Shadowfever

This was the calling card Darroc had tacked to the front door of BB&B, demanding I come to him through the Silvers if I valued their lives.

That Barrons had left it for me now told me one thing: He had rescued my mom and dad before I’d IYD’d him into the Silvers.

But he hadn’t given me the picture as a present or to make me feel better. He’d left it for the same reason Darroc had. To make the same point.

I have your parents. Don’t fuck with me.

Okay, so he was a little pissed off at me. I could deal with that. If he’d killed me, I’d be a little pissed off, too, no matter how irrational it was. But he would get over it.

I couldn’t have asked for more. Well, I could have, like Alina back and all the Fae dead, but this was good. This was a world I wanted to live in.

My parents were safe.

I clutched the letter and photo. I hugged them to my chest. I hated that he’d stormed off and left me lying on the floor, but I had proof of his existence and I knew he’d be back.

I was the OOP detector and he was the OOP director. We were a team.

He was alive!

I wanted to stay awake all night, basking in the glow that Jericho Barrons wasn’t dead, but my body had other ideas.

The moment I stepped into my bedroom, I nearly collapsed. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since Alina’s death, it’s that grief is more physically draining than running a marathon every day. It wipes you out and leaves you bruised, body and soul.

I managed to wash my face and brush my teeth, smiling like an idiot at myself in the mirror, but flossing and moisturizing was beyond me. Too much effort. I wanted to puddle in a brainless heap, curl up in the comforting arms of the knowledge that I hadn’t killed him. I wasn’t guilty. He wasn’t dead.

I was sorry he hadn’t waited around. I wished I knew where he was. I wished I had a cell phone.

I would have told him all the things I’d never said. I would have confessed my feelings. I wouldn’t have been afraid to be tender. Losing him had clarified my emotions, and I wanted to shout them from the rooftop.

But not only didn’t I have any idea where he went at night, I could barely move. Pain had been the glue keeping my will strong and my bones together. Without it, I was limp.

Tomorrow was another day.

And he was going to be alive in it!

I stripped and crawled into bed.

I passed out while I was still pulling the covers up and slept like a woman who’d hiked through hell without food or rest for months.

My dreams were so vivid, I felt like I was living them.

I dreamed I was watching Darroc die again, enraged that his death was being stolen from me so anticlimactically, my revenge snatched away, in the pinch of a Hunter’s talons. I dreamed I was back in the Silvers, searching for Christian but never finding him. I dreamed I was at the abbey, on the floor of the cell, and Rowena came in and slit my throat. I felt the lifeblood gurgle out of me, turning the dirt floor to mud. I dreamed I was in the Cold Place, chasing the beautiful woman that I couldn’t catch up with, and then I dreamed I’d actually done it—destroyed the world and replaced it with one I wanted. Afterward, I flew over my new world, astride the mighty, ancient K’Vruck. His great black wings whipped my hair into a tangle, and I laughed like a demon while the dissonant, haunting notes of Pink Martini’s remix of “Qué Sera Sera” tinkled like a harpsichord from hell.

I slept for sixteen hours.

I needed every minute of it. The past three days were a surreal nightmare and had exhausted me.

The first thing I did when I woke up was pull Barrons’ note out from under my pillow and read it again to reassure myself he was alive.

Then I dashed down the stairs so fast I slid down the last five steps on my pajama-clad ass, desperate for confirmation that the bookstore was indeed still trashed.

It was. I did a celebratory dance in the debris.

Because it was afternoon and Barrons rarely came around until early evening, I went back upstairs and took a long, hot shower. I conditioned, exfoliated, and shaved.

I leaned back against the wall, stretched out my legs, and watched water splash over the spear strapped to my thigh, letting my mind go blank while I relaxed.

Unfortunately, my mind wouldn’t stay blank and my body wouldn’t relax. The muscles in my legs kept tensing, my neck and shoulders were tight, and my fingers tapped a fast staccato on the shower floor.

Something was bothering me. A lot. Beneath my happy surface, a dark storm was brewing.

How could anything be bothering me? My world was blue skies all the way, despite Dublin’s constant rain. How could I not be blissfully happy at this moment? It was a good day. Barrons was alive. Darroc was dead. I was no longer stuck in the Silvers, fighting myriad monsters and dodging illusions.