The Sharpest Blade
Page 17

But someone had to take him. If she’s not lying, then . . .
Then I don’t know what the hell happened to him.
I click off my e-mail—the three new messages I received were all spam—and scan the library. There’s no sign of Kynlee. That’s not unusual given that it’s a Saturday morning, and she’s usually only here after school. I totally abuse my position and access the library’s patron records. Her last name is Walker, her dad’s name is Nick, and apparently, they’ve lived here for at least the last six years. He’s only checked out a few books over the years, nothing interesting. Even with a fae as a daughter, he’s doing a much better job at living a normal human life than I ever did.
“Excuse me.”
I tear my gaze away from the screen. A woman is standing at the desk.
“Sorry,” I say, clicking off Nick’s account information. “Can I help you?”
Hers isn’t the last question I answer. We get busier during lunch, so I don’t get a chance to call Paige until my break. I need to tell her about my conversation with Lee, but mostly, I want to ask her about Caelar. If he is working with the false-blood, Lena needs to know—and Paige needs to stay the hell away from him and all the remnants. The false-blood is skinning humans. Paige chose her side, but she was my only human friend for almost a decade, and I’m the reason she’s become entangled in the fae’s world. She at least deserves a warning.
Paige doesn’t answer my call, though. This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since I left the Realm. I’m sure she’s probably okay—her cell phone might be dead or lost—but I can’t completely shake off the feeling of dread that crawls across my shoulders.
I leave a voice mail telling her we need to talk.
• • •
A day passes. Then another and another. I should be relaxing into my normal, human life, but every morning, I wake up more tense and stressed out than the last one. Paige hasn’t called me back. Neither has Lee, and the time I spend not working drags by almost as slowly as the time when I am. Hell, I even miss Sosch, who abandoned me when he leaped into Kyol’s fissure.
I check the time on my computer screen—it’s just after 3:00 P.M. A little less than an hour until I get off and go home to an empty apartment.
The thought has crossed my mind that today is a weekday, and if Kynlee sticks to her normal schedule, she should be here this afternoon. I have half a mind to make her take me to the Realm again. I won’t. Not only is it dangerous for both of us, but her dad seems like a sling-a-shotgun-over-his-shoulder kind of man.
Still, my gaze keeps going to the teen section. I’m curious about her, and I want to know if any other tor’um live in the area. Do they know any fae at all? Or is her dad keeping them one hundred percent isolated from her people?
“McKenzie?”
“Yes? Can I help—” I choke off my words when my gaze swings toward the voice. There, standing just in front of the reference desk, is Trev. I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but close it quickly because I’m not on reference duty alone. A librarian named Rachel is here, and since she’s not staring at Trev’s jaedric armor or protesting the presence of the sword belted around his waist, he has to be invisible. Fae almost always are when they’re in my world.
Rachel’s helping a patron, so I give Trev my best questioning look.
“We need you in Tholm,” he says.
“Tholm?” I cover that question with a cough. Trev nods. Normally, I’d balk at fissuring to that city. Tholm isn’t exactly in the middle of nowhere, but the nearest gate is in Corrist, a full day’s walk away. That’s fine if you’re fae, but not if you’re human. Twenty-something hours of nonstop walking pretty much sucks. It doesn’t, however, suck as much as watching the clock in my world while wondering what’s going on in the fae’s.
And, fortunately, tomorrow’s my day off.
I’m about to stand up when an older man approaches the desk. Trev steps out of the way at the last second.
“Can you help me find information on World War II?” the man asks.
“Um, yes,” I say. My brain is so wrapped up in the Realm and the fae, it’s hard to mentally shift gears, and his request is vague. I should ask him questions to narrow down exactly what he wants, but I just point to the nonfiction section and say, “940s.”
He thanks me and moves on, but there’s a woman in line after him, and another man waiting. It figures that we’d be busy at the most inconvenient time.
“How can I help you?” I ask the woman.
“The computer won’t let me sign in.”
“I need an answer now,” Trev says.
I throw Trev the tiniest glare, then say to the woman, “The pin number is the last four digits of your phone number.”
Nine times out of ten, that solves the problem, but I use the excuse to leave the reference desk and follow the woman to her computer terminal.
“I won’t wait any longer,” Trev grates out.
Chill out, I want to say to him as the woman sits in her chair. There’s only half an hour until I get off work. Rachel can handle the reference desk on her own. She might not even notice I’m gone. On the other hand, she might, and I’m already in trouble with Judy. I could lose my job if I leave now, but if I’m needed in the Realm . . .
There’s always a ticking clock when it comes to tracking the fae. We never know how long a target is going to stay put.
My choices are to wait half an hour and risk Trev leaving me behind or to leave, risking my job and the normal life I’ve always thought I wanted.
The seconds tick by as the woman types in her pin number. When the computer turns on, she thanks me. I nod, then look at Trev, whose expression is rigid and impatient.
After one last glance at the reference desk, I slide my keys out of my pocket. I can’t abandon the fae.
EIGHT
I DON’T KNOW if it’s the cold punch of the In-Between, the icy bite of the driving rain, or the sudden surge of Kyol’s emotions that makes my breath whoosh out of my lungs. Maybe it’s the combination of all three that throws me off-balance. I slip on the cobblestones underfoot and land on one knee, stifling a curse when my pant leg gets soaked.
By the time I get back to my feet, Kyol’s reined in his emotions. Obviously, he didn’t know I was coming to the Realm.
I draw in a deep breath, willing myself to feel nothing, then I pull up the hood of the cloak Trev gave me. He gave me a sword and jaedric cuirass, too. The latter is cinched tight around my torso, and swung over my shoulder is my leather-strapped notebook. I haven’t touched it since I moved from the hotel suite to my apartment—I almost forgot I’d stowed it under my driver’s seat—but the familiarity of it pressing against my side is oddly comforting.
Trev squats down behind a low, stone wall. Reluctantly, I do as well. We’re standing in almost an inch of cold rainwater. It seeps quickly over the top of my black dress shoes—fae always forget the shoes—instantly numbing my toes.
Lovely.
“This way,” Trev says, leading the way alongside the wall. He stays crouched down low. I’m not sure why. It’s night here, and with the rain driving down so hard, no one will see us. I can barely see the edarratae on my own skin, and that’s not an entirely good thing. If the weather doesn’t change, I’m going to have to practically be on top of any fae I track. If Trev had commented on the weather when he asked me to come to Tholm, I might have gone straight back to my desk.