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On a peaceful sigh, after tucking my elbow under my head, I close my eyes.
I don’t even notice when he finally does leave me. One minute he’s there, leaning against the ladder because he’s keeping his distance—and he’s not about to sit down in the sewer.
Not that I blame him.
The next time I find the strength to open my eyes again, I’m all alone. Did he whisper his goodbyes? Possible. I kind of remember his face, his whisper, his promise. Feeling dizzy and hazy, plus a little loopy, he’s gone and I’m alone.
On the plus side, no Rys.
I’ll take what I can get.
5
“You’re looking better.”
He’s full of shit. We both know it. I don’t need a mirror to see how much of a disaster I am.
At least I’m feeling better. I can sit up on my own now, too. I’ve moved further down the sewer, away from the manhole cover and the ladder that leads up above. It’s darker, colder, and the smell of vomit still lingers.
I’ve gotten used to it. That, and the layer of grime on my skin.
I stretch, wincing when it seems like everything aches. I guess I should’ve been expecting that. How long did I sleep anyway? I wipe my hand with the back of my glove, then shove my tangled hair out of my face. It’s dark in the sewer—well, darker—so I know I must’ve slept for a while.
Plus, that’s Nine. Not Rys. If my Shadow Man’s here, that’s a pretty big clue that I made it through another sunset.
“You’re back. Where did you go? I woke up earlier and you were gone.”
“If I want to stay at full-strength, I have to leave when the shadows are gone. I can appear in a portal if necessary, or if commanded to, but the sun steals too much of my power in your realm.”
I knew that. Nine told me that a long time ago, when he was in one of his rare
talkative moods. I kept asking him why he couldn’t stay with me all the time—and he finally gave me the answer. Though he never confessed back then that he was fae, he didn’t hide that he belonged in Faerie and I belonged here.
Or, I did.
“Anyway, I’ve brought you something.”
Nine has a bundle tucked inside of his long coat. When he takes it out, it almost seems as if he’s removed part of his coat with it. It’s the same shade, the same strange material, the same shimmering texture. It’s an oblong shape, his pale fingers standing out against the pitch dark color of whatever he’s holding.
Then he lays his palm flat, the material falls away, and I see what looks like a… a roll, maybe?
I breathe in deep. Over the muted stink of old vomit and dirty sewer, I catch a hint of freshly baked bread on the thick air.
I wait for my stomach to rebel. When it doesn’t, I decide I’m ready to chance eating again.
Question is: should I?
“What is that?” I ask suspiciously. “Where did you get it from?”
“It’s safe. Human food. I won’t let you starve down here. And, unlike the precious Blessed Ones, I won’t resort to tricking you with food from Faerie.”
That’s good enough for me. “Set it on the ground.”
Once I have the bread in my glove, I try to give Nine back the black wrapper thing.
Nine shakes his head. “That’s for you, too. Consider it a gift from me. Freely given, I want nothing in return for it.”
A gift? For me?
