Shame nodded, though he did not open his eyes. “I know. Why do you think I’m awake?”
I gave Maeve a questioning look and she only shook her head. Okay, fine. If she wouldn’t tell me what was going on between Shame and Terric, I’d make Shame tell me.
“Eat again, soon,” Maeve said. “I’ll bring you something in an hour or so.”
Shame didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.
With one last brush of her fingers over Zayvion’s hand, Maeve turned and walked out, shutting the door behind her.
I stood there a minute, trying to make sense of everything. Zayvion had been killed—no, sucked through to death. Magic was gone, or at least not accessible. Shame was half dead. I didn’t know what was up with Terric.
And Chase and Greyson, as far as I knew, were still on the loose.
It didn’t look like the good guys were winning.
Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around for magic to bail my ass out. I could take care of this without magic.
“You have some problem with light?” I asked.
Shame frowned, opened his eyes. “Why would you even ask that?”
Because you look like a vampire or a corpse, I thought. But I said, “Yes or no?”
“No.”
“Then open the curtain. I need to see Zayvion better.” And find my clothes, my shoes, and my gear. It was time to go hunting.
Shame pushed up on his feet. He moved like every muscle in his body was on fire.
“Maybe you should be in bed too,” I said.
“Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself.”
He grunted softly as he tugged the curtains over to one side of the window.
Evening light poured into the room. I hadn’t expected it to be that late. But it was still bright enough that the cool gray light revealed the room—white plaster walls and dark wooden beams and floor. Even better, I could see Zayvion.
He was breathing normally, deeply, as if he were sleeping. The IV attached to his arm was wrapped with gauze that I thought might have a spell woven into it. He looked like he was sleeping. Just sleeping.
I reached over, gently brushed my fingers across his lips.
The awareness of Zayvion, of his soul, his mind, his emotions, was absent.
Fairy tales said all it took was a true love, a kiss, a tear. But Zay wasn’t enchanted. He was gone. Dead. And I didn’t think there was a fairy tale that could make this turn out happily ever after.
The tight tension of sorrow made me swallow hard. I was not going to cry. Because I didn’t need a fairy tale. All I needed was one beauty and a beast—Chase and Greyson.
Zay had sat by my side for two weeks not knowing if I would recover from magic that had nearly killed me. I wasn’t about to give up on him on the first day.
I let my fingers wander, knowing I could never give the gentle comfort that Maeve could, but needing him to know I was there, I was with him. I traced his forehead, eyelid, cheek, and down the rough edge of his jaw. Nothing. Nothing stirred within him. He was empty. Silent.
I bent and kissed him, then rested my forehead against his. “I’ll make it right,” I told him. “Don’t give up.”
Then I straightened. I pushed my hair back behind my ears again and looked over at Shame.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
“Nice,” he said. “How exactly are you going to make it right?”
“By finding Chase and Greyson. And doing whatever it takes to get Zayvion back.”
Like gasoline catching a spark, Shame suddenly seemed much more awake. An anger, an animalistic hunger, flared in him. I wondered if he’d given up a little of his sanity too. Wondered what happened when an untested Soul Complement used magic with his possible Soul Complement—Shame and Terric. What happened when that magic involved Death magic, and a good friend dying?
Just what kind of man was Shame when he was this angry and this wounded?
“Whatever it takes?” he asked a little too casually.
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that sound like fun?” he murmured.
I looked away from him because I didn’t like his smile. I searched for my jeans and sweater—found them folded, obviously laundered—in the dresser drawer.
“So what’s going on between you and Terric?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
I straightened, huffed out a breath. “Are you still angry with each other? Did using magic together make things worse? Have you killed him and buried him in a box somewhere?”