Zach stared at Gordon, stunned. “Why the hell would she tell Gordon?”
“She was trying to convince him to see her. She told him she wanted to get away. She was very convincing.”
“What does that even mean?” Zach demanded.
David stared at him for a long moment. “No one could have doubted that she was devastated.”
Zach massaged his pounding temples, desperately trying to think. “Okay. Fuck. This is bad.” He’d pushed Emma away, and she had gone—straight toward the worst possible danger. Not only that, but she’d gone still reeling from the wounds that he had given her.
“It is bad,” David agreed. “All of it’s bad. But we do have some advantages. First, hopefully, Gordon won’t be able to see past his blinders to realize that Emma is actually very competent. Second, he doesn’t know that we’re here to support her. And finally….” David turned his screen to show Zach a map of London with a small flashing E resting near Victoria Station. “I’m tracking her.”
David was tracking her. Thank God. A flood of relief poured through him. All of this could be undone. He could fix it. Right now. “Good.” Zach stood. “I’ll go and get her. We can come up with something else.”
David looked up sharply. “No, that’s not—”
Zach frowned at him. “I’m not leaving her there.”
“Yes. You are.” David growled. “This is what Emma—”
Zach waved his hand to dismiss the idiocy pouring out of David’s mouth. Emma was in danger. Danger that Zach had pushed her straight toward. All he had to do was go and get her, and then they could have a reasonable discussion and come up with a better plan. Or an unreasonable discussion. He honestly didn’t care anymore, so long as they were together.
Saying goodbye to her was fucking stupid. Refusing to help had been worse. He had to fix it. He had to get her back and fix what he’d done before Emma paid the price.
David stood and circled the desk to block the door. “You will break her trust. You will put her in more danger than she’s already in. And we might lose our only chance of stopping Gordon.”
“You’re wrong.” A tremor climbed up Zach’s body, some strange combination of rage and fear, as well as guilt, horror, and grief. All the emotions he’d been repressing since James had kidnapped Kay. Fuck, some of them were emotions he’d been repressing for years.
He couldn’t bear it if Gordon hurt Emma. It would destroy him. He had to get to her. And David was standing in his way.
David was supposed to care. He was Zach’s mentor. His leader. The man he’d looked up to more than anyone else in the world. And he was standing between him and Emma.
Suddenly all he could think of was how David had failed him. Where was David when Kay was taken? Where was David when they were patching James back together? Where was David through any of this? Here, hiding in his office. Just like Zach’s father had done when Zach had needed him.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” Zach growled.
“No.” David held up his hand and a shimmering wall of swirling Shadows sprang up to cover the door.
Zach flicked his fingers, drawing his Shadows into a lethally curved sword, and settled into a battle-ready stance. “I’m not asking again.”
David pulled his own sword from the Shadows. It flickered in blue and charcoal as he planted his feet in a wide crouch. A warrior’s stance. “I won’t let you do this.”
Zach didn’t wait. He let all the out-of-control emotions that had been burning inside him pour out and ripple across his Shadows. He spun his sword in a deadly arc and then brought it down in a brutal strike toward David’s wall of Shadows.
David swung, blocking his strike and knocking Zach’s sword away. Then he danced to the side, twisting his free hand, and launched a vicious swarm of thousands of tiny shapes toward Zach.
Zach pulled up a long shield, expecting bees or hornets, only to find himself covered in dozens of stinging ants marching over his shield and along his arm. He flung out a wave of Shadows, washing them away, and then leaped back as David threw a coiling Shadow rope toward his head.
Zach slashed out, shredding the rope, and then turned his attention back to shattering the wall blocking the door. He brought his sword down against the undulating wall but it merely parted and reformed, blocking him again and again.
David stepped back into his path, forcing him to fight. Their swords beat together in the silence of Shadows as they thrust and jabbed, circling the office.
David jumped back from a vicious swing, knocking a pile of ancient books to the floor. Neither of them paid any attention to the priceless documents as Zach pressed his advantage, cutting and slashing faster, fighting harder, looking for any opening.
Neither of them held back. They fought with grim determination, Zach intent on destroying David’s shields and David equally committed to keeping Zach pinned. The sound of panted breaths was loud in the eerie quiet. The Shadows made no noise as they smashed together again and again. There were no clangs of ringing metal, just the grunts and rasps of labored breathing as they swung and parried, dodged and stabbed.
David whirled his sword down in a brutal arc, slicing cleanly through Zach’s shirt and into his arm before he pulled back.
Blood dripped down his bicep, his arm burned, and Zach could feel himself slowing. He had hardly slept after Emma’s Healing the previous day. He’d made love to her with a desperate intensity and then held her, watching her sleep for long hours. Then, after their cataclysmic argument, he’d walked for miles, only to drive back to London without a break, all while his fear for her beat down in relentless waves.
