The Sharpest Blade
Page 12

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.