lacking bodies of their own, sometimes risked the wrath of Heaven by borrowing mortal bodies.
And now one of those mortals was dead. Kil ed. She and Gideon had kil ed him.
Gideon stooped briefly, tracing the
“We need to get out of here,” he said.
“Right.” She col ected her legs and her wits. Sliding an arm behind Justin’s back, she propped him to a sitting position.
He stared at her, his eyes dark and dazed.
“Justin? Can you stand up?”
He nodded. Or maybe he was simply having trouble holding his head upright.
“He can’t come with us,” Gideon objected.
Lara slung her purse over her shoulder and wrapped her arms around Justin’s waist. “I’m not leaving him.”
Gideon shifted, irresolute. “You don’t even know if it’s safe to move him.”
“I know it’s dangerous for him to stay.”
F o r g o t t e n s e a 25
The demons might not hunt humans, but they preyed in gleeful retribution on the Fal en children of air. Human or not, shielded or not, Justin had made himself a target simply by coming to her rescue.
She thrust her shoulder under his armpit, braced her legs, and pushed them both to their feet. He lurched against her to save himself from fal ing. Tucked under his arm, she was acutely conscious of his height. His weight. His warm, animal scent. His body was lean, but big boned and packed with muscle.
“Get his other side,” she ordered.
Gideon moved automatical y to obey. Under the Rule governing their community, they were vowed to obedience.
She winced. So far she was failing at al three. But at least Gideon was prepared to fol ow her lead for now.
They shuffled toward the car parked at the other end of the lot. Justin hung between them, his bloody head lol ing against his chest, his feet dragging. Dead weight.
Lara’s palms sweat. She shifted her grip.
The last daylight faded from the sky. Shadows col ected on the ground, tripping them up. As they reached the car, Justin stumbled. Lara struggled to keep them both upright.
“Careful.” Gideon unlocked the car and opened the rear passenger door.
Justin’s muscles trembled. She could feel his effort to cooperate as they loaded him awkwardly into the backseat, as they folded and stuffed his long body into the car. By the time he col apsed beside her, they were both damp and panting. Her heart pounded with worry and exertion. She clasped her arms around him to keep him on the seat. He groaned and tried to raise his head.
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V i r g i n i a K a n t r a
The driver’s side door slammed as Gideon got in. “You owe me another shirt.”
They both were streaked with blood. She grabbed a wad of paper napkins left over from their lunch in Maryland and attempted to staunch Justin’s wound. “We owe him our lives. He wouldn’t be hurt if he hadn’t helped us.”
Gideon met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Where to?” he asked, making it clear that whatever happened next was her choice. Her responsibility.
Her fault.
She swal owed her resentment and her doubts. “The hospital.”
The engine rumbled to life.
Justin muttered against her shoulder, his speech deep and slurred.
She stroked his tawny hair, streaked with sweat and blood.
“What did you say?”
His breathing rasped. “No . . . hospital.”
“Sorry, pal,” she said. “You need a doctor. Stitches.”
A CAT scan.
“No.”
She gentled her voice. “If you can’t afford it—”
