She turns to head up the road, but then stops and glances over her shoulder. “And Mille?” she says.
“Yeah?”
“Good luck. And stay alive.”
Chapter 6
By the time we walk the rest of the way into town, half-supporting and half-carrying Shade as we go, the sun is already low in the sky. We take out rooms for the night in the first inn we come across, courtesy of Hunter and his father's not-inconsiderable means. After a rather awkward conversation with the receptionist, we're at last able to relax. For the time being, anyway.
Once we're settled in—two to a room, split over three connecting suites—I allow myself to flop backwards onto the plush bed, my eyes closing as I try to process the events of the last twenty-four hours. It isn't easy, and just when I think I'm all cried out, I feel more tears welling up. Am I being stupid, I wonder, for mourning the loss of my shifting when there are people whose lives are on the line? Hazel and the twins could be dead in a ditch somewhere, but here I am, lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself. It's ridiculous.
I sit up, stretch, and go to the window. Wallowing won't do me any good. Exhaling, I lean against the frame, staring out over the pastoral fields and winding roads and trying to let my mind wander. I'm not sure how long I stand there, but before I know it, the sun has dropped past the horizon and it's getting dark in the room. We'll have to leave early tomorrow if we want to get back to London by the end of the day, and given how exhausted I am, bed sounds like an excellent idea.
I'm just changing into my night clothes when the door opens and Hunter appears. He looks tired, no doubt from his own blood loss, and his red hair is sticking out in all directions. As I turn to him, he runs his hands through it.
"Are you all right?" I ask uncertainly.
Hunter nods, sighing. "Just tired," he replies. "I'm guessing you can relate."
I nod, sitting down on the bed and scooting over to make room for him. He drops down beside me, running a hand down his face. "Look," he says after a long pause, "I wanted to see how you were doing. I understand if you don't want to see me right now, believe me, but…" He meets my eyes with his own. "I care about you, Boots."
"I care about you, too," I tell him.
"So how are you, really?" Hunter asks.
"Alive," I respond, "but that's about all I can say, to be honest. I feel so… useless." My shoulders slump. "It's like they took part of me away."
Hunter puts his hand on my knee. The touch sends sparks of electricity up my leg, but I don't push him away. "We're going to fix this," Hunter says. "We're going to find a solution, Millie."
"What if we can't?" The words come out barely a whisper. "What if I never get my powers back? The things they did to me back there, Hunter… You can't even imagine what it was like."
"No. I can't." I can see him tense up out of the corner of my eye. The hand that isn't on my knee is bunched into a fist, and his whole body looks like he's shaking. Not with fear, though, I realise after a moment. With anger. "If I ever get my hands on that bastard," he says slowly, "I'll kill him. I don't care what it takes. He deserves to die. For what he did to Silas, for that Brody kid…" Hunter's breath hitches a little. "For what he did to you."
"Hunter…" Tentatively I reach out to touch his cheek.
He tenses up under the brush of my hand. "The thought of you getting hurt, Millie, or worse…" He shakes his head. "It kills me. Every time I think about what happened to you back there, about the part I played in it-"
"Hey, wait." I pull him towards me so I can meet his gaze. "Hunter, that wasn't your fault. None of that was your fault."
"How can you say that?" he demands, his voice full of pain. "If I hadn't let Edith get in my head— I mean, if I had just picked up on what she was planning…"
"None of us could have known," I insist. "We thought she was on our side. We couldn't have predicted she would turn on us."
"That's awfully understanding of you," Hunter