He pulls his hand back, cursing and clenching it into a fist.
“I think there is,” I tell him, pressing the blade’s point forward. Lee’s a quick learner. He takes a step back to prevent me from drawing blood again; and then, he sways. That’s when I notice he’s keeping his right arm pinned against his side.
“I’m hurt,” he says, moving his arm just enough to make me look closer. It’s the perfect distraction. In my peripheral vision, I see his other hand reaching behind his back.
I could shove my sword forward, aiming between his ribs. A two-handed thrust with my body weight behind it would slide the blade all the way through. The thing is, I hate hurting people, and I am not, by nature, a killer. Lee must be gambling on that because he doesn’t look worried when he pulls out a gun and levels it at my chest.
Alarm spikes through me. It’s so sudden and potent I’m disoriented for a moment. Having a gun pointed at me makes my heart rate go into overdrive. It takes no effort, no skill to pull the trigger and end a life, but logic tells me Lee doesn’t intend to kill me. He’s here because he wants something, so I don’t have a reason to be this worried. The fear moving through me isn’t entirely my own.
“What do you want?” I ask, trying to shut my emotions off from Kyol.
“Is this the way you want to have this conversation?” Lee counters. “Or would you rather put away the weapons and have a seat?”
His forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat. I look at his side again, to the arm he has pressed against it. There’s more blood on him than on the man in my bed. Lee wasn’t lying about being hurt.
“Fine,” I say, lowering my sword. “Let’s talk.”
I almost choke on that last sentence. Kyol’s here. Well, not here, but he’s in my world, in Vegas. Back in the hotel room I used to stay in, I think. I never told him I moved.
I’m fine, I try to project. Kyol should be resting and recovering from his injuries; he shouldn’t be here in a city filled with tech. Go back to Corrist.
My emotions must not be speaking clearly. He doesn’t fissure out. He’s on his way to find me, using the bond like I used it in the Realm to find him.
I let out an exasperated breath, making sure he feels every ounce of my annoyance. We’ve been apart for, what? Less than two hours? How much trouble does he think I could get into in that time?
I think calm, safe thoughts as I make my way to my couch and sit, hoping he’ll figure out I don’t need him.
Aside from a cheap coffee table and the even cheaper breakfast table with chairs, the couch is the only piece of furniture in the main living area of my apartment. Lee puts his gun away and makes a move to sit on the couch’s other end. Sosch beats him to it.
Lee rethinks sitting.
“What is that?” he asks. He’s breathing hard. I think he’s trying to act like he isn’t as hurt as he is. I refuse to acknowledge the sympathy that wants to bubble up in me. If Lee wants to pretend he’s not seriously injured, I’ll let him.
“My guard dog,” I tell him. “Who’s in my bedroom?”
Lee raises an eyebrow in my direction, maybe to see if I’m joking. I’m not really. Sosch has, in a roundabout way, saved my ass a couple of times, and it’s clear he doesn’t like Lee. He has good taste.
Realizing I’m not going to elaborate, Lee finally grabs a chair from the breakfast table and all but collapses into it.
“He’s a vigilante,” Lee says. My grip tightens reflexively on the hilt of my sword. Lee’s father is—or rather, was—the leader of the vigilantes. Nakano’s other son, Naito, who’s a human shadow-reader like me, killed him in Boulder a month ago. It was revenge for killing Kelia, his fae lover and the first rebel I considered a friend, but Nakano was a cruel man bent on eradicating the fae. He’d gone so far as to create a serum that gives humans the Sight so he could build his own personal army. He didn’t give a damn that the serum kills anyone who takes it six months later.
Lee has less than three months before the serum kills him. And my friend, Paige, has only a little more than that. Lee injected her with the serum because she was my friend. He knew I was involved with the fae, that I could lead him to his brother, and he didn’t care who he had to use to get what he wanted. He was determined to kill Naito so that he could finally gain his father’s approval.
“Why have you tied a vigilante to my bed?” I ask, sounding relatively patient instead of extremely pissed off. The only reason I’m able to manage that tone is because Lee couldn’t bring himself to kill his brother when he had the chance.
“His name is Mikhail Glazunov. He was my dad’s friend, his second-in-command. He’s in charge of the vigilantes now.”
And he’s in my apartment. The way he looked at me when I opened the door . . . The vigilantes are all filled with hate. I don’t want Glazunov here. I especially don’t want him in my bedroom.
“Start explaining,” I say in a voice so cold, Lee looks like he might be rethinking his decision to come here. Even Kyol feels the chill. He sends assurance through the bond, telling me without words that he’ll be here soon and will take care of this.
I don’t need him to take care of this. I need Lee to grab the vigilante and get the hell out of my apartment.
Lee clears his throat. “Glazunov . . .” He takes in a shaky breath. “Let me start this differently. I know that what I did to Paige was wrong. I didn’t think the serum would hurt her because it didn’t hurt me. I wasn’t thinking about the future. I made a mistake, and I am sorry.”
“You’re sorry,” I echo. “That makes everything okay. I’m just supposed to listen to you and—”
“I know my words don’t make it okay,” he cuts in. “But I’m trying to fix things. I need to talk to Paige. She has the serum research. Glazunov helped develop it. He might be able to find out what’s wrong with us.”
“He can find out what’s wrong with you somewhere else. Why tie him to my bed?”
“He doesn’t exactly want to be here.”
“So take him away!” I yell as I stand.
Sosch darts to the arm of the couch. I feel bad for startling him, but I can’t stand the fact that Glazunov is here. I can’t stand the fact that Lee is either.
“You want to help Paige, don’t you?” Lee asks, ignoring my outburst. “I was hoping you’d know a way to make him help us. I know fae have different magics. Can someone coerce him?”
I snort. “You hate the fae, and yet, you want to use their magic?”
“I was raised to hate them,” he says. “I don’t. Not anymore. But I don’t trust them either.”
“Funny. I don’t trust you.”
“Do you know a fae who can help or not?” he asks. He’s annoyed. Good. I am, too.
“Why don’t you ask the remnants for help?” That’s who he was with the last I heard. Caelar and the others were all camped out in the Corrist Mountains just before they attacked the palace a month ago.
“I can’t find them.” He uses the back of his hand to wipe a rivulet of sweat from his brow. “When they learned what I did to Paige, they were pissed. They fissured me to Houston and told me to stay away from her. That hasn’t been a problem because she’s staying away from me. I went to her house, talked to her landlord, called some of her friends. No one’s heard from her.”
I cross my arms, making sure my go-to-hell look doesn’t waver. It doesn’t stop him from asking his next question, though.
“You haven’t heard from her, have you?”
My expression doesn’t flicker, but inwardly, I cringe. I have heard from her. Three weeks ago, I left messages on her cell phone, her home phone, at the bar where she used to work, and with several of her friends. She finally got in touch with me after a few days, and we’ve been talking a few times every week since then. The conversations were awkward in the beginning. We’re on opposite sides of the war. Paige respects and trusts Caelar and the remnants, and since Lena’s been hunting them down these past couple of months, Paige has no desire to
see her on the throne. She won’t tell me anything about the remnants except that she talks to Tylan, Caelar’s brother, almost every day.
Of course, it’s been almost a full week since I last heard from her. She’s working with a chemist to analyze and dissect the Sight serum research we took from the vigilantes’ compound. As far as I know, they haven’t made any progress on finding out why it’s fatal.
“You have, haven’t you?” Lee asks.
“No,” I tell him. It’s not technically a lie. I haven’t heard from her in almost a week now. Plus, I don’t owe Lee the truth.
“Really?” His shoulders slump.
I start to make a smart retort, but stop on the first syllable. His question wasn’t sarcastic. It didn’t even sound like a question. It sounded more like his hopes were being crushed. Suddenly, he looks twice as pale as he did before.
Damn it, I don’t want to feel one ounce of sympathy for him. I bite my lip to keep from asking him if he’s okay.
“You’ve been looking for her, though,” he says. “That’s how I found you. You called the bar where she works. Your number showed up on the caller ID.”
“They gave you my number?” It never occurred to me to conceal my identity or to use a public phone when I called. I’m used to hiding from fae, not from humans.
Lee nods, then winces as if the motion was too much for him. “They knew me. I showed up there a few times before to talk to Paige.”
He’s breathing even harder now. The conversation is wearing him out.
I stand. He does, too, and his hand goes behind his back to where his gun is.
“I was going to get you a glass of water,” I say.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine, Lee.”
“Are you close to finding her?” he asks, wiping his hand across his face again. “Will you let me know when you do?”
I’ll talk to Paige about it. She’s justifiably pissed at Lee, but if working together helps save both their lives, she might have to cave and speak to him.
Out loud, I say, “I’ll think about it if you get Glazunov out of here.”
Something flickers through his expression just before he meets my gaze. “There’s another reason I’m here.”
“Another reason besides the fact that you’re bleeding on my floor?” A few drops have splattered on the fake hardwood. At least it’s not carpet, but he seriously needs to get to a hospital.
“I need you to watch him for a few days,” Lee says.
One second ticks by. Two. Three.
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“I don’t have anyone else I can trust him with,” he says.
“You can’t trust him with me!” I yell.
“I have to,” he says. “Look, the . . . the vigilantes. Whatever you want to call them. Some of them died at my dad’s compound but not all of them. Not most of them. And the lead chemist who created the serum is still alive. I found out where he is. If he and Glazunov have their research, and if they work together, it’s our best chance to find a cure.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Absolutely not. I’m not babysitting a man you’ve kidnapped, a man who probably wants me dead.”
“I’m leaving him here, McKenzie,” Lee says, leveling his gaze at me. “I won’t be gone more than three days. All you have to do is feed him and give him some water.”
He’s serious. He’s going to walk out of here and leave that man tied to my bed. I won’t be able to just let Glazunov go. If he doesn’t try to kill me immediately, he can come back anytime. he knows where I live. And if I call the cops instead, I’ll have to explain how he ended up tied to my bed.
“You don’t have a choice on this,” Lee says.
Those words make my resolve turn to steel. I’m sick of people taking away my choices. I’m not putting up with it anymore.
I give a short, humorless laugh as I pace past the couch.
“I’m sorry,” Lee begins. “It’s the only . . . Where are you going?”
I don’t answer. I reach my front door, turn the knob, then swing it open. As soon as Kyol crosses the threshold, I say, “He has a gun.”
SIX
KYOL DISAPPEARS INTO a flash of light. By the time I turn back to the living room, he’s behind Lee, taking the gun out of a holster hidden under his shirt and tossing it onto the couch. A second later, he has Lee’s arm twisted behind him and a dagger against his throat.
“Are you hurt?” Kyol asks, not taking his attention away from Lee.
“No,” I tell him. “Just pissed off. He has a vigilante tied up in my bedroom.”
“Christ,” Lee says, flinching when Kyol puts more tension on his arm. “I’m just trying to save Paige’s life.”
“You’re trying to save your own,” I say, walking back to the couch. His knees buckle.
“He’s injured,” Kyol says, lowering Lee to the floor. He pulls up Lee’s shirt, revealing his side. His black shirt and pants hid just how badly he’s hurt. There’s so much blood, I can’t even see his injury. No wonder he’s so pale.
“What happened to you?” I ask, my anger sizzling out as I kneel beside the two men.
Lee’s jaw tightens. “Glazunov got the gun out of my hand. Grazed me with a shot.”
“This is a graze?”
“It’s just bleeding a lot,” he says.
“You need to go to a hospital.”
Kyol glances at me. I don’t meet his eyes, but I know what he’s thinking: I care too much. Here’s a guy who broke into my apartment and threatened me with a gun, and I’m concerned about his well-being.
“Couldn’t take Glaz with me,” he says. He squeezes his eyes shut.
“Do you have bandages?” Kyol asks, sheathing his dagger.
“Yeah.” Ten years of being around the fae has put me in the habit of having a fully stocked first-aid kit on hand. I walk to my tiny kitchen and grab the plastic Tupperware box from under the sink. I take it back to the living room, then hand Kyol a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “This will disinfect the wound.”
Kyol takes it without question, then pours the liquid over a two-inch gash that looks like it was made by a knife, not a gunshot. Lee’s body jerks once, but that’s the only indication of how badly the stuff burns.
“Can he help Paige?” Kyol sets the bottle aside. He knows how much I value my friendship with Paige. For the last ten years, she kept me sane. She never judged me, and I felt like a normal human around her. She’s also saved my ass more than once. The first time was when we were roommates at Bedfont House, a mental institution we tried to sneak out of one night. She took the fall for that, letting me escape the place permanently while she had to stay and endure more counseling. Then, almost a month ago, when the remnants captured me, she gave me the key to my shackles. I wouldn’t have been able to escape without her help.
Lee answers Kyol’s question, giving him a quick summary of what he told me, saying again that Glazunov and Charles Bowman, the other vigilante he wants to abduct, will be able to find a cure.
“It’s not guaranteed,” I say when he finishes. “And why would they want to help you? They could stall and let you and Paige and anyone else who’s been injected with the serum die. Or they might not even be able to find a solution. They’ve probably been trying to fix the serum since they learned it was fatal.”
“We’ll find a way to make them help,” Lee says.
“You won’t be able to trust anything they do.”
“We’ll have to!” Lee sits up straighter, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “I have to fix this. I won’t let her die.”
He’s making this about Paige again. I don’t know if he’s doing that to get my support or if he really is more concerned about her life than his own. Maybe it’s a little of both.
“I’ll take the vigilante to Corrist,” Kyol says, using the bandage I give him to wrap around Lee’s ribs. The gauze and bandage aren’t a permanent solution. Lee needs stitches.
He needs a hospital.
“You won’t bring the other vigilante here,” Kyol continues. “You’ll call McKenzie and arrange a place to meet.”
Lee’s jaw clenches. He might not hate the fae, but he admitted he doesn’t trust them. I don’t know if he’ll trust Kyol. Of course, he doesn’t have much of a choice.
“Fine,” he finally says, slouching as the fight whooshes out of him.
I try to talk him into going to the hospital. He says he’ll be okay—he just needs to rest—but I’m half-afraid he won’t wake up if he goes to sleep. He’s lost so much blood, and he seems to be sweating more now. His wound might be infected, or maybe since he’s injured and weak, the serum will take his life early.
After Lee ignores my last plea and drags himself to my couch, Kyol touches my shoulder. “I’m going to the Realm. I won’t be gone long.”
He disappears into his fissure, and immediately I feel like I can breathe again. I didn’t realize how claustrophobic I felt with him in this world. It was like I was trying to contain all of my emotions in a bottle not big enough to hold an ounce of water.
Now that he’s gone, and now that Lee is passed out on my couch, I realize just how tired I am. I need to get some rest. How that’s going to happen, though, I don’t know. I have a vigilante in my bed and a half-dead man sleeping on my couch. Sosch, who’s become accustomed to snoring on my feet at night, doesn’t look too pleased with the arrangements either. He’s on the breakfast table glowering at me.
“Looks like we’re both sleeping on the floor,” I tell him. I need to shower and change clothes first, though, and that means I’m going to have to go into my bedroom. I really don’t want to breathe the same air as the vigilante, but I walk to the door. As I’m turning the knob, I hear the sharp shrrip of a fissure opening behind me.
“That was quick,” I say, turning to face . . . Aren.
The Sharpest Blade ml-3 Page 5