“O’Shea!” Jared shouted after us.
“I’m going to hurt her?” Ian roared back over his shoulder, not breaking pace. “I am? You hypocritical swine!”
There was nothing but silence and blackness behind us now. I stumbled in the dark, trying to keep up.
It was then that I began to feel the throbbing from Ian’s grip. His hand was tight as a tourniquet around my upper arm, his long fingers making the circle easily and then overlapping. My hand was going numb.
He jerked me along faster, and my breath caught in a moan, almost a cry of pain.
The sound made Ian stumble to a stop. His breathing was hoarse in the darkness.
“Ian, Ian, I…” I choked, unable to finish. I didn’t know what to say, picturing his furious face.
His arms caught me up abruptly, yanking my feet out from under me and then catching my shoulders before I could fall. He started running forward again, carrying me now. His hands were not rough and angry like before; he cradled me against his chest.
He ran right through the big plaza, ignoring the surprised and even suspicious faces. There was too much that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable going on in the caves right now. The humans here—Violetta, Geoffrey, Andy, Paige, Aaron, Brandt, and more I couldn’t see well as we jolted past—were skittish. It disturbed them to see Ian running headlong through them, face twisted with rage, with me in his arms.
And then they were behind us. He didn’t pause until we reached the doors leaning against his and Kyle’s room. He kicked the red one out of the way—it hit the stone floor with an echoing boom—and dropped me onto the mattress on the floor.
Ian stood above me, his chest heaving with exertion and fury. For a second he turned away and put the door back in place with one swift wrench. And then he was glowering again.
I took a deep breath and rolled up onto my knees, holding my hands out, palms up, wishing that some magic would appear in them. Something I could give him, something I could say. But my hands were empty.
“You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me.” His eyes blazed—burning brighter than I had ever seen them, blue flames.
“Ian,” I whispered. “You have to see that… that I can’t stay. You must see that.”
“No!” he shouted at me.
I cringed back, and, abruptly, Ian crumpled forward, falling to his knees, falling into me. He buried his head in my stomach, and his arms locked around my waist. He was shaking, shaking hard, and loud, desperate sobs were breaking out of his chest.
“No, Ian, no,” I begged. This was so much worse than his anger. “Don’t, please. Please, don’t.”
“Wanda,” he moaned.
“Ian, please. Don’t feel this way. Don’t. I’m so sorry. Please.”
I was crying, too, shaking, too, though that might have been him shaking me.
“You can’t leave.”
“I have to, I have to,” I sobbed.
And then we cried wordlessly for a long time.
His tears dried before mine. Eventually, he straightened up and pulled me into his arms again. He waited until I was able to speak.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was mean.”
“No, no. I’m sorry. I should have told you, when you didn’t guess. I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t want to tell you—to hurt you—to hurt me. It was selfish.”
“We need to talk about this, Wanda. It’s not a done deal. It can’t be.”
“It is.”
He shook his head, clenching his teeth. “How long? How long have you been planning this?”
“Since the Seeker,” I whispered.
He nodded, seeming to expect this answer. “And you thought that you had to give up your secret to save her. I can understand that. But that doesn’t mean you have to go anywhere. Just because Doc knows now… that doesn’t mean anything. If I’d thought for one minute that it did, that one action equaled the other, I wouldn’t have stood there and let you show him. No one is going to force you to lie down on his blasted gurney! I’ll break his hands if he tries to touch you!”
“Ian, please.”
“They can’t make you, Wanda! Do you hear me?” He was shouting again.
“No one is making me. I didn’t show Doc how to do the separation so that I could save the Seeker,” I whispered. “The Seeker’s being here just made me have to decide… faster. I did it to save Mel, Ian.”
His nostrils flared, and he said nothing.
“She’s trapped in here, Ian. It’s like a prison—worse than that; I can’t even describe it. She’s like a ghost. And I can free her. I can give her herself back.”
“You deserve a life, too, Wanda. You deserve to stay.”
“But I love her, Ian.”
He closed his eyes, and his pale lips went dead white.
“But I love you,” he whispered. “Doesn’t that matter?”
“Of course it matters. So much. Can’t you see? That only makes it more… necessary.”