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Tala continued to clean his wounds and she pushed him to his feet. She was surprisingly strong for how small she was.
Thank you.
She nodded.
He was shaking from fear, he realized; he was still so afraid. What if the masters returned? What if they took him away? He thought of everything he and Marrok had planned—if he was killed, it would all be for nothing.
He cringed at the sound of footsteps, but Tala shook her head.
They’re not coming back. Not yet.
What’s going to happen to me?
Nothing. Do not worry. I won’t let anything happen to you, I am here.
He wanted to believe her. He knew she was lying to make him feel better. He would be killed, tossed into the Black Fire, left to burn.
But what if he was allowed to live? What then? How could he face his den? His brothers? After this colossal failure? Where would he rank in the pack now?
The taste of defeat was new, unexpected, raw.
How could this happen? He anguished.
You let her win.
She knew.
He did not argue.
The masters did not come that day; he was not speared and thrown into the fire. Tala helped him back to their den. Life went on as usual, until their escape.
He wouldn’t fall in love with Tala until they were on the other side, until they were free. But later he thought that maybe he had loved her even before. That day in the arena, when he had been defeated for the first time, when he was near death, when she had brought him back to life.
Malcolm was sick and Lawson was glad. It meant that they were on the right track, that the hounds were nearby, and that meant they were close to finding the oculus. They were back in Hunting Valley, after having been gone for almost a month following the attack. When they crossed the portal, they had emerged somewhere near the coast, in a small town in Maine. They had learned their lesson by staying in Hunting Valley too long. They’d returned to Ohio the night before to find that even Arthur had changed domicile; the attack had unnerved him and he was living in a cave, of all things. Lawson thought it was a good idea. Stone was fireproof at least. They’d bunked there for the day, and upon moonrise had taken off for their destination, Malcolm’s stomach acting as a guide.
“You all right?” Lawson asked from the driver’s seat.
“No. Pull over,” Malcom said urgently. The minute Lawson stopped the car, Malcolm yanked open the door, making horrible regurgitating noises.
“Try not to hurl all over the car, all right? Took a lot of work getting this for nothing,” Lawson said, keeping his voice light. He’d stolen the car, of course; they could never have afforded it otherwise. They’d have to lose it in a week or two, or once someone got suspicious about that old license plate he’d bolted on it.
Malcolm gave a hollow laugh, leaned over, and threw up his dinner all over the gravel, trying not to get any vomit in their new car.
Rafe gave his brother a sympathetic pat on the back. “Let it out, let it out.”
“You’re killing him, you know,” said Edon from the passenger seat.
“Mac?” Lawson asked. “You sure you can do this? We don’t have to,” he said, although he knew it was a lie.
Malcolm knew it too. “I’m okay,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He sat up straighter, regained his spirit. “Keep your eyes on the road, hotshot. Don’t worry about me.”
“Maybe put your seat belt on too while you’re at it,” Edon said. It was pitch black outside and Lawson was cruising at just over ninety, headlights off. “No one minds if you hurt yourself, but you might plow into one of us on your way out the windshield. We’d rather not pick glass out of our hair.”
Lawson grunted. He gazed at the endless black pavement, no streetlights, just the dark of the sky and the endless road. He drove fast because it was fun and he could always talk his way out of a ticket, and he drove without headlights because it was easier to see Hellhounds in the dark.
The oculus couldn’t be too far now if Malcolm was so ill. The youngest could sense the hounds’ presence, they’d learned; his stomach acted as an alarm that the hounds were near. It had kept them one step ahead of their pursuers.
When they lost Tala, for a while it had seemed they had lost Lawson too. His brothers knew the reason—he and Tala hadn’t fooled anybody with their sneaking around. He had shut down, just like Edon had after their escape, if not worse. He did not speak, did not eat; he was barely functioning. His heart was shattered. It was torture not knowing what had befallen Tala, whether she had been killed immediately upon capture, or whether the hounds had let her live. Even if they had kept her alive, it was only a few weeks now to her eighteenth moon day, and he had seen what had happened to Ahramin.
