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6
Tarnley
“You look like crap.”
“Thanks.” Walking right past Drexel, I head for the coffee pot. Not that it does anything, thanks to a speedy metabolism. Still, the instant gratification is worth its weight in gold at the moment. After filling my mug with the steaming liquid, I lean back against the countertop.
“Rough night?” Drexel lifts a blade from the spread he has laid out over the granite and begins cleaning it with a soft cloth.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Cleaning my weapons.”
“You’re wiping down a short blade.”
“Yes. Cleaning is not strictly reserved for guns.”
“I highly doubt your enemy will be critiquing you on the cleanliness of your blade.”
Drexel shrugs but doesn’t stop wiping until the surface gleams beneath the sunlight pouring in through the window. “My father always told me to take care of my weapons.” Setting the cloth down, he looks up at me. “You good?”
“No.”
The door opens, and Magnolia steps inside. The moment she does, Drexel’s expression changes, morphing into one I recognize instantly because it’s the same way I looked at Bronywyn for years. The young hunter is in love with the witch.
I’d smile if it weren’t so fucking heartbreaking.
“I’m going to head down to Bronywyn.” Without waiting for a response, I make my way to the stairs leading down to the clinic and do my best not to focus too closely on my late-night conversation with Eira, or the fact that I’d been within seconds of drugging myself.
I stop right before the window overlooking her observation room, then take a deep breath and force myself to put one foot in front of the other as I push into her room and take a seat in the chair beside her.
“Fuck, I miss you.” I take a drink of the coffee and let out a sigh as I hang my head down. “You are everything to me. Living without you—it’s as if a vital organ of mine is going into a consistent state of failure.”
She doesn’t respond, though I’m not expecting her to. I run a hand over the back of my neck and lean back. “You would kick my ass if you knew what I nearly did last night. It was so fucking stupid. Drugs. I’ve never done drugs before in my life, not as a human and certainly not now.” I swallow hard, the openness therapeutic, though I imagine I’ll feel differently if the shadow version of her is hearing everything I’m saying and chooses to use it against me.
“I just… after you nearly killed Delaney—shit, Bronywyn, I don’t know how much more of this we can take. How much more of you being gone we can take. Especially when we don’t know who’s going to wake up every time the sedative wears off.”
The air shifts ever so slightly, and her heart rate increases. I jump up, prepared for a fight, but nothing happens.
Rainey shoves in the door. “What is it?”
“Her heart rate increased, but it’s slowing down now.”
She moves forward cautiously. When she comes to a stop beside Bronywyn’s bed and nothing happens, she breathes a sigh of relief. “Fuck, this is stressful.”
“Agreed.”
The air shifts again, growing heavy with magic, and then— “Someone call for a fae?”
Rainey and I whirl as Ridley appears, Fearghas and Delaney by his side. My relief is instant—potent—though I try to remind myself that getting my hopes up is foolish. Especially when we don’t even know if Bronywyn is still alive in there.
“One of these days, you bastards are going to appreciate my entrance,” Ridley mutters as he walks toward the woman on the bed. “I’m expecting a standing applause at some point.”
Fearghas snorts. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“Perhaps if you’d been the fuck around when we needed you, we’d be a bit more appreciative,” Rainey snaps.
“And one of these days, we won’t need you to save someone we care about,” Delaney adds.
