The Sharpest Blade
Page 38

A chill sweeps over my skin. “Interrogation?”
“We need to leave,” he says.
Kyol’s thoughts have turned toward me. I don’t want to distract him, so I fight to keep my emotions stable. That’s not easy, considering this is the fae I accused of intensifying the war between the rebels and Atroth’s fae so that he could make a profit. He was imprisoned because of me. He has every reason to want to cause me trouble.
But he’s sitting here half-dead on my doorstep. I can’t just turn him away.
“Why do we need to leave, Lorn?”
“The false-blood found me,” he says, his eyes closing in a grimace. “The meeting didn’t go exactly as I’d planned.”
“The false-blood? You met him? You know who he is?”
“He is the Taelith.” Lorn opens his eyes. “That’s all I know.”
“And now he knows where I live,” I say. I bite my lower lip, start to shake my head, but then stop and glare at Lorn. “How the hell do you know where I live?”
He doesn’t answer that. He just lifts one bloodied eyebrow, and his lips curve into a faint smile. Yeah, it was a stupid question. Lorn never reveals his information sources.
“How long do I have?” I ask.
“Minutes. Seconds. I’m surprised he’s not here already.”
I stare at Lorn. He managed to make his words so casual, I don’t know if he’s joking.
Crap. I don’t think he is. I think he’s serious.
My heart thumps against my chest. I draw in a deep breath, trying to slow it down and to ward off the adrenaline that’s threatening to jet through my bloodstream. I don’t need Kyol to fissure to my rescue. I need a break from his emotions, and he needs to concentrate on what he’s doing so he doesn’t get himself killed.
“You can’t fissure?” I ask Lorn.
“Not sure if I can walk at the moment.”
Fabulous. I can’t run off and leave him behind.
I grab my keys off the counter, then sidle up next to Lorn to put his arm over my shoulder. “You ready?”
Lorn nods. I count to three, then push up to my feet.
He weighs so much more than I thought he would, and he’s not even wearing jaedric or carrying a sword or dagger or anything. My quads are just barely strong enough to lift him. I so need to join a gym.
I shut my door, then we stagger to the staircase. He grips the rail, uses it as a crutch to help him down the first steps. It doesn’t help, though. We’re moving way too slow.
“You can’t even fissure to the parking lot?” I ask.
He looks down and to the right, where cars are crammed between the narrow lines.
“I’ll try,” he says, letting his arm fall from my shoulder. God, he’s really bad off. No smile, no arrogant reply, just a short, pained statement.
He clutches the rail with both hands. His magic has been weak since Kelia died. Add to that the fact that he fissured from his world to mine half-dead, and it’s obvious how much of a struggle it is to open a path to the In-Between. He manages it, though, and after the strip of white light appears on the step below him, he falls into it.
I half expect to see him rolling down the stairs, but the In-Between catches him. My gaze goes to the parking lot just as the light spits him out, face-first, on the cement. He doesn’t move.
“Shit,” I mutter.
I take the steps two at a time, beeping my car unlocked as I run to Lorn.
“Are you alive?” I ask, putting my hand on his back.
“Mostly,” he says, and I relax some. That note of amusement in his voice was more like the old Lorn.
“At least you landed next to my car,” I tell him. I focus on Kyol’s emotions as I open the passenger door. I’m going to have to give in and get him to fissure here. He’s the only way I’m able to communicate with the Realm. He’ll want to question Lorn, and Lorn will need a healer.
But I shove Lorn into the passenger seat without letting loose my emotions. Kyol is filled with the cold, calculating emotions that tell me he’s still in the midst of a fight. Plus, I don’t want him to fissure here if the false-blood might show up.
I turn on the car’s engine, put my hand on the back of Lorn’s seat so I can back out. He’s slumped against the window, his eyes closed. I can’t tell if he’s breathing.
“Don’t you die in my car, Lorn,” I say.
A smile slips through his busted lip.
“Exactly how badly are you hurt?” I ask, backing out of the parking space.
“I would very much appreciate a healer.”
“I know. I’m working on it.” I brake, then shift into drive.
And a sword slams into the hood of my car. My brain registers the three slashes of white light a second later, but the other two fae have already swung their weapons.
A blade shatters my window, tearing through the back of my seat.
I hear a scream, think that it’s mine until I realize I’ve slammed the pedal against the floor. My tires are squealing, my car lurching forward quick enough to save our lives until I ram into a parked truck.
I just barely keep my face from slamming into the steering wheel. Lorn’s too out of it to brace for the minor crash. He hits the dash the same instant the fae outside my window stabs his blade forward.
Throwing myself over the central console, I manage to shift into reverse while hitting the gas pedal. The fae—the damned elari—loses his grip on his sword when the window frame catches his arm. The blade barely misses me as it flies into the backseat.
My neck pops when I slam into a vehicle behind us. Quickly, I shift gears again. One of the elari is standing three feet away in the beams from my headlights. I stare down the fae as he stares down me. It’s Nimael, the fae who slipped away from us in Tholm, and the elari who might be the false-blood’s second-in-command. A gut instinct tells me he’s responsible for the slaughter of the women in the tjandel, and most likely the Sighted humans in London as well.
I want him dead. I want it so badly I can taste blood on my tongue.
With my left foot on the brake, I press the gas pedal with my right, revving the engine. Pure theatrics. I know Nimael will fissure out of the way before I can run him over.
My heart bangs in my chest. I need to get out of here before people leave their apartments to check on the noise, and definitely before the cops arrive, but I don’t know what the elari will do when I go. Will they try to follow me? Will they kill any humans they find? Will they—
Shit. Will they stay long enough for Kyol to fissure here? I have his complete attention now, and I’ve shattered his control so much that I can feel every ounce of his worry.
Stay away! I try to scream at him. Then I draw in as deep and calming a breath as I can manage and slam down the gas pedal.
Nimael fissures out of the way, no problem.
I check my rearview mirror. The three elari are there. They’re not pursuing us, though. They’re watching me drive away.
Beside me, Lorn murmurs something in Fae. He’s awkwardly wedged between the dash and the passenger seat. He needs help. He needs a healer. My thoughts turn back to Kyol. He must be in the Inner City. If he weren’t, he would have fissured to my apartment already.
But he’s moving. He’s trying to get outside the silver walls.