“If he’s not, I’ll get him there for you.”
Both a threat and a promise, Phin’s words left little doubt that I’d get my audience with Jenner. One way or another.
I stood at the foot of the bed and watched Wyatt sleep for several minutes. He looked peaceful, all traces of worry and fatigue gone from his face. His right eye was puffy and slightly bruised, his left shoulder covered in white bandages. A half smile played on his lips, the product—I hoped—of a good dream. Machines beeped and whirred, tracking his strong vitals.
He deserved the rest; I hated waking him, inviting him back into our shared living hell. Denial was a happier place.
I skirted the end of the bed and perched on the edge, near his right arm. I brushed his hand, found warmth there, and folded it into mine. Squeezed. His eyes scrunched. I squeezed harder. Put my other hand on his chest. His heart thrummed beneath my touch.
He grunted and opened his eyes, peering at me from beneath thick lashes. Confusion slowly gave way to recognition. “Hey,” he rasped.
“If you don’t stop saving my life,” I said, “I’m never going to manage paying back this enormous debt I owe you.”
His eyebrows puckered. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I tapped my fingers against his chest. “Why don’t we save this old argument for when you’re feeling better?”
“Wimp.”
I laughed. “Stubborn jackass.”
He looked at my arm, shifted his position, and winced. “Guess that healing crystal was a one-shot deal.”
“Superhealing powers are overrated anyway.”
“Says the superhealing teleporter.”
“Two Gifts I never asked for,” I reminded him. “Not that they haven’t come in handy, but superpowers aren’t very fun when you keep healing and the people you care about don’t.”
His right hand clenched mine. He lifted his left, placed it over my other, held it tight to his chest. “I’m going to be fine, Evy. It looked scarier than it was. I probably wouldn’t have needed surgery if it hadn’t gone in so close to my spine. They were being extra careful removing it.” His eyes searched mine. “Gina said you and the shape-shifter went to do some digging.”
“Phin,” I said. Annoyance came from nowhere, directed squarely at Wyatt’s unveiled jealousy. “Yes, we did some digging. Dug up a pretty interesting corpse with his help.” I relayed what I’d learned from Tattoo about the meeting at Park and Howard, and what Phin had told me about bi-shifting.
“What was the other thing?” he asked.
“What other thing?”
“I overheard Gina saying something about a man at Chalice’s apartment.”
I closed my eyes, without the stamina to talk about that again, and let my head rest on his chest, just above where our hands still held tight. His heart beat beneath my ear, strong and powerful. It had stopped less than twelve hours ago and had nearly shattered my world. We had shared each other’s pain, and yet I didn’t want to share this one. He pulled one hand free and gently stroked the back of my neck.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I met Alex’s dad.”
His hand stilled. A moment passed. I let him lift my chin and turn my head until I was looking at him. “How did that go?”
“It was weird,” I admitted. “I don’t think he ever suspected I wasn’t Chalice. He seemed madder that I hadn’t called in the National Guard to find his missing son. Guess that makes me a bad friend in his eyes.”
“And that bothers you.”
“It bothers her.” And the dividing line between us was beginning to fade. “So, yeah, it does bother me. Especially since I know he’s not missing, and I can’t even tell Leo the truth. I don’t think he and Alex had a great relationship, but it seems like they were trying to fix it.”
He didn’t look away, but some of the focus left his eyes as he pondered something. Considered his words.
“Evy, I know you don’t want to hear me say this right now—”
“Bottle up my emotions, because my anger is my best fuel?”
His lips parted.
I sat up, shrugging one shoulder. “Kismet gave me a similar speech earlier today. Got any other fortune cookie wisdom for me?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That was my best line. It’s all the advice I’ve got for you, and I hate to say it, but Alex’s personal bullshit with his father has to wait. We’ve got living people to worry about—one of whom is down the hall from here and counting on us to save his life.”
“I know, Wyatt.” I stood up and paced to the far side of the room. To get some distance, maybe gain some perspective. “I need to talk to Jenner about getting access to the Clan Assembly. I need to stake out that building on Park Place and find out who’s recruiting Dregs that hate humans. I need to get that password info from the gremlins first thing in the morning. I need to protect the last three living Coni long enough for one of them to have a baby. And all of this has to be done while avoiding questions from an angry father, not telling Kismet what I’m up to, and without you helping me.”
I glared at him, hands on hips. “Want to add anything else to my plate?”
Wyatt used the bed controls to sit up straighter, mouth twisting in pain as his body shifted position. “It’s too much? You want to quit?”
“Fuck you, Truman.”
“I didn’t think so.”
I slammed my foot flat against the wall—for all the good it did—and received a shock wave up my ankle and calf. He knew my buttons, and he knew how to press them. He wasn’t wrong, though, as much as it frustrated me to admit it. I had a lot to do, not a lot of time to do it, and very few people on my side.
At least my after-afterlife was somewhat consistent.
“What did the wall do?” Wyatt asked.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not allowed to vent anymore?”
“Vent, yes. Just try not to break your foot, okay?”
“It’ll heal.”
“You’re exasperating.”
“And you’re not?”
“I’m injured. I have an excuse.”
“You never needed one before.”
“Ha-ha.” He blew hard through his nose. “I want to be out there with you, Evy. You know that.”
I approached the bed, close enough to take his extended hand and squeeze. “I know, but this is what happens when you do stupid things like save my life.”
“Hanging around you does get me hurt a lot.”
“You love it.”
The setup was there, and I was sorry for my words the instant they left my mouth. I didn’t need to hear him say it again, not when I couldn’t say it back. Our gazes locked; I saw it in his eyes. In the way his lips parted, preparing to speak.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted him and dragged our collective attention to the other side of the room. Phin stood halfway inside, closed fist against the frame. He looked right at me, ignoring Wyatt, who held my hand tighter.
“Michael Jenner has agreed to meet with us,” Phin said to me. “Thirty minutes, other side of town. We need to go.”
“Okay,” I said, and then turned my attention to Wyatt. His expression was dark, annoyed. Probably by Phin’s casual use of “us” and “we” when Wyatt was stuck in bed. Professional jealousy I could deal with, as long as it
