Devilry touches my arm and points to another pair that’s squeezing out offspring. I acknowledge the sight with a nod.
She’s more unsettled than I’ve ever seen her. These bloodthirsty, batlike creatures have wakened a primal revulsion in her, and it’s eating away at her usual cunning and calm. Lucky for both of us, we’re nearly out of the tunnel of wings, nearly clear of the flock.
In her eagerness, Devilry starts walking a bit faster—and her foot slips on a patch of Grisly’s blood. Normally she’d be able to recover, but the weight of the weapon throws her off balance, and she pitches forward
My hands are full. I can’t catch her.
When she hits the floor, the weapon clatters, and the metal parts of her gear ring sharply against the stone.
Devilry makes a tiny sound—a gasp of terror.
The fluttering wings around us shiver into a maddened storm, a ravenous frenzy. They burst off the walls, preparing to dive for her, but I get there first. I stand with my back to her, facing them.
Squeezing the bulb of the atomizer, I spray wildly back and forth while I roar at Devilry to run.
Then I reach my left hand toward the cloud of explosive gas, turn my face away, and click the igniter.
The blast throws me backward. I slam into rock, agony flaring through my spine, my hand, and my face.
Then,nothing.
12
The creatures closest to us are screaming, burning, dying, but there are more behind them. The rest of the swarm will attack as soon as the heat and smoke clear.
When Ravager told me to run, I did. The explosion tossed me forward, but I wasn’t hurt beyond a couple of bruised knees. I’m sure he’d have a joke about that if he wasn’t crumpled against the wall, smoke-seared and unconscious.
I crawl toward him, choking, wheezing. Two of the fingers on his left hand are missing. Blown off. The left side of his face is pink and scalded, but it’s not a bad burn. It should heal without a scar—ifhe survives.IfI help him.
The easiest thing would be to pick up the big weapon and leave him here. I could let the razorwings finish him off while he’s knocked out. He’ll never even know that I betrayed him. Whereas if I try to drag him to safety, it’s highly possible that we’ll both be devoured.
But I look at his stupid damn face, and I think about his sorrowful blue eyes, and I can’t do it. I can’t leave him here.
He could have run ahead on his own and left me to die in the swarm. Instead, he protected me and lost part of himself in the process. It’s the most anyone’s ever sacrificed for me.
By choosing me, claiming me as his, he left me no other option but to claim him as well.
He can’t die.
I grab both straps of his pack and haul him along, grateful for the smoothness of the hallway floor. He’s so fucking heavy. I’m going to give him hell for that later. I’d leave the pack behind to lighten the load, except I’m not sure I could manage to move him without being able to grip its straps.
Panting, straining, I jerk his body around the corner, hoping that once we’re out of the creatures’ sight, they’ll forget about us.
I keep dragging him, throwing my entire weight and every bit of strength I possess into the effort. The swarm hasn’t come around the corner yet, but I don’t take my eyes off that spot, and I don’t quit moving until we’re in front of the room that contains the life’s work of the great inventor Drosselmeyer.
Carefully I work Ravager’s pack off him and lay his head gently against the floor. I stuffed a few of the makeshift bandages we made into my pack before we left the kitchen, and I do my best to wrap his mutilated hand with them. He lost his littlest finger and the one next to it.
Could Witch heal them if I can get him home fast enough? I seem to remember hearing a story at the Night Goose once,about how she regrew a man’s hand. If there’s even a chance she could help him, I’ll pay her any sum. He shouldn’t have to endure this loss because of me.
For a fleeting moment, I consider fetching the Doras Álainn and leaving Annordun immediately with Ravager. I could take him straight to Witch and get him some help.
But I placed the Doras Álainn elsewhere in the fortress, and I’ll probably need assistance to retrieve it, especially if I run into the beast with all the voices. Even if I could fetch it now and flee with Ravager, I’d be abandoning my crew. When the time runs out, the Javelins will likely show up here in Annordun. I won’t leave them stranded without a way home.
Thinking about the Doras Álainn stirs a suspicion in me, quiet but insistent. What if Ravager has only stuck with me because he needs the device to get home? Though he hasn’t mentioned it, I know that it’s one of the reasons for our alliance. Could it be his only reason? Could he be toying with my emotions, building trust with me so I’ll reveal its location? And once he knows where it is, will he kill me and run off on his own with as much treasure as he can carry?
If Skull were here, he’d say it’s not only possible, but likely. And yet for once my gut doesn’t back up the suspicion. Right before the razorwing tunnel, when we argued, I saw the look in Ravager’s eyes and heard the break in his voice. I sensed the pain of truth in his words, and I felt it in the passionate force of his body against mine.
He cares about me. I’m sure of it.
