Chapter 18 Without Breaking It #2
A flinch crossed her face at the memory, but her chin jutted out stubbornly.
“That was different. This is just a simple there-and-back using normal shadows.”
While we argued, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and attempted to stand. Her knees immediately buckled, and I lunged forward, catching her against my chest before she hit the floor.
“See?!” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “You can’t even walk. You said that yourself, like, a minute ago.”
“I can walk to save Foster.” She glanced around the room. “Koko, where did my nightie end up?”
“What, no panties?” I shrieked, trying to lighten the mood because that’s what I did when I was terrified. “You hussy! Going commando straight from your husbands’ bed to rescue another man!”
The smack to the back of my head from Cas was entirely expected and probably deserved.
“Not the time, menace,” he growled, which, fair.
“I know my old home better than any of you.” Her hands gripped my forearms tightly, whether for balance or emphasis, I wasn’t sure.
“The Bell homestead is hundreds of miles away, and crawling with dangers,” I pointed out as Ko found her nightie, a flimsy pink thing that barely covered her ass. When I’d bought it for her, that had been its chief selling point.
“What if Foster is injured?” Ko slid the nightie over her head. “Hurt wolves are dangerous, and he’s triple your size.”
Seri frowned, and I could see her mentally recalculating. It was a fair point. Foster was a big dude. Taller than me, broader than Ko, pure muscle from head to toe. Then she shrugged.
“No one weighs anything in the shadows, and if he bites me, one of you can bite him back.”
The room fell into tense silence. Cas had gone still in that way he did when he was processing multiple scenarios at once. The fact that he hadn’t immediately shut this shit down completely told me he was considering it, which was both surprising and unsettling.
Finally, he spoke.
“Zane goes with you.”
Three heads swiveled toward him simultaneously. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, I would have laughed at our perfect synchronization.
“I’m sorry, what?” I blurted. “Did you just volunteer me for a shadow suicide mission?”
“He’s the most adaptable,” he explained, as if discussing lunch options rather than a potential death sentence. His eyes met Seri’s. “And can be left to fend for himself the longest with minimal gear.”
I couldn’t decide if I should be flattered or offended by that assessment.
“Either he goes with you or you don’t go at all,” he finished, his tone making it clear this wasn’t up for negotiation.
I watched Seri’s face carefully. Big bro had almost nailed it, trying to honor our girl’s metaphorical wings while providing protection for her while she flew, but then he’d ruined it with the ultimatum.
To my surprise, she nodded and, just like that, I was drafted into Operation: Rescue Foster. Fang-tastic.
Ko held out his favorite knife, the one with Serafina etched on the handle, and I took it without comment.
It was a great blade, perfectly balanced and sharp enough to split starlight.
Casimir handed me his handgun, the one that lived on his bedside table and stayed loaded with silver-jacketed rounds.
Against Arabesque or her Gravewrought, silver might not be as effective as it was against shifters, but it would still hurt like a bitch, maybe slow them down.
My boxers were cool and all, but had no pockets, so a weapon for each hand was it.
“We need a plan, right?” I scratched the back of my head with Cas’ gun butt. Yeah, me. Wanting a plan. World was ending. “I mean, maybe we could—”
“No time, Zoodle!”
Whatever brilliant strategy I was about to suggest was cut short when Seri wrapped her hand around my elbow. Her eyes met mine, and I caught a flash of something that might have been fear or determination or both.
“Here’s our plan. A. We leave. B. We find him. C. We come home. Questions?”
“Uhhh.”
“Okay, good!” she chirped, fucking chirped, before she went dead still. “Wait! Simmy, my hat!”
“You…” My whole body stuttered. “I don’t have time to armor up or grab Lurleen—”
“Who?”
“His rifle,” Cas and Ko chorused.
“—or even snag a moon-damned comms unit, but you have time for Simmy to find your fang-rotted hat?!” My voice might have spiraled higher than normal at the end.
Too late, anyway. Cas was already plunking her “Pest Manager” cap on top of her knotted curls. Then he leaned down until he was nose to nose with her, wearing his ‘Do not test me. I will kill you’ face.
“Both of you back alive, Serafina, or I will never trust you to do this again.”
“WHAT?!” My eyes bounced from his face to hers and back again before seeking wiser counsel. “Ko, c’mon, bro. Say something!”
“You always crawl out, Z. But if she doesn’t? Don’t come back.” Ko tapped his blade. Just once. “Cas and I won’t be here.”
I didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Just held the knife and let the words land where they would. He meant it. Not like a threat. Not even like a warning. Just fact.
I didn’t know how to carry something like this, didn’t know how to hold anything without breaking it in some way eventually, but I wanted to.
Cruor, I wanted to!
My grip tightened on the hilt. Like that’d be enough. Like I could promise something with just my hands.
Then Seri’s fingers dug into my forearm as she stepped into the shadow cast by the open bathroom door, and my eyes stayed locked on Ko’s until the darkness swallowed me whole.