Page 383 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

Lee is more drained than he’s ever seen her. The flawless architecture of her face has softened with exhaustion, sweat silvering her red hairline, her breaths carefully measured.

‘What happened?’

‘You touched me. The catalyst entered through your skin,’ she says. ‘Only a trace, but that’s all it takes.’

‘Fucking hell,’ he croaks. ‘Is it done? Is he all right?’

Lee watches Lachlan over her shoulder. ‘The Writ is destroyed.’

Kade buys himself three breaths and then he rolls onto his hands and knees. The room pitches violently. He waits for it to settle, staring at the water still trickling down the floor drain.

‘Lachlan?’

Kade crawls across the tiles. By the time he reaches Lachlan, the purging has stopped, though he remains folded over the toilet, forehead braced against one arm. Wet hair clings to his face and neck.

Every juddering breath shakes his body. Kade kneels beside him.

‘Bodyguard?’

Lachlan turns his head.

His eyes are bloodshot and streaming salt, but it’s him.

Kade reaches out slowly. ‘Can I…?’

Lachlan gives a slow nod, breath levelling out.

Kade touches his face, finds him fever-hot and wet with sweat. Lachlan’s eyes close and he leans into the touch before forcing himself up to lower the lid and flush the toilet.

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘S’gross.’

‘I love a little bit of gross,’ Kade whispers, trying to smile but he’s still so fucked up from the fear of what he saw, how real it felt, so his eyes fill with tears and his throat thickens and when Lachlan lets him, he presses his face into the cold, wet hollow of Lachlan’s throat and listens to the frantic beating of his heart.

‘You’re OK?’ Kade whispers.

Lachlan’s grip tightens. ‘I felt it burn.’

His voice is shredded almost beyond recognition, but it belongs to him.

Kade closes his eyes. ‘You’re sure?’

A shaky nod moves against his hair. ‘I could feel him.’

Across the room, Lee lowers herself carefully onto the edge of the bath. For the first time since Kade met her, she looks less than perfectly composed.

He keeps one hand buried in Lachlan’s wet hair when he asks her, ‘How did you know how to do that?’

Lee studies her restored fingers, rolling her neck to crack the bones.

Softly, she says, ‘My father once used the Writ on someone I cared for. It was the first curse I ever learnt to break.’ She looks up at Lachlan. ‘He will have felt it. He will know what we did, but no more than that now. You are free of him.’

‘Thank you.’

She gives a shrug that seems more like herself.