Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)

Falin jumped forward, catching my arms. He lips twisted in pain with the movement, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

I slammed my shields closed, and the land of the dead slipped away.

But the damage was already done, my leg caught al the way to my midthigh. In fact, closing my shields might have made things worse because the wood was once again solid around my leg.

“Hold stil ,” Falin said, shifting his grip under my arms. He winced as he lifted me and I motioned him away.

“You’re hurt. I can do this.”

He glared at me, but I met the ice in his eyes with my own scowl. Final y he released me, holding his hands up in surrender and backing up a step. Of course, saying I could do it was easier than actual y freeing myself.

It took me several minutes of repositioning my arms and my free leg before I found an angle where I could wiggle my leg out of the hole. I was breathing hard by the time both my feet were on the top side of the porch again. Blowing a curl out of my face, I wiped my palms on the front of my jeans and turned to face Falin. “So, was that parting quip meant to get me chasing after you for clarification or . . . ?”

“Just watching.”

“Just watching.”

“Me? Or for someone?” I asked, but he didn’t answer.

“Falin, what is going on?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. His glamour once again cloaked his clothing and he leaned against the wal as if he had no intention of going anywhere. I sighed.

Obstinacy was one of his reigning qualities.

“Wel , if you are going to stick around, you might as wel come back inside.” I pushed the door open, holding it wide.

He pursed his lips but didn’t move.

I waited several heartbeats. Then I turned, letting the door swing shut behind me and headed toward the bathroom. It took me only a moment to find what I was looking for. Then gripping it hard enough that my knuckles turned white, I headed back outside.

“Here’s your damn toothbrush.” I shoved it at Falin, and he blinked, his blue eyes wide with surprise. “Now, it’s barely seven o’clock and I’ve already had a hel of a day.

Why don’t we have some breakfast and swap notes.

Maybe we can work together.”

If we didn’t throttle each other first.

“Alex, an oatmeal creme pie doesn’t count as breakfast,”

Falin said, staring at the prepackaged sweet as if it had offended him.

I shrugged. “Don’t knock it,” I said. I perched in the one chair I owned and opened my laptop. I’d put fresh sheets on the bed and I hoped Falin would get a little more rest. He might have some super-fae healing powers, but the glimpses I’d caught of him unglamoured proved he stil needed some recuperation time.

“So, did I draw the queen’s attention with the tear or the castle?”

“Castle?” Falin’s eyebrow lifted, and while he might have been faking ignorance, he sounded genuinely confused.

I shook my head, dismissing the question. “Okay, so I’m I shook my head, dismissing the question. “Okay, so I’m guessing this has something to do with the tear.”

“Something? This has everything to do with the tear.

What were you thinking, merging realities in the middle of a crowded street?”

“Uh, I was thinking Hol y was about to get shredded,” I said as I dug through my purse in search of the charmed disk. “What kind of fal out am I looking at?”

“Wel , you drew the attention of at least two faerie courts.

They are asking questions.”

“I’m guessing their curiosity would be bad for my health?”

Falin set the untouched oatmeal creme pie aside. Then he propped my pil ows against the wal and reclined against them, his hands behind his head. “If not your health, then definitely your freedom. If the courts realize what you can do, you’l likely end up sequestered in Faerie.”

Sequestered? I was not a fan of that outcome. I retrieved the disk and set my purse aside.

“Fred said, ‘They come.’ Think that’s about the courts?”

Falin opened his eyes, which had drifted closed while we spoke. “Who’s Fred?”

“Oh, uh, the gargoyle?” I shrugged. “I sort of named it.”

He stared at me, and then burst out laughing. “The winged one with the cat face?” At my nod he laughed harder, which made him wince and grasp his injured side.

“You realize that particular gargoyle is female and holds a position among gargoyles similar to that of a high priestess or a grand oracle?”

“Oh.” I guess that explained why she’d seemed so amused when I’d named her. But she’d refused to give me a name to cal her, and it was hard to converse with someone who didn’t have a name—even if that someone happened to be made of stone. “Anyway,” I said, “just before I found you last night, she told me, ‘They come.’”

“That’s a fairly vague warning.”

“Tel me about it.”

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