hatred. Hatred for the Flesh Shimmer lord. Hatred for Skyll.
She wanted to go home, and she wanted to take Owen with her. Back to her world, where he might have a chance at being okay.
But Z. She couldn’t leave him.
She could not be once again without Z. Because she wouldn’t have a chance at being okay without her Z.
As the hours had struggled onward, that feeling became stronger. She could not lose Z again. There’d be no coming back from that.
There just wouldn’t.
She shook her head hard, hoping to tame her thoughts into something she could manage.
It wasn’t possible.
“My friends,” she said. “Any word?”
“I’m afraid not,” Brasque answered.
But it would be easy enough for him to lie. For all she knew, he’d either had them killed or was holding them somewhere just waiting for the opportunity to torture the “truth” from them.
“I’m leaving Flesh as soon as Owen is well enough to travel. Send your army directly to Magic. I’ll meet them there.”
“If you leave without an escort of soldiers, you won’t make it to Magic Shimmer.”
“I’m going after my crew. If your army wants to follow me, they’re more than welcome. But I’m not heading to Magic until my friends are at my side.”
She already knew she would have to feed Owen. It might help, it might not, but it was all she could do.
She had to try.
“Where’s Joy?” she asked.
“She’s dead,” the shimmer lord answered, and there was no real satisfaction in his voice. Only pain.
“Fuck you,” she said. “Fuck you.”
“Joy knew the law.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “She knew what she was doing.”
Gunnar had warned her. “There are no laws except the ones created by those in power to suit themselves and torture the lowers…”
Owen began thrashing wildly, his screams guttural and agonized, and she forgot about Joy and Gunnar and fucking secrets.
There was only Owen.
And he needed her more than she’d ever been needed in her life.
She halted the guards carrying him and dropped to her knees beside his ravaged body.
“Owen.” She tried to be calm and soothing, but was sure he could hear the horrified, hard thumping of her heart.
He screamed again, and she knew if feeding him was unsuccessful, she’d have to kill him.
And she would, even though it would rip her heart out.
Traitor or not, it just didn’t matter.
He was hers.
She’d put him out of his misery, just as she had Z.
It was the right thing to do.
Chapter Twenty-One
She opened a vein in her wrist. Cradling his head against her chest, she forced her blood into his mouth.
Uncaring that those who watched may have judged her as weak, she closed her eyes and willed Owen Five to live.
Though he might damn her for it, she willed him to live.
“I’m here,” she whispered, over and over.
And finally, her blood pulled him a little closer to the surface of life.
He stilled, his lips feverish against her wound, his skin dry and hot.
“Owen,” she murmured. “You are always getting your ass kicked.”
Her blood helped him to rest and would, she thought, keep him alive. She could feel his awareness and only hoped the blood would ease his pain.
“Burning,” he croaked. “Burning and blind.” Then, “Where’s my hat?”
“Oh,” she said, sobbing. “Fucking Owen.”
She peered up at Brasque and the others, her bloody tears obscuring her vision. “Get someone to dress his wounds,” she screamed. “Do it fucking now.”
His broken bones needed set, his eyes—or lack thereof—needed tending, and he was covered with infected, filthy wounds.
His entire back had been ripped apart by the vicious strokes of a whip. He’d been tortured beyond endurance by the twisted freaks who served Brasque Dray.
And he wanted his fucking hat.
He drifted once again into oblivion, but it was a gentler unconsciousness, eased by her blood. And perhaps by the proximity of someone who cared.
She lowered his head to the cot, stared down at him for a painful second, and then stood.
Everyone around her, including Brasque Dray, stepped back with widened eyes and paling faces.
They were right to be afraid.
“If his hat is not in my hands in two minutes, I will tear your throats out and eat you as you die.” Her voice was gentle, calm, and almost sweet. She smiled around at them. “Go.”
They didn’t move, just gaped.
“Go,” she screamed, and grabbed the two guards unlucky enough to be closest to her. She tore out their throats and advanced on the others as her victims fell. “Go!”