Page 60 of Quicksilver
The little fox sneezed.
“No, me either.”
I'd never been more grateful for company in my whole life. I stroked the fox, relieved that another living, breathing creature was willing to sit with me and perform this vigil. He was scared. Very scared, but he didn't leave me again.
“What am I gonna call you? If you're gonna be hanging around, you need to have a name.”
He peered up at me, his little onyx eyes narrowed to slits, eyelids slowly blinking so that I could make out every single one of his tiny white eyelashes. “What do you think about Onyx?” I asked him.
He closed his eyes and didn't open them again for a long time, which I took to be a sign of approval. He was soon asleep. I took to counting out the seconds, tallying the minutes off on my hands, until I figured that an hour had to have passed.
Onyx wasn't happy when I set him down on top of my bag. He observed with baleful eyes as I stood at the edge of the pool and carefully reached out, commanding the ocean of silver to wake.
The surface had only half-transformed, still solid around the edges, when an explosion of black smoke burst out of the center of the pool. Kingfisher was there, then, wading through the silver, his face contorted like a mask. In his right hand, Nimerelle dripped red. In his left, the body he dragged behind him by the scruff of its neck dripped silver. He hauled the lifeless form over the side of the pool and dumped it onto the ground, then collapsed down next to it, panting.
“Quickly. Before—” He cut off, his head ripping back, unleashing a shout that was all terror and pain. “Quick. The—the pend—pendant,” he ground out.“Now!”
The quicksilver churned, a million splintered voices shouting all at once. The sound was nauseating, but I blotted it out, racing to the body Kingfisher had dumped onto the stone. My hands were fast and true as I plucked up the pendant, retrieved it, and rushed to Kingfisher's side. He thrashed and moaned, clenching his teeth, the tendons in his neck straining horribly as I looped the chain over his head and fought to slip the rectangular pendant down the front of his chest protector.
“Fisher? Fisher!”
He didn’t respond. He growled, his back arching, the heels of his leather boots leaving black streaks against the stone as he writhed.
“Fisher! Gods. What the hell? What—what do you need me todo?” I was really starting to panic when the male locked up tight, his eyes snapped open, and he dragged in a rattling, wet breath.
“Fuck. Me,” he rasped. “That was...bad.”
“Are you all right?” I went to touch his chest protector, not sure where to check him, but then thought better of it.
“Close...the…gate!” he wheezed.
Shit, shit, shit. The gate. This time, I didn't give the quicksilver the opportunity to resist. I slammed my palms together in my mind, closing the door tight, and with a crack, the pool answered my demand, solidifying so fast that it shattered the stone lintel that ran around the pool.
“Hope you're happy, Human. Because I am never...ever...”—Kingfisher rolled onto his side, clutching his stomach— “..doing that again.”
He was through. He’d done it.
He...
Oh my gods!Hayden!Fisher had actually done it. He'd brought Hayden back with him! I left Kingfisher as he struggled to sit up. My knees sang with pain as I dropped down next to the unconscious body, but it didn't matter. I didn't care. Hayden was alive. He was here. He—
Oh.
Oh, no.
I rocked back onto my heels, frowning at the figure lying on the ground. The hope that had soared through me came crashing down around my ears. Was this supposed to be some kind of joke? No. Fisher didn’t have a sense of humor, and this…thiswasn’tfunny.
“It'll take a while for him to...wake up. Humans are so...” Kingfisher groaned. “You're all so fuckingfragile.”
I rounded on the warrior, the dull roar in my ears growing progressively louder, louder, louder...
“This is not my brother, Fisher. This is CarrionfuckingSwift!”
14
THE FINE PRINT
Copper-colored hair.
