The Sharpest Blade

“I told you I was going with you.”

My eyebrows go up. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he insists. Then he says, “I think I did. Or I was going to before the door flew open.”

“Really?” I ask, letting doubt creep into my voice.

He gives me a small smile. “I swear it.”

Damn, I’ve missed him. Even with his lip busted and swollen, I want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him until he feels nothing but chaos lusters on his skin.

“You should have told me why you were keeping your distance from me,” I say. “I’m still pissed at you for that.”

“I told you it was the life-bond.”

“But neither of you told me our lives were linked.”

“Would it have changed anything?” he asks. Before I can answer, he says, “It wouldn’t have. It would have only made you worry more. And I was trying to find a way to end it without killing either of you.”

“I could have helped—”

“That’s another reason I didn’t tell you,” he says. “If you had started asking questions about life-bonds, you would have raised suspicions.”

I sink back in my chair. “You still should have told me,” I say, this time halfheartedly.

“I also wanted to be sure you couldn’t work things out with Taltrayn.” There’s a question in his voice, and a note of foreboding, as well.

My attention turns inward, toward Kyol. He’s still in the Realm and still okay. There’s an occasional blip in the life-bond, a tiny leak of emotion that I equate with surprise, but I’m not worried about him. He’s okay, and I’m hoping those blips are a result of finding incriminating information on the false-blood.

Kyol feels my attention, though, so I do my best to block him out and refocus on Aren. The small smile I give him is sad, regretful even, because I still hate hurting Kyol.

“Kyol and I worked things out,” I tell him. “We—”

A slash of light splits through the air in the center of the backyard. A fae steps out of it. A fae I don’t recognize.

Aren and I both leap to our feet. The fae’s gaze locks on us the instant mine locks on the name-cord in his hair: red and black. He’s elari.

He fissures out before my next breath, and Aren curses.

“Lena!” he yells, grabbing my arm as he reaches for the back door.

“I can map his shadows,” I say.

“Did he go to the Realm?” Aren demands.

I look over my shoulder, see the shadows shift and twist. “Yes.”

“Then I can’t fissure after him yet.” He slams open the door. “Come on.”

Lena’s on her feet.

“A scout,” Aren says, cutting of her question. “Can you fissure?”

“Not far,” she answers. “How did he find us?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s going on?” Nick asks.

“The elari know we’re here,” Aren says. He reaches down behind the back of the couch where his and Lena’s weapons belts are lying. He tosses Lena’s to her and fastens his around his waist, all without a grimace of pain.

Nick curses under his breath then, “Kynlee! Kynlee, in the truck. Now!”

“What?” she yells. She’s not in the living room. Her voice comes from down the hall.

“Hison?” Lena asks, buckling her belt.

Aren shakes his head. “If Hison betrayed us, the elari would know we were here. They’re guessing, testing out anchor-stone locations and rumors. McKenzie, you have a car?”

Anchor-stones.

“Shit,” I say out loud. Lena meets my eyes. A second later, she gets it. I dumped her anchor-stones out so I could draw Nimael’s shadows on the pouch that held them. The elari must have found them.

“Keys are in my room,” I say, heading that way and running into Kynlee.

“What’s happening?” she asks, as I steady her.

“Go with your father,” Aren says. “The elari will follow us, not you, but you can’t come back—”

The backyard erupts with light. It’s like a flash bomb going off, there are so many elari. One, maybe two dozen.

“If we’re separated, we meet at Naito’s,” Aren says, drawing his weapon as the elari burst inside.

They break through the windows and kick open the door.

“Kynlee!” Nick shouts.

“Oh, crap,” his daughter says.

I grab her arm, pulling her out of the hall. The only reason we’re not already dead is the silver Nick’s hidden in the insulation. The elari can’t fissure behind us.

But they can rush in and divide us: me, Kynlee, and Aren on one side, Nick and Lena on the other.

“Taltrayn?” Aren demands, standing between us and the approaching fae.

“On his way,” I say. I’ve let him feel every ounce of my fear.

Aren nods. “Run. Get Kynlee out of here.”

The first fae attacks him, then the second. I don’t know how he’s able to block their blows, but he does, his blade ringing off theirs and countering.

I chuck a lamp—the nearest object I can find—at a third elari, keeping him away from Aren. I don’t want to leave Aren and Lena, but I can’t put Kynlee’s life at risk either.

The third fae sneers at me, bypasses Aren, and hefts his sword.

Shit!

I shove Kynlee behind me as I back toward the front door. The fae doesn’t charge forward—I think the silver and the tech is making him cautious—but even at his stalking pace, he’s quicker than me.

I turn to reach for the doorknob. When I do, I see Nick’s shotgun propped in the corner.

The elari attacks. I block his swing with the shotgun’s barrel, cock it, then pull the trigger.

And it slams hard into my shoulder, knocking me into the wall.

“That’s not how you hold it,” Kynlee says, grabbing the weapon from my hand. She turns, presses it against her shoulder, aims, and fires.

Then she fires again.

And again.

Other shots ring out from the living room—Nick has a gun—and a surge of emotion tells me Kyol just entered this world. Better odds, but not great.

“I’m out,” Kynlee says, lowering the shotgun.

I ignore the throb of pain in my shoulder, grab her arm. “Let’s go.”

We run out the front door. It’s the middle of the day, but the street is empty save for my car parked on the curb. I don’t have my keys. Nick’s garage door is still down. We’re going to have to—

An elari steps out of the house.

“Just run!” I yell. “Run!”

I shove Kynlee toward the side of the house, where we’ll be out of the fae’s line of sight, but we’re only clear for half a second. He reappears before we reach the gate to the neighbor’s backyard. When he opens a fissure again, I reach down, grab a shovel lying against the base of the house, and swing it as hard as I can as I turn.

The elari appears exactly where I thought he would, and the metal shovel slams into his head.

I swing again before he reorients himself. His head cracks. His face is bloody and cut.

A third swing, and he drops his sword. I grab it as he’s scrambling toward his fissure. He disappears before I can drive the blade through his heart.