Swallowing Darkness - Laurell K. Hamilton [118]
“Her skin’s cold. She’s going into shock. Shit!”
I thought, “No, I can’t go into shock. That might kill me. Wouldn’t it?” I couldn’t seem to think clearly. But the moment I decided not to go into shock, the pain hit me. It was like a smaller cut, when it doesn’t hurt until you see the blood. But this was not small, and the pain was shearing, burning. Why did it burn? Was it my imagination, or could I really feel the nails embedded in my flesh?
I grabbed Gregorio with my left hand, because I couldn’t raise the right one. Something was very wrong with my shoulder. “I need Doyle. I need Rhys. I need my men.”
“We’re getting you to safety, then we’ll worry about your guards,” the driver yelled back.
Corporal Lance kept us moving, and the other Humvees moved so that we could. We were moving past the car that had held Galen, Sholto, and Mistral. They weren’t in it. Gregorio was trying to get me to lie down. I batted her hands away. Where were they?
I sent my magic seeking them, and felt a tug on that line of power. Someone who was attached to my power was hurt, very hurt. His life flickered like fire in a strong wind. Death was coming.
I couldn’t think of anything else but that I had to get to him. Had to get to him. Had to…. I touched Gregorio on her face, and whispered, “I’m sorry,” then smiled at her. I called my glamour and let her see not what I wanted her to see, but anything she wished to see. Anything if it would get me out of here, and to that flickering light I could feel out there in the dark.
Her face softened, and she whispered, “Kevin.”
I smiled, and when she leaned in to kiss me, I kissed her back, ever so gently, and laid her down on the seat with a smile still curling her lips. She would dream of the man who had given her that kiss. It was a type of glamour that was completely illegal, under the same heading as a date-rape drug. But I had no interest in anything but getting out.
I opened the door. Lance slammed on the brakes, and yelled, “What are you doing, Princess?”
“He’s dying. I have to help him.” I stepped out into the road. I used my good arm to cradle the injured one, and began to move through the trees. I would have run, but that line of power was flickering too low. If I ran, I would lose it, as if my running were a stronger wind than his life could survive. I prayed, and wrapped glamour around me. Glamour to keep our driver from seeing me and dragging me back. Glamour to hide from the sidhe who wanted me dead. Glamour to make me look like whoever the person expected to see, and would be glad to see. It was a type of personal glamour that I had never tried before, but I just suddenly knew that I could do it. I hid by being whoever or whatever they needed to see, and I moved away from them all. I had to find him before he died. I wouldn’t let myself think who it was that I chased in the dark. There would be time enough to see who I had lost when I got to his side.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
OF EVERYONE I HAD EXPECTED TO FIND AT THE END OF THAT powerful drawing in, a soldier was not among them. The man lay on his stomach, hidden where he’d crawled into the woods. His uniform had done what my glamour did, hidden him.
I would have questioned whether I’d taken a wrong turn or followed the wrong scent, but the sense of urgency and rightness was too clear. This was the man who had drawn me, blind with magic, through the edges of battle.
I knelt in the leaves and weeds in the winter-locked forest. I had to turn him over with my left hand, for my right shoulder was still full of the nails. I could flex my hand, but I could not raise it high enough to do anything but steady the man’s body as I pushed. The pain from just that small helping movement was excruciating. It left me breathless, and the bare trees swam in streamers of sickening black and white. I rested on the man’s chest for a moment, eyes closed, not sure if I was going to