Shadowfever
Page 58Fade flashed into motion and was gone.
The others followed, leaving me alone.
I dashed for the door, but it slid shut before I could get there, and I had no clue how to open it. I pressed my palm frantically to half a dozen places, with no success.
I whirled, staring into the other room. If the Sinsar Dubh got to my parents … if Fade carried it in there … if it killed them …
I couldn’t bear to think about it.
My parents were standing up, looking at me, but I knew they couldn’t see me. They were merely staring in the direction from which the gunfire had come.
The door hissed open and closed behind me.
“I have to get you out of here,” Lor growled.
I spun around, spear in my fist. “How do I know you’re not the Book?”
“Look at me. Where could I hide it?”
His pants and shirt clung to his muscular body like a second skin. I checked his shoes. Boots. “Take them off.”
He kicked them off. “Now you. Lose the coat.”
I slipped out of it.
“Skirt, too.”
“Fade left the club. They’re safe for now.”
“That’s not good enough!”
“We’ll take precautions. We’re on guard now. Someone has to carry it in. No one will enter the upper levels of the club or your parents’ cell with clothes on.”
My brows shot up. That was going to be a real shocker for my mom.
“I said lose the skirt.”
“How could Fade have passed it to me?”
“Minuscule possibility. I take no chances.”
Sighing, I unzipped and dropped it. My sweater was snug. I had on a black thong. My boots clung to the shape of my legs. No place to hide a book. “Happy?”
“Hardly.”
As I zipped my skirt back up, I took a last longing glance at my parents and turned away. My gaze hitched as it passed over Barrons’ crumpled body, and I flinched violently.
Here I was with Barrons dead. Again.
I knew he wasn’t really dead, or at least he wouldn’t be for long, but my grief was too fresh and my emotions too complicated.
“How long until he—” I broke off, horrified to hear the catch of a sob in my voice.
“I don’t, I mean, I just—shit!” I turned and beat at the wall with my fists. I didn’t care that my parents could hear the dull thud or that the wall shuddered beneath my blows. I didn’t care what Lor thought of me. I hated Barrons being dead. Hated it. Beyond reason. Beyond my understanding.
I punched until Lor caught my bloody fists and pulled me away.
“How long?” I demanded. “I want to know! Answer me or else!”
He grinned faintly. “What, you gonna feed me bloody runes?”
I scowled. “Do you guys tell each other everything?”
“Not everything. Pri-ya sounded pretty fucking fascinating to me. Never did get all the details.”
“How long? Answer me.” I used Voice to force him.
“Not sure this time. But it won’t be as long as last time. And if you ever try to Voice me again, woman, I’ll kill your parents myself.”
21
What must a prince do to get a Valentine’s Day kiss, MacKayla?”
The words floated out of the darkness, Eros skittering across my skin, pricking me with a hundred tiny little Cupid bows. Even with Pri-ya-induced immunity, I still thrill to the musical, sensual sound of V’lane’s voice. I no longer begin stripping when he appears, but deep down inside me there’s a summer girl who never stops wanting to, especially when he’s being playful, seductive.
How many Valentine’s Days in my life had ended with a kiss?
I could count them on two fingers.
I paused with my hand on the doorknob of Barrons Books and Baubles. Barrons had changed the locks on the garage and the back door, so I’d had to park the Viper in the alley and walk around to the front. It had been a difficult night. I was ready for it to end. I wanted covers over my head and deep, dreamless sleep.
Mere hours ago I’d been consoling myself that, even though Barrons was furious with me, at least I would be going to sleep tonight with the comforting knowledge that he was alive.
Right. Happy Valentine’s Day to me.
“I believe human males present flowers.”
I was abruptly wreathed in the delicate scent of roses. A bouquet appeared, tucked into my arm. Petals tickled my nose. The ground at my feet was strewn with them. Dewy, lush, they gave off an otherworldly, spicy scent.
I leaned my forehead against the diamond-paned cherry door. I could see my demolished shop through it. “Did you come here to accuse me of being a traitor, too?” It would be just like a Fae to shower me with gifts while threatening me. I was through justifying myself. Seeing Barrons’ lifeless eyes again had nearly put me back on the cliff’s edge. I had no idea why I hated seeing him dead so much, when I knew he wasn’t really. Lor had assured me he would be back, although he couldn’t say when. Why couldn’t he say when? Did Barrons’ body have to heal, and certain injuries took longer than others?
I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. Now I had two visions of Barrons to torture myself with: gutted and shot. On top of that, I was terrified for my parents. Terrified by how easily the Book had infiltrated those closest to me. First the abbey, then Darroc, Barrons, and now a threat to my parents. I could no longer dispute Ryodan’s conviction that the Book was finding me. Playing with me. But why not just kill me and get it over with? Did it really think I would—as Ryodan said—“flip”? Nothing about the Sinsar Dubh made sense. Sometimes it gave me a splitting, crushing headache and I could sense it coming a mile away. Other times, like tonight, I didn’t have a clue it was in the same room with me.
It killed everyone else it came into contact with. But not me. It hurt me, but it always left me alive. Why?
I’d demanded Lor remove Mom and Dad from Dublin. He’d refused to even consider it. Said nobody would lift a finger unless Barrons told them to. So much for their demands for my head—apparently Barrons had the final say about everything.
I could always persuade V’lane to sift in, get them, and whisk them somewhere safe, except … well, maybe it was the sidhe-seer in my blood, but I just couldn’t trust my parents to a Fae.