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“Thierry’s gift is stopping time. He had to physically touch her to make it work, and it would only last a few minutes before it knocked him out cold.”
“Time,” Thierry rasped. “Help. You need. Time.”
“Oh, Thierry.” Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard, letting tears stream down her cheeks again. “I’d rather lose time and die than watch you suffer.”
“You,” he repeated adamantly. “Need.”
“But you can’t touch me anyway,” she whispered, shaking her head. “There might still be some part of the spell that I can’t see until it’s too late.”
“Miracle.” He gave her a crooked, bloody smile. “Worth it.”
Her shoulders slumped, her heart aching with such pain I wrapped her in my arms. Trying to ease her sorrow any way I could. She reached up and fisted her fingers in my hair, turning her face into the fallen strands sliding over my shoulder. Breathing in my scent. The only way she could breathe through the pain.
“Saw you,” he whispered. “Failed.”
She turned her head, opening her eyes. “You were there. That was you in Kansas City.”
“Close. Warn.” He coughed, a wet, ugly sound like his lung was coming up his esophagus. “Lost you. Came home.”
Goddess. I couldn’t even comprehend the pain. The tenacity. He could barely walk but had shuffled along on foot over a thousand miles from Kansas City to New York just to find our queen. Falling apart and rotting from the inside out.
“Where were you before Kansas City?”
“Swamp.”
New Orleans was below sea level, but I wouldn’t call it a swamp. Unless a hurricane flooded the city again.
“Was it a peach-colored house with green shutters?”
He shook his head. “Swamp.”
I felt her reach out toward Xin, tracking his location as he followed the reeking trail of death due west. The silver wolf ran at a steady, ground-eating lope, his tongue hanging out in a wolfy grin. :Thierry was in Kansas City at Christmas, but he said he came from a swamp. Can you still pick up his trail from months ago?:
:I could follow his scent for years if I had to,: Xin replied. :Though to save time, I’ll drop south toward Louisiana and pick up his trail closer to the source.:
“Enough,” Thierry said. “Blood.”
She shook her head. “You’re not healed. I can bring you back?—”
“Enough,” he said again, as gently as his ruined throat would allow. “Rest.” His face tensed, his eyes narrowing with intent. “War.”
Black wings swept through my bond. The beat of drums quickening my heart.
A vision filled my mind. Shara. Standing in a dark, cold river. Dressed in the white sundress. Covered in blood. Something dark in her hands. Bending at the waist, she dunked her hands into the water, holding it down beneath the icy stream. She lifted her gaze to mine, locking eyes. Stealing my breath.
Black, empty eyes of shadow stared back at me.
“Let it begin.”
29
SHARA
I showered and bathed and showered again. Standing under the spray until the water ran cold, scrubbing my skin. But I couldn’t get the smell of death and rot off me.
Even washing myself with power didn’t help. I could still smell the black chunks of slime and decomposed flesh. I tried to sleep, but when I closed my eyes, I saw giant black eels slithering across the floor. Or Thierry swinging back and forth from his ankles. His screams ringing in my ears.
Reliving the horror at what I’d done to him, trying to save him. I’d tortured him like Ra tortured Huitzilopochtli. Though Thierry didn’t have enough heart remaining for me to pull out and wear on a necklace around my neck.
