“Comfortable? That’s it?”
“That’s it for now. If it gets too bad, we should try to make him sleep. It would be easier that way,” Alden said.
Reed’s grip tightened at Nate’s foot. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I can’t save him.” Alden sighed. “That’s what you want to hear, right? I can’t save him, Reed. He’s going to die.”
It grew quiet for a while. Reed’s grip eased. He began rubbing small circles at Nate’s back. Alden was there in a whisper of long hair against Nate’s cheek as he leaned in close, his clammy fingers briefly pressed to the pulse at Nate’s throat. Then he was gone again, his voice near and far.
Nate floated, not with the heavy lethargy of Alden’s tincture for his head, but on a current of pain and breathlessness. It was hard to tell when he slept or not, or how quickly the time passed.
“You don’t look so good yourself.” Reed didn’t sound angry.
“Fishing for the lurid details?” The sound of Alden drifted about the room. “It’ll pass. I have other means of distraction. I can’t—he can’t let someone feed when he’s like this. He’d sleep, and he’d never wake up.”
“Is that what you meant?” Reed breathed in noisily. “That you’d take his blood to make him sleep?”
“Don’t look so scandalized. I’m not a monster.”
“I didn’t say—”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Alden said. “But I didn’t make him like this, and I haven’t touched him since he came back here. As a matter of fact, I believeyouwere the last one to feed on him, dear Reed. And I’m certain you hastened this. . .situation.”
“I didn’t ask for it.” Reed’s voice went coarse. “I wouldn’t have let him!”
“Are you so sure? You would have died without it. According to him, at any rate. He was distraught. Do you want to know what he promised me to save your life?”
“Stop,” Nate said, the sound little more than a wheeze. He reached toward the sound of Alden. “Stop it.”
“He said he’d feed me as often as I wanted. So generous, our boy,” Alden said, out of reach. “You do realize that’s what he was doing all along? Paying me back. I’ve never owed Nate a thing. I’ve been keeping him alive.”
“You’re not doing a very good job of it now.” Reed caught Nate’s wrist and stilled him.
“Ah, well. As Nate said, that can’t be helped. I’m afraid I don’t have my fingers in every pot in the Withers.”
“Then we have to go somewhere else,” Reed said.
“To Gathos City? Yes, ship him off. They have loads of Remedy up in the towers.”
“No. There has to be somewhere else. Someoneelse. How much do you know?”
“The Breakers will catch you when you fall,” Nate whispered.
“Go back to sleep,” Alden snapped. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“Is his mind slipping?” Reed asked, looking pained.
“It’s some rot from the tickers. I don’t know what it means.” Alden’s words snapped out—clipped with the sharp edges of a lie.
Reed rubbed Nate’s shoulder. “We’ll find someone who can help you.”
Alden didn’t let go of Nate’s hand. “And maybe we’ll all go down with you.”
Worry fluttered through Nate. He shifted, trying to roll onto his back to look at them. When he tried to speak, a low moan rumbled in his chest.
The smoke. Can’t you smell it?
“Don’t listen to him. The gang is okay,” Reed said. “We left the bank before it burned. It’ll be okay.”
