****
I'm in a haze as I make my way back to the main tunnels. I don't care who sees me come out of the lesser used tunnels, don't care if someone reports it back to Ryland. At this point, I'd welcome it. I'm itching to confront him about what he's done. I asked him for help thinking he actually would, and instead he's using Patrick as some permanent housing for a demon. After everything he's seen, everything he's done, I can't believe he could sanction something like this.
I vaguely register someone calling my name, but don't stop or turn. All I can think about is that room, of that thing squatting in Patrick's body like some kind of obscene toad. I need to find a way to get him free of both the binding and the pentacles, and before whatever timetable the demon had referred to is up. Of course, that's always assuming the demon was telling the truth in the first place, although why he'd lie about being bound when I was offering him a get out of jail free card is a deeper game than I'm willing to play.
A hand on my upper arm pulls me out of my thoughts. I look up at the person holding me. It's Dham. I try to shake myself loose, but he isn't interested in letting go. His brows draw down in concern, making me wonder what I look like.
"I've been calling after you," he begins, his eyes searching my face. "Are you okay? You look…just wrong."
There's a lovely compliment. I probably look like a raving lunatic escaped from some bucolic asylum to frighten the straights. I school my face into an expression that is less I'm going to murder you with a cudgel and more like I am completely in control of my faculties. "Sorry about that. Lost in my own head."
He gives me the fish eye.
I smile what I hope is not a psychotic smile in order to put him at ease. "Just a lot on my mind."
"Did you find Ryland? Did he have any news about your friend?"
I can feel my smile slip, so I plaster it on more firmly. Oh yes, I found Ryland and his little secret. I'm not going to tell Dham though, not yet anyway. I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet with this information or what I plan to do about Patrick. And pulling Dham into it right now is too big a risk. It surprises me that I've already decided I will tell Dham at some point, and I wonder—not for the first time—when I began seeing him as a friend. When did he become someone I trusted?
"No. No news." I rub my eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. What was I going to tell Patrick's mother?
His hand drops to my shoulder, kneading the tight muscles slowly. I sigh, enjoying the feeling of his strong fingers massaging my flesh. He could really do that for hours and I wouldn't mind. "It will be okay, A. We'll find him."
My eyes flash open. Dham can feel the tension in me beneath his hands and frowns. "Geez, A. It's like handling bridge cables. What's wrong?"
I pull away from his hand, giving him a flat smile. "Like I said, just a lot on my mind." I glance down the hall and see a crowd of people coming our way. I am not up to pretend all is well any longer. "I've got to go." I take a few steps down the hall.
"You'll come see me later?" Dham's request stops me.
I turn back to him. The group of Resistance people are close now. "Yes, sure. I'll catch up with you later." Then I all but run down the hall and to the nearest exit to the surface.
The Iron Bells Page 15