Sandy Williams - The Shadow Reader

“Very well,” Sethan says. “Naito.”

When Naito moves, my eyes flicker to Tom. My mistake. The moment I look away from Lena, Aren darts forward. He knocks the pistol from my hand and captures my wrist before my brain registers he’s moved. He advances and I stumble until he presses me against the wall. My arm is caught between my sweat-soaked slip and his silver-dusted chest. As his edarratae leap into me, I use my free hand to try to push him away, but my palm slips across his blood-slick shoulder. His grip on my wrist tightens.

“You’re becoming increasingly difficult to keep alive,” he says, his voice low, his eyes burning inches from mine. “Stay here. Do not move.”

My knees are jelly when he lets me go. He returns to Tom, who’s staring at me with more than a little disappointment. I don’t blame him.

“Sorry,” I mouth.

“Never hesitate,” he says. “If you have another opportunity, you take it.”

Naito retrieves the gun off the floor, flicks the safety back on, then stuffs it deep into the pocket of his jeans. “She won’t have another opportunity.”

Tom focuses on him with his one good eye.

“Kill these demons, Naito. Kill them and your father will let you come home.”

The corner of Naito’s mouth quirks up into a mirthless smile. “I think I’ll pass.”

“We outnumber you. We can wait you out. Your fae can’t fissure away for food or help. They’re going to die here. Don’t waste your life.”

Naito turns his attention to Sethan. “You think they’re working with the Court?”

“I think the Court is using them to find McKenzie,” Sethan says. “Atroth would rather have her killed than risk her helping us.”

“Atroth knows I’ll never help you,” I say. Aren throws a warning look my way, but I haven’t moved an inch from where he ordered me to stay.

“You’re mistaken.” Sethan’s words are punctuated by a rumble of thunder. His statement is so matter-of-fact I can’t come up with a response. A tiny kernel of doubt chips away at my faith.

“I’ll make a deal,” Tom says. I’m relieved when all eyes turn back to him. “I’ll talk to Nakano about letting you surrender. He might let some of you go. The women maybe.”

Naito snorts. “Clemency from my father? I’m not a child anymore, Tom. I know what kind of man he is.”

Tom wipes his sleeve across his face, smearing blood from his nose and mouth across his cheek. “But what kind of man are you? You’re going to let your girl and the human die when you might be able to help them? You prolong this fight and your father won’t have any choice but to kill all of you.”

Aren takes a step toward the vigilante. “Why are you so eager for our surrender? You have us surrounded. You said yourself you can wait us out.”

Tom crawls to his overturned chair. He rights it and then slowly pulls himself into the seat. He settles in with a grimace. “We can.”

I want to throw myself between Aren and the human. Tom’s hurt too badly. I don’t want Aren to rough him up more. I don’t want to hear him scream or smell burning flesh again, but I stay in my assigned spot by the kitchen counter.

“Something’s going to happen,” Aren says. “What?”

I start to interrupt, but a cough wracks through my chest. I cover my mouth with the back of my hand and notice my skin’s become coated with silver dust. It’s thick in the air down here and it’s probably doing some serious harm to my health. There’s no escaping breathing it in, though.

Another rumble of thunder shakes the inn. That’s when the vigilante’s lie clicks.

“It’s going to rain,” I say.

The kitchen’s inhabitants stare. I wait for one of them to ask why the hell I’m concerned about the weather, but one by one, they get it, too.

Tom bursts from his chair. “You fae-fucking bitch!”

AREN LEAPS INTO Tom’s path. The human comes to a sudden stop, his one good eye widening over Aren’s shoulder. I don’t realize he’s dead—no, dying—until Aren gives him a firm shove back. His dagger makes a sucking sound as it slides from Tom’s chest. A fountain of red spurts from the wound and splatters on the linoleum floor.

Tom collapses, and I can do nothing but stare as his life ebbs away in a puddle of crimson. This is my fault. I should have kept my mouth shut.

I’m only able to wrest my eyes away from the dead human when Naito grabs Kelia’s arm, pulling her to the kitchen sink. He twists on the faucet, cups a handful of water, and then splashes it over her shoulder, wiping at the gray dust coating her skin.

“If we clean you up and wait for the rain to settle the silver, you should be able to fissure out.”

Aren steps over Tom’s body. “If we know the storm’s coming, they know it’s coming, too. They’ll make their move before then.”

Naito cups another handful of water. “You have to hold them off. They won’t stand a chance once you can fissure. Don’t conserve your arrows. Kill anything that moves.” He abandons his method of bathing Kelia, grabs her hands, and thrusts them into the sink.

She sucks in a breath. “It’s cold, Naito.”

“I know, baby, but we need to get the silver off you.”

“A shower will be quicker,” Sethan says. “We’ll need to change into clean clothes, too, and wash the dust out of the inn.”

Aren nods. “We’ll clean up in shifts. You three first. Take McKenzie with you.”

I don’t like being shuffled up the stairs—I just want to be left alone—but I’m relieved to get away from Tom’s body. I hunker down in the hallway in the middle of the second floor, hug my knees to my chest, and listen for rain. All I hear is intermittent gunfire. I half expect to feel the pierce of bullets, but there must be enough walls and piping to keep them from passing all the way through the inn.

The fae shower and change clothes. Aren’s the last one who comes upstairs. He’s carrying a jaedric cuirass, a clean wool shirt, and pants. He doesn’t glance at me as he shuts himself inside the bathroom. I stand and start to walk farther down the hall, not wanting to be near the door when he exits. The idea of finding a closet to hide in appeals to me more than it did earlier. It’s probably the safest place for me.

“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.