He slammed into the Trident. Not exactly the most elegant of moves, and painful as his chest rammed into Conrad. But it worked. The Trident toppled over, yelping and shrieking and flailing his paws.
One of the paws struck Drake in the chest before he could jump away. He vaguely registered his own flesh ripping as Conrad’s claws dug into his skin. That didn’t matter. Pain was nothing. He was used to pain. But he wasn’t used to gaining anything from the pain, and that was exactly what he was about to do.
He stepped forward and drew his claws back, aligning them with Conrad’s neck. The Trident’s eyes rolled around wildly, trying to focus on him.
“Quit moving,” Drake growled. He was shocked at his own ability to speak. It seared his ribs and scratched his throat, but somehow his voice still worked.
Conrad obeyed. He stilled. Even his eyes stopped rolling around and focused on Drake.
“Who sent you?” Drake asked. He already knew the answer to that. But he still had to hear it, just to make it feel real.
‘Rhaize,’ Conrad answered. He used the telepathic speech of his species, implanting the words into Drake’s mind. Drake shuddered, because he’d always hated that feeling. Having someone breech his mental barrier, invade his own mind… It was nerve-wracking and infuriating. But, right now, it was necessary.
“Why?” Drake asked. “What does my dad want?”
‘He wants that girl dead.’
Conrad’s voice had always been disturbing. It was flat and toneless, even when he discussed the most serious of topics. Drake had never liked Conrad’s voice. But then, Drake had never liked Conrad.
Conrad’s smile reappeared, more pained now, but still amused. ‘He won’t stop, Drake. I’m just the first. You kill me, and Rhaize will just send someone else to finish my job. This isn’t over. My death stops nothing.’
“Why does he want her dead?” Drake realized a moment too late that he was screaming. And then he didn’t care enough to stop. “She’s just a girl! She hasn’t done anything wrong, she didn’t even know what she was!”
Drake paused to refill his lungs, and then realized he didn’t have much time. He had to get answers out of Conrad. “Why does my dad want her dead? Tell me! Who’s her parent, what is going on?”
But then Conrad took a shuddering breath in, and never let it out. He stilled. Drake watched him, waiting for the Trident to move again, waiting for him to answer his questions. But he was dead. Conrad’s eyes still stared up at Drake, locked onto his gaze. But they were blank now.
Drake’s vision slowly faded back to the right color, the red receding and leaving him with pure exhaustion. He stumbled back a few steps, searing pain tearing through his ribs as he gulped in air. Then the black returned to his vision, and his knees collapsed. He caught himself with his hands. More pain shot up his wrists.
A delicate hand touched his shoulder. The girl. He took a deep breath, breathing in her sweet scent over the metallic smell of blood.
“Hey,” she murmured. Her voice was shaky.
Drake wished he could see her. Take in her delicate features, her soft expression. But there was too much black clouding his sight.
���Hey,” he replied, his voice cracking in the middle of the word. What kind of lame reply was that? But then, she hadn’t exactly started off the conversation at a fantastic level.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“I’m going to black out pretty soon,” he mumbled. He winced at his own words. Now wasn’t the time to be unconscious. He had to figure out what Dad wanted with Allai, who he would send to attack next… And what the repercussions would be for killing Conrad.
“I’ll take care of you,” Allai promised.
Drake nodded. “Are you hurt?”
She didn’t answer right away, and his stomach clenched with fear. But then she took a shaky breath, and said, “No. No, I’m fine.”
His arms gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. “Just drive to Cleveland,” he whispered. “I’ll meet you there.”
There was another pause, and he could almost picture her biting her lip, frowning, trying to decide how to reply. “No,” she said. “I’m staying here. With you.”
Chapter Nineteen
It was getting cold when Drake woke up. He groaned, and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his ribs. The pain brought it all rushing back: Conrad’s attack, the girl stabbing the Trident, trying to pry answers from Conrad before death stole him away.
Drake gasped, but something constricted his chest. Probably bandages. He should be glad that the girl had taken the time to bandage him. He wasn’t. They hurt like hell.
“You’re awake.”
It was the girl’s voice. Sweet and pleasant, even though she sounded panicked. And she was close, probably only a foot or two away.
“I think you’re hurt pretty bad,” she said, her voice a little quieter now, and a little closer.
“Yeah.” His tongue felt thick, and he smacked it a couple times. “Yeah, I know.” Words hurt. Everything hurt.
Allai sighed. “I need to get you to a hospital.” She sounded so sincere. So serious. It was kind of adorable.
“Little Nox, you can’t take me to a hospital. I have wings. Remember?” He rustled his feathers a little, just to remind her. That hurt, too.
He could picture her frowning. “You could shift,” she suggested.
“And try to explain a hundred-and-nine degree temperature to some nurse? That’s not going to work.”
Allai went quiet. Well, not completely quiet, because he could still hear her heartbeat pounding out a frantic rhythm. If only he could do something to slow her heartbeat, to calm her down. He didn’t like hearing her so frightened.
He sighed. And almost screamed from the pain as it tore through his ribs. Maybe the girl was right. Maybe he did need a doctor.
Light filtered into his vision, surprising him. He’d forgotten that his eyes had been closed. And he didn’t remember wanting to open them.
The girl’s face hovered over his. When had she gotten so close? It didn’t matter. It was just nice to know that she was near. Near and safe.
For the moment.
“Hey,” he said. He looked down at his chest, peering at the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around him. “Thanks for…” He waved a hand at the mess that made up his chest. “For taking care of that.”
She smiled a little. It was a forced expression, but still a smile. He wished she’d smile more. She looked so pretty when she did.
“It’s not really taken care of,” she said, sounding almost guilty. “I think you broke a couple ribs.”
“I didn’t break a thing,” Drake muttered. “Conrad broke them.”
Allai frowned. He could actually see it this time, and he hated it. He watched as the frown pulled at her smile until she looked nothing but concerned and upset. It made his stomach hurt a little.
“You mean it… The Trident…” She trailed off before finding the right words. “You know him?”
Drake nodded. Which was a dumb thing to do, because apparently his collarbone was bruised as well. “Yeah. That is… Uh, was Conrad. He used to be my dad’s head assassin.”
Allai bit at her lip. She had a bad habit of doing that. But then he shouldn’t talk, because Dad had always been getting after him for the same habit.
“I thought he was just one of my father’s men,” she murmured.
If only she was right. That’d make things so much easier, if it was just Shieldak coming after them. But now Rhaize was after Allai again. First he’d sent Drake to kill her, then Silas, now his best assassin. Rhaize was getting more desperate to see the girl dead. Conrad had probably been right: His attack was only the beginning.
Drake thought back to what Luke had told him on the phone. That Shieldak had said ‘someone else’ would be coming after them. Rhaize must be that ‘someone else’. He must have coordinated this most recent attack with Shieldak. It was pretty much unheard of for the Keepers and S
entinel to work together, but Drake wouldn’t put it past Shieldak. He wouldn’t put anything past that man, after what he’d done to Allai.
Drake swallowed hard and realized he still had to answer Allai. “No. Allai, that definitely wasn’t one of Shieldak’s men. That was one of my father’s assassins. Rhaize is after you, too.”
Her eyes widened. He waited for her to scream or cry. But she just knelt there, hovering over him, her eyes wide with shock.
“Allai.” Drake looked right at her, and she stared back. He could probably stare into her eyes forever; they were so familiar and beautiful. But he managed to murmur, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Okay?”
She nodded a couple times. Then she quietly asked, “Can I give you a hug?”
He wanted to answer ‘no’. Because he’d learned over the years that physical contact usually came along with pain. But then he saw the pleading look in her eye, and the panic that was still in her expression, and he remembered the hugs she’d given him back at the Manor. Those hadn’t hurt. She hadn’t asked first, which had kind of pissed him off, but they still hadn’t hurt.
“Yeah,” he said. “You can give me a hug.”
She leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck, careful to avoid his wounds. It was awkward, with him still lying on the ground, and for a moment he thought of pushing her away. Then she rested her cheek against his shoulder. And he could hear her heartbeat, so close, so damn precious. He wanted to hate how much the simple sound of it meant to him, because he knew caring about people only brought pain. But he couldn’t hate it, just like he couldn’t hate her.
Drake wrapped his arms around the girl. He’d almost forgotten how fragile she was, and how good it felt to be this close to her. He just stayed there for a moment, his arms around her, listening to her heartbeat, breathing in her sweet scent. Then he sighed and said, “We need to keep moving. If Conrad was here, then there will be more of Dad’s men close by.”
Allai drew away, and he almost protested. But he let her go.
“My dad’s men are probably nearby, too,” she said quietly.
“No, I don’t think any of Shieldak’s men are after us.”
Her eyes lit with hope. It was just for an instant, and just long enough to make Drake cringe. She still thought there was a chance Shieldak was going to change his mind and take everything back.
“Luke told me he’s going to let someone else track you down,” Drake said, and the hope faded from her eyes. “I think that someone is Dad. Rhaize, I mean. Shieldak is going to save face and let the Keepers do the dirty work.”
He hated the way he sounded. Like Shieldak’s plan was actually going to work, like Dad would actually catch and kill Allai. No. He wasn’t going to let that happen.
Drake pressed one hand to his ribs, and used the other to push off the ground. Allai watched intently as he rose, he eyes scanning over his injuries. He didn’t like her staring like that, with pity in her expression. Pity was what he’d always felt for her, not the other way around.
He offered the girl his free hand. She didn’t hesitate before taking it, her soft palm pressing against his calloused one. The contact felt natural. Normal. Like something he might have been born for.
Blood still clung to her hand, darkening her skin and clinging to the crevices of her palm. It didn’t look right, and Drake had a sudden urge to wipe it all off. But he ignored the urge and helped Allai to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” Allai muttered as she stood. She brushed some debris off her skinny jeans, smearing blood across the fabric. “I’m the one who should be helping you up.”
“Where’s your knife?” Drake asked. He ignored her apology. There was no need for it in the first place, so a response would be pointless.
Allai pointed to the ground. Drake looked to where she pointed, and saw that the knife lay a few yards to his left. It must have been dislodged from Conrad during their last struggle.
Drake walked to the knife. He tried to keep his gait steady, but every step was like walking on a tossing ship. Unsteady. Unbalanced. He knew he looked like a bumbling idiot, but he just gritted his teeth and pushed forward. He would have to walk the quarter-mile to his truck in a little while. This was nothing.
When he reached the knife, he took a deep breath and bit his lip. Then he leaned over, his ribs screaming in protest, and snatched the knife from the ground. When he straightened, he let out another gasp. Gasping was good, gasping was distracting. It let him forget the pain, if only for a second.
Allai’s heartbeat approached, along with her footsteps, which were as loud as ever. Her gentle hand rested on his shoulder. It hurt. Her hand pressed right on a bruise Shieldak had given him earlier.
Her touch still felt good.
Drake brushed some dirt off the Hunter’s knife and flipped it around, so he held it by the tip of the blade. He turned to face Allai, and she stared up at him with wide eyes.
“Where did you get this?” Drake asked.
Allai slipped her hand from his shoulder, and he instantly regretted the question.
“You left it in my truck.” Her gaze was turned down, her fingers slowly bunching into a nervous fist.
Drake smirked. Even that hurt. Damn Shieldak and his punches. “You’re a terrible liar, little Nox.”
Allai shuffled her feet a little. “You won’t tell…” She trailed off and looked to the ground, hiding a frown. He watched as she swallowed hard, her hand reaching up to rub at her eye. She made a little choked sound, like she was holding back a sob.
Drake voiced her thoughts for her. “There’s no one to tell, little Nox. Just me.”
He hoped the girl didn’t balk at his harsh reality. And she didn’t. She just nodded and slowly unclenched her fingers, letting the tension run out of her. Maybe she hadn’t lost all her toughness over the years.
“I stole it from a Hunter a couple years ago,” she said. “Dad… Shieldak wouldn’t give me a weapon to protect myself with, and I thought I needed one. After, you know…” She trailed off and nodded to him.
Drake winced. Yeah, he knew.
“So I stole that from a young Hunter,” she continued, pointing to the dagger. “He nearly got expelled from the Sentinel for losing the knife. Shieldak never even thought to suspect me.”
His smirk grew. She definitely hadn’t lost all that toughness.
The dagger felt cold and heavy in his hand. It was foreign, such a human-like weapon, and useless to him. But to the girl…
He held the Hunter’s knife out to her, handle first. “Take it.”
She looked at the bloody weapon hesitantly, like she thought it might bite her. Or worse.
“Take it,” he insisted. He moved it another inch toward her. “It’s yours.”
She shook her head. “It’s against the laws to wield a Hunter’s knife if you’re not full-blooded Hunter.”
Drake scoffed. “Isn’t it a little late to start caring about the laws?”
She opened her mouth, and he could tell by her panicked expression that a protest was building. He held up his hand to stop it. “Whose laws are you talking about, little Nox?”
She slowly closed her mouth, but then opened it again to ask, “What do you mean?”
“You said it’s ‘against the laws’ for you a wield a Hunter’s knife. Whose laws?”
She paused for a moment. He could almost hear the wheels of her mind turning as she struggled to come up with an answer. “Everyone says that.”
“Everyone?” He let his skepticism show. Or maybe it was cynicism. Whatever it was, it made her reconsider her answer.
She stared at the knife in front of her as she quietly said, “Everyone in the Sentinel, I guess.”
“And who just completely screwed you over? And who thinks you’re the scum of the earth, and that you’re not equal, and that you deserve death?”
That was probably too far. There were only so many major realizations a person could have in one day, and Allai had pretty much u
sed up all of hers when she found out she was a Mage. Scratch that—a disowned Mage.
Her fist bunched up again, but this time there was anger in her expression. He could hear her heartbeat quicken. Then she let out a deep sigh, and all the tension left her.
“Everyone in the Sentinel,” she whispered. She was still staring at the knife. “Everyone in the Sentinel thinks that about me.”
He offered her the knife again, moving it just a little closer to her.
This time, she took it.
Chapter Twenty
One of Allai’s hands clutched the steering wheel, turning her knuckles white. The other she used to hug her backpack close. She remembered the first driving lesson Shieldak had given her when she was thirteen, and one of the rules he’d drilled into her: “Never drive with one hand. It’s dangerous, and it makes you look lazy.”
He was probably right about the first part, but she was pretty sure she didn’t look lazy right then. ‘Shocked’ might be a better word. Or maybe even ‘terrified’, as she clutched her backpack so tightly that her hand was beginning to ache.
Drake kept shooting the backpack suspicious looks, like he thought it might bite him. And Allai couldn’t really blame him. Luke had gotten her the backpack a few years ago; he’d gone into the city, and she’d asked him to bring back a ‘hiking pack’. Luke had returned with this backpack: hot pink, with purple unicorns leaping across the fabric.
It was the last time she’d asked a blind person to go shopping for her.
But she didn’t care that the backpack was bright pink, or that Drake was suspicious of it, or that it made her look ridiculous. Because the backpack was all she had left. She remembered tossing it into her truck two, maybe three years ago. It contained the first aid kit and water Shieldak made her keep in her truck. She’d never ended up needing the supplies, but now the pack felt like the one thing keeping her alive. Because it was the only item she’d been able to salvage from her ruined truck, and because it reminded her of Luke and the Manor and that life. Her old life.
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