “They know what you mean to Jorreb. They know what you mean to me.”
This is the first time since I broke things off with him that he’s mentioned how he feels about me, and the admission makes my chest hurt. He doesn’t look like he regrets his words, though. His expression is serious, but not pained, and I’m not sure how to respond. I don’t even know if I should.
Before the awkward silence stretches too long, a fissure opens a few yards ahead of us. One of the fae Kyol sent after the tor’um steps out of the light. I listen to his report and hope I’m misunderstanding him.
“Keep searching,” Kyol orders. The fae nods, then steps back into the In-Between, returning to the house, I assume. We’re still within line of sight of it.
I look at Kyol. “The tor’um disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“But tor’um can’t fissure.”
“Most of them can’t,” Kyol confirms. “A few of them can. The ones who manage it aren’t able to fissure far or often. The small amount of magic they possess takes months to regenerate. Most likely, the tor’um ran or hid.”
I stare at the grass beneath my feet, feeling the small glimmer of hope that we’d get Paige back soon disappear.
“I know what Paige means to you,” Kyol says after a moment. “We’ll find her.”
“You recognized her, didn’t you? The tor’um?” I focus on the swath of dark green that marks the edge of the forest some few hundred feet in the distance, but when Kyol doesn’t respond, I slant a glance his way. Kyol is twice my age but still young for a fae. His dark hair doesn’t have a streak of gray, and his broad shoulders, his back and torso are more toned and muscled than most humans’ in the prime of their lives, but tiny lines appear at the corners of his eyes. I look at the gash above his elbow again, wondering how bad it is.
“Yes,” he finally says. “I recognized her.”
The wound is barely bleeding. I don’t think it’s hurting him, so it has to be the tor’um that’s weighing on his mind.
“Who is she?”
Another long pause. I think he’s not going to answer until he draws in a breath, and says, “She almost became Atroth’s sword-master.”
This time, I break stride. “His sword-master?”
Kyol’s a few paces ahead of me now. He looks over his shoulder and slows, waiting for me to catch up.
“She wasn’t tor’um then,” he says, when I’m at his side again.
I almost ask what happened to her, but I don’t think I want to know. It’s possible for fae to burn out their magic, but it’s extremely rare. They know their limits and the consequence for pushing too far, so I’m almost certain that’s not what happened to her. No, chances are, overexposure to human technology killed her magic.
I don’t realize I’m clenching my teeth until I feel Kyol looking at me. I try to force my jaw to relax, to act like nothing is bothering me, but he sees right through my façade.
“It was years ago,” Kyol assures me.
The muscles in my shoulders relax, and my next breath comes a little easier. We started hunting Aren just under a year ago. It’s unlikely he was the one who turned the woman tor’um. I know that shouldn’t matter—Aren stripped others of their magic—but Kyol knew the fae. They were colleagues—they might even have been friends—so I’m glad Aren isn’t the one who made her insane.
Of course, that leaves the question of who did make her tor’um, but it’s obvious the memories bother Kyol, so I let the subject drop. We spend the next few minutes in silence; then, just when we reach the outer edge of the forest, Kyol catches my arm, making me stop and turn toward him. His touch excites my edarratae, making the lightning come quicker and intensifying their heat, but I don’t pull away. His brow is ever so slightly creased. No one else would notice it, but I’ve learned that’s a sign that he’s worried about something.
“McKenzie,” he says. “You’ve escaped the remnants twice now. They won’t let that happen again. The next time they find you, they’ll kill you. You have to be careful. More careful than we were today.” He pauses and glances at the three fae who’ve stopped a respectable distance behind us. When he speaks again, his voice is even lower than before. “Someone in the palace told the remnants that I was bringing you here. You specifically, not another shadow-reader. Vinn isn’t the only traitor.”
Vinn must be the fae from the roof, the one wearing the black necklace. Even after ten years, it’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that anyone would want me dead. I mean, I do get it. My shadow-readings keep fae from being able to fissure to safety, and that makes me at least indirectly responsible for the deaths and captures of hundreds of fae over the years, but I still feel like a relatively normal person, and normal people don’t have enemies who want to slit their throats.
But normal people do have jobs. They have homes and families and friends they don’t pull into wars. I need at least some of that if I’m going to stay sane. That’s why I have to make it back to Vegas. Despite the walk to the gate, I should still be able to make it in time to turn in my paperwork. But then, a part of me thinks that maybe I should give up on having a human life and concentrate on helping Lena secure the throne, instead. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting involved with the fae.
I rub at the headache growing behind my eyes. Everything will be simpler once this war ends.
“You’re going to have to send the former Court fae away,” I tell Kyol. “I know you don’t want to.”
He releases my arm, walks a few paces away, then stops with his back to me. “We’ll lose the palace without their help.”
“The way things are going, we’ll lose it with their help, too. We have to be able to trust the fae who are helping us.”
“I know,” he says. He grows quiet again, and it’s incredibly hard not to put my arms around him. I want to comfort him, but I don’t know how much that would help. Plus, three of his swordsmen are standing nearby. Even if we were together still, I wouldn’t touch him.
“Are you okay?” I ask instead.
“It’s a shallow wound, McKenzie. It will heal quickly.”
My gaze drops to his elbow. It’s still bleeding, but not enough to cause concern.
“That’s not what I meant,” I say. “Are you okay?”
He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again when he realizes what I’m asking. I stop breathing because, if he says he’s not okay, that I’m hurting him and that it’s painful to be around me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t love him l
ike I did before, but I’d still do just about anything for him. I want him to be happy.
Finally, the most miniscule of smiles breaks his expression. “I’m okay, McKenzie. It’s…” He pauses, his gaze goes to the left as if searching for the right words. “It’s different…being around you now. I still care for you. I still feel the need to protect you, and I don’t want to hurt or worry you. But, yes, I am okay.”
Another smile, slightly bigger this time, and something inside me uncoils. I feel a smile tug at the corner of my own mouth. This is going to work, us being around each other. I don’t have to be careful around him or feel awkward or guilty. He’s okay—we’re okay—and it’s the biggest relief in the world.
We start walking again, but less than a minute later, he says, “I need to speak with Lena. You should reach the gate by nightfall. I’ll make sure it’s protected. You’ll be okay.”
I can’t tell if that last part is a question or not. In the past, it would have been. But then, in the past, he most likely would have stayed with me and sent another fae to deliver his message.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
His gaze moves from me to the three swordsmen trailing us—they’ll make sure I make it safely to the gate—then, without any other farewell, Kyol opens a fissure and disappears. It’s only after I blink the shadows from my vision that I realize I still have his name-cord in my pocket.
SEVEN
I STEP OUT of the In-Between and into the Vegas suite I share with Shane. Kyol underestimated the amount of time it took to reach the gate. It was closer to the middle of the night before the fae and I arrived. Fortunately, the remnants didn’t show up. Maybe they sent a scout who saw the thirty swordsmen and archers Kyol had sent to guard the gate. That force would deter most fae.
It wouldn’t have deterred Aren, though.
If Aren were leading the remnants, he would have found a way to achieve his goal. That was his specialty, attacking against the odds. He and Lena are having a tougher time now that they’re on the defense.
After my fae escort leaves, I glance inside Shane’s room. I don’t see him sprawled across his bed, so my best guess is he’s in the Realm, making himself useful. The alarm clock on his nightstand says it’s just after 1 A.M. Thank God. I can take a nap and still have time to take my driver’s license and Social Security card to Jenkins. He needs it by five o’clock tomorrow, but I don’t want to wait until then. I need to mark that off my list today so I can concentrate on finding Paige.
I fall into bed, too tired to do anything more than take off my shoes and socks and unbelt the scabbard from around my waist. Twenty minutes later, though, I’m still lying here exhausted, but awake. My mind won’t shut off. I’m worried about Paige. The tor’um knew who she was. If I had any doubt the remnants had her, I don’t anymore.
Opening my eyes, I stare at the ceiling. I hope the remnants have let Paige see them. I hope they’ve tried to explain things to her. But even if they haven’t, even if she thinks she’s trapped in a bad dream or that she’s snapped, I can fix it. I’ll tell her everything. King Atroth forbade it when he was alive. He thought he was preserving the Realm’s magic by keeping the human and fae worlds as separate as possible, but that’s not the only reason I kept silent about them. The one time I tried to tell a Sightless human about the fae, I ended up in a mental institution. That’s where I met Paige. She hated Bedfont House as much as I did. She won’t want to go back.
I roll to my side, pulling my covers over my head.
“I think I’m crazy,” I tell Paige as I stare at the white wall across from my bed. The counselors at Bedfont House leave it bare and encourage us to decorate it however we want. I haven’t lifted a finger to do so. When I first arrived, I thought if I put up a picture or poster, it would be like I’m admitting that I belong here. Now, I’m thinking maybe I do. I haven’t seen any lightning-covered fae in more than three weeks. Maybe I made them up. Maybe I made it all up.
“Everyone here is crazy,” Paige says, not looking away from her handheld mirror. Her eyes are opened wide while she puts on glittery mascara. Her side of the room is decorated. She painted it black. How the hell she got a hold of black paint, nobody, not even the staff, knows. They didn’t make her repaint it, and they’ve said nothing about the posters of cemeteries and creepy old houses she’s put up. The wall is accented with red: a scarf hanging near the door, a crimson teddy bear sitting on her dresser, the bright silk pillow that’s between her and the wall at her back. She has bats in her blond hair. Six of them. They’re tiny black clips with glitter on the wings.
We’ve been rooming together for two weeks now, and if you ask me, this whole Goth thing isn’t really her. I think she’s putting on a show to screw with the staff.
I return to staring at my blank wall. In the corner of my vision, I see her put down her mascara. She sits up, swinging her legs off the side of her bed so that she’s facing me.
“Okay, fine,” she says, sounding impatient. “Why do you think you’re crazy?”
I frown. Did I say I was crazy? I can’t remember. My mind feels heavy, sluggish. The white wall across from me is oppressively bright. It’s almost as hard to look at as a fissure opening.
Ah, a fissure. The fae. That’s right. I do think I’m crazy. I hope I am, at least, because if I’m not, if the fae do exist and I can see them and read their shadows, then I was taken advantage of. I helped Kyol and his king hunt down the false-blood Thrain, and now that he’s dead, they’re through with me.
Kyol’s through with me, which means he never cared about me in the first place. None of them did. I was just a tool to help them win their war.
My chest aches. I want to go back to their world. I want to be needed and important, and I want to see more of the Realm, meet more of the fae. I want…
I want Kyol. If he’s real, I want him.
Paige’s bed squeaks when she stands. I hear her sigh then, a few seconds later, my bed sinks as she sits beside me.
“Here,” she says, handing me a glass of water. “You should stop taking the meds.”
I stare at the water’s rippling surface. “They make me take them.”
“They make all of us take them,” she says. “They only watch us for five minutes afterward. Go to the restroom and throw up. Most of it won’t make it into your system.”
I take a sip of water, then force myself to focus on her. It’s more difficult than it should be. “That’s what you do?”
“Yeah. Ironic, isn’t it? I get thrown in here after downing a bottle of cold medicine and here they are forcing pills down my throat. Now”—she takes back the glass and sets it on my nightstand—“tell me. Why do you think you’re crazy?”
I haven’t told any of the other girls why my parents sent me here. I guess I’m sane enough to know how crazy it sounds. The meds must really be messing with my judgment now because, without hesitating, I tell her, “I see things. People.”
“Dead people?” she asks.
I give her an are-you-kidding-me glare.
“Just checking,” she says, grinning. She has a cute face, pixieish. I’ve lucked out with her as a roommate. She’s easy to get along with, and she doesn’t judge. Plus, she’s not a raving lunatic like some of the others here. She’s not a raving lunatic like me.
I squeeze my eyes together, trying to think through the fog in my mind. The details of the past few months, of the king and his fae and the false-blood and his devotees, are too vivid to be fake. And Kyol…I couldn’t have made up someone like him.
“Hello, McKenzie?” Paige says, waving her hand in front of my face. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are nuts.”
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I ask.
“I think we should break out of here tonight. Hit the town and party. There’s this guy I know. He can pick us up and…”
I jerk awake when something scurries up my leg.
I’m across the room before I have time to scream. This isn’t a cheap
hotel. This is a fifteen-hundred-square-foot suite that costs over $500 a night. There should not be rodents here!
Heart thudding, I stare at the bed, waiting for the comforter to move. It doesn’t. Could I have dreamed that? It’s possible, but my calf still tingles where the thing touched me. It was furry, and even though I’m still wearing jeans, I’m sure I felt tiny feet.
The comforter wiggles, and I slam back against the wall. The thing is not tiny. The lump under the cover is close to two feet long, the size of a skinny pillow, and it’s shifting, rolling to the left, then to the right, almost as if it’s trying to burrow into the mattress. That’s not the way a rat behaves, is it?
I feel my eyes narrow. Pushing away from the wall, I take the three steps back to the bed, grab the edge of the comforter, and whip it off.
Something silver darts off the other side of the mattress. I hiss out a breath between my teeth, throw the comforter back down, then walk around the foot of the bed.
“Sosch.”
Two big blue eyes blink innocently at me, and silver fur fades to white as I watch.
“How did you get here?” I ask as I kneel down and extend my hand. Kimkis aren’t pets—they’re an endangered species in the Realm—but they tend to bond to certain people. This one bonded to Aren. Sosch can find him anywhere. Kimkis aren’t able to create their own fissures, but they can scurry into ones opened by fae. From there, they navigate the In-Between to their favorite people and places. This isn’t the first time Sosch has found me, but it’s the first time he’s found me in my world.
I slide my hand down his long body, watching as his fur flushes silver under my palm. Kimkis do that when they’re near scents they like, and they tend to like the smell of Sighted humans and gates. The fae use them as detectors. I’m pretty sure a kimki led Thrain to me all those years ago, and I know Sosch has helped Aren discover a few of the Realm’s Missing Gates. I don’t know if he’s bonded to me. It’s obvious he likes me, though, and I have to begrudgingly admit that he’s just a little adorable.
The Shattered Dark Page 8
