Of course Clayton was going to stay behind Mal. What did he look like, an idiot?
A piercing wail filled the tunnel, echoing down both ends, followed by a hysterical, “Merry!”
Clayton was racing down the side tunnel, barely aware of the muffled curse behind him.
Chapter
Six
CLAYTON
Huddled against the wall was a rumpled and tear-stained Tommy. Clayton skidded to a halt, just shy of trampling the boy. “Where’s your sister?”
The boy didn’t answer; instead, he did his best to burrow a hole into Clayton’s side. Clayton held the boy close, patting his back awkwardly for as long as he dared to risk it before pulling away and asking softly, “Where is she, Tommy? Let me help.”
Tommy jabbed a shaky finger behind Clayton and then wiggled and squirmed until he was between Clayton and the wall. Clayton turned his head in the direction the boy had pointed, but he saw nothing other than a dingy stone wall. He was about to ask Tommy to clarify, but before he could, he erupted into a sneezing fit.
Bloody underground cave wasn’t fit for anyone to live in. Clayton could barely breathe!
He tried to catch his breath, but his nose was just so blasted itchy. It was so bad that it took him a while to realize that everything around him was getting fuzzy and soft around the edges.
No, wait. That was him. What the actual fuck?
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Mal’s voice came from behind him.
Clayton could barely make him out through bleary eyes and fuzzy edges, but it looked like Mal reached his hands into thin air. His hands vanished, the air rippled around them, then he pulled hard on something invisible.
Only thesomethingseemed to be attached to Clayton’s insides. All at once, Clayton was big, small, hot, cold, and about a dozen impossible other things. “Oh my gods, stop!” he managed to gasp. When Mal didn’t stop, Clayton pulled out the worst weapon in his arsenal of threats and added, “Don’t make me touch you.”
Obsidian eyes narrowed, but otherwise Mal ignored his request. If anything, he pulled harder. Clayton clutched his stomach, certain it was about to decorate the floor with his breakfast—not that it would have made it any more disgusting—when he heard a loudpop.
All the pressure in and around him released, the incessant itchiness abated, and he hit the floor like a sack of wet towels.
Then a small body landed on him.
“Merry!” Tommy’s wobbly voice came from behind him.
The body scrambled off him and shouted, “Tommy, run!”
Clayton looked up in time to see another body land on top of him. This one was larger and smelled of cinnamon and some other unnamable spice that made his nose itchy again. He let out a very manly yell when another plopped down right by hisface, narrowly missing him. Then one more landed on his leg for good measure.
“I told you this place was a goldmine, didn’t I?” A greasy, male voice said from on top of him.
“Quiet! I don’t care how many of them there are; we aren’t supposed to be here. Grab one and let’s get out of here before we’re caught.” This came from the bloke using Clayton’s face for leverage as he pushed himself up from the ground.
“How did we even get here?” The final one, another male, came from behind him, where he was crushing Clayton’s foot into jelly.
“It wasn’t my fault. Something grabbed my spell and yanked us here.”
Clayton had the joy of experiencing this conversation through double vision and ringing ears. When the first man landed on him, he’d really rung Clayton’s bell, and the other two joining in had finished the job.
It would be a wonderful time for Mal to step in and do something incredibly scary. He’d made an excellent decision, allowing the man to join him. Or so Clayton thought, until he caught a glimpse of Mal slumped against the opposite wall, eyes glassy and half-closed.
Magic drain.
Shit. Mal would be no help for a while. Whatever creature he was, at least he didn’t have to worry about unmaking himself from overuse of power; only dreamwalkers and nightmares had that problem.
Clayton put Mal in thedeal with this problem laterqueue in his mind.
