“He is the Taelith.” Lorn opens his eyes. “That’s all I know.”
“And now he knows where I live,” I say. I bite my lower lip, start to shake my head, but then stop and glare at Lorn. “How the hell do you know where I live?”
He doesn’t answer that. He just lifts one bloodied eyebrow, and his lips curve into a faint smile. Yeah, it was a stupid question. Lorn never reveals his information sources.
“How long do I have?” I ask.
“Minutes. Seconds. I’m surprised he’s not here already.”
I stare at Lorn. He managed to make his words so casual, I don’t know if he’s joking.
Crap. I don’t think he is. I think he’s serious.
My heart thumps against my chest. I draw in a deep breath, trying to slow it down and to ward off the adrenaline that’s threatening to jet through my bloodstream. I don’t need Kyol to fissure to my rescue. I need a break from his emotions, and he needs to concentrate on what he’s doing so he doesn’t get himself killed.
“You can’t fissure?” I ask Lorn.
“Not sure if I can walk at the moment.”
Fabulous. I can’t run off and leave him behind.
I grab my keys off the counter, then sidle up next to Lorn to put his arm over my shoulder. “You ready?”
Lorn nods. I count to three, then push up to my feet.
He weighs so much more than I thought he would, and he’s not even wearing jaedric or carrying a sword or dagger or anything. My quads are just barely strong enough to lift him. I so need to join a gym.
I shut my door, then we stagger to the staircase. He grips the rail, uses it as a crutch to help him down the first steps. It doesn’t help, though. We’re moving way too slow.
“You can’t even fissure to the parking lot?” I ask.
He looks down and to the right, where cars are crammed between the narrow lines.
“I’ll try,” he says, letting his arm fall from my shoulder. God, he’s really bad off. No smile, no arrogant reply, just a short, pained statement.
He clutches the rail with both hands. His magic has been weak since Kelia died. Add to that the fact that he fissured from his world to mine half-dead, and it’s obvious how much of a struggle it is to open a path to the In-Between. He manages it, though, and after the strip of white light appears on the step below him, he falls into it.
I half expect to see him rolling down the stairs, but the In-Between catches him. My gaze goes to the parking lot just as the light spits him out, face-first, on the cement. He doesn’t move.
“Shit,” I mutter.
I take the steps two at a time, beeping my car unlocked as I run to Lorn.
“Are you alive?” I ask, putting my hand on his back.
“Mostly,” he says, and I relax some. That note of amusement in his voice was more like the old Lorn.
“At least you landed next to my car,” I tell him. I focus on Kyol’s emotions as I open the passenger door. I’m going to have to give in and get him to fissure here. He’s the only way I’m able to communicate with the Realm. He’ll want to question Lorn, and Lorn will need a healer.
But I shove Lorn into the passenger seat without letting loose my emotions. Kyol is filled with the cold, calculating emotions that tell me he’s still in the midst of a fight. Plus, I don’t want him to fissure here if the false-blood might show up.
I turn on the car’s engine, put my hand on the back of Lorn’s seat so I can back out. He’s slumped against the window, his eyes closed. I can’t tell if he’s breathing.
“Don’t you die in my car, Lorn,” I say.
A smile slips through his busted lip.
“Exactly how badly are you hurt?” I ask, backing out of the parking space.
“I would very much appreciate a healer.”
“I know. I’m working on it.” I brake, then shift into drive.
And a sword slams into the hood of my car. My brain registers the three slashes of white light a second later, but the other two fae have already swung their weapons.
A blade shatters my window, tearing through the back of my seat.
I hear a scream, think that it’s mine until I realize I’ve slammed the pedal against the floor. My tires are squealing, my car lurching forward quick enough to save our lives until I ram into a parked truck.
I just barely keep my face from slamming into the steering wheel. Lorn’s too out of it to brace for the minor crash. He hits the dash the same instant the fae outside my window stabs his blade forward.
Throwing myself over the central console, I manage to shift into reverse while hitting the gas pedal. The fae—the damned elari—loses his grip on his sword when the window frame catches his arm. The blade barely misses me as it flies into the backseat.
My neck pops when I slam into a vehicle behind us. Quickly, I shift gears again. One of the elari is standing three feet away in the beams from my headlights. I stare down the fae as he stares down me. It’s Nimael, the fae who slipped away from us in Tholm, and the elari who might be the false-blood’s second-in-command. A gut instinct tells me he’s responsible for the slaughter of the women in the tjandel, and most likely the Sighted humans in London as well.
I want him dead. I want it so badly I can taste blood on my tongue.
With my left foot on the brake, I press the gas pedal with my right, revving the engine. Pure theatrics. I know Nimael will fissure out of the way before I can run him over.
My heart bangs in my chest. I need to get out of here before people leave their apartments to check on the noise, and definitely before the cops arrive, but I don’t know what the elari will do when I go. Will they try to follow me? Will they kill any humans they find? Will they—
Shit. Will they stay long enough for Kyol to fissure here? I have his complete attention now, and I’ve shattered his control so much that I can feel every ounce of his worry.
Stay away! I try to scream at him. Then I draw in as deep and calming a breath as I can manage and slam down the gas pedal.
Nimael fissures out of the way, no problem.
I check my rearview mirror. The three elari are there. They’re not pursuing us, though. They’re watching me drive away.
Beside me, Lorn murmurs something in Fae. He’s awkwardly wedged between the dash and the passenger seat. He needs help. He needs a healer. My thoughts turn back to Kyol. He must be in the Inner City. If he weren’t, he would have fissured to my apartment already.
But he’s moving. He’s trying to get outside the silver walls.
Think happy thoughts, McKenzie, I order myself. Rainbows. Ponies. Kimkis. I don’t want him to fissure to my apartment just yet. In ten minutes, maybe. Surely the elari won’t hang around that long.
I look again at Lorn. He’s hurt and bleeding and saying things I don’t understand in a feverish murmur. His chaos lusters are crawling across his skin. That’s not normal. They should be quick and frenzied from being in my car.
My apartment complex vanishes from my rearview mirror when I take a left at the first intersection. I have no idea where I’m going. I can’t take Lorn to a hospital, not even to a clinic or doctor’s office. I don’t know anyone in the city, and . . .
No, that’s not entirely true. I do know someone in the city, someone who’s familiar with fae.
SIXTEEN
I SLAM ON my brakes outside Kynlee’s house. Kyol’s at my apartment. I hold my breath, willing him to be careful and praying that Nimael and the other two elari have already left.
Beside me, Lorn shifts. His eyes are shut, and he’s still awkwardly sitting on the floor, not in the passenger seat.
“Lena.” His voice is so weak, I barely make out the name.
“I’ll get her here as quickly as I can,” I tell him. Then, under my breath, I murmur, “Get away from my apartment, Kyol.”
The elari must not have hung around, though. His heart isn’t pounding like he’s fighting for his life, but he’s moving, following the pull of the life-bond in my
direction. It took me fifteen minutes to drive here. He might make the trip in half an hour.
I turn off the car then look at Lorn, at his bruised and swollen face and his blood-soaked clothing. He’s not going to be able to walk up the sidewalk on his own, but I don’t want to leave him in the car. His edarratae are worrying me. He needs to get away from the tech now. Besides, if I somehow manage to drag him to the front porch, the presence of a half-dead fae might make it harder for Kynlee’s dad to slam the door in my face.
I climb out of the car, then open the passenger-side door.
“Come on, Lorn.”
His head turns toward my voice, and he lifts an arm, but that’s all the help I get. I’m not strong enough to lift his limp body over my shoulder, so I pull him out of the car and onto the pavement. Hooking my arms under his, I back up one step at a time, dragging him across the cement.
I’m sweating by the time I prop Lorn against the porch wall, and I lean against it for a moment, too, catching my breath and looking back down the sidewalk. Lorn’s left a line of blood all the way from my car. A normal human won’t see the crimson trail, but one who has the Sight will. Kynlee and her dad will.
Nothing I can do about it now.
I ring the bell and pound on the door. Wait half a minute then knock and ring the bell again.
Still nothing, not even when I bang on the window to the right of the door. Both Kynlee and her dad must sleep like the dead. I’m considering the possibility that I might have to break in when the door finally opens.
I expect Kynlee’s dad to be pissed; I don’t expect him to shove the barrel of a shotgun into my chest.
“What the fuck are you doing at my house?” he demands.
I retreat a step. He presses forward.
“He needs help,” I say, heart pounding as I hold my hands out to my sides. I remember reading his profile in the library database. His name is Nick. “Please, Ni—”
“Get out of here!” he yells. “I’ll call the cops. I’ll have you arrested for harassment, or so help me I’ll kill you.”
“Dad?”
Nick stiffens, and I say a quick, silent prayer of thanks. No way in hell is he going to shoot me in front of his daughter.
“Holy shit, Dad!” Kynlee squats in front of Lorn. “What happened?”
Nick curses quietly, then lowers the shotgun.
“Go back to bed,” he says, propping the gun behind the door.
“But, Dad—”
“Go!”
Damn. So much for Kynlee softening her dad up. She retreats to a hallway.
Nick’s gaze returns to me. “You’re not welcome here. Drag him back to your car and leave.”
I draw in a breath, bracing myself. “I can’t. I don’t have anywhere else I can take him.”
“I don’t give a goddamn—”
“Look,” I cut him off. “Just let us in. Someone will be here to help him soon. After he’s recovered, we’ll leave. I’ll leave Vegas even.”
Nick’s chest expands with each angry breath he takes. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of jeans that he hasn’t taken the time to button. I’ve offered him a decent deal, though. He wants me to stay away from his daughter. I’ll stay away from the whole city if he’ll help us now.
But my offer must not be tempting enough. He starts to shake his head.
Quickly, I nod toward Lorn, trying another tactic before Nick slams the door in my face. “He’s visible.” I’m pretty sure that’s a lie, but a Sighted human has no way of knowing that without paying attention to the reactions of normal humans. “Are your neighbors nosy?”
“I told you—”
“He needs help,” I say. “And we’re not leaving your front porch until you let us in.”
“He’ll leave if he enters the ether,” Nick threatens. He reaches for the shotgun again.
I pretend not to care, stand my ground, and meet his glare. His jaw works, clenching and relaxing, then clenching again.
Finally, he curses. He looks down at Lorn then says, “One hour. Then you’re gone.”
Thank God.
“Just help me get him inside,” I say.
I slip under Lorn’s right arm while Nick mutters something under his breath and slips under his left. Lorn’s head lolls to the side, but he’s semiconscious. His feet move, though not very usefully.
Nick kicks the front door shut as soon as we’re over the threshold. The bam echoes in the high-ceilinged entryway.
“Go to the garage,” Nick barks. “Turn off the breakers.”
At first, I think he’s talking to me. Then I see Kynlee peeking around the corner. She looks chagrined for only the briefest moment before she nods and rushes off. We continue half carrying, half dragging Lorn into the house. Nick grumbles about the carpet as we make our way through the living room, leaving a trail of Lorn’s blood behind us.
“In here,” Nick says gruffly, leading the way into a sunroom at the back of the house. The full moon shines across the wooden floors and a wicker sofa with white cushions. I start to lower Lorn onto the sofa, but he slips from my grasp when Nick all but throws him to the floor.
Lorn rolls to his back. Groans. From somewhere above us, there’s a click. I feel the air-conditioning unit shut down, and Lorn’s chaos lusters lose a little of their jaggedness. They’re still sluggish, though. Being in my world as weak as he is isn’t good for him.
I press my hand to his forehead, checking for a fever.
Stupidly checking for a fever. Fae are always hot when I touch them. His chaos lusters heat my skin, and I pull my hand back. I think he does have a fever, though. Sweat mixes with the blood caking his temple, and, even in the moonlight, his pale face looks flushed.
“Will this help?” Kynlee’s voice comes from behind me.
I look over my shoulder. She’s standing in the sunroom’s doorway, holding something that looks like a glass of milk.
“Yeah,” Nick says. He rises to take the glass from her, then he hands it to me. “She drinks it when she gets migraines. Prop his head up.”
He throws a decorative pillow on the floor. I pick it up, then slide it under Lorn’s head. Before I give him the drink, I sniff it. Um, definitely not milk.
“Hey,” I say, gently. “I need you to drink this.”
I place the brim of the glass on his busted bottom lip and tilt it back. Pretty much all the liquid trickles down his chin.
“You need to drink,” I tell him. This time, he murmurs something—Lena’s name again?—and I use the opportunity to pour the liquid into his mouth. He chokes on it, coughing and wincing and, eventually, opening his eyes to glare at me.
“Poison?” he asks.
Smiling, I say, “I hope not. Here.”
I make him drink more. After a few sips, he shoves my hand away. I take that as a good sign. A few minutes ago, I don’t think he had the strength to lift a finger.
He closes his eyes in a wince as a wave of pain passes over him. “Should have gone straight to Lena.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t,” I say.
“If the false-blood killed you, I wouldn’t get my revenge.”
“He sounds like he’s worth saving,” Nick mutters, grabbing Lorn’s wrist to lift his hand away from his stomach wound.
Lorn hisses in a breath and starts to curl to the side, but I hold his shoulder down, keeping him in place.
“What else can I do?” Kynlee asks from the doorway.
“Scissors. Towels,” her dad says.
Kynlee nods, starts to leave.
“The whole medicine cabinet.”
She stops, frowns. “Really? Everything?”
Nick’s jaw tightens. “Just the hydrogen peroxide and any gauze or bandages we might have.”
“Need a healer,” Lorn says. “Not human medicine.” His voice is raspy, like he has liquid in his lungs, but he’s alive. I think he’d be dead by now if some really crucial organ were injured. It’s him bleeding to death we need to worry about.
>
“Stop talking, Lorn.”
Suddenly, Nick’s gaze snaps to me. “Lorn? As in . . . the Lorn?”
I think I see a tiny smile bend one corner of Lorn’s mouth. If Nick hasn’t been to the Realm since Kynlee was a baby, Lorn’s been around a long time.
“That’s his name,” is all I say.
Nick drops Lorn’s hand.
“How, exactly, did you come in possession of a tor’um?” Lorn asks. I’m surprised he’s cognizant enough to ask the question.
Nick goes still, then, after a handful of heartbeats, he presses the heel of his hand into the fae’s wound. Lorn cries out.
“Hey!” I say, trying to shove Nick away.
“She’s my daughter, asshole,” Nick says, leaning toward Lorn’s face. “Not a possession or something for you to condescend to.”
“Nick, stop!” He’s not listening. I ram my shoulder into him and manage to knock him off Lorn. He falls onto his back, but he looks ready to kill.
“I have the stuff,” Kynlee says. Perfect timing.
Nick doesn’t acknowledge her, so I do, motioning her in. She drops her armful of towels down beside me. The small pile is topped by a pair of scissors, hydrogen peroxide, and . . . a box of Disney Princess Band-Aids.
I pick up the latter, raise an eyebrow.
“It was all I could find,” she says.
Yeah, so not going to help.
I set the Band-Aids aside and grab a towel. I use it to wipe some of the blood off Lorn’s face. Most of it is from a cut on his forehead, but his cheekbone is swollen to twice its normal size, and his lip is bleeding from more than one cut.
“Is he dead?” Kynlee asks. Lorn hasn’t moved since I shoved Nick off him.
“No,” I say, finally getting Lorn to uncurl from his fetal position. “Fae disappear when they die.”
“Disappear?”
The mix of fear and curiosity in Kynlee’s voice makes me look up.
“We’ll talk later, Kynlee,” Nick says gruffly. “Go to bed now.”
“We learned first aid in my health class,” she says. “I can help.”
“Go,” he repeats.
A chaos luster jumps across Lorn’s face. Weakly, he says, “You haven’t taught her anything, have you—”
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