“Why not just go to Adare?”
“Do you think he’d put our issues before PNT justice?”
Raif sighed. “No.”
“So let’s use Fallon to our advantage. I’ve already stolen this goddamned hourglass; it’s too late to change course now. I’ll make the trade, get what we need from Delilah, and when it’s all said and done, we’ll bring Adare and Reaver into it.”
“And what if Fallon double-crosses you?”
The thought hadn’t escaped me. He didn’t strike me as particularly trustworthy. “When I meet up with him to exchange the hourglass, I’ll activate the GPS on my phone. If he tries anything, you can keep track of where we are. If things go south, you call in the cavalry and you’ll know how to get to me. It’s doable. We can make this work.”
Raif gave me a sad smile. “Darian, are you prepared to face PNT justice over this? There could be serious repercussions for what you’re doing.”
“I know,” I replied with a sigh. “And yes, I’m ready to accept the consequences of my actions. Whatever they might be.”
“All right, then.” Raif’s expression changed from concern to resignation. “We’ll try.”
Though he had no idea how his daughter’s disappearance could be connected to the “Man” Delilah had mentioned or the mysterious Shaede women of my dreams, he promised to see this through to the very end-his daughter returned to him or not. Now, I just had to wait him out. He was tracking me-no doubt there-and as soon as Delilah spilled her little secret, I had to trust he’d get me the hell away from Fallon so I could return the hourglass to Reaver. From there, we’d find his daughter together.
“You’re not much of a travel companion.” Fallon’s voice broke into my reverie. As if he had nothing better to do than listen to himself talk, he continued. “I hope the next hundred miles are better than the last.”
Since we’d confined ourselves to the ridiculously cramped car, my feelings of unease had mounted. Something about Fallon pulled and repulsed me, simultaneously urging me to flee; yet I wanted to lean in closer. My phone continued to vibrate in my pocket at five-minute intervals, and I was pretty sure my voice mail was full because that alert had quit going off an hour ago. Though I worried he’d run the battery down with his repeated calls, that vibrating phone connected me to Tyler and let me know he still cared about me despite everything I’d done to crush him.
“Darian, speak to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” I looked away, preferring blurry scenery and car sickness to Fallon’s attempts at conversation. Why had I begun to feel more like a prisoner and less like an accomplice?
Spokane struck me as a city built upon a foundation of churches. From the freeway, they jutted up everywhere and farther out, toward the city proper as well. It was a city of old architecture peppered with new-and a variety of gods watching over it all.
I’d taken jobs for Tyler that led me to other cities, but not often. I liked to stay close to home, to what felt familiar. I didn’t like leaving my comfort zone. Despite its size, Spokane felt small at about two-thirds the population of Seattle, and in turn made me feel exposed. I blended into the Seattle scenery. Here, I stuck out like a sore thumb. There wasn’t the same press of bodies or quick pace that allowed me to go unnoticed. There was too much room to breathe. Too easygoing. Spokane had more of a Small Town, USA, feeclass="underline" eye contact, open smiles, and friendly curiosity. Not that Seattle wasn’t friendly, but with the big-city pace, people just didn’t have time for much more than a passing glance. We wouldn’t blend in quite as well here. No one in our trio of preternatural fugitives needed that kind of attention.
Fallon abandoned the downtown area, continuing down the freeway toward the Idaho border. We’d be more exposed as we left the population behind, and I wondered at his choice in direction. “Where are we going?” As though it mattered. Every mile we drove was a mile too far. All I wanted was to return home.
“We’ll need to find a hotel. A quiet place where I can lift the magic that imprisons Delilah in her own mind. Isn’t that what you want? To unlock her secrets? I can’t do it from the driver’s seat of this car.”
“And then you’ll get the hourglass. So don’t act like all of this is one magnanimous gesture. Look around you, Fallon,” I said, indicating the thinning urban landscape. “You don’t think we’re going to arouse suspicion?”
“I won’t,” he said. “Glamour, remember?”
I refused to look at him. And why should his ability to glamour bother me? Fae wore glamour to hide from the human populace all the time. Maybe it wasn’t the glamour at all. Since we’d left Seattle, Fallon’s mood and personality had done a complete one-eighty. He’d been uptight, done, and demanding before. Now, he seemed relaxed, cheerful even. He hadn’t mentioned the hourglass since we’d left the city. Why? He’d been itching to get his hands on it before. The damn thing wasn’t out of his reach, though. It was right in the backseat, resting next to Delilah, who might as well have been luggage herself.
As I turned to look at him, the heavy sigh escaped my lips before I thought better of it. The next second, pain and white-hot light exploded in my skull. My head bounced against the window from the impact of the blow, and a swollen knot formed on my temple before healing and shrinking back to nothing. I shook the fog from my brain and tried to calm my suddenly racing pulse and the unpleasant memories that crashed over me like a tidal wave. Too shocked to react, I stared at Fallon in disbelief as he shook out his fist. The coppery tang of blood coated my mouth from the split in my lip, and I passed my tongue over the wound as the skin fused back together.
“You forget, I’m helping you,” he said low, the words infused with rage. “You should be grateful, and instead you’re acting like a spoiled child. I don’t want to hit you, so don’t give me reason to do it again.”
I was dazed, and my breath came in shallow drafts. My heart beat triple time to the passing of seconds, and I squeezed my hands together to keep them from shaking. I had been the victim of an abusive human husband nearly a century and a lifetime ago. Erratic mood swings came standard issue with abuse, and Fallon’s behavior was no exception. With a single punch and a warning, Fallon had reminded me of the woman I used to be and never wanted to be again.
“Lay your fist on me again, Fallon, and I’ll be more than happy to gut you right here on the freeway.” I seethed with pent-up anger, fire burning a path through my veins and pooling in the pit of my stomach. My hands clenched into fists, the urge to retaliate overwhelming. But even as I tried to raise my arm to give him tit for tat, something stayed my progress-a strange compulsion to keep my fists in my lap and my mouth shut.
“Now,” he said, his tone becoming light once again, “let’s find somewhere to settle in.”
Fallon took the next exit and followed the ramp toward a cluster of hotels and a strip mall. We pulled into the parking lot of a Best Western, and he cut the engine, leaning so close to me I could feel his breath on my face. “Stay here.” It was a warning and a command. “I’m going to get us a room, and I’ll be right back.” He took the keys out of the ignition, engaging the alarm as he walked toward the hotel lobby. As I watched him walk, his form shimmered for just a moment, like heat rising from asphalt. By his next step, he’d assumed the guise of a well-coiffed businessman, suit and all. I tried to contain my fear and amazement, but it came out anyway in a sort of half-choked sob.