Resistance (35 page)

“Let’s go,” she says finally, sounding a little
breathless. She rests the brush on my nightstand and leaves her
hair as is. I hope that has something to do with what I just said.
Once we’re outside, she gestures me forward to lead the way. I take
her on her usual runway and end up ducking into a path only taken
by a few guards.

After a few minutes of silence, I start talking. I
tell her how I got in at Sean’s post a few days before her parents
left. She doesn’t ask me why it took so long to approach, and I’m
thankful. I don’t have any other answer besides the fact that her
mass amount of deadly weapons scared the crap out of me.

We are right on the boundary when we find a small
pile of slush and broken ice. Considering the time of year and the
sun glaring down on us, I can’t imagine it’s a natural patch. There
is a portion of grass that looks overly damp and squished down, and
when I look at the tree it’s next to there is frostbite on the
bark; making the rich oak look old and decayed. “I guess this is
where Quincy got in,” I say, mostly to myself. I look to Fi and
she’s gaping at the snow, shocked it could still possibly stand
with the sun coming down so hot. “Lumi could blanket the entire
city in ice and it wouldn’t melt unless she wanted it to,” I
explain. She nods, staring at the sick reminder of that evening and
I take a few steps backwards, not wanting her dwelling on that
ordeal. “Let’s keep going. I’ll show you where I got in.”

She follows after me but doesn’t say anything. It’s a
silence I feel the urge to fill, but before I can come up with
something to say, I feel her fingertips brush the side of my wrist.
I glance over and see she’s looking at our hands so intently she
doesn’t even notice my eyes on her. Spreading my fingers and
extending my arm closer to her, I see her lips curl up into a smile
and she tangles her fingers with mine. I feel myself grinning and
look away before she realizes I was watching her.

“There,” I say when we reach the edge of the
compound. Rotting buildings of what once was New York are mere
meters away, and I can still see the scorches I left along the
premises when I first arrived to keep note of which guard fell
asleep or wandered off the most. “A lot of the buildings in that
direction are decayed enough that Fae can linger without much
trouble.”

“Seriously?” she asks; craning her neck as if she
could see what I’m talking about from here. She shakes her head and
scowls. “Sean is out here all the time. He should have told me — he
should have been patrolling away from the tree line.”

“Now, love,” I say, sarcasm thickening my voice.
“Give him a break. I’m sure he was very busy napping and simply
couldn’t find the time.”

She snorts a little and scowls when she concludes my
joke is probably closer to fact than anyone would like it to be.
Before she can say anything, though, I point up into the tops of
the trees. “I lived up there most of the time when I first showed
up.”

She gives me a strange look, unable to stop herself
from asking. “Why?”

“Well I thought you’d pull a knife on me if I just
showed up in your path,” I tell her. “Guess what? I was right.”

I expected her to blush and apologize, even though
she was completely in the right, but instead she throws her head
back and bursts out laughing. I always prefer this reaction and
find myself trying not to echo her.

“The hell is that?”

It’s barely a hiss, and Fi didn’t hear it over her
own hysterics. I, on the other hand, turn to see where the voice
came from. Sean is standing there at his usual post, but he’s not
alone. A tall blond man with cold eyes and the body of a wrestler
is standing in front of him, and when he meets my eyes I’m greeted
with a furious scowl. He looks like he’s going to say something to
Sean, who looks horrified, but then his eyes land on Fi. The look
on his face suggests a history I probably shouldn’t know about, and
just before he turns on his heel and rushes away at top speed, I
yell, “Hey!”

Fi finally composes herself and looks over, but she
doesn’t see where the other man went. Still holding onto my hand,
she stays hooked to my side as we move in on Sean’s area.

“What are you up to, now, Sean?” I snap. “Selling
secrets to the Summer or Winter Courts this evening? Inquiring
minds want to know.”

“Oh, fuck off—” he begins, but then he sees how Fi
and my hands are intertwined and his face flames near purple. “You
really don’t have any loyalty left, do you, Fianna?” He is
screaming suddenly, and the shock of his sudden change in demeanor
has both of us pausing. He reaches forward suddenly and clamps his
hand around Fi’s upper arm; her skin paling beneath it with the
force. “What in the hell are you doing with him?”

Fi gawks at him in shock that he’d lay a hand on her.
She opens her mouth to reply, but is cut off when Sean lets out a
pained cry. He scrambles back, gripping his wrist and staring down
in panic at his hand. Fi gasps when she sees the skin of his palm,
red and angry with blisters as if it’s been set aflame from the
inside (which it has), and looks down at her own arm, finding no
injuries.

When it finally dawns on him that the only possible
way that could happen is that he’s royally pissed off the faery
with a fire affinity, Sean looks up and sneers at me through the
pain. “You fucking bastard—”

“No one,” I say lowly through my teeth; rage boiling
over inside me and not really giving a damn about what he was about
to say, “puts a hand on her like that. I don’t care if you’re her
family or not.”

“It’s none of your business what I do with her,
faery!” he shouts, still holding his shaking wrist. I can tell by
the look on his face he’s trying really hard not to scream, and I
let the fire burn out, mostly so he’ll get out his bitching and get
out of my sight sooner. “Who do you think you fucking are?” He
grits out.

“Someone who cares about her, that’s who I think I
am,” I snap. I’m seeing red and can’t seem to separate my teeth,
but I grind on. “You really should go have that checked out before
you say something stupid and piss me off again.”

For a minute I think he’s going to test me, and
there’s a part deep down in my head that hopes he will. For
grabbing Fi like that, it would make my day to turn him into a pile
of lumpy ash. But he bites his lip and scowls at his cousin before
storming off in the other direction, towards Ruth’s place to get
his hand cleaned up.

“Flint—”

“Are you okay?” I cut her off and move to stand in
front of her. There is a decent-sized handprint on her upper arm
and I know it’s going to bruise. Again I can’t separate my jaw, and
wish I’d burnt more than just his hand…

“Hey,” Fi says, and I look away from the reddened
mark on her arm. The hand that isn’t gripping mine touches my tense
jaw; her fingers running over the bone and she’s staring at me with
something like wonder in her eyes. I let out a breath and drop her
gaze; looking at the ground between our feet and trying not to be
homicidal. “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“It is not okay,” I say. Gesturing to her arm, I
continue, “This is the farthest thing from okay! How could this
possibly be okay?”

“It’s no big deal,” she says, her hand slowly
trailing down my neck and to my shoulder. She’s quiet for a moment,
her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and then she says, “Thank
you for defending me.”

I stare at her, amazed she’d ever think otherwise.
“Always.”

“Really,” she insists, smiling at me. “I appreciate
it.”

I feel that there is more to this than meets the eye,
but I don’t want to push her to explain in the middle of the park.
Instead, I duck my head and brush my mouth against hers. Her eyes
close and she pushes up on her toes to keep us together for a split
second longer, and I smile against her lips. Someone clears his
throat behind us and Fi freezes, looking over my shoulder
shyly.

“Sean came to see Ruth,” Seamus says, an amused grin
on his face. “Figured we needed a guard since he had a
little…accident.”

He’s looking right at me when he says it and I shrug.
“I can’t control my temper sometimes.”

Seamus shakes his head, but one look at Fi’s arm has
him biting his tongue and keeping in whatever comments he might
have. He looks angry at the forming bruise—angry is an atypical
emotion for Seamus and while I’m shocked to see the fury in his
eyes, I’m thrilled someone in Fi’s family would have reacted the
same way I did. Fi snorts and covers her mouth, oblivious to the
emotions on Seamus’ face.

“Why don’t we head back to the house, Flint?” Fi
asks, a light blush on her face. I smirk at her and bite my tongue
so I don’t tease her; just nodding. “We’ll see you later, Uncle
Sea.”

He grins and nods at us as we start away, but I stop.
I ask Fi to give me a second and move back over to her uncle. “You
should know,” I say. “Sean was talking to someone… I didn’t get a
really good look at him, but he took off like hell when he got a
good look at Fi.”

Seamus looks confused, but nods. “I’ll keep an eye
out. Thank you.”

I nod and head back over to Fi, who is staring at me
in open curiosity. “What was that about?”

I shake my head. She’s stressed enough already — she
doesn’t need to know that Sean is conversing with people outside of
the city right this moment. “I’ll tell you later, okay?” She
narrows her eyes and I feel a protest coming, but I smother it with
another kiss, leaving her speechless. I smile at her reaction and
rest my hands against her waist. “Let’s get back inside and
continue this conversation.”

She grins up at me and nods; her curiosity
momentarily tamped down. I rest my arm around her back as we head
back toward the house, and even though I know Seamus is watching
the perimeter, I can’t help but look over my shoulder as we close
the door.

I swear I’ve heard that man’s voice before…

Chapter 24—Lumi

August 2102

I wake early as usual to the smell of coffee wafting
under my door from somewhere close by and roll out of bed. I sniff
and follow my nose across the hall to Patrick’s office and find Fi
sitting on the sofa in front of the desk lotus-style, with her nose
buried in a book and a cup of steaming coffee held precariously in
her other hand. I grin and knock lightly on the open door, watch
her eyes continue on their path, and then a moment later she looks
up at me absently.

“Good morning, Lu. I brought coffee and muffins for
us,” she says to me with a huge smile. “I was hoping you’d join
me.” The familiar basket of muffins and accoutrements, along with
my new favorite thing, the silver thermos that holds the coffee,
are sitting right in the middle of the coffee table.

“Good morning! Thank you for thinking of me.” I grab
a strawberry muffin and fill a mug halfway with coffee, then add a
ton of sugar and milk to it until it looks similar to how Eir
always makes it for me. I mimic Fi’s pose at the other end of the
sofa; facing her and taking a deep drink of the delicious brew in
my cup. “Your brother has turned me into an addict, I’m afraid,” I
say with a laugh.

I expect her to laugh along with me, but instead she
holds her tongue between her teeth. Her eyes shoot from my face, to
the windows, to the floor and back again about five times before
she finally says, “Can I ask… What do you think of Eir?” She’s
quiet for half a second and I see regret flash in her eyes for the
question. “I know he’s been hanging around a lot, and I wanted to
make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

Bafflement settles like a thick cloud and I shake my
head. “Bothering me? Of course not! He’s…” Blood rushes up to my
face and I stop myself from saying a multitude of things girls
don’t want to hear about their little brothers. “He’s a sweetheart.
I love his company.”

A look I can’t describe crosses over her face. She
looks…relieved? Excited? Both? Why would she look excited by that
statement? “I’m so glad,” she breathes. “He seems to really enjoy
your company, too. And now I’m butting out, I promise.”

I have no idea what she’s getting at or why she feels
she’s ‘butting in’ to anything. “You don’t have to worry about him
at all,” I say. “He’s one of the nicest people I ever met.”

She puffs up, proud as a peacock over my compliment.
“He is. I’m lucky to have him. We’re both very happy you’re here,
Lu,” she says. “I hope you know that.”

“You’re sweet,” I say, and then add without thinking,
“Your father raised you well.”

Her smile remains in place but it becomes sad. “He
did his best, in my opinion. And honestly, not many people would
call me sweet,” she says, trying to back off the subject of her
father. I’m sure the image I’ve installed in her mind of him alone
in a dungeon is haunting her and I feel horrible for it, so I go
along with her and switch gears.