by C. K. Sorens
Brandt’s grip shifted on the knife. He knew how to hold it, how to use it. Where had he learned that?
Aaron reached toward Ember. He jolted her shoulder. Her body’s reaction was passive. She would not wake up.
He grabbed the rough fibers of the rope and imagined tying it around Ember’s wrists, how it would rub against her skin like sandpaper. The point of the blade rose a fraction.
“Why do you need her tied up to talk to her?”
“Verge.” Brandt stared at Aaron, his breathing loud, his voice scratchy. “I get it now. First she kicks me out, then she goes after my best friend.”
“That is not what happened. I went after her to find you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that makes even more sense. Then she hexed you.”
Aaron stiffened at the sharp turn of Brandt’s logic.
“What are you talking about?”
“Dude. It’s okay. I’ll fix it.” Brandt stepped over Ember’s legs and Aaron stood up to face him.
“What—”
Brandt stabbed the knife deep into the top of Aaron’s thigh. Aaron cried out in pain and shock, his hands pressed against fresh blood.
“Sorry, man, I’m so sorry, but I don’t know how strong her spell is and I can’t have you helping me, not messed up like you are.”
Aaron could only gape as the weight of Brandt’s fist drove into his jaw.
21
Ember
Ember woke up to a dull ache, grateful the sharp edges and constant pressure had eased. She shifted on the hard ground. Her choice of bedding did not help her feel less sore. How long had she been asleep? And out in the forest?
She tried to sit up, but her arms stuck. They contorted behind her back, awkward and useless. She twisted her wrists, froze when rope rasped against skin.
Her hands were tied. Okay.
Ember stilled her movement and listened to the world around her. Calling out wouldn’t benefit her if no one was there to help. She also didn’t want her attacker to know she was awake until… what? She got more information? The best plan was to let them believe she was knocked out until the moment they were ready to untie her.
“Ahh, shit, Aaron.” Wait. Was that Brandt? “Blood is soaking your pants.”
“That’s what happens when you get stabbed.” Aaron’s voice strained with pained fatigue.
“Yeah. Sorry I hit you, too. I thought… well, I’m glad you’re okay. You took that punch like it was just another bounce against the barrier.”
“I’ve had a boxing lesson recently,” Aaron said.
What in the realms had happened while she’d been passed out? Ember gave in and opened her eyes. It was difficult to see, but she guessed she lay on the edge of No Man’s Land. Aaron leaned against a fallen trunk, one knee bent, the other stretched out. Brandt stood off center, closer to her than his friend and back-lit by the flashlight he held. He turned the beam onto Aaron’s legs, and Ember’s breath caught. That looked like a lot of blood.
“Here.” Brandt searched his pockets. “This was to gag her, but you need it more.” He pulled out a strip of cloth and strode to Aaron’s side. “Do you want—”
“I got it.” Aaron snatched the bandana and tied it at the top of his thigh with a grunt. “So I can leave? You don’t mind?”
“Yeah, go. Take care of yourself. We can catch up later.”
“You’re just going to wait for your friend?”
“Aaron, man, get out of here before you bleed to death.”
Aaron scrambled to his feet. His eyes flickered toward Ember, but returned to Brandt. He tested his weight on his leg, hissed through gritted teeth, then set off.
He left her there, tied up with Brandt, the guy who was pissed with her.
Ember hoped Aaron got hopelessly lost in the dark.
Unless he found help. Then let him go straight and true.
The flashlight dazzled her vision, a reminder she should pretend to sleep. Too late now. Brandt towered over her and kept her blinded.
“See him leave you? Yeah, that’s because of me. His actual friend.” Ember remained silent, mostly because he was only making half sense. The part she understood snuffed her little spark of hope.
Ember reinforced her wish that Aaron lose his way.
“You think a day of chasing your tail matters? He was only looking for me. He found me, too.” A chest thump echoed the pride Brandt laced into his words. “I’m not sure what you thought to get out of him. Street cred? A kid with more human blood than mutt? You’re not even his type.”
Ember’s brow furrowed. “Brandt, are you okay?”
“Okay? Okay! That’s rich coming from the person who caused all this.”
“Are you hurt?” She asked because he clearly looked for some reaction, some connection, or he wouldn’t ramble so much. If she calmed him, pretend to care, he might untie her. He had, at the very least, stopped light blinding her. “We can find help—”
“Nobody hurt me. I got away.” His glare burned with hate. “You won’t.”
Brandt ran a hand over his face, lengthened each of his features. He dropped to the ground beside her, propped himself against the tree. Ember twisted her torso to put a few more inches between them. Brandt’s hands trembled and his flashlight danced, illuminated the dark circles under his eyes.
“I’m so tired. But that’s okay. After this I can go home and sleep in a fading bed again.”
Brandt leaned his head back and fell asleep.
Ember squinted, did not trust his deep breathing or the sudden slack in every muscle of his body. No one passed out that fast. Did they?
She watched for a few more minutes, then struggled into a sitting position, winced at the strain and wished she’d taken Chase up on more boxing lessons. Brandt didn’t stir despite her movement or the corresponding noise.
Ember almost pitched forward while standing up, but stumbled into a tree. Her shoulder jammed against the unforgiving trunk and kept her upright. She found her balance, cheek pressed into the valleys and peaks of the thick, rough bark, and stood.
There wasn’t enough light to check for directions. She assumed Aaron headed toward Town. Fae land was forbidden to her. She turned her back against the direction she thought led to Center, irritated at her obedience, compelled by a need to follow the rules after so many disasters.
She wouldn’t take Aaron’s path. Ember couldn’t be certain of his motivations and didn’t know if he was reliable. Other humans wouldn’t save her, and Susan wasn’t able to in her delicate state. That left the Witches, a group she had a decent shot with, especially if Devi had ended up in Ember’s debt.
A soft snore vibrated through Brandt. Her cue to get moving and fast, not sure if the noise of her departure would penetrate his nap. Ember twisted her arms while she walked and tested the rope. All she earned were sore wrists. She needed to be free, craved speed so she could put yards instead of feet between her and Brandt. How far away was the Circle? She might run into one of their patrols. She could do this.
A hand clutched the length of her trailing hair and yanked.
Ember’s shriek dissolved into a deep sob. Of course, he caught her. He ran every fading day of his life.
The knife was unexpected. He pressed the blade against her ribs. Fingers twisted in her hair and secured her against him, his mouth hot and sickly humid against her ear.
“Sorry, but you’re going in the wrong direction. Besides, we can’t go anywhere without this knife or the Witches will find us.
“S-so, it’s just to hide us?” She choked on the words. Her lungs ached from her rush through the forest. Brandt lifted the blade inches from her face.
“It cuts real nice, too,” he promised. Ember closed her eyes, swallowed her cry. Aaron’s leg.
Ember hooked her foot behind Brandt’s, then slammed them both backward. He grunted, took the brunt of their fall, stunned enough to let go of her hair. She rolled away from his knife hand until her legs were up and ready to kick and defend. Brandt scrambled on all f
ours, and shoved her calves to the side. His knee landed on her stomach, his fist gripped her shoulder, the blade against her neck.
“This will be easier if you aren’t bleeding or knocked out, but I can carry your wounded ass through this forest if you make me.”
He added pressure to the knife. The flow of power inside her twisted. Internal energy she associated with the border retracted from the weapon like prey recognizing a predator. But it had come to her defense and stiffened between her and Aaron.
Something was not right, something more than a pissed off bouncer.
“Who let you back in?”
“Someone a hell of a lot nicer than you,” Brandt said. “He even helped me so the kumbaya spell the Fae set doesn’t blur my mind again.”
“Kumbaya?” Ember felt lost, not sure she followed him.
“Yeah. You know about that, too? So we don’t fight too hard at having mages take over more than half our land?”
Ember shook her head, more to relieve a headache than in answer. Brandt took it as one, anyway.
“Well, maybe they cast that on you, too. Or maybe you don’t need it. Doesn’t matter. The point is, my friend wants to meet you, but first, you and I have some unfinished business.”
Ember’s stomach sunk. Unfinished business was never pleasant. If she stayed alert, she might escape Brandt again and hide this time instead of run, preferably before they met up with his mysterious benefactor. Instinct flared and cautioned that whoever this secret, obviously magical stranger was, they were the exact opposite of nice.
Ember stumbled when Brandt shoved her forward. He held her hair like a leash. The hand with the knife rested against her ribs as Brandt kept their bodies close.
I take it back. Let Aaron’s path be the right one. Let his leg hold strong. Somehow, let him find Chase.
Please.
22
Aaron
Aaron liked to win. He liked to train to overcome. Pain was a sign of power for him, that he pushed his body further, faster, harder even when it fought back. His teammates hated his drive during practice, depended on it during games. It’s how he earned the title of captain.
He imagined his awkward stride and the weakness in his thigh was from one too many leg presses in the gym. His lack of energy from a ten-mile run. The stress on his body meant nothing against the promise of success.
This would be his most important win. He refused to lose.
Aaron burst past the tree line. He’d misjudged, came out closer to his back yard than Ember’s. He adjusted, grit his teeth and forced his vision to tunnel toward the goal ahead.
The door to the underground stuck. Aaron’s heart stuttered, afraid it was locked until it wrenched open on a desperate pull. Aaron shouted into the passageway, not knowing if anyone heard him past the steel portal at the other end of the hall. The wall held him up when his wounded leg dragged, his vision pin-holed against the struggle.
No, not done yet.
“Chase!” He called, air forced so firmly that his lungs flattened and he coughed in response to the negative pressure. “Chase!”
His knee buckled, fingernails bent back as he scrambled for purchase on the wall.
“Whoa, there.” A beefy set of hands caught under Aaron’s arms, slowed his fall from a crash to a sit. Aaron blinked away the blur, made out Keegan’s wide features.
“Chase,” Aaron rasped.
“Wrong guy. Keegan, remember?” Aaron nodded, his grip clutched Keegan’s forearm with the force of urgency.
“Ember.”
This time Keegan understood. He turned and opened the door, only three feet away from where Aaron had fallen.
He’d almost made it. He’d made it far enough.
“Chase isn’t here, yet.” Keegan’s tone flattened along with the line of his lips. He chose one of the couches in the middle to drop Aaron onto, then ran to the kitchen for towels.
Aaron looked around to see not only was Chase gone, but so was everyone else, other than Keegan. The movement sent blackout pain behind his eyes. He groaned, his hand clenched against his hip and he tilted his head back, breathed deeply to fight the nausea.
Chase appeared from one of the doorways.
“Keegan, I need—”
“Aaron’s hurt,” Keegan interrupted, running back to the couch with the towels. “Ember’s in trouble.
Chase wasted no time. He knelt on the floor at Aaron’s side, moved the human’s hand out of the way and pulled the jean fabric apart to check out the wound.
Aaron was strong. He did not swoon. Except for when he lost about a gallon of blood and most of the feeling in his leg until it screamed to life when someone pressed on it. Then he might swoon.
Chase leaned in, watched Aaron’s eyes focus and clear.
“Is Ember hurt?”
“Not when I left.”
“Could she be?” Aaron frowned, thought about what Brandt had said.
“Not yet. She’s with—”
Chase pulled back and asked Keegan for water and hard liquor, cutting off Aaron’s attempt to explain. The words flew further from his mind when he felt wiry fingers at his belt buckle. He struggled to sit, pressed up with his good leg, and watched Chase working to get his pants off.
“What—”
“Can you push up?” Chase asked. “Once I untie this handkerchief, the blood will gush. You’ve lost a ton already. Can you do it or does Keegan?”
“But Ember—”
“You, or Keegan, or your leg.” The words stopped Aaron’s protest and his choice.
Aaron did not like to lose, especially when they were talking about his limb.
“Yeah. I got it.”
“Go.” Chase untied the cloth in one pull. Aaron thrust his hips and cried out as his jeans tore from skin, glued by his blood. Chase left the waistband at Aaron’s knees before the Halfer’s palm pressed into the wound.
“Whiskey,” Chase demanded. “And get him something to bite.”
The alcohol burned down to Aaron’s bones where Chase poured it over the deep cut. Keegan threw a wooden spoon into his mouth just before his teeth clashed with enough force to crack the handle. Aaron held on to it against nausea and faint, watched the pale gold liquid mix with coppery blood and spill onto the couch in a muddy mess.
Chase tugged a velvet pouch from around his neck. He dumped out a handful of different stones, searched for something purple and another that looked like a lump of frosted glass. The hand with the gems slapped on top of the one staunching Aaron’s wound, and Chase chanted.
The healing was raw and forceful. Chase’s voice grew louder against Aaron’s guttural cry. Keegan sat on Aaron’s calves. One arm reached around Chase to push Aaron’s torso down when he tried to sit up.
Chase fell back to the floor, the two gems lost somewhere beside him.
“Sorry that sucked. I’m not a full Wizard, clearly, but I wanted to make sure the muscle healed right. I know how you jocks get when you can’t play anymore.”
Keegan lifted his weight from Aaron’s body. After handing Aaron a cup of water with a trembling hand, Chase toasted the air with his own glass, and downed the liquid in thick, long gulps. Exhausted, still in shock, Aaron found himself mesmerized by the bob of Chase’s Adam’s apple, then coughed and focused on his own water, though he didn’t want it.
“Drink,” Keegan ordered. “Just like after a game.”
Aaron jerked a nod, took a small sip before thirst caught up and he tipped it back in a direct copy of Chase.
The fog cleared as Aaron drank and his body reacted to the promise of replenished liquid. He realized he was half naked. Using the clean part of a towel to dry off as quickly as he could, Aaron shimmied back into the ruined fabric of his jeans. Decent once again, he offered his cup to Keegan who refilled it from a banged up pitcher.
“I’d appreciate you not saying anything about my Working magic,” Chase asked. “Only Keegs here knows of all the Halfers.”
Aaron nodded, his eyes cl
osed as he breathed through the adrenaline crash.
“You said something about Ember.”
Chase’s reminder slapped Aaron in the face. How could he forget? Asshole status retained, Aaron wiped drips of water from his chin with a curse, pressed against the back of the couch to get up. Keegan’s free hand landed on his head and pushed him back.
“Don’t make me tell Keegan to sit on you again,” Chase suggested with a wry twist to his mouth. “Just talk.”
“Brandt has her. He got back in somehow.”
“Where is she?” Chase asked.
“In the forest.”
“That is the least helpful bit of information.”
“No,” Aaron challenged. “I know how to get there. I’ve been there and back. Besides, it’s… weird. Nothing grows there. I swear the wind even stopped—”
Chase surged to his feet, yanked his zipper to his chin. “No Man’s,” he announced. Aaron swatted Keegan’s hand away and stood up before they restrained him again.
“No,” Chase ordered.
Aaron scowled. He’d given the guy his due earlier while here with Ember. That did not give him the right to order Aaron around like he was one of his other lackeys.
“I’m going.”
“You’ll fall behind.”
Aaron snorted, arms crossed over his chest. The skin on his torso had started to warm and it felt oddly shaped, like the Witch’s drawing. Probably his body trying to recover. He ignored it like the order to stay behind. He stared Chase down, dared him to think any of his guys could outrun him, out-stamina him, hurt or not. Aaron did not lose.
Chase softened his approach, but not his resolve. “I fixed a cut, stitched your muscle, but replacing lost blood is beyond me.”
“I’ll lose something more if I don’t go.”
“Ember,” Chase guessed. Aaron jerked a nod. “You’ve known her for a day.”
“I fading left her with a psycho,” he ground out. “I can’t leave it at that.”
“I’ll take it from here. It’s why you came to me. So sit the verge down.”