Infinite Risk (18 page)

“I agree with you, actually.”

We exchanged a look, oddly in harmony, as I tore open a packet with my teeth. “Sorry to be gross. It's hard to eat and drive.”

“Let me help,” he said.

And before I could ask, he placed a cookie in my mouth like a priest offering communion, only it was slow and careful, and just a little explicit. I ate the cookie pretending he hadn't just touched my lips and tongue, and that it hadn't felt sweet and strange, and almost like the precursor to a kiss.
No. No, no, no. I am losing my mind. No.
But I didn't say anything when he did it again. He fed me the whole pack, and it wasn't just the sugar that left me quivering with the subsequent rush. My hand trembled when I opened the energy drink. I downed it in one long swallow, eyes locked on the road.

Only seventy-odd miles to Minneapolis. We can do this.

He broke the silence in a peculiar, musing tone. “Do you know how revolting it is, how you process food into energy? And yet I'm
feeding
you.”

“That's because you're going to eat me later,” I said.

As soon as the words popped out, I wished I could swallow them back. His low laughter filled the car, a pleasant vibration beneath the bouncy folk song on the radio. “Is that why? How clever of me to cultivate my own crops.”

At least he didn't take that the dirty way. Could be worse.

I kept quiet after that, preferring to listen as the Harbinger sang. His voice could have charmed birds from trees, and he wasn't even using his aura. No, he was too drained for that, hardly more than an echo of his usual strength. We drove for half an hour before the car delivered a warning from Nav-star and then it slowed down on its own. Nothing I did to the gas pedal helped, so I pulled over to the shoulder and parked.

“The police will be on the way,” I said, scowling. “We have to walk from here.”

“Truly harrowing, the indignities I suffer for you.”

“If you can whoosh away now, go for it. You've done enough.”

“Your determination to banish me like an evil spirit is becoming hurtful.”

Sighing, I filled my pockets with the goodies I'd purchased and climbed out of the car. The remote area gave me hope that it would take law enforcement a while to reach the vehicle. Yet it was also freezing, well below thirty degrees, and as people had noted in Cross Point, I didn't have a proper coat. No reason to let reality bum me out, however. I'd been doing reckless, impossible things for the last month; why stop now?

The Harbinger set off ahead of me, his strides long and graceful. “Hurry. This is hardly my idea of a picturesque haven.”

I had to admit he was right. “Sorry about this. Really, you can…”

He wheeled, some twenty feet ahead of me. “No. I cannot. To draw sufficient strength to travel, I would need to drain you dry. So for now, we walk.”

Rarely had I heard him sounding so pissed. Chastened, I shut up and limped after him as fast as I could. Soon my shivering took on a life of its own. The sky was a swathe of black velvet above, dusted heavily with diamonds, but the natural beauty like the trees framing the road didn't make up for the raw blade of the wind cutting through my thin, damp layers. The Harbinger must have regretted signing that deal since it looked like protecting me might be the last thing he did. I lost track of how long we'd been walking, but my feet felt like blocks of ice.

“There's a building up ahead,” he called.

It turned out to be an abandoned motor lodge, exactly the kind of place where a mass murderer would use his mother's corpse as a marionette while lying in wait for hapless travelers. Yet I couldn't last much longer in the cold. Most of the rooms were damp or wrecked, but after peering through six or seven windows, we found one where the roof hadn't collapsed and the furnishings seemed relatively intact. Shuddering, I stepped through the doorway, wishing I didn't want to crawl all over the Harbinger for reassurance. Oblivious, he checked the room, looking for anything useful. I stared at him so hard it was a wonder his hair didn't catch fire.

What … how? When did I start feeling safe with you?

Putting the chain on was ridiculous in these circumstances, but I did it anyway. The room was rustic bordering on creepy; a dead deer stared at me from across the room with glassy, baleful eyes, and a stuffed squirrel occupied a place of honor on the bedside table. Shadows only made the room worse, nearly bad enough that I wanted to go back out into the cold. While I let the décor freak me out, the Harbinger started a fire in the hearth. The wood smoked a bit, but not so much that I needed to worry about asphyxiation.

“You should sleep near the hearth. There are things nesting in the mattress, but this rug looks relatively clean.”

“Things,” I repeated.

“Would you care to know more…?”

Hastily, I shook my head as he opened the closet. An owl swooped out, and I saw moonlight through the hole above the storage area. Any spare blankets must be covered in bird poop, so he shut the door before turning to me with a faint frown. Still shivering, I dragged the top quilts off both beds, as it was a double room. In the bathroom, the taps didn't work, and I wanted to cry when I realized I couldn't do anything about my piss-stiff jeans. I'd had them on so long that they'd stuck to my skin, and the urea in the dry fabric had irritated my skin until I had a humiliating case of diaper rash.

It's okay. You thought being the Beantown dog girl was the worst thing ever. You were wrong. You can get through this.

“I'm sorry,” he bit out.

“For what?”

I edged out of the bathroom, avoiding a dead thing on the floor. Okay, not dead—it scuttled behind the sink, all long tail and scrabbly claws. Somehow I swallowed the scream and slammed the door, but I couldn't stop shaking.

“You're in pain. Frightened. So weak you can barely stand. And I can't do anything. I might as well be human.” He spat the last word like a curse.

“If you were, I would've died in that bunker. Nobody could've come in and got me alone like you did.”

“If I was human, I needn't worry that you'll freeze. I'd have heat, at least, to offer.”

Bracing against the paneled wall, I tried to smile. “Hey, you love when mortals suffer.”

“Not you,” he whispered. “When you hurt, I bleed.”

“Sorry.”

Before, I'd thought he was wounded. I'd noticed …
Oh my God, no.
Horrified, I stared at his side, and before I could think better of it, I lifted his shirt and coat away from where I hurt the worst and found a black spot in the shape of the boot that broke my ribs.
I had no idea the bond ran so deep. It's like I'm his Horcrux or something.

I touched the wound lightly, but he still flinched. His skin felt like iced marble, form without feeling. “If you knew this would happen, if you
knew
I'd make you vulnerable, why did you agree when I offered to feed you?”

The Harbinger pushed my hands away and wrapped me up in the musty-smelling quilts and led me over to the guttering fire. “This is a world of infinite risk,” he said. “In my stony barbican, I abide with birds and bones and memories. Suffering is always better than nothing. I've gorged on nothing until I'm sick with it. So when you offer beauty, I'll choose that, even if it comes at a cost. Pain proves that I exist, that I
am
.”

I could think of nothing to say.

He pressed cool lips to my forehead. “Don't fret over me, dearling. I've been making bad choices since a thousand years before you were born and yet I'm still here. I'll probably be prowling the wreckage long after you clay mannequins have blown one another to bits.”

 

THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

In the morning, I was a little surprised to wake up. My whole body hurt, and other discomforts had gotten worse. Real food, a hot shower, and clean clothes … there was very little I wouldn't do for that trifecta. I stirred, astonished to find that I had been resting against the Harbinger all night. At my movement, he let go and folded to his feet with the preternatural grace of one who suffered no stiff joints or cold muscles. Despite tucking my hands against my chest, they still ached with the frost that made my breath visible as puffs of steam. I couldn't stop shivering, and I couldn't seem to wake up fully.

Not a good sign.

“We must get moving.” The gentle tone told me I must look horrible.

“Okay.” But I couldn't stand up without him physically towing me upright, like I was a capsized boat at the mercy of stormy seas. “I'll eat on the move.”

It was unlikely the Black Watch would be combing this stretch of road, so it should be safe to flag down a car, provided one would stop. I stumbled through the broken parking lot, but this wasn't exactly a busy thoroughfare. Only three vehicles passed us by the time we went a mile, and none of them showed any inclination to be Good Samaritans. One energy drink stuffed my pocket, but it was so cold, I couldn't bring myself to drink it. My chapped lips already burned in the chilly wind; that would only make it worse.

“You're dehydrated,” he said.

“Stop reading my mind.”

The Harbinger ignored that. “I think I'm causing trouble in my current incarnation.”

With a faint shimmer, he shrunk in size, retaining many of his Colin features, but now he looked to be around five years old.
Clever.
While people might hesitate over picking up a stranded couple, it would take a special sort of heartless to leave a little kid out in the cold. I took his hand because that felt natural, and for the first time, the Harbinger felt
warm
to me. Combined with my other symptoms, I probably had a mild case of hypothermia, and if I didn't warm up soon, it wouldn't be Wedderburn or Buzzkill that did me in.

“If you have the energy to shift, can you take us back now?” I managed to ask through chattering teeth.

He shook his head. “Some feats are nearly cost-free. Folding space is not one of them.”

I guessed that meant changing his aspect didn't drain much energy since it was a matter of tweaking human perceptions, not altering the world itself. While it made sense, it didn't alleviate our suffering. We walked another half a mile before the next vehicle approached, a semi with a red-and-orange custom paint job thundering down the two-lane highway. I waved one arm frantically while the Harbinger did the same, and I thought for a minute the driver meant to zoom by without hesitation. But no, it just took longer to stop a rig this size. It shuddered to a halt fifty feet past us and I ran, nearly falling twice because my legs felt numb, but I couldn't let the person change his or her mind.

To my relief, it was a woman in her late fifties with bottle red hair and gray roots coming in. She was portly and concerned as I lifted the Harbinger in. It was so weird for him to let me manhandle him, but he had to know that if he complained, it would seem odd. We couldn't afford to set off her danger alarms. I scrambled in next and shut the door. A shudder went through me at how warm the cab was.

“Thank you so much,” I whispered.

“You kids might've been in deep doodie if I hadn't been forced to detour. This road doesn't get used much anymore.”

“We really appreciate it.”

The Harbinger climbed up on my lap and put his little arms around my neck.
God, this is weird.
I patted him with clumsy hands, wincing as the needles invaded my extremities. He rested his head on my shoulder, just like a tired kid would, and I stroked his hair, wondering if he was enjoying this. Before, he'd liked it when I petted him while assuring him he wasn't a monster.

“No worries. Where you headed?”

“Minneapolis,” I said, after deciding it couldn't hurt to tell the truth. It wasn't like that was our final destination anyway.

“I'm going right through there. Name's Nadine. I've been doing long hauls for almost twenty years, and I recognize when people are in real trouble. Was it so bad at home?” Her tone was gentle as she diverted attention from the road for a few seconds to offer a kind look.

In answer, I pulled back my hood so she could see the severe bruising on my jaw. “Yeah, we had to get away.”

She sucked in a swift breath. “I should probably drop you off at—”

“No, I'm twenty-one. I have ID.” It didn't take a genius to guess she was about to send us to child protective services. Though they'd taken my phone, they hadn't found the fake ID hidden in my shoe. “He's mine, and you can see I didn't let anybody hurt him.”

A tremor of laughter went through the Harbinger at that claim, but he obligingly turned his face toward the truck driver for inspection. This story we were crafting on the fly should make her sympathetic, right? Her demeanor softened, probably because wee Colin was cute as hell with his tousled hair and big eyes.

“Lord, you must've been a child when you had him. But kudos for getting out. People often don't understand just how hard it can be.”

“It sounds like you know.” That should be safe enough.

She nodded, both hands on the wheel. “It's been twenty-five years, but the scars don't go away. People say, ‘She's so dumb, why didn't she just leave? I'd never let anyone treat me that way.' They don't understand how alone you are, how you start thinking you did something to deserve it, and most of the time, there isn't any money to travel on. It takes so much bravery to do what you did, just grab the baby and go, not knowing what's out there or how you'll survive once you're away.”

Now I felt bad for exploiting her personal pain, but I couldn't tell her that my abuse didn't come from a domestic partner. If I told her I was involved in a supernatural chess game and I had been kidnapped by their mortal enemies, she'd drop me off at a mental health facility so fast it would make my head spin. So I just kept quiet and hoped it would help her to talk; then I realized she must be waiting for a response from me.