The Sharpest Blade
Page 11

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.