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it gently just in case Kian had fallen through when he'd
opened it. A good half an hour had gone by since he'd
found the blood in the snow; if Kian was badly wounded, it
might already be too late. Grief welled unbidden inside
him, and he ruthlessly pushed it back down. This man was
a stranger. How could it be that he felt so much despair at
the thought of his death?
The interior lay in darkness, not even a fire glowed
in the grate, and his flashlight cast eerie cones of
illumination against the smooth walls and around the floor.
No sign of Kian here, which left only the small bedroom.
Cautiously, Regan approached the closed access,
wondering what he would find on the other side. Light
trickled feebly under the door through the gap where the
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wood didn't quite meet, and carefully, he pushed the door
open.
The light was bright green, radiating in and around
the man sprawled on the bed. Kian still wore his coat, but it
had fallen open, revealing the blood high on his chest.
"Kian," Regan called urgently, confusion coming at
him from all sides. Kian wasn't supposed to be here on the
bed; he was supposed to be victorious, alive, back home.
He stopped for a second, gripping the door frame tightly, a
sudden weakness washing over him, disorientation making
him dizzy. He pushed forward. Emerald Fire sparked
wildly around him; and he started when he felt an
answering crackle of flame from inside himself. He shut his
eyes and thought inward; he saw crimson.
It was the oddest feeling, knowing he had
something in him that was connected to the man on the bed.
Pulled by a force he didn't understand, he didn't begin to
question needing to touch Kian. The crimson flowed from
him, greeting the green light that was Kian's Fire. The two
joined and spiraled together around the two men. It pulled
Regan closer, overcoming his fears and doubts. He felt for
a pulse. There was one, faint under the pale skin, though it
was thready and almost non-existent. Carefully, he
unbuttoned the cotton shirt to assess the damage, the blood
sticky on his hands.
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His knife had twisted and flattened in flight. The
injury high on Kian's chest was both deep and wide. Regan
cursed his skill and, at the same time, thanked whoever
listened that throwing at random into the fiery chaos had
clearly been a good thing. When Regan aimed for the heart,
he hit the heart. That would have been game over for Kian.
As it was, Kian still bled, but the red spread slowly on his
skin. Regan just needed to get Kian conscious so that he
could get them to a hospital.
"Kian," he half shouted shaking the other-worlder's
shoulder and willing him to open his eyes.
He winced at the slide of the two Fires along each
of them, and as Kian's eyes opened and began to focus,
Regan saw the bright green was threaded with red. Regan
jerked back as words echoed in his head like Kian had
spoken the words.
"Not alone. Not alone. Never alone again."
"Re& gan, wha& doin& ere?"
"I came to save your ass," Regan said firmly,
forcefully attempting to break the connection as the
experienced Hunter took over from the panicked civilian.
"Get up. We need to get you to a hospital."
"Can't," Kian breathed, opening his eyes, the
intensity in them startling against his pale sweaty skin.
"Yes you can; you need someone to help."
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"Just. Too late& already& need& you."
"Need me?" Regan didn't understand.
"The Fire wants& I can't stop. Can you help me?"
Kian's words were slurred, but they'd begun to sound
clearer to Regan's ears. Help him? He leaned closer, and
Kian whispered urgently in his ear, "You need to go. Run."
"I'm not going anywhere." There wasn't a decision
to make. Regan wasn't going to let the man die.
"It will make you want to be with me. I can't fight
this," Kian half sobbed, his voice laced with fear. His eyes
closed. Regan allowed the green and scarlet to push him
closer to Kian, let himself be guided, until he was lying
side by side with his hand over Kian's heart and his body
close.
"Kian?"
Regan didn't understand. Was Kian dying? Was this
a last touch? Was the silver in the knife as fatal for him as it
was the Nameless? He didn't understand.
"I can't& sorry."
Regan closed his eyes, his head burning with pain.
He couldn't help himself. It was entirely out of his control.
So he slept. It was a fall into unconsciousness where
dreams chased him. He saw so much in these visions, a
place mostly the same as his, only different in a few parts.
The sky seemed bluer, the grass greener, and the sun was a
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bright orb that had melted any snow. A man stood beside
him, a man who cast words out into the air like they were
fall leaves, magiking a net around himself and Regan. One
word was there in the litany, Darach, and the face that
turned to Regan in his dreams was not one he recognized. It
was a face anguished and heavy with grief. Just lie still, the
man demanded. Lie still and sleep. Let the Fire heal Kian.
In Regan's dreams, everything was green and red, and he
did what Darach told him to do.
Born of the chaos of fear and confusion, the peace
Regan felt was absolute.
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Chapter 11
Kian sat cross legged on the end of the bed, his hair
darkened from the shower and pushed back with shivering
hands. He had put his jeans back on, but he couldn't do the
same with his shirt. It was soaked with blood and even his
magik couldn't seem to clean it.
He hadn't awakened Regan, who was in a very deep
sleep, Kian's blood still woven into his shirt and his arms
spread wide over the pillows. The sting of Regan's red Fire [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]