The Shattered Dark (34 page)

I have no idea how far away that is, but it sounds way too close. We need to get out
of here.

“You have the serum?” Naito asks.

His brother’s nostrils flare. He turns toward the desk, and as he reaches underneath
it, I see a tiny glass vial that’s rolled there. He grips it in his fist, staring
down at the milky liquid inside. Then he stands and yells as he slams the vial down
on the desk. It shatters, spreading the serum and Lee’s blood across the desk’s surface.

Well, that’s one way to get rid of it.

“I told you our father is a heartless bastard,” Naito says, straightening.

I rise, too, and glare at Naito. Now is
not
the time for the I-told-you-so’s. His brother may be dying. My friend might be, too,
my friend who never, ever should have become involved in the fae’s world. I don’t
care if she’s chosen to be on the wrong side of the war, I’m not going to just let
her die.

My gaze falls to the mess of papers at our feet, then to Lee’s tablet computer. I
bend down to scoop it up, touch the screen to turn it back on. It’s filled with long
paragraphs of text and a few diagrams and scientific equations that I don’t understand.

“Does this have all the serum research on it?” I ask Lee. He’s staring down at his
bleeding hand, which is still flat on the top of the desk.

“Yes.”

“How do you know it’s fatal?” I ask him, sliding the tablet inside my sketchbook.
The
jaedric
cover just barely cinches shut.

“Dad told me.”

I freeze. So does Naito.

“Dad’s here?” he asks Lee.

“I’m here.”

The gun goes off before I turn. It’s loud and sudden, and I stumble back even though
the bullet didn’t hit me. It hit Naito.

“Naito!” I only make it a step before Nakano reaims at me.

“No,” he says tersely.

“He’s your son.” My breath is coming in short, angry intervals. Naito’s lying on the
floor, his chest covered in
blood. He’s still alive, still conscious, but he needs help. He needs…

Aren. Naito and I have been in here more than ten minutes, and Aren would have heard
the gunshot. He would have rushed in despite Naito’s warning if he was able to.

If he was able to.

I feel rage building under my skin. I’m going to kill Naito’s father.

“You sent the text,” Nakano says. His voice is as cold as his eyes. He’s wearing camouflage,
head to toe, and what’s left of his right arm is in a black sling. Kyol severed that
arm when the vigilante aimed a gun at me before. He should have killed him, but Naito
rushed to his side, trying to save his father. I know he regrets that now.

“You knew we were coming,” I say, trying to ignore the gun he has aimed at my chest.

“You put a period at the end of your message,” he says, and I don’t know if the disgust
in his voice is because of that punctuation—a stupid, single period I don’t even remember
typing—or if it’s because he has to talk to me, a human who colludes with fae. “I
sent men to Georgia. And I kept a few here just in case.” He looks at Lee. “Can we
use her?”

Use me? As in, make me give them information about the fae? I glance in Lee’s direction,
careful to keep my expression neutral. If Lee says no, that I’m not useful, I’m almost
certain Nakano will fire that weapon.

Lee is still staring down at his brother. Slowly, he looks up. He focuses on me.

“Yes,” he says.

“McKenzie!” Aren’s voice rings out from above.

I close my eyes as relief pours over me. Nakano’s men haven’t killed him. He’s okay.
If he gets the hell out of here, he’ll stay that way.

“Take care of it,” Nakano snaps.

I hold my breath as Lee mechanically starts for the stairs, and pray I haven’t misjudged
him. When he chooses to walk in front of Nakano, not behind him, I move, throwing
myself to the left just as Lee knocks Nakano’s arm, redirecting the line of fire to
the right.

The gun goes off, harmlessly hitting the back wall.

“McKenzie!”

Aren again. He’s on the stairs now. He grips the banister, sees Lee wrestling on the
floor with his father, then his gaze locks on me.

“Naito’s hurt,” I call out, scurrying forward until I’m at Naito’s side. The bullet
went all the way through him, and he’s losing so much blood.

“Tell Aren to go,” Naito manages to get out before he’s wracked by coughing. “The
tech…”

I press my hands over Naito’s wound—it’s right in the center of his chest—then look
over my shoulder at Aren. His
edarratae
are going ballistic, leaping over his skin in some kind of chaos, and he’s stumbling
down the stairs more than walking down them.

Nakano’s gun goes off again, but Lee’s wrenched it out of his father’s hand. He rises
to his feet, points the barrel at Nakano’s forehead. He doesn’t pull the trigger.

“You know what the demons did to your mother,” Nakano says, heaving air in and out
of his lungs.

“That was twenty years ago.”

“They kill. They rape.” Nakano rises slowly to his knees. “It’s our God-given charge
to eradicate them.”

Aren reaches the basement floor. He’s off-balance when he crosses it, but he makes
it to my side.

“Can you heal him?” I ask, not knowing if he’s capable of it inside this compound
or not.

Aren places his hands over Naito’s chest. The
edarratae
give no indication that he’s using his magic, but Naito gasps. Healing a wound that
serious will hurt.

I rise and turn toward Lee. His aim is wavering. He’s still warring with himself,
trying to decide if he’s going to murder his father. It has to be done—he’s ruined
too many lives—but I can’t imagine what it would be like to kill the man who raised
you.

I take a step toward them. I know what it’s like to kill, though. It’s not something
I want to do again. The fae I sent to the ether in Belecha almost three weeks ago
still
haunts me. Despite everything Nakano’s done, his death will as well.

I reach behind my back, wrapping my hand around the hilt of my dagger.

Nakano rises from his knees to his feet. “Put the gun down, boy. Go back to that school
of yours and ignore the war I’ve been fighting for you.”

“I tried to fight it with—”

“And you failed,” Nakano cuts him off.

“You have to stop this,” Lee says. “The fae aren’t anyone’s demons but your own.”

He lowers his gun, damn it. I’m going to have to do this.

“You’re as weak as your brother turned out to be.” Nakano’s voice is dripping with
disgust now. Lee’s knuckles go white on the grip of his weapon.

Nakano notices that, too. He sneers. “You can’t kill your own father.”

A shot rings out, thundering through the basement. The bullet hits Nakano’s shoulder,
throwing him against the wall below the staircase. Lee didn’t fire the weapon, though.

Nakano’s startled gaze swivels to Naito.

“He can’t kill you,” Naito says. “But I can.”

He fires his gun again.

I can’t look at the shattered shell of Nakano’s skull, so I focus on Aren as he helps
Naito all the way to his feet. Naito is deathly pale—Aren’s magic can’t replace blood
loss—but his eyes are determined and cold. Not satisfied, though. His father’s death
won’t bring Kelia back.

“Let’s go,” Naito says. He takes an unsteady step toward the stairs. Aren tries to
keep him balanced, but he looks just as weak as Naito.

I slide my dagger back into my scabbard and glance at Lee, who’s staring at his father’s
remains.

“Help your brother,” I order.

Lee looks up, blinking. He’s shell-shocked, I think. We don’t have time for that.

I grab his arm and shove him toward Naito. Moving seems to snap him out of his daze.
He tucks his gun into his waistband, then puts Naito’s arm over his shoulder. But
Naito doesn’t budge.

“You with us or the Court fae?” he asks.

Lee clenches his jaw. “Right now, I’m with you. Six men stayed here with Dad. They’re—”

“They’re dead,” Aren says when I reach his side. He looks like hell. The
edarratae
are angry on his skin, and his eyes are as red as Lee’s were when I first saw him.
I have to get him out of here.

“Come on,” I say, looping my arm around his waist. He doesn’t lean on me, but he does
let me guide him to the staircase. Lee leads Naito up ahead of us. We make it halfway
before Aren’s knees buckle. I’m there, catching him.

“Sidhe,”
he says. His voice cracks. What the hell is in this place? Tech gives fae headaches,
makes it harder for them to fissure, or use magic. It doesn’t weaken them like this.

“We just need to get outside,” I tell him.

I try to move him forward again. He doesn’t budge.

“McKenzie,” he says, reaching up to cup my cheek. He doesn’t say he loves me, but
the words are there in his eyes. I
feel
them. This is the man who will do anything for me, even wait a decade while I decide
if I’m going to let myself fall in love with him. But I have fallen for him. I can’t
deny that, and I can’t walk away from him.

I kiss him. It’s brief because we have no time, but it’s deep. It’s a kiss that says
he’s forgiven. It says I want him, and it says he better damn well survive this.

“Come on.” I half carry him the rest of the way up the steps.

“Aren!” Trev’s voice comes from the lodge’s exit.

“Don’t come in here!” Aren orders. We move past the computers and plastic tables.
When we’re almost to the door, Aren draws his sword. “The remnants?”

A quick nod from Trev. “Nalst brought back reinforcements.”

I hear it as we step outside, the sharp clap of metal against metal. I don’t see Naito
or Lee, just dozens of fae fighting each other. They don’t come near this building—Aren’s
an
idiot for doing so—but they’re everywhere. Their fissures brighten the night more
than the moon. I’m going to have to make a run for it, try to get out of here before
they spot me. We came from the east. That trail is covered in fighting fae, but Naito
mentioned an older trail, one that will take me down to the same parking lot I saw
when we first fissured here. I need to find it.

“Can you fissure?” I ask Aren.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice pinched. He tightens his grip on his sword. “I’ll keep
them away from you.”

Fighting without being able to fissure is a huge handicap for a fae, even for Aren.

I draw my dagger. This is all going to go horribly wrong.

A few steps out of the building, and Aren is able to walk without support, thank God,
but his forehead is still creased. His
edarratae
are still going crazy.

His reflexes are slow, too. He doesn’t react quickly enough when a fissure rips through
the air in front of us.

If Naito didn’t step to my side at that moment, if his gun weren’t already in his
hand, Aren and I would both be dead. As soon as the In-Between releases the remnant,
his blade arcs toward us. Naito fires, and the force of the bullet knocks the fae
off his feet.

Naito takes two more steps forward, fires again. A second later, the remnant disappears
into the ether.

“Go,” Naito orders. “I’ll cover you.”

“Where’s Lee?” I ask, but Aren is shoving me forward.

Another fissure opens in front of us. Trev.

Aren mutters a prayer of thanks to the
Sidhe
. Then he’s intercepting the attacks of the remnants who appear around us. Trev is,
too, but I yell his name.

“Burn it down,” I order when he turns.

He spares me a scowl, fissures, then, when he reappears, says, “Lena doesn’t want—”

“Burn it down,” I say again, not caring that Lena doesn’t want to draw the attention
of normal humans. “They’ll make more serum if you don’t.” I have the tablet computer
in my sketchbook, we need to destroy the rest of the research, and we need to get
rid of the body in the basement.

As soon as I see the flames rise from his palm, I concentrate on finding the trail
Naito mentioned. I spot it on the edge—the very edge—of the cliff.

“There,” I point it out to Aren.

“Go,” he says, then he turns in time to block a remnant’s attack. It won’t take him
any time to catch up with me, so I head toward the trail at a full sprint.

And skid to a stop when a fissure splits the air in front of me.

The remnant is on me, tackling me to the ground as I draw my dagger. When I try to
bring it around between us, he easily grabs my wrist.

I tighten my grip, throw my hip into him, and we roll. We stop just before we reach
the edge of the cliff, and my heart’s pounding. I’m not strong enough to fight off
the fae; I’m buying time until someone can help me, but the remnant’s bending my wrist
back. If he bends it any farther, the joint will snap. I can either give in to him,
or let him break my arm. Either way, I’m going to end up dead or the remnants’ prisoner.

I glance at the edge of the cliff again, notice that there’s a thin ledge nine or
ten feet down.

It’ll hurt like hell, but I think I can survive it.

“Okay,” I gasp when my wrist is at the breaking point. “Okay.”

In the split second he releases my wrist to confiscate the dagger, I roll, throwing
us over the edge.

I manage to land on my back. The impact drives the air out of my lungs. I nearly lose
consciousness when my head slams into the ground, but I’m lucid enough to shove up
at the remnant. He’s flailing already. I think that’s the only reason my plan works.
He tilts off me, hitting the ground to my right and rolling. His arms splay out, his
hands reaching for something to grab onto, but this ledge is bare and sandy. He screams
as he goes over the edge.

I don’t move for a minute. I concentrate on drawing air back into my lungs. My head
hurts. So does my back and the arm I landed on, but I can move all my limbs. I force
myself to my side, then to my hands and knees.

Black spots smear my vision when I get to my feet. I wait for them to pass. When they
do, I see my sketchbook lying on the ground just in front of me. I slip it over my
shoulder, then look up the ten-foot drop I just took. Sometimes, I really am an idiot.
How am I supposed to get back up there?