Zach’s hands were white where they gripped the steering wheel. “Fuck. Okay, do it.”
They pulled out of the hospital parking lot and away from the devastation behind them as the blue lights of more police cars rushed past them. Zach plugged in his phone and called Elizabeth, giving her a rapid summary of what had happened and letting her know that they were on their way.
Ethan ignored it all, letting everything fade away except for his awareness of Kay—the most precious burden he’d ever carried. He gently rested his hand over her chest, against her heart. Slowly he settled, feeling his body and mind become quiet, finding his Shadows, and then he gently pushed his awareness out of his own body and into Kay’s.
Achingly carefully, he unfurled tendrils of his green-hued Shadows, like the fingers of a blind man softly searching in the dark, and felt for anything at all that was left of Kay.
At first, there was nothing. Just bleak stretches of emptiness. But then, ever so delicately, Ethan felt a tiny sense of a connection, as fragile as a spider web.
He followed it with infinite patience, determined not to break it or lose it. When it felt a little firmer and more solid, he pulled slowly, as if he was winding the thread into a ball, and settled it into Kay’s chest.
The thread branched into more Shadow filaments. They tangled and knotted, sometimes splitting, sometimes ending suddenly. Sometimes he seemed to follow a thread for miles, only to loop back around, or to have it fade into nothing.
He took no notice of anything except Kay in his arms. He kept on methodically following, gently winding and, heartbreakingly slowly, pulling the Shadows back into her body.
At times a particularly knotted shadow would fill him with deep emotion, whether grief or joy or peace. Sometimes he encountered vivid images that he didn’t recognize. At one point, after a particularly long and tangled thread was finally settled, she whimpered and turned a little, and he whispered, “I’m here, Kay, I’m with you.”
She seemed to relax, the harsh lines down her forehead softening, and Ethan returned to his task, patiently following yet another disjointed, broken thread. He had just settled a last, torn, fragment of Shadow when Zach opened his door and the rush of cold pre-dawn air blasted over him.
Ethan opened his eyes for the first time in hours, surprised to find that they were no longer traveling.
The car was pulled up on a gravel drive outside a whitewashed farm cottage with a gray tiled roof and a huge climbing rose sprawling up the walls. The first birds of dawn trilled from the surrounding hedges, and golden yellow light poured out the downstairs windows.
Ethan blinked and rubbed his eyes as he climbed out, half-dazed with exhaustion, then he turned to pull Kay into his arms, nestling her against his chest as he lifted her from the car. Before he could take a step, the front door of the cottage was flung open and an older woman wearing a long navy-blue dress, her silver hair loose on her shoulders, came running down toward them.
She was obviously related to Kay with her big eyes and high cheekbones, and he imagined that when her face was not so pale with worry, she would be very beautiful. “You must be Elizabeth,” he said quietly. “I’m Ethan.”
Elizabeth leaned over Kay, stroking her hair and kissing her gently. “Kayleigh,Cariad.”
Ethan shifted Kay slightly to ensure he had her safely, and Elizabeth looked up. Her clear eyes looked into his with such intensity that he was certain she could read every thought he’d ever had. She settled a gentle hand on his arm, and he was suddenly filled with a warm sense of strength and kindness. After everything, it was that acceptance, that moment of support, that almost undid him.
“Quickly now,” Elizabeth said as she led them through the door. “There’s someone here who can help. Bring Kayleigh inside.”
Ethan followed her into a cozy room decorated in rich reds and blues, and gently lowered himself onto a large, overstuffed couch, still holding Kay in his arms.
An older man with a scruffy gray beard sat completely still in the corner, his elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on his steepled fingers as if he was asleep. But his eyes, when he opened them, were clear and alert in his lined face.
Elizabeth gestured as she sank onto the couch beside Ethan and Kay. “This is my friend Bryn. He’s here to help.”
Bryn stood, shaking out the gray corduroy trousers that hung loosely on his skinny legs. He was wearing a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and Ethan could make out a series of Celtic knot tattoos disappearing up his arm.
“Bore Da. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Ethan replied through his dry throat as Bryn joined them.
Bryn laid a gentle hand on Kay’s forehead and then stepped back, watching him appraisingly. “Tell me what you’ve done. Start with what it looked like when she was knocked out, and then walk me through it step-by-step. Describe how you’ve been working.”
Ethan blinked, trying to get his tired thoughts together as he explained how he’d tried to pull the threads of Kay’s Shadows back into her body. He stroked her hair as he spoke, wishing she would wake up, desperately hoping he’d done the right thing.
“Mm-hmm,” Bryn murmured as he rocked back on his heels, observing them both.
Finally, the older man nodded. His voice was warm and confident as he spoke with his gentle Welsh lilt. “I’m impressed. And, I can tell you, that doesn’t happen often.”
Bryn smiled at Elizabeth where she sat, her hands resting protectively on Kay’s legs. “There’s no more need to worry; the boy has almost done it.”
Ethan let out a long shaky breath as Elizabeth leaned back heavily, her face pinched with exhaustion. Relief flooded through him, closely intertwined with the delayed terror of how badly he could have failed.
“Here.” Bryn grabbed Ethan’s arm in a surprisingly firm grip. “There’s just a tiny bit left to do. Watch.”
