The Shattered Dark sr-2

by Sandy Williams

  “You can’t stay in Rhigh,” he says. He’s walking so quickly I have to run to keep pace. “If Vent and Tyfin know you’re here, then the others do as well. They’ll be looking for you.”

  “Who were they?”

  “A local…gang?” He looks at me to confirm he used the correct word. “Thrain paid them to do minor jobs. They’re idiots, but they can be dangerous.”

  We reach the end of the alley again and stop. Aren curses under his breath. I don’t have to ask why. The marketplace is crammed with twice as many fae as before.

  “And exactly how are you planning to get to the gate?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer immediately. His face is pinched, and I can practically see the thoughts churning in his head. His brow lowers. Then, he must lock on an idea because the tension running through him evaporates. He looks at me, and he grins.

  TWELVE

  “WE’RE GOING TO use what?” I ask. I had to have heard him wrong.

  “We’re using your reputation,” he says. “Take off your cloak.”

  “It’s minus a million degrees out here. I’m not taking it off.”

  “They need to see the edarratae.” He pulls the cloak off my shoulders. I’m just able to catch the hood before the whole thing falls into the mud.

  “Can’t you fissure to Corrist for help?”

  “I wouldn’t be able to bring back more than three or four fae, and it would leave a section of the wall more vulnerable to attack. This plan is better.” He tugs on the cloak.

  “That’s the only thing keeping me from freezing to death,” I snap, refusing to let go.

  “This won’t take long, I promise.”

  “This is crazy.”

  He laughs. “I know, but it will work. The fae in Rhigh are superstitious. They’ll see you and make room.”

  “Like Vent and his friend made room?”

  His smile finally fades. He looks directly into my eyes, then says, “Trust me, McKenzie.”

  He has a lot of nerve asking me to trust him after not being forthcoming about his connection to Thrain. I should be stubborn about this, tell him to come up with another solution because this is the most ridiculous idea ever, but Aren has a reputation for crazy plans that work. Plus, I really don’t like being back in Rhigh. I want out of here.

  I let go of the cloak. “This doesn’t mean I’m forgiving you.”

  The grin returns to his face. “You will, nalkin-shom.”

  He moves aside so I can see the crowded marketplace. “Count to thirty, then walk directly toward the gate.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” he says, and before I can question his sanity again, he’s gone.

  I swear to God if this plan of his gets me killed, I’m haunting him for the rest of his life. I hug myself, trying to trap in what little warmth I have left, and count.

  It’s hard as hell to force myself to step out of the alley once I reach thirty. There’s still a mass of fae around the gate, and nearly every window in the marketplace has been broken. The fae are preoccupied looting and yelling and fighting each other, but it doesn’t take long for them to notice me. I tighten my grip on my dagger and keep my eyes focused on the gate as I stride through the melted snow.

  I usually don’t notice the edarratae unless I’m touching a fae, but I’m aware of each strike of lightning across my skin. So is everyone else. This never happens. A human doesn’t just walk through the Realm unescorted. It’s strange and unusual, and it’s obvious the nearest fae don’t know what to make of me. They back away. I hear nalkin-shom whispered more than once. I don’t know if that’s a guess—maybe they’d think any human female is the shadow-witch—or if Aren’s described me in those rumors he’s spread.

  When I near the thickest portion of the mob, I think my luck has run out. These fae aren’t moving. They’re not even looking at me. They’re too involved in cursing out the people around them or stealing the food and clothing and everything else the merchants were transporting.

  Just when I think I’m going to have to stop or turn back, something happens. The shouts lessen, and more than one fae’s gaze goes toward the night sky. I look up, too, but I don’t see anything except faint stars.

  “Quickly.” Aren’s voice comes from my left. “Follow me.”

  He shoulders his way into the crowd, carving a path. The fae glare at him when they’re shoved aside, but then their gazes lock on me. Their eyes go wide. They look back up into the sky, then move out of my way.

  “What are they looking at?” I ask, striding behind Aren.

  “A lightning storm.”

  An illusion of a lightning storm. No wonder the fae are backing away. Lightning is extremely rare in the Realm. Some people think it’s a sign that the Tar Sidhe are angry at the presence of humans and human culture. Others think it’s just a random, natural occurrence. Either way, I can see how the fae would be nervous, seeing a lightning-clad human beneath a lightning-struck sky. But Aren can’t be doing this. He’s a healer. It’s a powerful, endangered magic, and while illusionists are more common, creating a lightning show impressive enough to catch this mob’s attention would require a huge amount of skill. I don’t think Aren has the ability to create tiny, short-lived illusions, let alone something on this scale.

  The crowd splits. I see the gate on the riverbank. Or rather, I see the flashes of near-constant light that are being opened where I think the gate is. Technically, Aren doesn’t have to create a fissure of his own to get me out of here. We can travel through another fae’s. The slashes of light are rips in the atmosphere that lead to the In-Between; I just need an anchor-stone and a fae escort to live through it.

  Aren discreetly hands me an anchor-stone. My hands are so cold and numb, it feels like it scalds my palm, but I clench my fist around it. Just a few more steps to the riverbank. Aren’s plan is actually going to work.

  “Tchatalun.”

  I’ve blocked out the whispers of nalkin-shom, but that one word whispered from somewhere to my right rings in my ears. It means “defiled one” but it’s basically synonymous with “human.” The last time I heard it, I was in Lyechaban, and it was uttered by fae who wanted me dead.

  I can’t identify who said the word now, but there’s a change in the mob. It’s as if they’ve suddenly realized my destination. Their surprised and almost fearful expressions vanish. Aren must sense the change, too, because he hooks his arm around me, pulling me against his side.

  Only a few more feet to the gate.

  Aren takes my hand. He shoves someone aside.

  Someone shoves back. I stumble, but manage to stay on my feet. Two more steps, and we’ll be at an opened fissure.

  The crowd surges around us. I tighten my grip on Aren and throw my weight forward. The fae in front of me move when I do so. My momentum carries me to the riverbank. Aren’s hand slips from mine. I try to turn back to find him, but my sneaker hits the edge of the frozen river. I lose traction. Slip.

  I put out my hands to catch myself, but I’m falling all wrong, and the river isn’t completely frozen over. The fae have hammered through the ice surrounding the gate.

  My shoulder hits first, and I can’t stop my head from slamming down, too. Pain explodes through my temple. Aren calls my name. I push up to all fours, trying to focus on the ice beneath me.

  The ice that’s cracking beneath me.

  I lunge toward the bank, but I’m too late. The slab beneath me breaks off, plunging me into the dark, cold depths of the river.

  I arch my back, trying to free myself from the restraints around my wrists, but the nurse is at my side, tightening them further. A tingling sensation runs up my arm, then it starts itching. It’s the saline solution still, but the drugs the nurse added to the IV bag will enter my bloodstream soon.

  We tried sneaking out of Bedfont House. One of Paige’s friends was parked just outside the center’s gate. He took off when the security guards caught us. We were in enough trouble for that alone, but
the staff also figured out that Paige and I weren’t taking our meds. Instead of being reprimanded and sent to our room, we were reprimanded and sent to separate observation cells. The isolation doesn’t bother me, but I don’t want my mind to fog over again. The drugs make me feel like I really am crazy.

  After I stop struggling, the nurse leaves the room. There’s no way to take the IV out of my arm. My eyelids grow heavy, my vision blurs. I fight against the haze, but I lose the battle.

  “McKenzie.” Kyol’s voice near my ear. A hallucination? That’s what I’ve been told I experience. I started agreeing with the counselors weeks ago. It seemed like the quickest, easiest way to get back to my life.

  “McKenzie.” I’m afraid to open my eyes, afraid I’ll see nothing but the darkness if I do.

  A soft, sweet pressure on my lips.

  “Kyol?” I whisper. He’s here, leaning over me in a silhouette that’s etched in lightning. One hand cups my face, the other rests just above my left wrist. His touch is tender, but hot—tantalizing—and something stirring and electric runs through my body.

  “You’re real,” I breathe. This must be how Snow White felt when her prince kissed away her sleep.

  “I couldn’t find you,” he says, his thumb sliding over my cheek. “I thought another false-blood had taken you.”

  I try to lift my arm, but I can’t. When he sees me struggling, he takes out his dagger, slices through the material binding my wrists, then he lifts me into a sitting position.

  It’s too quick. Black spots swirl through my vision. I bite my lip, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When I’m able to focus again, I’m staring at my cut restraints. “They were Velcro.”

  “What?” Kyol asks.

  “Velcro.” Strong Velcro, but the dagger wasn’t needed.

  I look up. Kyol stares at the IV bag, at me, then at the IV bag again. He grabs the plastic tubing and cuts through it. I watch the liquid drip onto the floor.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “Medicine.”

  His brow creases.

  “We don’t have healers so we…we put plants in our veins.” I laugh, then cut it off short. God, my head is spinning. Too much of the drug made it into my system. The needle is still taped to my arm. I pull it out.

  “Are you okay, McKenzie?”

  I stare at the blood welling out of the tiny hole in my wrist. I don’t think I took it out right.

  “I’m fine,” I say, swiping my arm across my clothes. I’m wearing Bedfont House’s standard-issue nightgown. It’s ugly, not much better than a hospital gown. “The door locks from the outside.”

  “I’ve unlocked it.”

  The knob turns smoothly. Since I’m wobbly, he puts an arm around my waist and guides me out of the cell. I enjoy being close to him way too much. He’s wearing fae armor—jaedric, I think it’s called—but it doesn’t hide the power in his body. He’s warm, safe, and even though we’re forbidden to be together, I’m almost certain I’m in love with him.

  We’re almost to the door at the end of the corridor when my brain starts to function again. I tell Kyol to wait.

  “I can’t leave without Paige.”

  “What page?” he asks, following my gaze back down the hall.

  “She’s my friend.” The only friend I have here. Probably the only friend I have period. Jessica, Kelly, all the people I used to hang out with abandoned me months ago. I can’t blame them. I stopped showing up at school meetings and quit two committees that really needed my help.

  Not to mention I flunked English, my favorite subject, and ended up in In School Suspension for skipping classes.

  “She should be in one of these rooms.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remove the fog lingering in my vision, then I drag him back down the hall. He doesn’t protest. He would if he realized that the tech making his edarratae vibrate so strongly is the building’s security cameras. There are at least two recording me. I might have no more than a minute or two to find Paige and get out of here.

  She’s three doors down from where I was imprisoned. It’s locked from the outside with a simple dead bolt.

  “Paige,” I whisper as I slip inside.

  She doesn’t respond, just lies there strapped down to the hospital bed. They’re giving her drugs, too.

  “Paige, wake up.” I carefully remove the tape holding her IV in place.

  Her eyes flutter open. “McKenzie?”

  “We’re getting out of here.” I yank at the Velcro securing her wrists. It’s freaking hard to get off, but I do it, then help her sit up. “Can you walk?”

  More of the sedating drugs made it into her system than mine. She blinks. Then grins. “A breakout? Seriously? McKenzie, you fucking rock.”

  She stands. Wobbles. Yeah, she’s definitely worse off than I am. I try to help her balance, but I’m not entirely steady, especially when I reach out to open the door. I miss the knob.

  Kyol opens it for us. Paige doesn’t even notice the door moving seemingly on its own.

  The hallway is still clear, but the door at the other end seems to stretch farther and farther away as we hurry toward it. When we’re finally only a few paces away, it opens. Security. Shit.

  Paige and I stop. Kyol doesn’t. He grabs the edge of the door, then slams it back at the guard, hitting him in the face.

  “Go!” Kyol orders.

  I pull Paige past the guard, who’s clutching his nose. He grabs at my leg, but Kyol kicks his hand away.

  “That was lucky,” Paige slurs, turning to look back.

  “Come on.” I pull her after me, try to make her run, but her legs are so uncoordinated, I’m just throwing her balance off. I settle for a really quick walk, then turn left when an EXIT sign points the way to our freedom.

  The door is right there. Kyol’s in front of us. Before I can warn him, he presses the bar to open it.

  The building’s alarm is deafening. It’s not exactly a lot of tech—it’s just a lot of noise—but Kyol flinches. A frown creases his forehead, and he’s squinting as if he has a headache. He recovers quickly, though, checks outside, then motions us through.

  Kyol heads to the left. I follow with Paige, hugging the side of the building until he leads us away from it. The edge of the property is lit by bright floodlights. A tall wrought-iron fence keeps Bedfont House residents inside. It has two entrances: a gate up front for visitors and clients, and a gate in the back for personnel and deliveries. Kyol isn’t leading us to either of those. I’m about to ask where he’s going when he turns, stiffening.

  I follow his line of sight and look behind me. Three of the night guard are exiting the building with flashlights in hand. They haven’t seen us yet, but they’re moving this way. Right before their flashlight beams reach us, I grab Paige and yank her to the ground.

  “Ick,” she says, staring at the dew-covered grass an inch from her nose.

  “Shh!”

  The ground is cold and wet, but I don’t let her get up. We’re in a shallow ditch. If they don’t walk all the way over here, they might not see us.

  I hold my breath until they turn away.

  “Jesus, McKenzie,” Paige whispers. “Have you had Special Forces training or something? You’re a little too good at this.”

  “Paintball,” I say, though I’ve only done that once.

  “Next time I need to run from the cops, I’m totally calling you.”

  She’s sounding more coherent now. Good.

  “Hurry,” Kyol says.

  We almost make it. I see the bent bars in the fence. Kyol must have planned ahead, using his magic to heat and bend the metal. They’re just wide enough for Paige and me to slip through, but just when I’m about to increase our pace, I skid to a stop instead. Two guards shine their flashlights directly on us.

  “Damn,” Paige whispers.

  They must have been walking the perimeter. They move away from the fence now that they’ve spotted us.

  “Girls,” the guard on the left says. “Do
n’t move.”

  Kyol steps to my side, but he looks agitated, uncertain.

  “McKenzie, I shouldn’t…” He doesn’t finish his thought. He just goes quiet, his jaw tightening.

  He shouldn’t take down a human when another human is watching. The fae king doesn’t want anyone to become suspicious that they might be in this world. I don’t think that’s likely to happen just from Kyol knocking someone out. They’ll blame it on me, somehow.

  Kyol steps forward. He’s going to ignore that rule. He’s going to ignore it to save me.

  My stomach tightens. I swear, he loves me—me, not just the feel of the edarratae—but he refuses to admit it.

  Beside me, Paige straightens. “Go. I’ll distract them.”

  I shake my head. “We can both make it.”

  She laughs. “No, we can’t. I can barely see straight.”

  She doesn’t know about Kyol. He’ll make sure we make it.

  “Seriously, go,” Paige says. “My eighteenth birthday is in a few months. They have to let me out then. I’ll look you up. We can be roommates or something.”

  “I’m not letting you take the fall for this.” She’ll be in twice as much trouble because of this escape attempt.

  “It’s my fault we were caught sneaking out in the first place,” she says. Then, before I can come back with another argument, she rolls her eyes, shoves me forward, then takes off across the field. Both guards take off after her.

  “Paige!” I yell, when they tackle her.

  “We have to hurry, McKenzie,” Kyol says at my side. He ushers me toward the fence. I look over my shoulder, watching as she kicks and flails at the two men holding her down. God, I’m the shittiest friend ever, leaving her behind like this. I owe her, not only for distracting the guards but for keeping me sane while I was here.

  Kyol grabs one of the bent bars on the wrought-iron fence. “You can repay her later.”

  I meet his eyes. He’s right. Staying behind accomplishes nothing.

  I slip through the gap in the fence and run. Kyol stays at my side, directs me to veer left before we reach a road. Bedfont House is out in the country—the rural setting is supposed to be relaxing—but even though there’s a serene little stream to the south of the institute, I don’t think there’s a gate on it. I wish there were because I can’t run any longer. My side hurts, and it’s too hard to focus.