Page 52 of The Enemy to the Living
It takes me a while to make it back out to the street, where Sparrow is already waiting, pinching their bleeding nose. The other fae eyes me disdainfully.
I don’t attack Sparrow, but it’s a near thing.
“What thefuck?” I growl, and they eye the fae who waits at the end of the alley, gesturing for me to move up the street. Magic surrounds us in a bubble.
“You were going to do something stupid.”
“I need to help that wolf.”
“You can’t.”
“I—”
“Youcan’t.”
My throat tightens, and I don’t know whether it’s with fury or sadness or both. It’s not about the wolf at Deacon’s pack house at all, really. I do want to help him, but—
What if that happens to Quinn? What if I can’t save him?
“Quinn,” I mutter, and Sparrow shakes their head.
“He’ll be fine,” they say. “He’s smarter than that.”
I fix them with a look. “Is he?”
Did he know enough going in? I’m starting to understand justwhosent him here, as Sparrow squirms under my gaze. Did he actually know how to strike a bargain with the fae?
“He’ll be fine,” Sparrow repeats. “But you wouldn’t be when they caught you.”
“If.”
Sparrow shakes their head. They wrap their arms around themselves, staring down towards the dark alley. “I didn’t think they were up to anything that suspicious,” they say. “I thought they just liked the chaos of the fights.”
“Did you tell the other wolves, too?”
“No. Bryn told me. I told Quinn.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t work out as badly for Quinn, then.”
Sparrow gives me another miserable look, and then their magic dissolves around us. They don’t say goodbye as they walk away. I don’t care. Not a chance I’m leaving now, though I dotake a moment to send my location to Vlad and Maurice before I settle in.
Want us to come and check it out?
I shake my head at Maurice’s text. For all his bluster, I don’t think he’ll be any better at remaining outside than I’ve been.
No. It’s fine. Going to wait and see if I recognise anyone coming in or out.
They both type, but only Vlad replies.
Be careful.
It’s a warning more than concern. I don’t reply; he can see that I’ve read it.
Quinn stumbles outside a few hours later. He’s not alone. Another fae is with him, Quinn’s arm slung around his shoulder, and an ugly, dark feeling rises in my chest.
It fades in the next second, replaced by a surge of concern. Quinn’s injured. Badly. The fae helps him stand straight, patting his shoulders. I don’t hear what Quinn says, but he shakes his head and winces.
He’s not going to make it home like that, wolf or not. Fuck.
