Page 2 of Kiss of Smoke

Gwyn whistled, the eerie sound echoing into the city, then carefully settled me on the hood of a Garda car. He ripped off his formal jacket and tossed it aside, and yanked his thorned tie off his neck, snapping it easily.

His back was to me, and tears pricked at my eyes when I understood just how angry he was.

“Robin might have forgiven you,” he said, his voice tight. “And maybe Jack did, too. But Bananas…”

He rounded on me, garnet eyes blazing. “That was such an incredibly dumb fucking thing to do. Do you haveanyidea how close you were to dying?”

I opened my mouth, tried to think of something to defend myself, and shut it again.

Hadn’t I thought the same thing when Hellekin was hunting me through the maze? I should’ve told someone instead of running off by myself.

My head still ached where he’d pressed his boot against my temple, and the scratches on my arms burned like lines of fire.

“I forgot the debt,” I finally whispered. “I thought I could pry the Ghosthand’s name out of him…”

“By yourself?” Gwyn roared. “All you had to do wassaysomething, because I wasright there!”

I looked down at my lap and the glittering black beads on my fraying dress. They fractured into rainbow prisms as the tears welled up in earnest.

To my disgust, my lip was trembling. I bit down on it hard, discovering a cut there that burned as badly as my arms when I put pressure on it.

“I just wanted to do something Robin would do,” I said miserably, my plea filling the silence between us and dropping like a stone.

Because I knew perfectly well Robin wouldn’t have taken on someone that he knew he couldn’t handle alone.

Gwyn’s shoes came into my wavering vision. Then his hands. He touched my arms gently, then forced me to look up at him.

“Briallen.” Gwyn winced when he saw the tears now pouring openly down my cheeks and the freshly bleeding cut on my lip. His thumb gently wiped away the blood on my chin. “You’re not Robin. He’s got literal decades of experience more than you. You need to remember that, instead of going off on your own and trying to be a hero.”

“Maybe Iwantedto be a hero for once. Maybe I wanted to prove I can handle the same shit.”

One of his eyebrows arched. “There’s a saying. There’s old Garda, and bold Garda, but no old, bold Garda.”

I blinked hard, staring at a distant streetlight and willing the tears to stop.

I knew what I’d done was beyond stupid.

“You’re not going to live to be either of those things if you refuse the help you have, or if you go out in the streets at night by yourself.” Gwyn’s hard glare softened as he brushed the tears away. “I’m pretty fucking angry with you, I won’t lie. But I’d rather be pissed and have you listen now than have to carry your soul away to the Otherworld later. You get me? Don’t ever do something like that on your own again.”

I nodded, my lip trembling again, then pressed my cheek into his palm. The warmth of it soaked into me, making me realize how cold I felt all over. “I get you, Gwyn.”

Still, I was furious at myself.

I’d had Hellekin right there, the answer on the tip of his tongue…and if only I hadn’t wanted to be a hero, maybe we could’ve gotten what we needed.

“Hey.” Gwyn leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Hey. No more crying. We’re going to get you patched up, then we’re going to fix this shit—together. No one is a hero alone here, okay, Bananas? We do this together, or not at all.”

I nodded, leaning into him and breathing in his scent, when the screech of tires on asphalt cut through the distant opera of sirens.

Gwyn’s bike had come to save the day again. It came to a halt as Gwyn helped me off the hood of the car, the horns on the handles catching glints of flashing lights. The bike was vibrating impatiently, waiting for us.

My whole body was beginning to stiffen, the invincible feeling of the adrenaline rush giving way to the true depth of the aches and pains Hellekin had given me. I winced as my feet hit the ground, and my body protested the movement all the way up into my hips.

“Hold onto me,” Gwyn instructed, his arm around my waist as we walked—well, I limped, mostly—to the waiting bike.

He straddled the seat and carefully pulled me on behind him. My skirt snagged, and I groaned as I reached down and ripped off a good length of the black netting, leaving it behind on the pavement.

Gwyn patted my hands when I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him tightly for comfort as much as for stability. “Good girl, Briallen. We’re heading to Carabosse. She’ll patch you up.”

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