Page 13 of Inextricably Tied

“Look for the girls.”

“Gods, Harbinger.” He massages his jaw, clamped from gritting it again and again.

“You said yourself the OID does shoddy investigations. There’s no way they’re going to find those girls. And then, what, a serial killer goes free?”

“We can’t take some unknown creature with us,” Flint hisses. “Who knows what he’s capable of? The OID hardly knows! And lest you forget, he came from that serial killer you’re so worried about.”

“That doesn’t mean —”

“That night terror has killed people, Harbinger!”

“Can you blame him?!”

Flint’s lips part. He doesn’t find a response, because he’s done the same protecting her, would do the same again if he had to. Almost did when they learned what Tamneth had done to Harbinger. When he experimented with her body. When he forced this on her and told her to live with it.

They both know how someone reacts to that.

A tide of shame rises in Flint, and Harbinger’s regret swells to meet it. “I didn’t mean —”

He stops her with a gentle hand, gaze cast off down the hall. “Like you said. It’s complicated.”

Strained silence separates them before Flint speaks again. “But you’re asking me to let you put yourself in danger.” His emotions plead and press up against her, like he’s run out of ways to fight this. “To put me in danger.”

Harbinger sinks down to rest against the back of the chair. “You’re right. I didn’t…” She winces. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

Uncertain fear twists through her ribcage. Finally, Flint speaks again. “We have to take him.”

There’s no way around it now that Harbinger’s tied to this creature. But it doesn’t feel like a victory once Flint has pointed out what little thought she gave to this. They can’t leave Agony here, but bringing him along adds its own danger.

“We can figure something else out.”

“No…” Flint shakes his head, searching for another out before he sighs in resignation. “You’re right. We can’t leave something — someone tied to you with the OID. But the question is, how do we get him out?”

Leave it to Flint to find practical applications for her wild thoughts. He bows his head in thought, murmuring ideas to her until they settle on a plan.

Tamneth’s head jerks up as they approach the containment room again. He meets them in the corridor, pulling the door shut.

“Are you ready to —”

“She’s not touching him again.” Flint doesn’t give Tamneth a moment to suggest it, to weasel his way into something advantageous.

Tamneth’s eyes roll. “Now, hold on, Flint —”

“No.”

“I understand your hesitation.” Tamneth tries to laugh. To sound amenable. “Trust me, I do —”

Flint doesn’t have to use his massive frame. Doesn’t even move, just lowers his voice to a level that rumbles through the walls and sends a frigid snap down Harbinger’s back. His eyes burn with each pristine word.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to her. What an incalculable risk you’ve taken. What that creature is capable of, or what the lasting effects will be.”

The words aren’t just for Tamneth. The point of Flint’s emotions angle toward Harbinger, shining a spotlight on what she’s done. He tries to hold it back, but fear cuts from him like an undercurrent, leaving him raw and exposed.

Harbinger swallows her guilt. “Flint’s right. I’m not reading him again. Not until we know more about how he works or what he can do.” The dreamscape comes back to her, making her fists clench, apprehension creeping into her shoulders. What she’d seen was fathomless and unknowable, laced with foreboding. What else might happen if she goes back there?

Tamneth fumes, brows knit until they converge. “Going to be difficult to get anything out of it if you won’t look.”

Harbinger resists the urge to punch him. “It’s ‘him.’ Have you tried asking him?”