other in debt. We didn’t do favors. He shouldn’t offer to help me without any strings attached. It wasn’t right. And he definitely shouldn’t smile while he made the offer. Because if we weren’t going to be enemies anymore, I didn’t know what we were. Slowly, I asked, “You’ll get me there?”
“If I can. You need me. Every minute you waste is a minute you can’t afford.”
He had me there. “Fine,” I said. “You can help me.” I was trying to make it seem like I was doing him the favor. It made me feel better, even though we both knew it was a lie.
“Good.” He rose and started walking, forcing me to follow or be left behind. My head was spinning, but I found that if I kept my eyes on him, I could move in a straight line. That was a good sign. I wasn’t having any trouble walking; that was another good sign. If we kept collecting good signs, I might reach Shadowed Hills alive.
We’d gone almost a mile when Tybalt stopped and sniffed the air, stiffening. I glanced at my candle, reassured to see that it was still burning a clean blue. “Tybalt, what’s—”
“Shhh,” he hissed. “Something’s coming.”
“Where?” I peered down the street. There was no one there, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything: if Tybalt said something was coming, he meant it. “Tybalt—”
“I think it’s time to consider running,” he said, grabbing my free hand.
“What?”
I could hear them around us as soon as my eyes were closed. The air came alive with hungry, panting sighs and the shrill cries of the monstrous children from Blind Michael’s halls. The Riders weren’t working, so the bastard was trying something new. He’d unleashed the only hounds he had—the children nobody had saved.
We ran until my legs buckled under me and I fell, nearly yanking my hand out of Tybalt’s. He paused long enough to grab me and swing me up into his arms before he started running again, faster than before. I huddled against him, gasping for air. The sounds of pursuit were getting dimmer: we were outrunning them, at least for now.
“Keep your eyes closed and don’t open them, no matter what,” he said next to my ear, in a surprisingly steady voice. “We have farther to go this time, and it may hurt. Do you understand?” I forced myself to nod. If he was in danger it was my fault; I had to do what he asked me to do. It might get us through alive.
“Good,” he said. “Now hold your breath.”
I barely had time to breathe in before the world turned to ice. I kept my eyes shut, forcing myself to count backward from one hundred. The air kept getting colder as Tybalt ran, reaching temperatures I hadn’t known were possible. How cold could shadows get? Ice was forming in my hair, and my lungs were starting to ache. I wasn’t sure how long I could hold on.
My grip on Tybalt’s arm tightened, and he said, sounding strained, “Hold on. We’re almost there—”
The air warmed so suddenly it was like someone had flipped a switch, and Tybalt stumbled as he made the transition from shadows to solid ground. I opened my eyes, blinking ice from my lashes. We were in an alley, and judging by the buildings around us, we were somewhere in Oakland, at least thirty miles from where we’d started. And we were alone. That was an improvement.
“Toby, if you don’t mind, I need to put you down,” he said. His voice was shaking. I looked up and winced. He looked like a man who’d just run a relay race through hell.
“Of course,” I said.
He lowered me to the ground. I sat, sticking my head between my knees. My body was telling me in no uncertain terms that it wanted a chance to stop and be violently ill. I’m usually willing to listen to the things my body tells me, but unfortunately, it doesn’t have a very good sense of impending doom. I was alone in an alley with the King of Cats, waiting for Blind Michael’s minions to swoop in and kill us. It wasn’t a good time to be sick. I ordered my stomach to behave itself, hoping it would listen.
Tybalt padded to the mouth of the alley, head cocked as he scanned the street for signs of danger. I stayed where I was, trying not to pant. My lungs were almost as angry as my stomach; they wanted air, and they wanted it
I paused, stiffening. The Luidaeg knew where I’d taken the kids, and Blind Michael was her brother. How deep did their ties run? Was it deep enough that he’d leave her alone? I knew he wanted me—I had plenty of proof of that—but would he go after her if he thought it would bring his lost children back? The Luidaeg is one of the biggest, meanest people I know. That didn’t mean Blind Michael couldn’t be bigger. Or meaner.
I didn’t hear Tybalt come back until his hand clamped down on my shoulder. If he’d been one of Blind Michael’s men, it would’ve been too late to run. Ah, the joy of total exhaustion. I jumped, and he smiled wearily as he sat beside me, leaving his hand where it was.
“You’re hurt,” he said, in a disapproving tone.
“I guess,” I said. There was a suspicious dampness on the back of my neck. My vision had returned to normal, so I wasn’t thinking concussion. Quite. “It’s nothing major.”
Tybalt took his hand off my shoulder and slid it through my hair. I bit my tongue, holding back a yelp as his fingers found every scrape and abrasion my battered scalp had to offer. “Nothing major?” he asked, pulling his hand away. Blood covered his fingertips. “When the night-haunts come for you, should I tell them to go away because it’s nothing major?”
“That’s not fair,” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. The blood on his hand wasn’t helping. I hate the sight of my own blood.
“Since when has fair had anything to do with us?” he asked, and stood, picking me up in the process. I found myself supported against his chest with my legs pinned under his arm before I had a chance to react.
“Hey!” I protested. “Put me down!”
He blinked, almost smiling. “We need to reach Shadowed Hills before the Hunt finds us. I followed your scent across the city. Do you think Blind Michael’s men are any less skilled? I have an advantage—I have a certain familiarity with your scent—but they’ll find us.”
“So we need to move. I get that.” It was hard to move with him holding me like that. If nothing else, it was distracting as all hell.
“We need to move
“That doesn’t mean I need to be carried!”
“Doesn’t it? Would you rather walk?”
I paused. Shadowed Hills was a thirty minute drive from Oakland, and as far as I knew, Tybalt didn’t drive. That meant he was probably planning on getting us there some other way. Even healthy, most of his roads would’ve worn me out. Wounded and exhausted, well …
Right. “Fine. Let’s go to Shadowed Hills.”
“Good girl,” he said, adjusting his grip. “Close your eyes, hold your candle close, and take the deepest breath you can. This time will take a little longer.”
“Define ‘a little.’ ”
His smile grew. “Just trust me.”
There was nothing I could say to that, and so I simply nodded.
“Close your eyes,” he said, and I closed them, clutching my candle. Not dropping me was Tybalt’s responsibility; not dropping the candle was mine. I felt him back up, getting a running start, and leap toward what I knew was actually a solid wall.
We never hit the stone. The world turned cold around us, existence reducing itself to the circle of Tybalt’s arms and the hot wax dripping on my hands. I kept my eyes screwed shut, holding my breath until I thought I would choke on it. Spots were dancing behind my eyes; I couldn’t possibly hold my breath any longer. How long did he expect me to go without air? Of course, he was the one doing the running. How far could he go before he fell down?
I forced myself not to breathe, nestling farther down in his arms and trying to let the rhythm of his body keep me calm. It wasn’t working. Everything was dark and cold, and ice was forming in my hair. Lines of frost ran down my lips and cheeks. And Tybalt kept running.
