The Hour of Dust and Ashes (25 page)

A series of coughs gripped my sore throat, every push of muscle causing extraordinary pain.

After several minutes, I pushed up enough to lean my back against the wall I’d slammed into. I grabbed my fingers with my left hand and prepared to reset the dislocated ones.

I set them right one after the other, crying out each time I did. Nausea gripped me hard by the time I got to the last one, and I had to force down the urge to puke before shoving that final knuckle back into place.

I must’ve fallen back into a state of healing because the next thing I knew, Hank was kneeling beside me, speaking Elysian in a near whisper. His flashlight lay beside me, creating a soft glow in the pitch darkness. I ached. Everything was stiff, but the intense pain of earlier had receded.

Heat engulfed me. My nose was stuffy from crying.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, kiddo, I’ll live. Looks like we fell into some kind of cave or ravine. There’s water nearby. Can you walk?”

“I don’t know. Where’s Brim?”

“He’s by the water.”

“Is he … dead?”

“No. He’s not dead, Charlie.”

My eyelids fell in relief.
Thank you, God.
I grabbed for his arm. “We have to get to that portal.”

With Hank’s help, I pushed to my feet inch by punishing inch. My vision wavered as angry pain screamed through my hip. The scent of blood reached my nose. My wounds were a nasty concoction of congealing blood and sand.

Hank’s arm slid under mine. “This way.” His touch set off my mark, and his deep voice bouncing around the cavern walls gave a little extra jolt to my system; though I felt it on the inside, it did little to help the scratch of sand through my wounds as I walked. It filled my boots, my clothes. It was everywhere.

I smelled the water before the flashlight beamed over the surface of the shallow pool. Beyond the pool the water trailed into a ravine, and moonlight filtered in at gaps in the rocks above. It looked as though, once upon a time, an underground river had cut out the caves beneath the ridge above, leaving deep grooves in the rocks.

Brim lay by the edge of the pool, panting. He lifted
his head when we approached, saw us, and then returned to his position.

The water was a godsend. My mouth watered for a taste as Hank led me to the edge of the pool and I noticed that his feet were bare and his hair was wet.

“The water is drinkable over there where it’s coming in from the rock,” he said. “I’ve already washed up in the pool and got most of the sand from my clothes. I healed you some while you were unconscious, but I’m wiped out and need to regenerate before I can do more. You need help?”

“No. I’m fine.” I went to bend down, but pain shot through my torso so fast I swayed. Shit. My eyes burned and my dry throat grew thick. I wanted so badly to get to the water, but it hurt too much.

I blinked rapidly, not realizing until he spoke that Hank was kneeling in front of me. “Put your hand on my shoulder so you don’t fall.”

I frowned, but did as he asked. And then it became clear as he gently placed one hand on my calf while the other pulled off my boot. Sand rained onto the ground. It took all my willpower to stay on my feet as each movement threatened to buckle my legs.

After my feet were bare, he stood. “We’re going to need to move soon, but you’ve got sand everywhere and you’ll heal faster without it rubbing your wounds raw. You can’t get in there with your clothes on. They’ll never dry and will be hell to get back on.”

“Take them off, I don’t care,” I said. Modesty didn’t factor at that point. Neither did romance. We were
battered and bruised, sweaty and ripe. And Hank had seen most of me before anyway, just recently after my visit with Nivian and then Emain. “This is becoming a habit,” I mumbled as he removed my pants and I tensed in pain.

He chuckled softly. “No doubt. And a bad one at that. God forbid I ever get to do this when you’re not wounded or half dead …”

I smiled.

Hank removed my belt, my sidearm, and then my pants, which I stepped out of very carefully while holding on to both of his shoulders.

He straightened, eyeing me with concern. “Can you manage lifting your arms?”

I winced, knowing it would hurt like hell. “Not really. But my jacket and shirt are full of sand. It’s even in my armpits. Let’s get it over with so we can catch up to Rex and Bryn.”

He smiled.

“Brave girl.”

“If you say so.”

Carefully Hank peeled off my jacket, my weapons harness, and then waited as I sucked in a readying breath, gritted my teeth, and lifted my arms. He made quick work of my shirt. Sweat was rolling off me, tears streamed down my face, and I was shaking. My arms fell limp at my sides, the action causing even more pain.

Hank leaned down and rolled his pants legs up and then held out his hand.

And I froze.

The way he stood there … hair wet, a busted lip, his cheek scraped raw, a bruise shadowing beneath his eyes, yet strength and power still radiated from him … And holding his hand out to me. The image seemed suspended as though my brain decided to pause and take a snapshot.

Then it was over almost as soon as it began. My chest ached and I wasn’t all that sure it was because of my wounds. Feeling exhausted and foggy, I slid my hand into his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and strong, feeding me some of his healing power, though I knew he had very little left.

Once my foot hit the cool water, I sighed. The cold wrapped around my skin, easing the burn of scrapes and hurts. Hank walked me to a ledge where I could hold on while going deeper into the pool, then he left me alone so I could soak in the water and rub the grit, sweat, blood, and sand from my body. Bra and underwear were completely soaked through, but I didn’t care.

Feeling better, I headed for the water coming in from the rock crevice, cupped my hands, and brought water to my lips. It was heaven.

After I drank my fill I turned. Brim had finally gotten to his feet and Hank was shaking out my clothing and had our weapons set out in a line on one of the rocks. No doubt having cleaned them of sand the best he could.

I guessed if I was going to be stranded in a hot desert world, he wasn’t a bad guy to have on my side.

Brim walked into the water as I walked out. I patted his head and approached my clothes. Hank kept his eyes averted and worked on brushing sand from his thigh harness and then strapped it back on. He had his socks and shoes back on, too.

I dressed as quickly as I could and had more of an issue with the smell of my clothes and the blood than I did with the pain of getting back into them.

“If we keep walking beneath this ridge, we should be going parallel with our original track. Rex said to head east.”

I grabbed my belt. “Thanks.”

He glanced up, his hands still around his thigh.

“For the …” I threw a hand toward the water.

A smile that he tried to suppress drew across his lips and he shook his head. “Anytime, Madigan.”

“So how good are you at directions?” I asked, easing into my shoulder harness.

“Compass.” He held up a dagger that I hadn’t seen him take from the station. It had a nice little sheath along with the firearm at his thigh. The end of it contained a dome.

“We’re not exactly home,” I pointed out.

“All three worlds have poles, different ones, sure, but this has a compass for each of them. See?” He turned a small lever and the dome rolled to reveal another one.

“Okay, survivor man, I’m impressed. You ready to go?”

He shoved the dagger into the sheath and grabbed
his jacket. “We’ll just make sure we’re on an easterly track. The ruins hopefully won’t be hard to miss.”

Despite the dim light, I didn’t miss his look. It was iffy at best. We were out in the sand flats without our guide, neither one of us having been here before. Separated from my little sister … Another snapshot rose up in front of me.

Bryn as a kid, sitting on the living room floor in her nightgown watching Saturday morning cartoons, her stuffed turtle in her lap—Turdy.

What started out as “Turty” had quickly become “Turdy” … Connor and I always had a good laugh about that. My heart constricted with the memory of my brother.

And Bryn.

Seeing her as a cold-blooded murderer, blood on her hands. It was a sight I’d never forget.

“You know it wasn’t Bryn,” Hank said.

“She doesn’t deserve this, Hank. On top of everything else … it’s too much.”

“You’d be surprised at what people can handle, Charlie. Look at you. All that’s happened … and yet you continue on. You’re one of the strongest people I have ever met here or in Elysia. And Bryn is cut from the same cloth. She’ll get through this, too.”

I nodded and wiped at the corner of one eye, watching Brim walk from the pool and then shake his big body. Water and slobber went flying in all directions. “You gonna tell me what those sirens were doing at the gate?”

For a second, I didn’t think he’d answer.

“Well, I’d guess they were there to take me home.”

“Back to Elysia? Why?”

He shrugged and picked up another pebble from the ledge, turning it over in his hands. He threw it into the water. “Because I am a traitor.”

“What?” I turned to face him. “What do you mean, traitor?”

No. Maybe I wasn’t conscious yet. Maybe I was still out cold and healing and this was just some weird-ass dream. I snorted a laugh and pinched the bridge of my nose, then rubbed a hand down my face, avoiding the tender spots.

“I don’t … understand,” I finally managed. How the hell could Hank be a traitor? There was no way in hell. I
knew
him. “Hank, you’re no traitor. Even I kn—”

“No, you don’t know, Charlie.” He whistled for Brim, turned, and strode off with parting words. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Alessandra’s words came back to haunt me then.
You never truly know another, what they’re capable of.

Did I ever think Will was capable of leading a double
life? No. I also didn’t think the same of Hank. But maybe he was right. I didn’t know a damn thing about his past or why he’d come to Atlanta.

I finished arming myself, then grabbed my jacket and limped off after him, ignoring the soreness and the pain, determined that my instincts were right this time. “I know enough,” I said, catching up to him. “You’re not a traitor, Hank.” I grabbed his arm. “And if someone thinks you are, then they don’t know you like I do.”

My touch drew him to a stop. He stared into the blackness ahead of us. I watched Brim for a few seconds and then asked, “Will we have another fight on our hands when we get back?”

That seemed to knock him out of his thoughts. “You’d fight?”

“Yes,” I answered, confounded that he’d think otherwise.

“Not knowing the circumstances? Even if I was a traitor, a fugitive?”

“You’ve fought for Emma, for me, and now for Bryn … Of course I’d fight. Look, whatever happened … I bet you had a damn good reason for what you did or whatever those sirens
think
you did.” I paused. “Why do they think you’re a traitor?”

Part of me was cringing inside and hoping to hell he didn’t say something I couldn’t overlook. I wanted at least one hero in my life, one guy who had some honor and dignity. One guy who could open up and tell me the truth. That would be nice, too, I thought
darkly as I waited for an explanation that obviously was not coming.

I shoved my stiff arms into my torn jacket and pushed past him. “We should get moving.”

“Charlie.”

Exasperated, I stopped. “Look, just forget it, okay? If you don’t want to share, you don’t want to share.” I whistled to Brim and skirted the pool to follow the path of the running water down the ravine.

“You know what
Malakim
means?” he asked behind me, frustration hardening his tone, and not waiting for an answer. “It means
guardian
.”

I climbed over a rock. “Great. Good for you.”

“A long time ago it used to mean something. It was important. Now”—he paused as though searching for the right words—“it’s a tradition, a title, an honor. Like you humans use the term
knight
. That word used to mean something a long time ago, too. Now it’s just a title given by a king or queen.”

Hank spoke as though
Malakim
was a death sentence, a horrible thing. “So you were a
Malakim
,” I said over my shoulder when he didn’t continue.

Brim dodged in front of me, disappearing beyond the shaft of moonlight shining down from a break above us.

“I was. Our king chose the first
Malakim
from four families. My family was and still is one of those. We are known for our guardianship and our power. We are—or were—respected in Fiallan.”

Hank stopped talking to concentrate as we picked
our way down a steep drop in the ravine. Water fell in a loud stream into a pool below and then disappeared beneath rock. Brim waited for us at the bottom. Above us the ceiling had opened up again, bathing a wide path of smooth gray rock in moonlight.

I waited for Hank. He eased down beside me, brushed off his hands, and then we continued side by side.