ChapterTwenty-Seven
James had leftthe hospital at a jog, holding a Shadow over his bloodied face all the way to his car. Then he’d driven randomly around the city for a long, confusing hour before finding a half-empty run-down travel hotel with a room available.
He had spent the night slogging through desperate nightmares interspersed by hauling himself into the bathroom to vomit relentlessly, heaving until there was nothing left in his stomach but bile. Even now, he was still shaking, sweat dripping down the sides of his face and cooling on the tightly bunched muscles of his back.
Fucking Kay. Why couldn’t she see what they were trying to achieve? She was meant to be his friend, someone he could rely on, and yet she had blocked him at every turn. And now she’d destroyed everything.
He had given up his own chance at happiness to keep her safe, and yet she still wouldn’t listen to one fucking word of reason. And then she’d turned on him, just like everyone else. And then… and then… she’d been… God.
His anger had been simmering for days, slowly ramping up, and now Kay had pushed him over the edge into white-hot rage. It was boiling through his veins, out of control. It was wrong, this level of rage, wasn’t it? Why was he so furious?
James’s thoughts scattered and then came back again to Kay falling to her knees, hands up, surrounded by a whirlwind of Shadows.
God, Kay. His eyes burned and he pushed his fingers into them, forcing himself to think. She was okay. She had to be okay. He was protecting her, wasn’t he? His hands shook as he wiped them down his sweating face. Everything felt wrong. Out of control. He was burning, as if fire ants were crawling through his veins.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadowy bruise moving in a ripple under the skin of his hand, but it faded as soon as he looked at it. Then it reappeared further up his arm, always just at the edge of his vision.
Gordon had insisted they needed the blood Shadows in these final stages of the plan. But fuck, the first time James had used them—that awful night in Oxford Street—they’d churned through him like rotten eggs. It had taken him days to finally clear the headache that had throbbed behind his eyes, twisting his vision, and making every day a hellish, living migraine. Which had only gotten worse after the night at the school. Much worse.
Everything scraped at him. When Zach and Ethan had arrived at his flat after he’d had to use another Shadow on Kay, it had been all he could do not to roar out his rage and attack them both.
And now… God. The Shadow puppet had pushed him over some kind of dark edge and into an abyss of confusion and pain. His vision wavered around the edges and his thoughts flew from one horror to the next.
He gripped the back of his neck, massaging the rigid muscles, and accepted that he needed help.
He pulled out his phone, squinting to read the letters, and called Gordon.
“Yes,” his uncle replied, as terse and cold as always.
James shook his head, trying to clear the constant buzzing. He should be reporting back. He should be concentrating on the plan. But he couldn’t. “I don’t feel right.”
Gordon’s voice lowered, slowing to a heavy, poetic cadence. “You’re doing fine, James. You’re helping. This is for everyone in the Order, everyone in the world.”
Helping. He was helping. Wasn’t he?
“Be calm.” Gordon’s voice soothed him. “You’re okay. I saw the hospital attack on the news, and so did the committee. The meeting we needed has been confirmed. Now tell me the rest.”
The swirling mess of his Shadows calmed. The rage settled, just enough, and he was able to think. “We did it… but Kay, she saw it all… and she’s not with me.”
Gordon sighed heavily. “I thought I told you to get rid of her.”
Bile surged back into James’s mouth, and he swallowed hard.
“She’ll run back to Elizabeth,” Gordon said slowly. “Fucking Elizabeth. You’ll have to get rid of them both, and everyone who saw you at the hospital.”
“Zach,” James whispered, horror blending with rising nausea. “And a norm….”
“I don’t care. Just get rid of them all. And James, listen to me. You are well. You can do this. Your mind is clear and focused. Do you hear me? You. Are. Calm.”
“Yes.” He let out a long, slow breath. “I’m well. I can do this.”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Ethan climbedout of the car and looked back through the window to where Zach sat in the driver’s seat. Somehow, during those long, terrifying hours of searching for and Healing Kay, they’d become friends.
Trust. It was a strange thing.
Ethan wrapped his hand around the door frame. “Thanks for the lift.”
