The Shadow Reader

Page 24

“You’ll fissure out as soon as you’re able to,” Naito’s voice carries down from the third floor.
“You know better than that.” Kelia descends the stairs after him.
“They won’t kill me.”
“That’s a lie. If you shoot at them, they’ll shoot at you.”
He reaches the second-floor landing, grips the rail. “Then get out of here so I don’t have a reason to shoot.”
“Not without you.”
“Damn it, Kelia,” Naito explodes. “My father will take his time slaughtering you!”
A throat clears. I glance to my right, see Aren standing in the bathroom doorway. “You two will have to fight about this later. I need you at the back door, Naito. Kelia, you stay with Sethan.” He holds up his hand when she starts to protest. “Just until he fissures out. After that, do as you please. McKenzie.” He turns to me, opens his mouth to say something, stops. He clears his throat again. “Stay away from the windows.”
“They’re coming!” someone shouts from downstairs.
Aren sprints for the staircase.
“You’ll fissure out,” Naito says, then he grabs Kelia by the nape of her neck and pulls her into a fierce kiss.
She looks breathless when he releases her, slightly disoriented when he rushes off to chase Aren down the stairs. After a moment in which she masks her emotions, she turns to me. “Sethan’s upstairs. Come on.”
By “upstairs” Kelia means the attic. We climb the ladder to the low-ceilinged loft. Lena’s up here, too. She hands Kelia a sword, then gives me a glare that seems to trigger a rumble of thunder. The soft pitter-patter of rain begins on the rooftop. It’ll wash the silver dust out of the air and off the inn’s outside walls.
I take a half step away from Lena, afraid she’ll accidentally open a fissure right where I’m standing. Her edarratae flare, but no slash of light breaks through the attic’s dim glow.
“It might take some time,” Sethan says.
Lena paces. “We don’t have time. The humans’ guns are more accurate; they have more ammunition. Aren’s not invincible—”
“I know that.”
“He takes too many risks. He never should have brought her here.”
Stress doesn’t do good things for my patience. I cross my arms and meet her glare. “This isn’t my fault.”
“They’re your people,” she says. “It was your tech that led them here.”
“Your people.” I make the words sound like a racial slur. “Kidnapped me. And the vigilantes are no more my people than they are Naito’s.”
“Yet you were going to shoot us all so you could escape.”
I snort. “No, not all of you. Just you.”
A flash to my right cuts off Lena’s retort. A fissure rips through the air beside Sethan. After a moment of stunned silence, he nods to his sister, steps into the light, and disappears. Lena opens her own exit a second later and vanishes, too. My fingers itch to draw the shadows, but I have no pen or paper. Without sketching what I see, all I know is they’ve fissured to the Realm, to a province in the west, I think.
Kelia taps her sword on the ground and stares at the space where Sethan stood.
“Naito will never forgive himself if you die,” I tell her. Her silver eyes rise to meet mine. Edarratae flash across a tensed jaw.
“Then I better not die,” she says softly. Then, more firmly, “Let’s go.”
She gestures to the ladder. I’m tempted to refuse to leave, but I saw the rage in Tom’s eyes when he sprang at me. If the other vigilantes are as mad as he was, reasoning with them won’t work.
I heave out a sigh and make my way down the ladder, then the stairs. I almost slip when I reach the ground floor. The entryway is wet. All the first floor is. There’s still some silver glistening in the water, but the rebels managed to wash most of it away.
“This way,” Kelia says.
I follow her toward the back of the inn, ducking beneath the windows we pass. Naito’s at the back door. Aren is, too. He yanks me to the floor as soon as I enter the narrow washroom.
“Stay low,” he orders.
“I am staying low,” I snap back.
A flicker of some unidentifiable emotion shines in his eyes when I move away from him.
He says something in Fae to Naito. A second later, he and Kelia open fissures and disappear.
“They’re going to create a diversion,” Naito tells me. “When they start fissuring in the clearing, we’ll run for the trail. Aren and a few others will try to keep our path clear, but don’t stop moving.”
He rises up a little to keep a watch out the small window in the back door. Tom’s pistol is in his hand. His fingers are wrapped tightly around its grip. The firm set of his jaw indicates he’s willing to use it if necessary.
“Would your father really kill you?”
He glances at me, gives a short nod. “Yeah. He would.”
“You were a vigilante when you met Kelia?”
His expression softens at the mention of her name. “Yeah.”
Gunfire strafes our side of the inn and pings off pipes in the wall. I flatten myself on the ground, close my eyes, and pray for it to stop. In a few, long seconds, it does.
Naito shakes glass from his hair. The door’s window is completely blown out now.
The silence that follows makes me uneasy, especially when it stretches out over several minutes. I want to throw open the door and take my chances, but the rational part of my brain tells me to wait. To distract myself, I ask, “You two are happy together?”
“Yeah.” He rises to peek outside again.
“Even though most fae don’t like humans?”
“Most Court fae don’t like humans,” he corrects me. “That’s the king’s fault. He thinks we’re destroying their magic.”
“We are destroying their magic.” We’re at least damaging it.
“No. It’s cyclical. The Realm’s magic grows stronger in some centuries, weaker in others.” Naito sinks back down and studies me. “Why so many questions? You thinking about getting involved with a fae?”
“Of course not,” I say quickly. I’ve heard Naito’s theory before; fae use it to excuse the little souvenirs they take back to their world.
“I highly recommend it,” he continues. “Sex with the edarratae . . .” He shakes his head and a small smile tugs at his lips. “Trust me, you’d love it. You’d never want to be with a human again.”
I glance away, hoping Naito doesn’t notice my cheeks flushing with heat. That’s when I see two big, unblinking blue eyes staring at me. Sosch. He’s huddled in the gap between the hot-water heater and the wall.
I stretch my hand out. It’s the only invitation he needs. With a chirp-squeak, he darts into my arms. The poor thing is covered in silver dust and trembling.
“He’ll slow you down,” Naito says.
He’s right. I should leave him behind, but the grudge I’ve been holding since I found him hiding in my backpack is gone. I won’t abandon him just because he belongs to Aren.
And speaking of my backpack, it was on top of the fae’s supplies in the breakfast nook. Carrying the kimki in that will be easier than running with him in my arms, so I set Sosch on the ground, ordering him to stay.