The Sharpest Blade ml-3

by Sandy Williams

  “I call it a Happy Colada,” Kynlee speaks up from the couch. “It has coconut in it.”

  “And some other things,” Nick says with a nod.

  “Lorn drank it,” I tell Lena when she still doesn’t accept the drink. Slowly, she reaches up to wrap her hands around the glass. Then she takes the tiniest sip.

  And makes a face that’s a lot like mine whenever I drink cabus.

  “It’s good,” Kynlee insists, her brow furrowing.

  Lena glares at her, then takes another sip. When she makes another sour face, I almost laugh.

  “Thanks,” I say to Nick, hoping the drink will help her. I haven’t been able to convince Lena to rest. Her magic won’t completely recover until her body does.

  Nick just nods, then stands there with his hands at his sides, looking like he has something to say. It’s probably something along the lines of “get the hell out of my house.” I’m surprised he hasn’t insisted on it yet, especially since we brought two new fae—Caelar and Lord Hison—here. But maybe he misses the Realm and the action more than he thought he would. He’s asked me several questions about what’s going on. He’s also asked about a few fae he used to know, and a few cities he frequented. And more than once, when a fae has fissured out, I’ve seen his gaze go to the shadows, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to trace their peaks and valleys.

  “Another day or two,” I say, “and she and Aren can probably fissure to Naito’s house.” That’s well over five hundred miles away, but I think they’ll be able to make it. If not, Kyol can fissure them there, taking the drain of passing through the In-Between on himself.

  “Good,” Nick says.

  “You should be resting.” Lena sets her glass aside.

  I frown until she slowly turns her head toward the hallway behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see Aren.

  “I did rest,” he says. His gaze is locked on me, and my heart does a somersault in my chest. He’s hurting, but his silver eyes are still intense, still mesmerizing.

  “Can we talk?” he asks.

  Something in his tone makes my breath catch, and not in a good way. But I want to talk to him. I want to hear his voice, his laugh, and I want to touch him and taste his lips, so I just nod, then follow him out the back door, hoping I shouldn’t be bracing myself for bad news.

  Nick’s porch is covered. Aren steps off it and onto the lawn. When I do the same, he turns toward me. He’s holding his side. He starts to lift his hand away, but then winces, returning it to his ribs. I hate seeing him this badly hurt. Caelar beat the hell out of him. The cut on his forehead needs stitches, and his right eye is so swollen, I’m certain he can’t see out of it. I’m not so certain he doesn’t have serious internal injuries. His breaths sound wet and raspy, like he has blood in his lungs, and there’s blood at the left corner of his mouth that looks fresh.

  Lena promised not to heal him until three days pass. He hasn’t even made it through one yet.

  He takes a step toward me. He tries to hide how much that hurts him, but the corner of his nonswollen eye crinkles, and the way he winces makes that cut on his forehead reopen. Blood begins to trickle down his temple. Oddly, that’s when the tension whooshes out of me.

  “You’re such an idiot,” I tell him. What is the deal with fae attempting to ignore their injuries?

  He goes still. “Those aren’t exactly the words I’d hoped to hear.”

  “Just sit down,” I tell him. I ignore his sharp intake of breath when I grab his arm and maneuver him back onto the porch, where there are table and chairs. I pull one of the latter out and all but shove him into it. His body tightens up when he lands, and he closes his eyes, waiting for what has to be a wave of pain to subside.

  I feel a little guilty about that.

  “I’m not an idiot,” he says when he can talk again. “I’m determined.”

  “Is that what you call this?” I ask. “Is that what you call your insistence on suicide?”

  “I told you why I stepped forward as the garistyn,” he says. “Hison arrested Lena. He was about to do the same to Taltrayn. I had to—”

  “I gave you a way out, Aren.” That’s the part of the whole thing that I don’t get. I understand why he stepped forward even though I don’t completely agree with it, but he’d already taken the blame for killing Atroth. He could have escaped with me. Lena had an alibi. We would have faked his death, then lived happily ever after. “You should have taken the way out.”

  His forehead creases again. “I did take it.”

  “No, you didn’t.” I glare at the renewed trickle of blood from that head wound. It’s driving me crazy. “You threw my backpack out the window and all but launched me out after it.”

  “I told you I was going with you.”

  My eyebrows go up. “No, you didn’t.”

  “I did,” he insists. Then he says, “I think I did. Or I was going to before the door flew open.”

  “Really?” I ask, letting doubt creep into my voice.

  He gives me a small smile. “I swear it.”

  Damn, I’ve missed him. Even with his lip busted and swollen, I want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him until he feels nothing but chaos lusters on his skin.

  “You should have told me why you were keeping your distance from me,” I say. “I’m still pissed at you for that.”

  “I told you it was the life-bond.”

  “But neither of you told me our lives were linked.”

  “Would it have changed anything?” he asks. Before I can answer, he says, “It wouldn’t have. It would have only made you worry more. And I was trying to find a way to end it without killing either of you.”

  “I could have helped—”

  “That’s another reason I didn’t tell you,” he says. “If you had started asking questions about life-bonds, you would have raised suspicions.”

  I sink back in my chair. “You still should have told me,” I say, this time halfheartedly.

  “I also wanted to be sure you couldn’t work things out with Taltrayn.” There’s a question in his voice, and a note of foreboding, as well.

  My attention turns inward, toward Kyol. He’s still in the Realm and still okay. There’s an occasional blip in the life-bond, a tiny leak of emotion that I equate with surprise, but I’m not worried about him. He’s okay, and I’m hoping those blips are a result of finding incriminating information on the false-blood.

  Kyol feels my attention, though, so I do my best to block him out and refocus on Aren. The small smile I give him is sad, regretful even, because I still hate hurting Kyol.

  “Kyol and I worked things out,” I tell him. “We—”

  A slash of light splits through the air in the center of the backyard. A fae steps out of it. A fae I don’t recognize.

  Aren and I both leap to our feet. The fae’s gaze locks on us the instant mine locks on the name-cord in his hair: red and black. He’s elari.

  He fissures out before my next breath, and Aren curses.

  “Lena!” he yells, grabbing my arm as he reaches for the back door.

  “I can map his shadows,” I say.

  “Did he go to the Realm?” Aren demands.

  I look over my shoulder, see the shadows shift and twist. “Yes.”

  “Then I can’t fissure after him yet.” He slams open the door. “Come on.”

  Lena’s on her feet.

  “A scout,” Aren says, cutting of her question. “Can you fissure?”

  “Not far,” she answers. “How did he find us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s going on?” Nick asks.

  “The elari know we’re here,” Aren says. He reaches down behind the back of the couch where his and Lena’s weapons belts are lying. He tosses Lena’s to her and fastens his around his waist, all without a grimace of pain.

  Nick curses under his breath then, “Kynlee! Kynlee, in the truck. Now!”

  “What?” she yells. She’s not in the living room. Her v
oice comes from down the hall.

  “Hison?” Lena asks, buckling her belt.

  Aren shakes his head. “If Hison betrayed us, the elari would know we were here. They’re guessing, testing out anchor-stone locations and rumors. McKenzie, you have a car?”

  Anchor-stones.

  “Shit,” I say out loud. Lena meets my eyes. A second later, she gets it. I dumped her anchor-stones out so I could draw Nimael’s shadows on the pouch that held them. The elari must have found them.

  “Keys are in my room,” I say, heading that way and running into Kynlee.

  “What’s happening?” she asks, as I steady her.

  “Go with your father,” Aren says. “The elari will follow us, not you, but you can’t come back—”

  The backyard erupts with light. It’s like a flash bomb going off, there are so many elari. One, maybe two dozen.

  “If we’re separated, we meet at Naito’s,” Aren says, drawing his weapon as the elari burst inside.

  They break through the windows and kick open the door.

  “Kynlee!” Nick shouts.

  “Oh, crap,” his daughter says.

  I grab her arm, pulling her out of the hall. The only reason we’re not already dead is the silver Nick’s hidden in the insulation. The elari can’t fissure behind us.

  But they can rush in and divide us: me, Kynlee, and Aren on one side, Nick and Lena on the other.

  “Taltrayn?” Aren demands, standing between us and the approaching fae.

  “On his way,” I say. I’ve let him feel every ounce of my fear.

  Aren nods. “Run. Get Kynlee out of here.”

  The first fae attacks him, then the second. I don’t know how he’s able to block their blows, but he does, his blade ringing off theirs and countering.

  I chuck a lamp—the nearest object I can find—at a third elari, keeping him away from Aren. I don’t want to leave Aren and Lena, but I can’t put Kynlee’s life at risk either.

  The third fae sneers at me, bypasses Aren, and hefts his sword.

  Shit!

  I shove Kynlee behind me as I back toward the front door. The fae doesn’t charge forward—I think the silver and the tech is making him cautious—but even at his stalking pace, he’s quicker than me.

  I turn to reach for the doorknob. When I do, I see Nick’s shotgun propped in the corner.

  The elari attacks. I block his swing with the shotgun’s barrel, cock it, then pull the trigger.

  And it slams hard into my shoulder, knocking me into the wall.

  “That’s not how you hold it,” Kynlee says, grabbing the weapon from my hand. She turns, presses it against her shoulder, aims, and fires.

  Then she fires again.

  And again.

  Other shots ring out from the living room—Nick has a gun—and a surge of emotion tells me Kyol just entered this world. Better odds, but not great.

  “I’m out,” Kynlee says, lowering the shotgun.

  I ignore the throb of pain in my shoulder, grab her arm. “Let’s go.”

  We run out the front door. It’s the middle of the day, but the street is empty save for my car parked on the curb. I don’t have my keys. Nick’s garage door is still down. We’re going to have to—

  An elari steps out of the house.

  “Just run!” I yell. “Run!”

  I shove Kynlee toward the side of the house, where we’ll be out of the fae’s line of sight, but we’re only clear for half a second. He reappears before we reach the gate to the neighbor’s backyard. When he opens a fissure again, I reach down, grab a shovel lying against the base of the house, and swing it as hard as I can as I turn.

  The elari appears exactly where I thought he would, and the metal shovel slams into his head.

  I swing again before he reorients himself. His head cracks. His face is bloody and cut.

  A third swing, and he drops his sword. I grab it as he’s scrambling toward his fissure. He disappears before I can drive the blade through his heart.

  Kynlee’s staring at me, wide-eyed.

  “Come on.” I run to the neighbor’s fence and open the gate. The yard is an exact replica of Nick’s. I can hear the fight continuing on the other side of the fence, but I don’t hear a gun firing anymore. I hope that’s not a bad sign.

  “Now what?” Kynlee asks quietly.

  I came this way to get out of sight, but we’re far from safe. If someone sees us—

  The gate creaks as it reopens. A shout of “They’re here!” rings through the air.

  I’m already shoving Kynlee toward the back fence. “Over it!”

  Whether it’s fear and adrenaline or just the fact that she’s fae, Kynlee sprints to the wooden fence, leaps high enough to grab the top, then vaults herself over it.

  My trip over it is a hell of a lot less graceful. I toss my sword over first, barely manage to hoist myself on top of it, then I fall to the other side, the wood raking across my skin before I hit the cement sidewalk.

  I force myself to my feet, grab the sword, and sprint across the street. Kynlee runs with me, entering the shopping center’s parking lot. It’s filled with cars and witnesses, though I don’t know if the fae will give a damn about the latter.

  “They’re following us!” Kynlee yells, the first note of panic entering her voice.

  “Get down. Crawl,” I say when we reach the first line of cars. I lead her on a zigzag through the parked vehicles. If the fae can’t see us, they can’t fissure on top of us.

  I pause in between a sedan and an SUV. The taller profile of the latter casts a shadow over us but the cement is still scalding hot. It’s been baking in the hot Vegas sun all day.

  Kynlee looks at me. She’s biting her lower lip and trying not to put her hands on the ground. Or her feet. I’m just now noticing she’s not wearing shoes. Damn.

  The SUV beeps.

  Double damn. We don’t have time to scurry to another hiding place, a woman with a shopping bag comes around the back of the vehicle, then freezes when she sees us.

  I grimace when she drops the bag, then backs away, but what was I expecting? I have a sword in my hand, and I’m pretty sure my face is scratched up from my slide over the fence.

  I curse again then pull Kynlee up.

  “In the store! Hurry!” I yell, catching only the briefest glimpse of the elari as I turn and run.

  We make it to the wide sidewalk, but the fae fissures in front of us, cutting off our path.

  “Can you fissure inside?” I ask Kynlee, not taking my eyes off the elari.

  “Maybe, but—”

  “Do it.” I bring my sword up as he rushes me.

  He snarls tchatalun as he swings. I block his attack, but my angle of defense is wrong. His blade slides off mine, slashing down my left knee, which I’ve left too far forward.

  He swings again. I backpedal under the blow, step off the curb, and lose my balance.

  I land hard on my back, my head slamming into the concrete. I blink black splotches from my vision, look up, and see the elari sneering down at me.

  He smiles. I do, too. Then, sweetly, I say, “Go to hell,” because I see Aren step behind him.

  The elari’s sneer turns into a gasp of shock as Aren’s blade slides through him. A second later, his body poofs into a soul-shadow.

  Aren reaches through the white mist and lifts me to my feet.

  “You okay?” he asks between quick, shallow breaths.

  “Me?” I touch his face. “God, Aren, you were already hurt.”

  “I couldn’t . . .” He fades off, maybe because he doesn’t have enough air to speak, maybe because he doesn’t have the words. Instead, he pulls me into his embrace.

  I wrap my arms around him, hug him tight. Over his shoulder, a number of humans gape at me. Someone asks if this is a prank or a TV show. Fae are naturally invisible in my world unless they choose to be seen by un-Sighted humans. They didn’t see me fighting the elari. They don’t see Aren holding me now. They see a crazy woman with a
sword. Right now, I don’t give a damn.

  Aren stiffens. I move back slightly, just enough to see his gaze is focused behind me.

  “Inside,” he says.

  I keep hold of his arm as I turn. It’s Nimael . . . and Cardak. The false-blood himself came to kill us.

  “Come with me,” I say, pulling Aren toward the entrance. He resists.

  “You’re hurt, Aren. They’re not.”

  His jaw clenches, but he nods, lets me pull him inside the automatic doors, and into . . . the electronics store.

  Crap. It’s wall-to-wall tech: flat-screen TVs, sound systems, computers, laptops, even refrigerators and freezers. Aren sways under the bombardment of it all. Even Kynlee looks uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the aisle.

  I look over my shoulder, praying Nimael and Cardak won’t risk this much tech. They’re standing just on the other side of the threshold.

  “Hey, you can’t bring that in here,” a human, one of the store clerks, says, eyeing my sword. Most people in here are smart. They’re backing away.

  “Sorry,” I say, keeping my arm relaxed at my side. I don’t want to look threatening, but I’m not about to let it go, especially not when Cardak cautiously steps into the store.

  “Damn it,” I mutter. “Come on.”

  I pull Aren toward the back of the store. He’s way off-balance. If Caelar hadn’t beaten the hell out of him less than twenty-four hours ago, he wouldn’t be affected quite this badly, but this isn’t good for him. I need to get him and Kynlee out of here as soon as I can.

  Kynlee glances behind us. “They’re both coming!”

  “In here.” I lead us through swinging doors and into the store’s back room. It’s filled with boxed electronics, but there should be an exit somewhere.

  A few TVs and computers are plugged in along the right wall, awaiting repairs it looks like. A workbench is behind them, and an employee drops his screwdriver as he leaps to his feet.

  “Is there an exit this way?” I ask him. He nods, then he hurries back the way we came.

  He passes Nimael and Cardak. My heart pounds, hoping they don’t turn their swords on him.

  They don’t. Nimael opens a fissure. I hear the sharp shrrip of him reappearing behind us. We’re sandwiched in.