a smile. It took more energy out of me than I planned. My head bobbed and rolled to the side. The throbbing in my side had been growing steadily worse, but until my gaze landed on it, I didn’t think it was more than a bad bruise. In Ryker’s large hand was a balled-up shirt, his T-shirt, which was soaked with blood. Protruding from the shirt was a chunk of metal embedded in my side. It was a piece of the magazine rack I had slammed against.
Panic circled around my throat like a dust cloud, choking me. The natural instinct was to pull it out, to get the foreign object out of my body, but I knew Ryker did the right thing leaving it in. I would have bled to death in a matter of minutes if he withdrew it. The body and brain were amazing things. They were protecting me from unmanageable pain.
“Don’t look at it.”
My gaze turned to the ash dropping on us like dark snow. Small charged flakes gracefully fell from the burning sky—the tears of the buildings and people who were no longer here.
The remains of people’s lives settled on my face and lashes. The heavy sadness and memories in each fragment pushed on my lids till they could no longer stay open. Pain, stress, and shock shut my body down, protecting it from the harsh world and memories of the people I lost.
TEN
“Hey, girl. Time to wake up.” A hand tapped roughly on my cheek. My lids lifted, wide and confused. Bright hazel eyes contemplated me. A woman with long, thin beach-blonde dreads leaned over me. “Finally decided to join us again, huh?”
I touched my cheek. What the hell is going on?
The room was doused in candlelight and the glow from a fire. In the soft light, she appeared to be in her mid-thirties. She was naturally beautiful, but there was something unique about her beauty, a confidence in her own skin that shined through.
That and she was fae.
“Where am I?” My voice cracked with dehydration. She helped me sit up. One arm was covered in a tattoo, the other had a band wrapped around her bicep, and a handful of bracelets dangled from her wrist. The cot underneath me creaked and moaned as I wormed up. The ache in my side struck so fast and quick it ripped the breath from my lungs. Pain filled me as I snorted and grunted in agony.
“Take these.” She dropped two white pills in my palm and handed me a cup of water.
“What are they?”
“Painkillers,” she snapped. “Now take them and shut up.”
“Who are you?” I glanced around. The tiny, dark, cluttered room smelled of fire, herbs, and rubbing alcohol. It was a windowless space with tons of plants lining the shelves and filling pots on the floor. A small clay fireplace burned in the corner with an overstuffed loveseat and a side chair facing it. Books were stacked in every corner and were being used as a side table for the sitting area. It was bohemian chic without the chic part.
“My name is Elthia, but having my name does not answer the question you seek.”
“What do you mean?”
“My name is only something you call me. It is not who I am.” She brushed her dreads off her shoulder.
“O-kay. Then, what are you?”
“I am a healer. I mended your outer injuries. Your inner wounds are too deep. They are tearing you apart.
I rubbed at my head. Let’s try another approach. “How long have I been out? How did I get here?”
“You have been out for three Earth days. And you came here by way of a god.” A glint stroked a secretive smile across her lips.
I groaned and looked down at my palm and tossed the pills into my mouth without hesitation, hoping they were poison. The New Age—or maybe in her case¸ Old Age—spiritual crap was too much for me. My brain could barely hold a thought.
Pain. Too much pain.
The water was cool and soothing as it slid down my throat. Discomfort kept me from caring I was only in my bra and panties. She didn’t strike me as someone who cared much for clothing. Tape wrapped my waist, holding a huge piece of gauze in place¸ which was dyed a soft pale red.
Right. I had been impaled on a magazine rack because two stupid idiots tried to siphon gas from the tanks the wrong way. But how mad could I be when their actions had stopped