She heaved herself onto her hands and knees, and the weight slid away, along with a cascade of pebbles.
Coughing, Addie turned, groping in the darkness. “Kendrick,” she sobbed. “Kendrick . . .”
The light brightened, something underneath a pile of stones making them glow. Addie shoved away rock and halted, stunned, when she saw that the light came from the Sword of the Guardian.
It lay lengthwise, unsheathed, the naked blade and hilt flashing silver fire. Addie turned her head from the sudden glare, her eyes screwing shut.
After a time, she pried her eyes open again, a crack at a time, letting herself adjust to the light. She saw that the chamber they were in was small and now crammed with even more rubble. The sword’s light illuminated it better than the brightest flashlight. By that light, Addie saw Kendrick.
He lay facedown, half buried in rock, and she realized he had been the weight she’d climbed out from under. His shirt had been torn open, revealing his spine and neck covered in blood. His white and black mottled hair, which Addie had admired since the first time she’d seen him, was now drenched with dirt and gore.
“Kendrick!” Addie shouted.
She scrambled back to him, the sword flaring with still more light. Its glow brushed the broken wreck of Kendrick’s hand that reached out toward the sword. The hand was unmoving, as was Kendrick’s entire body.
Addie quickly slid her hand to his neck, searching for a pulse. She found nothing—no beating to tell her he was still alive, no breath, nothing.
“Kendrick.” The word turned to a sob. Addie collapsed onto Kendrick’s back, choking with tears, her body watery with fear. “Kendrick, please, no. I love you so much.”
“Aw, very sweet.”
Addie jerked her head up to see Lachlan climb into the room from the direction the blast had come. The sword’s light flooded his face, half of it ruined by old scars from Kendrick’s claws.
Addie launched herself up, fury and grief giving her strength. She slipped, her leg throbbing, and fell to the rocks beside Kendrick.
“No, stay there with him,” Lachlan said. “That way I can skewer you together. Won’t that be nice?”
Lachlan reached down and snatched up the sword.
The next instant, he yelled and dropped it, wringing out his hand. Addie saw a black streak, like a brand, burned across his palm.
“Son of a fucking . . .” Lachlan snarled, and he shifted into his half-wolf, half-beast state, his T-shirt and jeans splitting as he did. His hands became wolf claws, his face fierce and terrible, half its fur gone, revealing scarred, bare skin.
Beneath Addie, Kendrick moved the slightest bit. Addie’s relief, fear, and anger twisted together until she could barely see, barely think.
“Addison,” Kendrick whispered. “Sword.”
Lachlan struck. Addie tried desperately to deflect him, but he was too swift, too strong. Lachlan’s blow landed on Kendrick’s back, claws digging in. Kendrick grunted in pain, and blood flowed where Lachlan ripped.
Kendrick needed the sword. But it was white-hot—Addie had seen it burn Lachlan. She wouldn’t be able to pick it up.
She grabbed for Lachlan, getting her fingers around the waistband of his torn jeans. She tried to pull him away from Kendrick, but she might as well have tried to pull over a well-rooted tree. Lachlan shrugged her off as though he barely felt her and went for Kendrick again.
Damn it. Addie wrapped her shirt around her hand and lunged for the sword.
As she seized the hilt, she realized it wasn’t hot at all. In fact, no matter how much light the sword radiated, it was comfortably cool.
Surprised, Addie freed her hand from the shirt and grasped the hilt with her bare fingers. The sword flashed, but was easy to hold, not as heavy as she’d feared.