“If necessary,” Alan told him, voice calm and sweet. His face told a different story, but that didn’t matter. Nick’s eyes were closed.
Alan reached out and pushed the sweaty hair back from Nick’s brow, and Nick turned his head restlessly away. Alan withdrew his hand
“I had her number the whole time,” Nick murmured. “You have so little faith.”
“Well, faith’s hard,” said Alan, voice so soothing it was practically a melody. “Especially when you’re such an idiot. You realize this shirt is ruined.”
He ripped the shirt apart with efficient hands, the buttons flying behind the headrests and into the front seat.
Nick’s chest was heaving, slick with sweat and blood. There was a thin line where the sword had skittered over his ribs, and then the deep, terrible wound on the right.
Mae tried not to panic.
“That’s going to need stitches,” Alan remarked. “Mae, my first-aid kit is in the boot of the car. Would you go grab it for me?”
He threw the keys over his shoulder at her without looking and she caught them, grateful for something, anything to do.
“Don’t bother,” Nick rasped.
Mae glanced at him, startled, and saw his fingers wrap around Alan’s wrist, forcing Alan’s hand away.
“Why mess around? All you have to do is drive me out of here and I can fix myself up.”
“Oh,” said Alan, his voice entirely changed, gone flat. “Of course. Stupid of me. I wasn’t thinking.” He paused. “Mae, would you grab the first-aid kit anyway?”
“Sure,” said Mae, and went and grabbed it.
When she got back, Alan was scrambling out of the car, wincing as he jolted his leg. He flipped the box open and sorted through it, then ducked his head into the car.
“Here,” he said, his whole air terribly casual. “Here’s a pad. Hold it to the wound as we’re traveling, would you? We don’t want you bleeding out before we cross the boundaries of the circle.”
Nick took it, hissing as he pulled himself into a sitting position.
“I can take the back,” Mae volunteered.
“No,” said Jamie. “I will. It’s fine.”
He climbed in beside Nick a little tentatively, as if convinced that if Nick was even slightly jostled he would die on the spot.
Mae figured the only thing she could do was get into the car so they could get out of there, so she did that as fast as possible. Alan backed out of their space and went out of the car park driving just a little over the limit.
She twisted around in her seat as they sped through the streets of Southwark, at the same time Jamie asked hesitantly, “How are you feeling?”
“Someone drove a very sharp sword between my ribs,” Nick said evenly. “How do you think?”
Jamie laid a hand on Nick’s arm. “Well,” he said, a bit awkwardly. “Th—”
“Don’t
Jamie removed his hand as if scalded. “Sorry,” he said, and tried to tuck himself into a corner of the car as far away from Nick as he could.
Nick leaned his head back against the headrest, teeth gritted against the pain as they went over a speed bump. He’d gone so white he would have looked like stone if not for the sweat making his black hair spike up and pooling in the hollow of his throat.
“I didn’t mean for you to take that the wrong way,” he said abruptly.
Mae stared at him in amazement. So, for that matter, did Jamie.
“What?”
“Demons don’t touch anyone without a reason,” Nick went on, his eyes shut again. “You can imagine what kind of reasons we usually have. I don’t like—not anyone—I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Oh,” said Jamie. “Oh, that’s okay! That’s fine. I understand. I am filled to the brim with understanding and, and acceptance! I’m very Zen like that.”
Nick snorted.
“Thank you,” Jamie said, fast, as if he wanted to get it out before any more misunderstandings appeared in their path. “You didn’t have to do that. If you guys had left me, I know you would have come back later. I mean, you could have done that. I was expecting it. You didn’t have to, um, get stabbed for me. So thanks.”
“Stop talking like a moron,” Nick drawled. “If you can.”
“Thanks,” Jamie repeated in a much less sincere tone.
He shut up. The harsh, labored sound of Nick’s breathing was the only noise in the car. In the front Mae sat and regarded the broken sword on the dashboard and Nick’s strained white face in the rearview mirror.
They were not quite out of London when they passed the boundary of Celeste’s circle. Nick’s breathing changed, became light and easy. His normal pale face in the mirror was such a contrast to the drawn reflection Mae had been studying a moment before that it appeared his cheeks had flooded with color. When she glanced
