Sanctum (Guards of the Shadowlands, Book 1) (30 page)

The blast knocked me off my feet. I raised my head, ears ringing and popping, in time to see Malachi get to his feet and run straight toward the fiery carnage.

Oh, God
.

I ignored both my vicious pain and my numb disbelief as I staggered forward. I limped past Nadia, who was shaking and crying, her hands pressed over her ears. But she was unharmed, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

The clash of metal on metal echoed up the street. I almost howled with frustration. Somehow Ibram had survived and was able to fight. I started to run. I passed the first body lying in a heap on the sidewalk, dozens of feet from the origin of the blast.

I reached the crater at ground zero and ran past, scanning each broken, blackened face. Malachi was several yards ahead, slamming his scimitar against Ibram’s. He was so obviously enraged I was afraid he would make a stupid mistake and get himself killed.

A crumpled figure about ten feet away stirred and moaned in a ravaged yet familiar voice.

“Ana!” I ran to her and bit back my cry. Her beautiful face was utterly savaged. Ragged bite wounds covered her neck. Her eyes were swollen shut. Blood seeped from her nose, her mouth, her ears. I sank to my knees beside her, searching for some way to help.

“Did we get him?” Ana whispered.

“Malachi is fighting him now. It looks like Ibram’s the only one who survived,” I assured, wanting to stroke her, to offer comfort, but no part of her was undamaged. There was nowhere to touch.

Ana read my mind easily and chuckled, a wet, gurgling sound. “It’s all right, Lela. I can’t feel a thing.”

I’d have known she was lying even if I hadn’t been able to read the agony on her face. As much as I wanted it to be true, there was no way the venom worked that quickly. I wasn’t going to waste time arguing with her, though.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I choked out. “Nadia’s all right. I’m all right.”

“No you’re not,” she rasped. “I can hear it in your voice.”

I carefully took her hand. It was the least ruined part of her. It was a small hand, deceptively small to be so deadly. “I’m going to be fine. I kicked some ass, Ana. You would have been proud.”

“Good girl. Now listen to me. Where’s Malachi?” A tear rolled from one of her eyes.

Grunts and shouts and metallic shrieks rang through the street, echoing off the buildings above as Malachi and Ibram fought. “He’ll come as soon as he can.”

Ana sighed and coughed. More blood trickled from her mouth. “You have to tell him. Tell him I loved him. I always have. Tell him he was my true brother. Tell him thank you a thousand times for saving me, for keeping me myself. He was the only one who understood.”

I could barely see Ana’s ruined beauty through the haze of my tears. “I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you. And—I need you to do something else for me.”

“Anything.”

“Make sure he gets out of the city. He deserves to get out of here. He needs it. Please, no matter what it takes, make sure.”

“I will,” I promised. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Ana’s hand twitched in mine as Malachi’s roar split the night. Ibram shrieked and fell to the ground. The impact of metal on bone was audible even from a distance.

Ana smiled, and then her face relaxed for the last time.

I WRAPPED MY BURNED
hand in a towel. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want Malachi to see it either. As I ran the bathwater and the room filled with its strange smell, I tried to ignore the stabbing pains across my belly. All of me ached. That part of me screamed.

When the tepid water was deep, I turned it off. I was tired and filthy enough that it even looked inviting. But it wasn’t for me.

“All right, Nadia, this is going to feel good. Come on.”

With my good hand, I guided Nadia, silent and passive, into the tub. I sat on the edge and poured some water over her head. It didn’t look like she’d bathed since arriving in the city. She
barely lifted her arms, barely blinked an eye, barely seemed to care about the thick layer of grime peeling off her like a second skin. By the time I helped her out of the water, it was gray and cloudy.

“Maybe we’ll work our way up to a shower.”

Nadia nodded compliantly.

I helped her get dressed and brushed her long, blonde hair. “There. Now you look like you used to,” I soothed.

Nadia closed her eyes and began to cry. I had never felt more helpless, and that was really saying something. After everything—the work, the pain, the death and sacrifice—I still didn’t know how to help my best friend. I took a deep breath.

It’s going to get better. It just hasn’t hit her yet that she’s safe, that she can relax
.

Then I hugged her, just like I had at the nest, trying to make up for a year of brush-offs. I’d never hugged her when she was alive. She’d always been a touchy-feely person, and I don’t think she ever understood why it was so hard for me. I always felt like I was letting her down. But Malachi had changed me, and it was a little easier now. I wrapped my arms around her and tried to let that hug speak for me.
I’m so sorry I walked away. I promise you I’ll make this better. I won’t fail you again
.

If that hug spoke for me, though, her reaction spoke for her. She didn’t push me away, but she didn’t hug me back, either.

I squeezed her a little harder, like I could jump-start her somehow. She stayed limp and quiet. Then I realized maybe I was just being selfish, like I was pushing her too hard because it would make
me
feel better. And what
she
really needed was a little time, a little rest. So I made myself let her go. She stood back from me like it had never happened, glassy-eyed, looking as hollowed out as I felt.

More exhausted than ever, I took her hand and led her to the bedroom. I helped her sit on the cot. “I’m going to get you something to eat.”

I went into the kitchen, noting with an ache in my chest that Malachi had not yet returned. He had stayed behind to make sure none of the Mazikin survived, including Sil. I’d told him what Sil said about being close to getting out, and Malachi responded with predictably grim determination. He was going to cut the throats of every single Mazikin who had survived the battle. He was going to blow the entire building and let it collapse on what remained of the nest.

And then, I suspected, he would spend some time with Ana’s body, to say his final good-byes to his companion of the last forty years. I’d told him what Ana had said, about her gratitude, her love. He had nodded silently and walked away from me.

I wondered if he would ever forgive me for creating the situation that led to Ana’s death. For being the barrier that prevented
him from going after her when she needed him most. For costing him time. For costing him his strategic advantage. For costing him so much.

All I’d ever done was take from him, use him to get what I needed. I’d been merciless, even when he asked me for mercy, when he asked me to spare him from the closeness he’d known would make things harder for him. Had I listened to him? No. I’d expected him to endure it all, just because he was the strongest person I’d ever met.

I closed my eyes against the tears as I dug through the pantry, wondering how I was going to open a can with one hand. Finally I found a can of fruit cocktail with a peel-off top and grabbed it eagerly. With a spoon tucked between two of my fingers, I carried the bounty back to Nadia.

“You need to eat something,” I said softly. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you need to. I’ll feed you. All you need to do is open your mouth.”

It took me ages to get the can of fruit into Nadia. When the last gray-green grape disappeared into her mouth, I put the can aside and nudged her back onto the cot. “You can sleep now, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

I did my best to disguise my panic over her near-catatonic state. This was not quite what I had expected. I’d thought she might snap out of it when she saw me, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on her at all.

I covered her with a blanket. “I’ll be just outside.”

When I emerged from the room, Malachi was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. I knew he was aware of me, but he didn’t move or look up. He was probably furious. He probably hated me. But I couldn’t help it—I wanted to be near him. I took a few steps toward him, waiting. Finally, he spoke.

“Everything is done. But…I couldn’t find Sil’s body. I think he escaped.”

“Oh no,” I whispered, swaying in place. I’d had the chance to kill him and hadn’t taken it. My fault. Again. What consequences would this latest mistake bring? “Are you going to hunt for him?”

“Yes. But not tonight.” He raised his head and looked at me for the first time. His eyes were shining with pain, and mine welled up at the sight.

“I’m so sorry, Malachi, for everything.” I could barely get the words past the lump in my throat. I wanted him to hold me, to comfort me, but couldn’t ask it of him. I couldn’t ask it of him ever again.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Ana and I made our choices. I can live with those choices.” His voice was flat. Dead.

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. If she comes back through the Gates, she’ll be spotted and retrieved by the Guards, but she will…not be
the same. I’ll find out if she’s been seen when we get back to the Station.” He hung his head again.

I wanted to offer him an ounce of what he offered me. Just a tiny bit of comfort. But I was afraid to try because he might see my efforts as selfish, given my past behavior. I clenched the fist of my good hand.

He stood up, looking way too big for the room. I stared at the floor, unwilling to meet his eyes. It was too painful, all this wanting, all this wishing, all this knowing that I was not what he needed. That I wasn’t good for him.

He unbuckled his breastplate and stripped it off, then did the same with the rest of his armor. He set everything next to the couch. I kept my eyes on his boots as they moved toward me. His fingers nudged my chin, lifting my face to his.

“Hey, how are you?”

Miserable. Hurting. Needing you
. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. Let me see your hand.”

“It’s fine.” I stared at the front of his shirt. It was easier than looking at his face.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said quietly.

I took a few steps back. His warmth was too much. Too much to be close to and not lean into.

He sighed. “Lela, I’m trying here. Please don’t do this.”

“Do what? I’m going to go take a shower,” I mumbled. I fled back to the bathroom as quickly as my bruised legs would carry me. I didn’t try to stop my tears. He was being too nice.

I peeled off my ruined clothes and cringed when I caught sight of the slashes across my belly. There were three of them, each several inches long, all oozing blood. The skin around the wounds was an angry red, swollen and tender. My left hand bulged and seeped with blisters, surrounded by charred skin. Those spots were numb, though, so at least they weren’t painful. I wasn’t a doctor but knew enough to realize I was in bad shape.

I turned on the faucets. Maybe just cleaning the wounds, along with the rest of my pathetic carcass, would make things better for the moment.

But my wounds were so painful that I repeatedly had to lean against the wall and take several breaths to keep from passing out. And then the helpless tears kept coming, so I sat on the floor of the shower, curled into a ball, thinking about Ana and Malachi and what I had done. By the time I finally stepped from the tub, I was shivering and weak, and did not feel much better. I put on some old, baggy flannel pajamas I’d dug out of one of the drawers. It took several minutes to fasten the buttons.

When I opened the bathroom door, Malachi was sitting on the floor just outside. I almost stumbled over him. He was on his feet in front of me with amazing speed.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” I said, feeling selfish again. “You must have needed a shower at least as badly as I did.”

“I went to another apartment and took a shower.”

I stared at the tight navy-blue T-shirt that covered the expanse of his chest. He was close enough for me to collapse into him. Ah, God, it was so tempting. His voice snapped me out of my trance. “You don’t look good. Are you going to let me take a look at your hand?”

“No.”

His response came from between clenched teeth. “Why?”

“Because I’ll be fine until we get back to the Station with Nadia. Did you get hurt?”

“Nothing serious. Just a few scrapes. But I’m worried about you.”

I shook my head. “You don’t have to worry about me. I got what I came here for, and we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we can get to the Judge. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

He took my face in his hands. “Please. You know I can’t stop worrying about you. And I don’t know how to give you what you need unless you tell me.”

“You don’t have to give me anything. You’ve given me enough. Too much.” I tried to pull away, but his hands tightened, preventing me from escaping.

“Then I’ll tell you what I need. Will you listen to that? Are you at all interested?”

I met his eyes, embarrassed that I hadn’t bothered to ask. “Yes, tell me what you need.”

His forehead touched mine. “I need you. I need you safe and well and whole. I need you to be okay, because that’s the
only
thing that will keep me from going crazy right now. And I need you to let me look at your hand.”

Without another word, he picked me up and carried me to the couch. I didn’t fight him. How could I argue when he put it that way? I didn’t really believe this was what he needed, but at that exact moment, I didn’t have the strength to tell him so. He set me down gently, and his hand closed over my left wrist.

Very carefully, he opened my curled fingers. I was paying close enough attention to hear his breath hitch. He got up and returned with a small satchel, from which he removed bandages, scissors, and various other supplies. I turned my head away as he went to work.

“How did this happen?” he inquired casually, with the tiniest tremble in his voice.