Liquid spilled between his lips, and he swallowed involuntarily, throat cooling. It burned into his chest, hot and cold at once. The heaviness lifted like smog before a storm front.
He opened his eyes.
“Nate.” Reed’s hand brushed his face, pushed his hair back.
The room swam into focus. Alden hung back, fingers twisted in his robe. He watched Nate, his eyes darker than Nate had ever seen, and his hair was tangled. Alden sucked in a deep breath when their eyes met. Pain crossed his face, and he looked away.
Something’s wrong.
Reed held him up and helped him drink. He struggled to swallow the warm water, and he lost sight of Alden.
The Remedy cleared Nate’s head enough to string his thoughts together. “What are you fighting about?”
“We aren’t fighting.” Reed glanced aside. “But I don’t trust him. And I definitely don’t trust his friends.”
“What friends?” Nate asked.
Alden doesn’t have any friends.
“Associates. Contacts. Call them what you will.” Alden returned to Nate’s line of sight, his arms crossed, his mouth an unhappy twist. He plucked at his sleeve, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but directly at Nate. “I can’t help you. I tried.” His chest heaved. “Theycan.”
“No.” Reed’s words growled out. “I don’t—”
“Then watch him die!” Alden shouted. He took a ragged breath and quieted. “But I won’t. Not when there’s a way.”
Reed was squeezing Nate too hard. “Why haven’t you mentioned yourfriendsbefore?”
Something changed in Alden’s eyes, desperation hardening to an icy sheen that made Nate want to look away. “You had a taste, Reed. You tell me.” He bent over them, fingers twisted into white knots, his voice deadly soft. “Would you share?”
Nate thudded into the cushions as Reed sprang up, growling and pushing Alden into his desk. Papers scattered, and a glass jar fell with an ugly crack—and Alden was laughing, Reed’s hands twisted into his robe. “Not all of us are as altruistic as you are. What did you think I wanted with him?”
He’s lying.
It still cut, pain blossoming behind Nate’s ribs. He caught his breath, wheezing through the hurt.
Isn’t he?
Whatever had driven Alden to fear and poison didn’t matter. Nate didn’t want to die, not like this—helpless and listening to the two of them bicker like gulls.
“Take me,” he said.
Reed released Alden with a shove and turned, stricken. “Nate. No.”
“It’s not up to you.” The stillness hung over Nate, cold and so close. He struggled onto his elbows. “I need your help. Alden won’t do it.” He hadn’t traveled more than twenty paces from his shop in all the years Nate had known him.
Alden flinched. “It’s not—”
“You saved my life,” Reed said to Nate. “I owe you the same. But I don’t trust him.”
The Remedy wasn’t sticking. Nate could already feel the brief wave of strength leaving him, and there was nothing left, no more respite from the pain closing in on him. His voice wavered. “Reed, promise me.”
“All right.” Reed sank to a crouch and pushed Nate’s hair out of his eyes. “Let’s get Pixel and go.”
“You can’t take Pixel there.” Alden rushed forward, reaching for Nate. “She can’t go!”
Reed drew his shoulders back. “I’m not leaving Pixel with you!” he shouted.
Alden went rigid, and a flush lit his cheeks, splotchy, as if Reed had slapped him. “I didn’t ask you to. She can’t stay here.”
