Dark Company (26 page)

“Poe, wait …” Caddy pulled his necklace from her pocket. Balancing on her toes, hands quaking, she fastened it around his neck. “Be safe.”

“Dream well, Cadence,” he said, lifting the blanket roll to his shoulder. He walked across the field, his silhouette blurring in the sunlight. With every footstep, Caddy’s heart grew heavier, until she thought it would break in two.

The Dreamers were waiting when she returned to the house. Hex and Red were gone. Caddy hadn’t seen them leave though she was
sure Hex had witnessed her exchange with Poe. April made space for her in the circle, taking her hand as she sat. A woman across the room straightened and cleared her throat. She faced Caddy.

“Tell us where you go when you dream,” she said.

S
kylark lay on the hotel room floor, clutching the shaft of the arrow, ice filaments creeping up her hand. Things with the Speaker hadn’t gone as the cowboy had planned. She’d let the old man down. If she hadn’t allowed jealousy to get the better of her, if she hadn’t hesitated when the girl showed up, they would have had the advantage. Her obsession with Poe had caused her to screw up the mission. She was so focused on Cadence that she gave the demon an opening. And he took it. Now she might never see Poe again. What was Cadence doing there anyway? What was her connection to the Speaker?

But there were more pressing things to worry about. Like Timon. He was going to be furious, that was for sure.

Skylark’s teeth started to chatter. She must look ridiculous, she thought, lying on her back in some sleazy dive, her own arrow through her shoulder, freezing to death. At least the arrow had hit her left side. It shouldn’t affect her shooting much—if she survived.

She lifted her head, just long enough to see the Speaker dissolve into a shapeless form that receded like the signal on an old tube TV. Someone pounded on the door.

“I’m calling the cops!” a man yelled.

Francis leaned over her, his blue eyes blazing, face crimped with worry. “Aw, hell, Skylark.”

She shivered uncontrollably. “I’m cold, Fran.” She saw the mouse lying next to her. His mouth was open, and his whole body was blue with frost.

“Sebbie …”

Swift as a sparrow, Francis pocketed the mouse and gathered her in his arms. She tried to tell him she was sorry, but the cold stole the words from her mouth. He wasn’t in a mood for listening anyway. He lifted her from the ground and they jumped, landing in front of two gleaming doors. Francis didn’t bother to announce himself but simply kicked the doors open with his cowboy boot and hurried in.

The building was all glass and glimmer like every other place in the city. And it was packed. There were beings of every Frequency and animal totems everywhere. They loomed past as Francis raced with her down the corridor. She wished he would slow down. He was making her dizzy. The pain in her shoulder spiked and she cried out, causing Francis to hustle even faster. He veered into an empty room and placed her lovingly on a stretcher, then put the mouse on his own stretcher beside her.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he said.

Several Healers and their falcons glided into the room, radiating compassion and calm. Two of them wheeled Sebastian away. The others gathered around her bed. Skylark could feel ice filaments crawling across her face. Her chest felt so heavy. She coughed, and a thick black ooze sputtered from her mouth. This upset Francis, and a Healer had to escort him from the room. She could see him standing in the hallway, worrying his beard. She felt awful for causing so much trouble.

The pain was growing in her shoulder, triggering small starbursts across her vision. Was she going to die? The Healers poured
their emerald energy over her, concentrating on her wound. Several tried to remove her armour. The Ephemeral was being difficult, refusing to let go. Such a beautiful, loyal thing. Skylark would have told it so, if only her teeth would stop chattering.

By the time Timon arrived, the Healers had managed to remove her armour, and the Ephemeral was hovering in a cloud of its own mist beside the bed. A laser beam of green light was being trained on the arrow, with little success. It seemed to absorb everything. Skylark watched what was happening from a remote seat in her mind. The more the Healers tried to remove the arrow, the deeper its toxin crept through her body. At one point her soul light began to falter, and more Healers hastened into the room. Poor little light, she thought, though she was more concerned about Timon. He was glaring through the glass, disapproval pouring from every molecule in his being. His brow was permanently knit and he wouldn’t even look at Francis. Skylark strained through her agony to hear their conversation.

“What’s the prognosis?” Timon asked.

The cowboy shook his head. “They don’t know. They’ve never seen anything like it before. They think there’s some kind of poison in her system, messing with her energy.”

“You’ve made a grave error in judgment this time, Francis. It’s going to cost us dearly.”

“She was ready, T. He pulled a fast one. Even I didn’t see it coming.”

“Meticulous fieldwork, Francis. We lost so many good men to acquire the information I gave you.”

“We almost had him. Skylark severed the cord like a champ. We didn’t know he’d learned some new tricks. He infected her arrow—turned it all black and evil. We’ll get him next time.”

Timon’s eyebrows jumped. “I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. There may not be a next time. We’ve run out of options. It’s as simple as that. If you’d taken Kenji
instead of Skylark, as per orders, this may have ended in our favour. Now the Council will have to be involved. We will likely lose the assignment altogether—and Skylark.”

Francis shot him a panicked look. “Skylark’s strong, T. She’s gonna pull through.”

“If you’d listened to me, she wouldn’t be in this situation!” Timon yelled. He walked away, leaving Francis alone with his guilt and worry.

The Healers produced a surge of energy and Skylark nearly passed out as the arrow crumbled to dust. Its black ashes were carefully brushed into an even blacker box and sealed with a strange gold liquid from a thin vial. The box was placed inside a larger gold receptacle, covered with a silver fabric, and carried from the room. The remaining Healers and their falcons circled the stretcher. They directed their light on Skylark, and sustained an emerald beam, causing the last filaments of ice to melt from her body. Using strips of ethereal cloth, they carefully bound the wound on her shoulder and wheeled her from the room. The Ephemeral followed like a puppy, floating in its mist. Francis chased after them, jogging alongside the stretcher.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

Skylark reached for him and her arm sagged. He took her hand and held it the entire length of the hall. The Healers steered her into a quiet room. They lifted her with their light energy from the stretcher to the bed and made sure she was comfortable. One addressed Francis, communicating telepathically.

“She’s had quite a shock. Please don’t upset her in any way.”

“How long before she’s back on her feet?”

Francis asked this for her sake, she thought. He was trying to be optimistic. The Healer wasn’t about to humour him.

“We don’t know. Vital signs are faint though stable. We will have to wait and see.”

The Healers glided from the room. Francis pulled up a chair
and sat beside her, careful not to thump his cowboy boots on the floor. Skylark watched him through half-closed eyes. He was riddled with remorse—she could see that. She wanted to tell him not to worry, that it wasn’t his fault. But her eyelids were heavy and she drifted off.

She was immediately confronted by a confusion of images—the Speaker, the man on the bed, the landscape of ash, the girl with the hazel eyes. What was her name again? She saw herself fire the arrow and watched as it streaked back toward her. When it hit her shoulder, everything went black. She floated in the void, the arrow’s dark poison taking hold. It was doing something to her. Creeping deep into the hollows of her system. Changing her energy. She could feel it. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

After a very long time, a voice penetrated the darkness.

“Well, well, well. You really screwed up this time, didn’t you, old man.”

Skylark’s eyes popped open. It was Kenji. He had a bouquet of orange chrysanthemums in his hand. She sighed with relief, thankful to have been rescued from the murky fluid of her dreams. Kenji held the flowers up for her to see, removing his glasses and studying her with concerned eyes.

“How you doing, kid?”

Her robe draped dull and lifeless over her legs. The arrow had really kicked it out of her. She was lucky to be alive. “I’m okay,” she said, trying to be positive.

Kenji turned to Francis. “Does she know?”

“Know what?” Skylark asked.

Kenji gave the cowboy a reproving look. “How’s the shoulder?” he deflected.

She touched her bandage and was surprised by how hot it felt. “It’s fine,” she said, not wanting to burden anyone anymore than she already had. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about.”
She attempted to sit up to prove it, and the pain in her shoulder ramped up, forcing her back onto the bed.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” Francis soothed. “Give yourself a chance to recover.”

Skylark smiled weakly. He was being so caring. “Where’s Sebbie?” she asked.

Kenji raised his eyebrows at Francis.

Francis worked the muscles in his jaw. “Skylark … honey …”

That’s as far as he got. Skylark did the math and broke down. “No, Francis, please …”

Francis stared at the floor.

“You’re getting slow, old man,” Kenji said. “Timon’s taking Skylark out of the mix because of this.”

“What?” Francis tore his hat from his head and smacked it across his thigh. “We almost had him!”

All of this is my fault, Skylark thought. She should just tell them what really happened and face the music. She was getting kicked off the case anyway. She owed it to Sebastian to come clean. Her actions had gotten him killed.

“There was a girl …” she began. The moment she started to confess, a voice whispered in her ear and the pain in her wound flared.

Kenji looked at Francis. “What girl?”

Francis shook his head with the slightest motion. Kenji folded his arms gravely. Skylark lay back on the bed. Whose voice had she heard? Her thoughts whirled. Maybe coming clean wasn’t the best plan after all. Besides, if she told them about the girl, she’d have to tell Francis about Poe. And she wasn’t willing to do that. Kenji already knew something was up. He just didn’t know the details. She reached into the mist to stroke the Ephemeral. It arched like a cat to meet her hand.

Francis pushed his hat down on his head and turned on Kenji. “Where were you anyway? I tried to call you.”

Kenji fired back. “Don’t pin this on me, old man. You had this planned. Admit it. You wanted to make me look bad, and it blew up in your face.”

Francis sprang from his chair. “I don’t need to make you look bad. You’re doing a great job yourself.”

“Screw you.” Kenji threw the chrysanthemums at him, clipped his sunglasses on, and left the room.

Francis slammed the flowers into the wastebasket beside the bed. “Jerk!”

The Ephemeral purred in Skylark’s hand. She didn’t know why, but she felt mildly amused by all the drama in the room. Francis was upset though. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “Kenji won’t stay mad for long. He’s probably gone to the bar to drink it off.”

Francis patted Skylark’s hand with distracted affection. “I’m sure you’re right, sugar.”

S
kylark reclined on the hospital bed, alone. She’d sent the cowboy away, convincing him she needed the rest. But she wasn’t tired. She was surprisingly awake. And so was her robe. It smouldered around her, waving seductively. The whispering in her head had grown louder, too, as sure as the arrow’s dark energy pushed deeper inside her. It made her feel distant. Removed. Strong. As nimble and strategic as a spider. She felt like she could see in every direction, hear the tiniest movement, catch the quietest, most secret of thoughts.