Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,45
the pockets of her borrowed jacket. She was in a hospital that had no patients, searching for a brother who wasn’t Fionn anymore. What was she doing here?
Kifi meowed, but the sound was coming from someplace ahead. The cat had run off while she brooded. When the sound came again, Leena ran toward it, her shoes skating on the slick floor. She slid around the corner to find Kifi crouched in the middle of the hallway, her ears flat. A few feet ahead, her brother stood with his back against the wall. Morran had his forearm pressed to Fionn’s throat. Fionn gripped Morran’s wrist, struggling to push him away.
She’d come here to find her brother, but the sight of him still sent a zing of shock through her core. “No, wait. Please don’t hurt him.”
Neither man replied. For a heartbeat, she wondered which one she meant.
“Please!”
She might have been speaking to herself. Fionn didn’t so much as blink. The struggle went on, each straining until their muscles corded. Then Fionn suddenly jerked aside. Morran’s feet slipped on the polished floor, and Fionn ducked free.
Morran dove after him, teeth bared. Fionn sped down the hall, grabbing a flimsy chair set outside one of the rooms. He flung it at Morran, who leaped aside as it crashed and bounced, narrowly missing Kifi. Fionn made a right turn down another corridor. Leena rounded the corner just in time to see Fionn burst through a door, followed shortly by Morran. A soft light fanned into the corridor, showing this room, at least, had an occupant.
Leena reached it just in time to see Fionn towering over the room’s only bed, where a figure lay motionless on his back. Leena lunged forward with a cry. At the sound, Fionn pulled a long-bladed knife from his belt—the same one he’d used against her before.
Morran grabbed Fionn, forcing him face-down on the bed. Kifi sprang onto the covers. The cat dug her claws into Fionn’s hand, giving an eerie yowl. The blade dropped, and Leena snatched the knife away.
It was only then she saw Anna on the floor, bleeding from her forehead. Anna got to her knees, shook herself, and then drew a weapon from her shoulder bag. She pointed it at Fionn’s head. Leena only knew guns by reputation, and it was far smaller than she’d imagined.
Still, she knew what it did. “No!”
Morran looked up at her cry. It was all the opening Fionn needed. He twisted aside, creating just enough room to bring up his foot and kick Morran away. Anna fired, but Fionn was already in motion, sprinting from the room.
Leena was in his path. He drove his elbow into her ribs, knocking her into the doorframe. Her head smacked into the wood, and her vision went white. Fionn bolted past with Anna following a bit behind.
Morran’s hand was on her arm. “Are you all right?”
She squinted, groggily bringing him into view. Her ribs were on fire from Fionn’s blow, making it painful to breathe. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”
He squeezed her gently and was gone, racing after Anna. Leena sagged against the wall, still holding the knife. She took a step, hoping to follow them, but a wave of nausea rolled up from her gut. Suddenly, she needed to sit down.
“They won’t catch him,” Kifi said. She was still crouched on top of the sleeping man. “Sadly, that’s not a good thing.”
Leena had no words to answer the cat’s declaration. She sank into the chair by the bed, then set the knife on the nightstand beside it. Bending forward, she buried her face in her hands. Her body ached, every heartbeat pumping fresh exhaustion into her veins.
Yet, one thing had gone right. They’d stopped Fionn before he could kidnap Barleycorn. It wasn’t a complete victory, but it wasn’t a failure, either. If they could catch him, there still might be hope for a cure.
She raised her head and drew in a deep breath, fixing her eyes on the sleeping man’s face. To the humans, he would appear to be somewhere in his thirties. Dark-haired and clean-shaven, he had pleasant features, handsome even, but it wasn’t a remarkable face. He had the perfect looks for someone working in the shadows—and if he worked with Anna, chances were high that he was some kind of spy.
“Well, John Barleycorn,” she said to the still figure, “why are you in this adventure?”
Morran reached for the third-floor door when Anna grabbed his shoulder.