“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing me by the elbow and helping me keep my balance.
“I should be asking you that.” Whereas the nightmares had left me uninjured, he was covered in deep scratches, his fancy suit ruined and stained.
He looked me over, and then nodded. “I’l be fine.”
He dropped my arm as he glanced around. Apparently satisfied that we weren’t in immediate danger, he ripped a section of more or less clean material from his ruined shirt and meticulously wiped the blood from first one and then the other dagger.
I watched for only a moment, then turned to stare out at the oppressive darkness. “Why do you think they pul ed back?” I asked, searching for shadows with no source.
Falin shook his head, and the low, rumbling growl I’d heard earlier fil ed the darkness in front of me. I froze.
Falin’s head shot up, the daggers gripped in his hands and ready to kil .
A hulking shadow separated itself from the darkness, its gait slow and cautious. At first al I could make out was its bright, red-rimmed pupils, but then I recognized the doglike form and realized I’d seen a similar creature before. It was a barghest, like the one I’d seen in the Bloom with Rianna.
In fact, it might have even been the same barghest.
“Desmond?” I asked, my voice sounding every bit as frightened and unsure as I felt. So much for putting on a tough act.
The barghest inclined its head, which might have been acknowledgment or might just have meant it was preparing to attack. Its eyes flickered toward Falin, focusing on the to attack. Its eyes flickered toward Falin, focusing on the stil -exposed daggers, before moving back to me. Then the doglike fae reared back onto its hind legs. He balanced like that, straightening, and as he straightened, he changed, so by the time he stood completely erect he was a man, not a beast.
“You should not be in the nightmare realm, old friend of my Shadow Girl,” he said, striding forward.
Falin stepped in front of me, blocking the barghest’s path, and the beast-turned-man stopped. It regarded us with eyes that hadn’t changed in the least, stil dark with pupils ringed in red. His hair had the inky blackness of his beast form’s coat, and it blended with the dark cloak he wore like living shadows pul ed around his body.
I placed a hand on Falin’s arm. He would be able to feel the tremble in my fingers, but I didn’t want him to attack the barghest unless he truly posed a threat. Shadow Girl was a name the fae had given Rianna, and I hadn’t missed the possessive he’d used when he referred to her. Besides, I’d heard him growl before the nightmares had retreated. He may wel have been the reason they’d fled. Whether that meant he was helping us or not was yet to be determined.
First I wanted to confirm that he was who I thought. “You’re Desmond, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “That is one name I’ve used. Now we must leave this place. The denizens of Faerie are forbidden in this realm.”
Why would they want to come here in the first place? I didn’t ask that question. Instead I asked, “Do you know the way out?”
Again Desmond nodded. I glanced at Falin. His eyes were narrowed, his expression wary, but he shrugged.
What choice did we have? It wasn’t like we were doing so wel at finding a way out on our own. Falin sheathed one dagger, but he kept the second one in his hand, though he pointed it at the ground, not at Desmond.
“Which way?” I asked, turning my attention back to
“Which way?” I asked, turning my attention back to Desmond.
“Oh, this is good,” a new voice said, making me jump.
“The Winter Queen’s bloodied hands, a barghest, and a planeweaver al walk into a nightmare. What wil the punch line be?”
I whirled around. There had been nothing but sand behind me before, but now, not three feet away, stood a large black chair covered in intricate carvings that reminded me a little too much of the nightmares. And in the chair was a fae, his feet kicked over one ornate arm, and his back leaning against the other, his hands behind his head. He wore a grin that looked comfortable on his face, a very Cheshire cat–like expression, as if he had a secret that amused him at our expense. Dark hair fel around his high cheekbones in the kind of chaotic rumple that had to be intentional. I realized as I looked at that goth-emo hair that he was the first Sleagh Maith I’d seen with hair shorter than shoulder length.
PC growled, and I rubbed his head absently, trying to shush him as I stared at the newcomer. He hadn’t been there a moment before, but I could see through glamour, and both he and the chair were real. Judging by the thronelike seat, I guessed we must have found the local royalty. But hadn’t Desmond said this place was forbidden to the fae?
“Are you the king of the nightmare realm?” I asked.