Chapter 8 Dangerously Smart
Dangerously Smart
“How did breakfast go?” Jake’s grin suggested he suspected, but youngers had to pester. It was in their nature. “You milady’s favorite yet?”
“I’m supposed to betray her to the Flame.
” Erik folded his arms, his back to the wall.
The liraim door to his left almost glowed with the force of its trapped inhabitant, or maybe it just seemed so because he was exquisitely conscious of every small sound brushing the protective muffling from her side. “What do you think?”
“Can’t betray what doesn’t trust you.” Little brother sobered quickly, at least, and shoved a hand back through his bright hair. “Father says it’s time to teach her caution.”
“Great.” Erik sighed. “I told her as much as I could. Don’t think she believed me.”
“But she’s a Dreamer.” Jake had apparently forgotten every lirai started out unconscious of the night’s underside. “It’s all over her.”
“She’s also a traumatized civilian.” One who was holding up under the strain of what she considered a kidnapping for unknown purposes pretty damn well, in fact. “She doesn’t remember the shadowbeast. Probably never even saw it.”
“Well, it certainly saw her. Wouldn’t kill the girl to show a little gratitude.” Jake tipped his head from side to side. He rolled his right shoulder, too, testing range-of-motion. “So, you wanna break her out, or should I?”
“She’s gonna hate me anyway,” Erik said, and to his relief, he didn’t sound hopeless, just flat and informative. “You go ahead.”
“Spread the bad luck around, huh?”
Erik suppressed a frown. “You never know, she just might think you’re a hero.”
“Ain’t I just.” Jake turned to the baffle over the liraim door. “Wanna sprawl out?”
Yeah. Guess so. Erik folded himself down into a puddle on the floor, limbs loose and head turned as if he’d been hit from behind. The invisible baffle folded aside, the mark on his wrist burning as he pulled at sorcery, and he shut his eyes, letting his mouth fall slack.
Jake wasn’t making any particular attempt to be silent, but he was still much quieter than most mortals. Enough to surprise her, at least—he heard a muffled cry, a clanging, and a crash. Sounded like she’d thrown a bedside lamp at him.
Erik had to banish a smile. Oh, she was lirai, which meant she was far above such things as a Son’s personal feelings, and she had so much potential it about popped your eyes out of their sockets to stand near her and feel the pressure wave. But still, he liked her.
He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected any of this, just a long slow slide into madness. He hadn’t seen a potential, let alone a lirai, in years.
Not since his own excruciating, terrifying brush with the Flame.
The touch of that fire gave a Son enough strength to stave off the worst of the Mad God’s whispering inside his skull, but it took a Dreamer’s presence to keep the noise fully contained.
Best of all was being chosen as a seal, of course.
Erik had long ago made his peace with the fact that any lirai would have far better options than his own brick-dumb self. It didn’t even sting anymore.
Not much, at least.
Jake’s job didn’t take very long; maybe she didn’t need much convincing. “—to the front gate,” Erik’s little brother said, softly. “Then you’re on your own.” Was he holding her the way Erik had?
The thought sent a blood-red lightning bolt through him, and he had to force himself to go limp again.
“I’m used to being on my own.” She had a nice voice. Husky, with an edge of faint sweet rasp that made a man think of all sorts of interesting things.
“Aren’t we all.” Jake sounded well and truly amused, not the facsimile of bared-teeth grimace that passed for it in a satellite temple most days. “This way, then, and keep quiet.”
“If this is one of those weird psychological games, I’m going to stab you.”
“It’ll make the first time I’ve been stabbed by a fork.”
A fork? Oh, yeah. She hadn’t eaten her lunch, either. Must be starving.
“Might not be the last,” she muttered darkly, and the sounds of movement drew closer.
Erik knew the instant she stepped over him in sock feet, holding her breath as if she expected him to erupt.
The mark on his wrist gave another heatless pang, burrowing inward, and he kept his breathing virtually imperceptible.
They were at the end of the hall when she whispered again.
“You couldn’t have brought me some shoes? ”
“Look, babe, I’m getting you out of here,” Jake whispered back. “You want to complain, I can put you right back.”
Erik flowed to his feet, not bothering to brush at his coat or pants.
He ghosted after them, soft and steady, hearing her pulse.
Jake’s was kept controlled and muffled, of course, but hers was a wild beacon.
Erik could almost taste the hope flowing through her, a rich dark river singing in time with her pounding heart.
It was a cold night, but that didn’t stop her from following Jake through the quad, stepping carefully.
Younger Brother didn’t pause to help her over the overgrown patches, or put a hand out to brace her when she stumbled.
Erik almost gave the whole game away, almost twitched forward to catch her, but remembered himself just in time and stayed put, just at the periphery of Jake’s sensing-range.
She landed hard on her knees, let out a breathless curse that would have scorched pavement into crumbling if it hadn’t already been cracked, and scrambled after Jake’s retreating steps.
Her strides landed with soft damp sounds—sounded like she’d rolled more than one pair of wool tubes onto her little feet.
Smart girl. Dangerously smart.
The large, ornate wrought-iron gate stood ajar, a sure sign that Father did indeed know about this night’s little excursion.
Not that Erik doubted… but the other duty of an Elder was to watch for inconsistencies and tiny tells, just as a Father or a Younger would be weighing his own behavior, searching for signs of inconstancy, slippage.
Or treachery.
“This is as far as I go,” Jake said softly. “Just follow the road, ma’am.”
The indistinct shadow that was their new lirai stepped through the iron gate quickly, as if afraid Jake would change his mind. “Thank you.”
The catch in the words put a rock in Erik’s own throat. Don’t, he wanted to say. They’re out there, beautiful, and you’re fragile. It was a moment’s work to reach the top of the stone wall and drop soundlessly on the other side, moving through the undergrowth like a ghost.
“Anytime.” Jake made a small shooing motion. “Go on, now. Be careful.”
She turned and bolted, each footstep jolting in Erik’s own body. The mark on his wrist flamed, warning him.
Of course Father knew. It was Ignatius’s job—the most difficult one of the night—to bring a shadowbeast close if one wasn’t already prowling the edges of the temple, sensing a Dreamer inside heavily reinforced walls and defenses.
Erik paralleled the road, moving with the ease of long habit and enhanced agility.
He knew the exact moment one of the foul things noticed her.
There were at least three converging on the road. Either Father wanted to test Erik’s skill—unlikely, if there was even the slightest chance a lirai could be harmed—or he’d been occupied in whittling down a crowd of shadowbeasts to a manageable number.
Erik’s hands burned, dropping to knifehilts. She wasn’t going very fast. Oh, she was running, all right, probably flat-out.
But it was barely walking speed for a Son of Ymre, and practically standing still for the nightmare creature rearing in front of her, its eyes dripping crimson and claws whistling as they clove thick, freezing night air.