I give up trying to stand up and simply lay my cheek in the dirt. Dammit, I forgot to make us some Elder-proof clothing ahead of time again. It takes a few seconds, but I manage to focus long enough to open the door. Cameron and Erik bolt out like they’d been leaning against the wood just waiting for the moment they could be freed.
“Lee.” Karl’s voice is hoarse as he addresses the Tracker, now sauntering out of the office, picking at his teeth with the corner of a magazine. “Follow those bastards and report back to me in an hour. We need to know if they’re still in the area.”
As Erik drops down next to me, a medical bag in one hand, the cooler full of blood in the other, I watch Lee Acacia drop both the magazine and the jaded act and sprint out of the warehouse. He moves so fast he’s nearly a blur. Is that how Trackers work? That they’re faster than normal people?
“Cameron?” Erik touches the arm that got the worst of it from the Elders; pain lances through me like lightning. I jolt, but it only intensifies my agony. “We need to get her out of the dirt. Too much risk of infection with these—Jesus. There’s a hole in her shoulder about three and a half inches wide.”
Ha. Hahaha. I’ve been saying for months, even if just to myself, that there’s a hole in me. Now there really is.
“Christ. There’s—it got her leg, too.”
Karl murmurs an answer, his voice soaked with weary concern, but something stabs my butt. Pathetically, I don’t have the energy to cry out, so I—
There are no more Elders in Anchorage, at least for the time being. Lee was able to track them as far as Vancouver, but as they seemed to be consistently heading south, Karl felt the Métis were safe enough to come out of hiding.
Which means I need to get out of town as soon as possible so the Elders don’t have a reason to come back. Technically, it’s an easy enough decision. I’d already planned on going back to Annar to begin the long road toward atonement. But now that it’s a stark reality, I’m a bundle of confused, jittery nerves. Cameron insists that all of this is due to Human medications Erik has me on, but I’m thinking it’s more likely because taking responsibility for a whole slew of mistakes can make a person nauseated.
Karl’s phone goes off for what must be the thirtieth time in less than twenty-four hours. When we finally got home last night, he was too exhausted to answer any calls—even Moira’s. All communication was done via text, including an admission to his wife that he’d found me and was with me at that very moment—although, first thing this morning, he called her right away to elaborate. But now that we’ve had nearly a day’s worth of rest (albeit mostly under the influence of Erik’s drugs), I’m informed when the phone goes silent, “I need to tell him, Chloe. It’s time.”
He’s talking about Zthane Nightstorm, his best friend and apparently the only other person in the Guard more senior than he. That surprise was dropped on me just a few minutes ago, when he admitted he was second in command.
I certainly don’t want Zthane to lose his job—or Karl. “Okay,” I tell my friend. Nell comes over and jumps on the couch to sit next to me. I love how she instinctively knows when I need some good old-fashioned support.
Karl dials Zthane with his good hand and then puts it on speaker. He and I are alone in the living room; everybody else is going through the motions necessary for moving. Cameron’s gone down to turn in his resignation at the warehouse; Will’s in his bedroom packing. I stroke Nell’s satiny head when Zthane growls, “You better have a damn good reason why you haven’t checked in with me in nearly a day, Graystone.”
Ugh, not a good sign. I’ve never heard Zthane call Karl by his surname before.
Karl leans forward, wincing as his wounded arm, cradled in a sling, jostles against his leg. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Nell licks my hand and looks up at me, her dark eyes shiny with unconditional love and acceptance. I take this small bit of encouragement and cut Karl off as he’s about to speak. “Hi, Zthane.”
Something sounds on the other end, like a chair falling over. “Chloe? Is that you?”
Karl gives me a small, reassuring nod to continue. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “It’s me. We’re—Karl’s here with me in Alaska.”
A small, protracted silence precedes, “Pardon my language, but thank the effing gods. Karl, is she okay?”
I love how Zthane thinks that he’s swearing.
Karl bites his lip as he surveys me. According to Erik, the sooner I see a Shaman, the better. The same goes for him. We’re in pretty bad shape. But Karl knows as well as I that that isn’t the best thing to start out with. “We’ll be heading back to Annar within the next thirty-six hours.”
“I can have a team sent out—”
But Karl insists that a team isn’t necessary since we’ll be on our way shortly. I get the feeling Zthane is grossly unhappy with this, but after I swear to him that I’ll be back in Annar with Karl as soon as possible, he relents. And then he asks Karl to take him off the speakerphone.