The Shattered Dark
Page 60

I take a step toward them. I know what it’s like to kill, though. It’s not something I want to do again. The fae I sent to the ether in Belecha almost three weeks ago still haunts me. Despite everything Nakano’s done, his death will as well.
I reach behind my back, wrapping my hand around the hilt of my dagger.
Nakano rises from his knees to his feet. “Put the gun down, boy. Go back to that school of yours and ignore the war I’ve been fighting for you.”
“I tried to fight it with—”
“And you failed,” Nakano cuts him off.
“You have to stop this,” Lee says. “The fae aren’t anyone’s demons but your own.”
He lowers his gun, damn it. I’m going to have to do this.
“You’re as weak as your brother turned out to be.” Nakano’s voice is dripping with disgust now. Lee’s knuckles go white on the grip of his weapon.
Nakano notices that, too. He sneers. “You can’t kill your own father.”
A shot rings out, thundering through the basement. The bullet hits Nakano’s shoulder, throwing him against the wall below the staircase. Lee didn’t fire the weapon, though.
Nakano’s startled gaze swivels to Naito.
“He can’t kill you,” Naito says. “But I can.”
He fires his gun again.
I can’t look at the shattered shell of Nakano’s skull, so I focus on Aren as he helps Naito all the way to his feet. Naito is deathly pale—Aren’s magic can’t replace blood loss—but his eyes are determined and cold. Not satisfied, though. His father’s death won’t bring Kelia back.
“Let’s go,” Naito says. He takes an unsteady step toward the stairs. Aren tries to keep him balanced, but he looks just as weak as Naito.
I slide my dagger back into my scabbard and glance at Lee, who’s staring at his father’s remains.
“Help your brother,” I order.
Lee looks up, blinking. He’s shell-shocked, I think. We don’t have time for that.
I grab his arm and shove him toward Naito. Moving seems to snap him out of his daze. He tucks his gun into his waistband, then puts Naito’s arm over his shoulder. But Naito doesn’t budge.
“You with us or the Court fae?” he asks.
Lee clenches his jaw. “Right now, I’m with you. Six men stayed here with Dad. They’re—”
“They’re dead,” Aren says when I reach his side. He looks like hell. The edarratae are angry on his skin, and his eyes are as red as Lee’s were when I first saw him. I have to get him out of here.
“Come on,” I say, looping my arm around his waist. He doesn’t lean on me, but he does let me guide him to the staircase. Lee leads Naito up ahead of us. We make it halfway before Aren’s knees buckle. I’m there, catching him.
“Sidhe,” he says. His voice cracks. What the hell is in this place? Tech gives fae headaches, makes it harder for them to fissure, or use magic. It doesn’t weaken them like this.
“We just need to get outside,” I tell him.
I try to move him forward again. He doesn’t budge.
“McKenzie,” he says, reaching up to cup my cheek. He doesn’t say he loves me, but the words are there in his eyes. I feel them. This is the man who will do anything for me, even wait a decade while I decide if I’m going to let myself fall in love with him. But I have fallen for him. I can’t deny that, and I can’t walk away from him.
I kiss him. It’s brief because we have no time, but it’s deep. It’s a kiss that says he’s forgiven. It says I want him, and it says he better damn well survive this.
“Come on.” I half carry him the rest of the way up the steps.
“Aren!” Trev’s voice comes from the lodge’s exit.
“Don’t come in here!” Aren orders. We move past the computers and plastic tables. When we’re almost to the door, Aren draws his sword. “The remnants?”
A quick nod from Trev. “Nalst brought back reinforcements.”
I hear it as we step outside, the sharp clap of metal against metal. I don’t see Naito or Lee, just dozens of fae fighting each other. They don’t come near this building—Aren’s an idiot for doing so—but they’re everywhere. Their fissures brighten the night more than the moon. I’m going to have to make a run for it, try to get out of here before they spot me. We came from the east. That trail is covered in fighting fae, but Naito mentioned an older trail, one that will take me down to the same parking lot I saw when we first fissured here. I need to find it.
“Can you fissure?” I ask Aren.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice pinched. He tightens his grip on his sword. “I’ll keep them away from you.”
Fighting without being able to fissure is a huge handicap for a fae, even for Aren.
I draw my dagger. This is all going to go horribly wrong.
A few steps out of the building, and Aren is able to walk without support, thank God, but his forehead is still creased. His edarratae are still going crazy.
His reflexes are slow, too. He doesn’t react quickly enough when a fissure rips through the air in front of us.
If Naito didn’t step to my side at that moment, if his gun weren’t already in his hand, Aren and I would both be dead. As soon as the In-Between releases the remnant, his blade arcs toward us. Naito fires, and the force of the bullet knocks the fae off his feet.
Naito takes two more steps forward, fires again. A second later, the remnant disappears into the ether.
“Go,” Naito orders. “I’ll cover you.”
“Where’s Lee?” I ask, but Aren is shoving me forward.
Another fissure opens in front of us. Trev.
Aren mutters a prayer of thanks to the Sidhe. Then he’s intercepting the attacks of the remnants who appear around us. Trev is, too, but I yell his name.
“Burn it down,” I order when he turns.
He spares me a scowl, fissures, then, when he reappears, says, “Lena doesn’t want—”
“Burn it down,” I say again, not caring that Lena doesn’t want to draw the attention of normal humans. “They’ll make more serum if you don’t.” I have the tablet computer in my sketchbook, we need to destroy the rest of the research, and we need to get rid of the body in the basement.
As soon as I see the flames rise from his palm, I concentrate on finding the trail Naito mentioned. I spot it on the edge—the very edge—of the cliff.
“There,” I point it out to Aren.
“Go,” he says, then he turns in time to block a remnant’s attack. It won’t take him any time to catch up with me, so I head toward the trail at a full sprint.
And skid to a stop when a fissure splits the air in front of me.
The remnant is on me, tackling me to the ground as I draw my dagger. When I try to bring it around between us, he easily grabs my wrist.
I tighten my grip, throw my hip into him, and we roll. We stop just before we reach the edge of the cliff, and my heart’s pounding. I’m not strong enough to fight off the fae; I’m buying time until someone can help me, but the remnant’s bending my wrist back. If he bends it any farther, the joint will snap. I can either give in to him, or let him break my arm. Either way, I’m going to end up dead or the remnants’ prisoner.