Shadow Bound
Page 80
“You’re not going down, and neither am I. No one can hold a grudge forever, and you were one of his favorites, right?” Ian asked, and I nodded, trying to see whatever possibility he was seeing for my future. I needed that light at the end of the tunnel. “When you bring me into the fold, all will be forgiven, and you’ll get your place back. You’ll get your job back. It’ll be just like it was before.”
I couldn’t tell whether he meant that or was just trying to calm me down. I could feel panic building beneath me, a spiral of dread and alarm waiting for me to take that final step over the edge. And once I lost control, I wasn’t sure I could ever regain it.
But that didn’t really matter. None of it mattered anymore, because of the truth I hadn’t been able to voice before. The truth I shouldn’t have voiced, even then.
“I don’t want it back, Ian. I hate him, and I’m scared that if he gives me my job back, the next time I have a chance to protect him, I just…won’t. I’ll just let the bullet fly right past me, or I’ll pull him through the shadows a second too slow.”
Pain exploded in my head, in reaction to thoughts I had no contractual right to speak, but I kept going because the pain in my head could never hurt worse than my memories. Than the gnawing deep in my gut as the nightmares and flashbacks ate at me slowly, devouring the me I’d been to make way for this new me—a whimpering coward I didn’t want to face in the mirror.
“It’ll hurt, but it’s a terminal breach, so if I can ride out the initial pain, I’ll survive, and that’s too much temptation for me to resist. I want to kill him, but I can’t. Letting him die is the best I can do.”
“So let him die.” Ian reached for me again, and again I backed away, and the walls of the narrow hallway closed in on me.
“I can’t.” I shook my head, trying to clear it. Trying to slow my breaths like Kenley had shown me. “I mean I can, but if Jake dies, everything’ll be worse. So much worse. There are clauses in place. If he dies, every contract and piece of property not already in his wife’s name automatically transfers to his heir, and we’ll be so much worse off then.”
“Who’s the heir?” Ian asked, and I almost missed the note of quiet danger his voice held. He’d stopped advancing, so I’d stopped retreating, but I couldn’t let him come any closer. This wasn’t the kind of problem a little cuddling and some vodka could fix. “Do you know who it is?”
“I know, but I can’t tell you. No one can. We’re all sworn to silence.”
“So, killing Jake Tower wouldn’t free you?”
I shook my head slowly, watching him through narrowed eyes. I could see what he was thinking. Hell, he’d practically said it. “That wouldn’t free me or anyone else. You can’t kill Jake. And I can’t let him die. And we can never, ever have this conversation again.”
Ian
Kori sat in the hallway for almost an hour, one bare foot stretched into the unlit bedroom, like just the touch of darkness soothed her.
I wanted to touch her—to hold her—so badly my arms ached from emptiness. But I was afraid to get any closer for fear that she’d bolt into the bedroom and out of the shadows before I could even call her name.
I didn’t know how to fix what was wrong with her, and it killed me to see her sitting in the corner—both literally and figuratively—when an hour before, she’d been ready to spit nails at anyone who crossed her path. I didn’t know what had triggered this meltdown, and at first I thought it was me. I thought kissing her—or maybe touching her—had triggered some memory she couldn’t conquer. And maybe that was part of it.
But when I replayed everything she’d said, I realized there was more than that. She wasn’t afraid of me. She was afraid for me. Afraid that being with her would put me in danger. And because that wasn’t a logical fear, she couldn’t be reasoned out of it. So I didn’t even try. Instead, I sat at the other end of the short hall, leaning with my back against the wall, my legs stretched out in front of me. And I talked to her.
“There are things I wish I could tell you,” I said, and she glanced up, a cautious arch of curiosity in her eyebrows.
“There are things I wish I could hear. But it’s probably better if we don’t even start down that road.”
I nodded reluctantly, and for several more minutes, we sat in silence. Then I tried again. “Do you remember much about your parents?” I didn’t think she’d answer, so when she started to speak, it took every bit of self-control I possessed to keep from cheering over my minor success.
“Mostly my mom. My dad was gone a lot.”
“Was your mom a Traveler like you?”
She exhaled in a small huff, like there was some humor in my question. “She was a Traveler, but not like me. She only walked the shadows in emergencies, and I only know that because my grandmother told me. My parents were totally paranoid about exposing us as Skilled. I didn’t even know I could travel until after they died. One day I got in trouble for using the ground beef my grandmother thawed out for dinner as viscera for my brother’s army men when I blew them up.”
“You blew them up?” I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cringe.
Kori shrugged. “With Black Cats. They’re more noise than anything, and Kris didn’t care. My grandmother was pissed, though. She grounded me, and I stomped into my room, thinking about how I’d rather be with my mom and dad, and the next thing I knew, I was in the cemetery, three feet from their graves. Twelve miles from home.”
I couldn’t tell whether he meant that or was just trying to calm me down. I could feel panic building beneath me, a spiral of dread and alarm waiting for me to take that final step over the edge. And once I lost control, I wasn’t sure I could ever regain it.
But that didn’t really matter. None of it mattered anymore, because of the truth I hadn’t been able to voice before. The truth I shouldn’t have voiced, even then.
“I don’t want it back, Ian. I hate him, and I’m scared that if he gives me my job back, the next time I have a chance to protect him, I just…won’t. I’ll just let the bullet fly right past me, or I’ll pull him through the shadows a second too slow.”
Pain exploded in my head, in reaction to thoughts I had no contractual right to speak, but I kept going because the pain in my head could never hurt worse than my memories. Than the gnawing deep in my gut as the nightmares and flashbacks ate at me slowly, devouring the me I’d been to make way for this new me—a whimpering coward I didn’t want to face in the mirror.
“It’ll hurt, but it’s a terminal breach, so if I can ride out the initial pain, I’ll survive, and that’s too much temptation for me to resist. I want to kill him, but I can’t. Letting him die is the best I can do.”
“So let him die.” Ian reached for me again, and again I backed away, and the walls of the narrow hallway closed in on me.
“I can’t.” I shook my head, trying to clear it. Trying to slow my breaths like Kenley had shown me. “I mean I can, but if Jake dies, everything’ll be worse. So much worse. There are clauses in place. If he dies, every contract and piece of property not already in his wife’s name automatically transfers to his heir, and we’ll be so much worse off then.”
“Who’s the heir?” Ian asked, and I almost missed the note of quiet danger his voice held. He’d stopped advancing, so I’d stopped retreating, but I couldn’t let him come any closer. This wasn’t the kind of problem a little cuddling and some vodka could fix. “Do you know who it is?”
“I know, but I can’t tell you. No one can. We’re all sworn to silence.”
“So, killing Jake Tower wouldn’t free you?”
I shook my head slowly, watching him through narrowed eyes. I could see what he was thinking. Hell, he’d practically said it. “That wouldn’t free me or anyone else. You can’t kill Jake. And I can’t let him die. And we can never, ever have this conversation again.”
Ian
Kori sat in the hallway for almost an hour, one bare foot stretched into the unlit bedroom, like just the touch of darkness soothed her.
I wanted to touch her—to hold her—so badly my arms ached from emptiness. But I was afraid to get any closer for fear that she’d bolt into the bedroom and out of the shadows before I could even call her name.
I didn’t know how to fix what was wrong with her, and it killed me to see her sitting in the corner—both literally and figuratively—when an hour before, she’d been ready to spit nails at anyone who crossed her path. I didn’t know what had triggered this meltdown, and at first I thought it was me. I thought kissing her—or maybe touching her—had triggered some memory she couldn’t conquer. And maybe that was part of it.
But when I replayed everything she’d said, I realized there was more than that. She wasn’t afraid of me. She was afraid for me. Afraid that being with her would put me in danger. And because that wasn’t a logical fear, she couldn’t be reasoned out of it. So I didn’t even try. Instead, I sat at the other end of the short hall, leaning with my back against the wall, my legs stretched out in front of me. And I talked to her.
“There are things I wish I could tell you,” I said, and she glanced up, a cautious arch of curiosity in her eyebrows.
“There are things I wish I could hear. But it’s probably better if we don’t even start down that road.”
I nodded reluctantly, and for several more minutes, we sat in silence. Then I tried again. “Do you remember much about your parents?” I didn’t think she’d answer, so when she started to speak, it took every bit of self-control I possessed to keep from cheering over my minor success.
“Mostly my mom. My dad was gone a lot.”
“Was your mom a Traveler like you?”
She exhaled in a small huff, like there was some humor in my question. “She was a Traveler, but not like me. She only walked the shadows in emergencies, and I only know that because my grandmother told me. My parents were totally paranoid about exposing us as Skilled. I didn’t even know I could travel until after they died. One day I got in trouble for using the ground beef my grandmother thawed out for dinner as viscera for my brother’s army men when I blew them up.”
“You blew them up?” I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cringe.
Kori shrugged. “With Black Cats. They’re more noise than anything, and Kris didn’t care. My grandmother was pissed, though. She grounded me, and I stomped into my room, thinking about how I’d rather be with my mom and dad, and the next thing I knew, I was in the cemetery, three feet from their graves. Twelve miles from home.”
