The Shattered Dark

by Sandy Williams

  “You know you can’t actually use it, don’t you?” I say.

  Her head tilts ever so slightly. “We don’t have enough humans to watch all portions of the wall and palace.”

  “I know, but who are you going to give it to?” I ask. “Most humans have no clue the fae exist.”

  “We’ll introduce ourselves,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not.

  I shake my head. “You can’t interfere with people’s lives like that. They shouldn’t be made to fight a war for you.”

  She exhales sharply. She’s annoyed with me, but I don’t care. I won’t let her do this.

  “I won’t force them to help us,” she says. “I’ll ask. And with their help, this war shouldn’t last much longer.”

  “So what are you going to do? Give the humans the Sight, then dump them back on Earth when you’re finished with them?”

  Aren steps forward. “Maybe we should talk about this later. We’re all tired.”

  “I’m not,” Paige says. “I still want to talk to Tylan.”

  Lena levels a cool gaze on my friend. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. We’ve captured a lot of remnants in the last week.”

  We’ve killed a lot of them, too, but I’m glad Lena doesn’t go there.

  I cut in. “They can stay for now in a room near mine—”

  “Two rooms,” Paige interjects.

  “Two rooms near mine,” I amend.

  Lena’s eyes narrow. “She can go when she answers my questions.”

  Questions, not question. Lena will turn this into a full-fledged interrogation if I don’t get Paige out of here now. It’s my fault Paige is mixed up in all of this; I have to keep her safe. And more, I want to talk to her. Alone. I need to convince her that the rebels aren’t the bad guys. I look at Aren, hold his gaze long enough for him to know what I want.

  “Let them go,” he says to Lena. “McKenzie will talk to them.”

  I move too quickly to grab Paige’s arm. My ribs protest, but I grit my teeth and pull her toward the exit before Lena gets it into her mind to object again. I half expect her to order us to stop or to put up a wall of air to prevent us from going any farther.

  When we’re almost to the end of the hall, Paige leans toward me, and says quietly, “I don’t like her.”

  I give her a tight smile. “I didn’t either.”

  “So why are you helping them?” she asks. “They kidnapped you, didn’t they? Because you’re the best shadow-tracker or something.”

  “That’s what the remnants of the Court told you.”

  “Yeah. And they promised me they’d free you. It was one of those if-I-help-them, they-help-me things. I wasn’t even sure you were alive, but…” She shrugs. “You are. They didn’t lie about that.”

  “They just lied about me being a prisoner, still.”

  “I’m not sure if they knew what your status was.”

  Oh, they definitely knew. They’ve tried to capture and kill me enough times in the past couple of weeks that there’s no denying it.

  We turn down a hall, and I catch a glimpse of Lee behind us. He’s quiet, walking with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. From his conversation with Naito, I take it he’s anti-fae like his father, and I wonder if it’s hard being here around the people he hates. I wonder if it’s just Naito he’s come to kill.

  Lena must be concerned about that, too, because farther behind us is Trev. He doesn’t exactly look happy to be stuck with this babysitting duty. I actually don’t blame him. It seems like he’s always getting put on the crappy assignments.

  “The Court fae lied to me when I worked for them,” I say. “They let me believe they were capturing the fae I tracked for them. They didn’t. The king was brutal in how he tried to win the war. He manipulated things to keep himself in power. Lena isn’t like that. She’s been very open about what she’s done and what she plans to do.”

  “What about Aren?” she asks. “He’s the Butcher of Brykeld, right? You acted like you hated him at Amy’s wedding.”

  I try to suppress a grimace but fail. I know how my relationship with Aren will sound, and, sure enough, Paige stops.

  “Oh, God,” she says, eyes wide. “McKenzie, tell me you didn’t fall in love with your kidnapper. Is that why you switched sides?”

  “No!” The word comes out harsher than I intended, but she’s been aware of the fae no more than two weeks, and she’s acting like she knows everything. “I told you why I switched.”

  “I thought you were smarter than that,” she continues, as if I didn’t say anything.

  “I am,” I snap back. Then I draw in a breath, trying to stay calm. If she’s half as tired as I am, she’s probably on a short fuse, too. I don’t want to fight with her. I want her to see that the rebels are okay and that I am okay. Then I want her to stay out of this war.

  “I’m trying to be,” I say, softening my tone. “I’m taking things as slow as I can, but Aren…” This is awkward, talking about my love life. I’ve never done this before. “I don’t really want to take things slow.”

  “You’re not sleeping with him?”

  I shake my head.

  “Because,” Paige continues, “if you are sleeping with him, I want details.”

  I almost laugh. Paige doesn’t exactly agree with my relationship with Aren, but she’s not holding it against me. Her ability to accept me for who I am, no matter how crazy I seem…that’s why she’s been my friend for so long.

  “This lightning”—she holds up her hand, waits for a chaos luster to strike across it—“I bet it makes just kissing a fae explosive. By the way, I totally get why you never let me shake Kyol or Aren’s hands.”

  I smile. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  Something inside me loosens. It’s nice to talk about something other than false-bloods and war, and that little part of me—the one that was so much bigger a month ago—that wants to retire resurfaces. I’m trying to get a job so I can support myself and have something that makes me feel human, but balancing two lives never worked in the past. I don’t know why I think it will work now. I could leave the Realm and the war behind. Lena would flip, but Aren would understand.

  We enter a residential wing of the palace. My room is here, though I still don’t use it very often. I prefer to stay in Vegas because I usually get more sleep there.

  I stop suddenly. I share my Vegas hotel room with Shane. How the hell could I have forgotten about him?

  “What?” Paige asks.

  I look over my shoulder at Trev, ignoring the sharp pain in my side when my torso just barely turns. “Did Shane make it out of the club?”

  A long pause, then, “Lena has someone looking for him.”

  They don’t know where he is. Damn it, I should have stuck around, looked for him before I left, but the club was crazy, and I’d caught a glimpse of Paige. Then the police officer was there…

  Shit. Shane was briefly in the building with the dead humans, too. His fingerprints might be there. He might be in a British jail.

  But that’s a better option than the alternatives. If he was trampled by the crowd or captured or killed by the remnants, I’ll feel at least partially responsible. He wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me.

  “McKenzie?” Paige says.

  “It’s nothing. Here. This one’s empty.” I open a door that’s two rooms down from mine. It’s bigger than where I stay, more luxurious, too. A freestanding desk and sofa are arranged on the left side of the room. Two beds with silver, wrinkleless blankets are on the right. In between them is an open doorway to a bathroom. It’s dark in here, though. Only the light from the hallway allows me to make out the furniture.

  “Trev, could you…?”

  He mumbles as he enters the room. It doesn’t take more than five seconds for him to send his magic into the sconced orbs. They glow a soft blue, lighting up the room.

  “Thanks,” I tell him. “If you’ll do the same in Lee’s room.”<
br />
  “I’m staying here,” Lee says, walking inside.

  “The hell you are.” Paige crosses her arms. Trev mumbles something under his breath, then moves down the hall to the next room, leaving me to sort this out.

  “There are two beds,” Lee continues. “I think I can manage to not touch you.”

  “I don’t want to breathe the same air as you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Paige,” he says. “These fae aren’t your friends.”

  “You said the same thing about Tylan.”

  “And I was right about him,” he says, his voice rising. “He lied about McKenzie being a prisoner.”

  “Who’s Tylan?” I interject before they take each other’s heads off.

  “He’s the first fae I met,” she says. “After this asshole injected me with the serum, I went by your place just to make sure there wasn’t any truth to his crazy talk about faeries.”

  “Fae,” Lee corrects, taking off his cloak as if he actually thinks he’s going to stay here.

  Paige rolls her eyes, and continues, “I was going to file a police report, but when I was about to leave, Tylan fissured into your living room. He told me you needed help.”

  The way she says his name makes me think she likes him. Not in a romantic way but in the same way she likes all of her guy friends.

  “My living room?” I ask, thinking he could be the ward-maker who booby-trapped her purse. “So what happened at your apartment? It looked like there was a fight there.”

  She juts her chin out in Lee’s direction. “Him. He didn’t ask if I wanted to be injected. He just did it.”

  “I get it, Paige,” he says. “You hate me. You’ll never forgive me.”

  She turns on him. Paige angry is a scary sight. She’s a good foot shorter than Lee, but she gets right in his face and very loudly lists every reason he has no right to expect her to forgive him. I don’t blame her. If I knew nothing of the fae and someone injected me with something claiming it would let me see them, I’d be pissed off, too. But something makes me think there’s more to this. Sure, they appear to hate each other, but the way they’re staring each other down makes me think they’re seconds away from a kiss, not from clawing each other’s faces off. So, I focus on the ceiling, all but whistling, until I hear Paige say, “What are your daddy’s orders now? That’s who’s been texting you, right? He told you to murder your brother. What are you supposed to do afterward?”

  His dad has been texting him?

  “Shut up, Paige,” Lee says.

  Could he possibly still have his cell phone on him? We had to make a mad dash to the gate. After we fissured here, I so brilliantly ordered the fae not to touch him or Paige. Neither one of them have been searched.

  “Give it to me,” I order.

  Lee’s face hardens.

  Paige sits on the edge of one of the beds, wrinkling the cover. “He won’t let anyone touch it.”

  “Give it to me,” I say again.

  “I don’t have it,” he lies.

  I meet Paige’s gaze. I doubt I can get his cell away from him on my own, but with her help…

  She knows what I’m asking. “Go for it.”

  Now that I’m looking for the phone, I see the bulge in his left front pocket. My ribs aren’t going to love what I’m about to do, but I reach for it.

  As expected, he grabs my wrist. “I said I don’t have it.”

  I brace myself then ram my shoulder into him. It takes him by surprise. He staggers backward and loses his balance when he hits the bed.

  My ribs scream as I fall on top of him, but I get my hand in his pocket as he tries to fling me off. He’s too careful about it, though. He has the opportunity to hit me, and doesn’t take it. Kudos to him, having trouble hitting a woman, but I knee him in the side. He grunts, then grabs ahold of both my arms. That’s when Paige darts in and gets his phone.

  “Damn it, Paige.” He releases me to go for her, but she tosses the phone over his head.

  I catch it, then backpedal until I’m in the hallway.

  “What’s the problem?” Trev demands, drawn by the scuffling.

  “Keep him back,” I order. The phone is damp from Lee’s fall into the Thames. I’m afraid it might not work, but the screen turns on. Drawing in slow, shallow breaths, I bring up Lee’s text messages. I have to blink back tears to see the screen. My damn ribs hurt.

  Trev scowls at the phone, but keeps both humans from leaving the room. A quick glance tells me Lee’s given up the fight. Good. I can take my time reading.

  It pays off. We don’t need to send Naito back to Earth. His father—who does indeed want his brother to kill him—has a place in Boulder, Colorado. And I think I can make it easy for us to get it. I key in a text message. Lee doesn’t use any capitalization or punctuation when he types—it’s extremely annoying—but I force myself to leave out the commas and periods for authenticity’s sake. I just need one more thing, a picture to attach.

  “Where are you going?” Trev asks, as I walk away, holding my side.

  “I’m going to go get Naito to play dead.”

  NINETEEN

  I FIND NAITO in his room, flipping through a jaedric-bound sketchbook. He closes it when I enter. It looks nothing like the Earth-made sketchbook Lorn gave me in Nashville—the one filled with drawings of Kelia—but it reminds me of it just the same. I’m supposed to give it back to Naito. Problem is, it’s still tucked into the pocket of the cloak Aren made me take off in Rhigh. Aren fissured out with it when he told me to count to thirty. Presumably, that’s when he talked to Daron, the illusionist who created the fake lightning storm. Maybe it’s with him.

  I’m not about to mention the sketchbook until I have it in my hand, so instead I ask what Naito’s reading when he closes the book. He says it’s a collection of notes he’s taken on the vigilantes, their names and where they’ve been seen before. I tell him about Lee and Nakano’s texts and about Boulder, and when I explain my plan, Naito agrees to it with only a grunt. I actually expected him to protest more, but I guess he doesn’t care because he’ll still be going back to Earth. He still thinks he’ll have a chance to kill his father. Of course, I don’t tell him what my prewritten text says. I wrote that the fae are burying Naito in Cleveland, Georgia. It’s kind of a random location, but that’s where the rebels had one of their safe houses. Nakano went all the way to Germany to kill fae before. I’m hoping he’ll want to do the same now and will leave his compound in Boulder.

  That’s what Naito calls it—a compound. He says it’s an abandoned ski resort, but it sounds like a military outpost. Nakano’s probably made it into one. He has the weapons, equipment, and camo to supply half an army. Add to that the fact that he and his people are extremely good at killing fae, and I’m a little worried about what we’ll find there.

  But we need to get to the serum and the research, so I slice open a roguia, a fruit with thick, bloodred juice, and squeeze it over Naito’s neck and chest. The picture I take with the phone comes out grainy and perfect—he really does look dead—and I just need to tell Lena and the others my plan, then have a fae fissure me to Earth so I can send the text and picture.

  I stop by my room first, though. I have to wash the human girl’s blood off my skin.

  I strip off my shoes, my clothes, the belt holding my dagger. The bath I take is cold—they always are unless I have a fae heat the water for me—but I don’t linger long, just long enough to scrub away the bloodstains. I can’t scrub away the guilt, though. The fae’s war has affected my world too much this last month. The girl in the club and the Sighted humans next door to it weren’t the first deaths. A little over two weeks ago, three humans died when King Atroth’s fae attacked a neighborhood near Vancouver. The neighborhood was home to a group of tor’um who sheltered the rebels. They were sane fae, born without the ability to use enough magic to fissure, but they were shunned by almost everyone else in the Realm. They moved to my world to start new lives in a place where they would be ac
cepted. Only a Sighted human would know they were different. They weren’t harming anyone, but then Atroth attacked. He didn’t care who was caught in the cross fire. The war used to be almost completely limited to the Realm. It’s not that way anymore.

  I step out of the tub and dry off, taking care not to put any pressure on the side where my ribs are an angry purple. My favorite pair of jeans is still lying on top of my chest of drawers. I slip into them, nearly sigh at their perfect fit. The best option for a shirt is a long tunic. It’s white and dips low in the front, but with the jeans, it doesn’t look too foreign. Besides, I plan to only be in my world a few minutes, just long enough to text Naito’s father.

  I stick Lee’s cell phone into my pocket, then head to the throne room. Aren and Kyol are both there. So are Taber and a relatively large number of Kyol’s top swordsmen. I’m halfway to the dais at the other end of the room when I notice the latter are surrounding a fae.

  No, they’re surrounding a tor’um. The tor’um. The one who mistook me for Paige back in Spier. The one who almost became Atroth’s sword-master. She’s standing there with her wrists shackled in front of her, rocking back and forth, heel to toe, heel to toe. Her long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, then into a tight brown braid that drapes over her shoulder.

  As if sensing my presence, Aren turns toward me, and I swear his face pales. That’s when I notice he’s outside the group of fae. Like, way outside of it.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Aren’s eyes close in a long blink. When he opens them, he looks at the tor’um, then back at me. “I’m sorry, McKenzie.”

  There’s so much regret in his voice that I would have to be an idiot not to put the pieces together. I freeze before I reach the group, and the stabbing pain in my side dulls to a distant ache when I realize that Aren did this. Aren turned this fae tor’um.

  When I first saw the woman back in Spier, Kyol told me she was made tor’um years ago. I assumed Aren had nothing to do with it because he wasn’t fighting King Atroth then. I didn’t know about his history with Thrain.