“Where?”
“To the bridge.”
She blinks once, then makes a face—somewhere between a frown and a grimace. “A bridge?”
I look at her from beneath my lashes. “A gateway, a portal, or whatever you want to call it. It’s our way out.”
Our way out of what, exactly, I don’t know.
Canada, yes. But the fae?
They’ll be on the other side, in Britain.
I have the map, I know where to go, and maybe I can figure out how to avoid the other units… but more than that? Reunite with Bee? Find a way to her light lands, not Dorcha?
The doubt is creeping in.
Because, even if I do, I’ll be bringing a stranger along with me.
Bee will welcome her—it’s in her nature to. She’s warmer, nicer, than I’ve ever been.
Bringing Connie isn’t the problem I need to dwell on.
It’s how fucking hard it is out there I need to be worried about.
I turn a look back into the darkness, as though I can see the unit… the safety of them. Well, the safety of Samick.
Maybe I should go back.
If I go back now, if I call out to him, then he won’t know—he won’t know I almost ran.
Connie’s hiss comes before a splash. “Fuck!”
I look over at her, too exhausted to share her panic.
The faint torchlight struggles in the dark, but it lands on what she’s falling back from…
A body.
Face-down, arms out, floating through the forest in the pool of water.
Human.
“The fae won’t be dead,” I tell her, but I’m not even sure she’s listening as she runs her hands down her face, like she’s burying a silent, ragged scream into her palms. “They don’t drown as easily as we do.”
I know from experience.
Thanks to shooting Dare into the lake, and he survived that.
I wouldn’t bet on any fae drowning in the tidal wave.
Connie’s whisper carries over the splashing water. She treads closer, “They’ll come after us.”
The light curves around the trees.
I turn on the spot, eyeing every possible direction—but it all looks the same.
I could pick a route, and it might lead us back to the unit.
