Fracture (The Machinists) (16 page)

“I’m in,” she said to someone in the hall.

“Close the door,” Allyn said.

“I’m here to help,” the woman said, but she kicked the door closed. “My name is Elisa.”

“She’s over here,” Allyn said, gesturing to Nyla.

“What happened?” she asked.

“She saved my life,” Allyn said bluntly, his eyes flickering to Cason’s motionless body.

Elisa gave him a sidelong glance before placing a slender hand on Nyla’s chest. “She’s hurt.”

“We know that,” Liam said as he knelt and took Nyla’s hand.

“Her left lung is collapsed,” Elisa said. “She has multiple broken ribs and a lacerated spleen. She’s bleeding internally.”

“Can you heal her?” Allyn asked.

“Not completely,” Elisa said. “The best I can do is stabilize her condition. The rest is up to her.”

Liam wiped her cheek, washing away the blood streaks. Save for her swollen eye and the bruising on the left side of her face, she looked normal. Peaceful. She had attempted to sacrifice herself when she healed Allyn. She’d acted like a woman who wanted to die—a woman who wanted peace with her lost husband.
I didn’t do it for you
. Did she
want
to be saved?

“Do what you can,” Allyn said. He would rather have her be alive and ungrateful than dead and not be able to tell him.

Healing was a surprisingly violent affair. Allyn had been on the receiving end of it, and it hadn’t been pleasant, but he hadn’t expected such intensity. A glow emitted from Elisa’s hand, and a similar wave of light rippled through Nyla’s body, expanding outward. Nyla convulsed, her back arched, and arms and legs waved frantically in the air, as she raged from side to side in what looked like a violent seizure.

The swelling around her left eye remained unchanged, as did the bruising on her face and side. In fact, she looked completely unchanged as the glow dissipated. Elisa withdrew and stood, cradling her stomach. “It’s done.” Her voice was soft and pained.

“She doesn’t look any different,” Allyn said.

“The bruising and swelling are superficial wounds,” Elisa said. “I’ve done what I can to address her most dire injuries.” She lifted her shirt to the bottom of her ribcage to show the newly forming bruises on her stomach and chest. They were identical to those on Allyn’s own midsection. “Any more, and I would risk my own life.”

“Thank you,” Allyn said

Elisa nodded to him. “It’s done,” she called out in a hoarse voice. “We’re coming out.” She held out an arm, directing Allyn to start walking.

Allyn waited. “Liam…” he said, his voice failing him.

Liam didn’t say anything. He just watched as Elisa escorted Allyn out of the room. The last image Allyn had was of Liam sitting alone beside Nyla. A small figure in a large room, ever present, always loyal, he was unwilling to leave his friend’s side.
What have I done?

Four magi stood with their backs against the wall as Allyn entered the hall. Several more, maybe ten in all, stood at the ready behind the smiling Darian Hyland. He patted Elisa’s back and gently guided her along. “Good work,” he said. “Go get some rest.”

Elisa slowly shuffled down the hall, stooped over and holding her midsection.

“It’s a good thing they heal faster than we do, isn’t it? What would we do without them?”

“We’d become less careless,” a voice boomed from around the corner.

Darian whipped his head around. The hallway—with the exception of Elisa, who stiffly stood at attention—was empty.

“How do we learn from our mistakes if we don’t understand the pain of failure?” Graeme strode into the hallway, passing Elisa without second thought, Jaxon and Leira at his side. Confidence radiated from them like steam from boiling water.

“How did you…?” Darian said. “Take him!” he shouted, shoving Allyn toward the nearest magi.

The man shoved Allyn face first against the wall, knocking the wind out of him.

“I’m here for my Family,” Graeme said.

“I have you outnumbered five to one,” Darian said.

“Your numbers don’t intimidate me,” Graeme said. “Not when I know that half of them can’t wield, and the other half can barely keep from lighting their shoes on fire.”

Some of the onlookers looked at their feet, while more wore angry expressions. Darian tapped his foot nervously.

“Dad?” Liam stood in the doorway, supporting Nyla, who had an arm thrown over his shoulder. She watched groggily through half-open eyes.

“Liam—” Graeme said.

“Grab them!” Darian shouted.

Two guards seized Liam and Nyla. Liam, whose resolve must have steeled from the sight of his father, fought. He flailed his arms, kicked at the man’s shins, and tried to pull away.

“Let him go!” Graeme shouted.

The man grabbed hold of Liam’s wrist and twisted it behind his back. Liam cried out in pain, falling to his knees.

“Stop!” Graeme shouted. “Don’t let it come to this, Darian. You won’t like the result.”

Jaxon stepped forward, but Graeme held him back.

“You won’t win,” Darian said.

“I just want to take my Family and go,” Graeme said. “But I
will
kill every last one of you if you try to stop me.” The words echoed through the hall, severing Darian’s hold over his men. More than one of his magi retreated a step and exchanged nervous looks with those closest to them. This wasn’t their fight. They weren’t willing to die over it.

The man holding Allyn was a different beast. His grip tightened, and he pushed Allyn into the wall harder.

“Let them go,” Darian said. The hallway rang with the murmurs of relief and surprise, but the hands holding Allyn didn’t loosen. “I said, let them go.”

The man slammed Allyn against the wall one last time then shoved him aside. Allyn rushed to Nyla, who had collapsed under her own weight. Allyn grabbed her, slinging her arm over his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

They staggered toward Graeme. Jaxon and Leira met them halfway. Leira took Nyla, and Jaxon guarded against any dissenters.

Graeme took the top of Liam’s head in the palm of his hand and checked him over. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay,” Liam said.

Graeme pulled him close and glared down the hall. “If one of you so much as takes a step in our direction, I will burn this place down with all of you in it.”

Satisfied that they had taken his threat to heart, Graeme started for the exit. They didn’t meet any resistance on their way out, though they did receive confused looks from other members of the Hyland Family. Allyn committed their faces to memory. They hadn’t been part of the attack. They hadn’t been part of the attempted abduction, and they might not support Darian’s actions.

He still had hope they were good people.

Chapter 13

S
leep brought its own horrors. Allyn ran the halls of the Hyland Estate, frantic, searching for something—what exactly, he didn’t know. The walls shook with the echoes of explosions beating with a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. He found a set of stairs and descended into the belly of the estate, beyond the basement level, past the holding cell, continuing downward until, at last, there wasn’t a house at all.

Darkness surrounded him. Silence enveloped him. His feet didn’t even make noise against the empty abyss that was the floor.
This
was the solitude he had sought upon lying down.

A dim light shined ahead, beckoning Allyn like a lonely streetlamp. As Allyn approached, it seemed to solidify. A single brick wall sat in the darkness, like a stage prop. An invisible spotlight bathed it in a circular light, highlighting a familiar body crumpled on the floor.

Scarlet.

Her neck was bent awkwardly, and her leg was folded under her, just as she had been in the Hyland Estate, but her eyes were open. She
moved
. Allyn crouched in front of her, speaking in a comforting tone. He was there to help. A deep hurt filled her eyes. Betrayal. It wasn’t Scarlet anymore.

It was Kendyl.

“Why?” she asked. “Why did you do this to me?”

“I didn’t.”

“Why, Allyn?” she asked more forcibly.

Kendyl stood up, her left leg still bent at an unnatural angle. She limped toward him, her arms outstretched, reaching for him.

“I didn’t know,” Allyn said, stumbling backward as she drew closer. “I didn’t know it was you. I’m sorry.”

She reached for him, fingers extending,
growing
in length.

“I’m sorry!” Allyn slammed his eyes closed, cringing at her inevitable touch.

But it never came.

Allyn opened his eyes. A sturdy double door replaced the wall. Kendyl had disappeared, too. He pushed open the door and found himself in the holding room. Only the room was completely bare. The furniture was gone, as well as the lamps, shelves, books, rugs. Everything was gone, except Cason’s lifeless body. Two hand-shaped bruises marred his neck. Allyn placed his hand on one. His own fingers were shorter and thicker than the ones that had marked Cason’s neck. He gripped the other side of Cason’s neck, placing his other hand over the second bruise. Strangely, his hand fit this bruise perfectly.

Turning to leave, Allyn found Kendyl in the doorway. She looked at him with the same cold, lifeless eyes. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Allyn backed away, tripping over Cason’s body. As Allyn hit the ground, Cason sprang up and snatched at him with quick, snake-like movements. Allyn shuffled backward in a crab walk away from Cason—only now Cason’s face had been replaced with Kendyl’s. The Kendyl at the door continued to limp toward him.

Panicked, Allyn slid backward until he hit the closets. With nowhere else to go, Kendyl-Cason easily caught up to him and grabbed his foot with a powerful hand. With one arm, she slid him toward her. Allyn kicked, trying to break free, but Cason’s grip was too strong. He continued to fight as Cason’s hands clasped around his neck. Allyn beat against the hands, kicking wildly as the powerful grip lifted him from the ground. As blackness crept in, the Kendyl in the doorway repeated her question…

“Why?”

Allyn woke clawing his away across the bed, his heart on the verge of beating out of his chest. The room was dark, moonlight obscured by the window dressings. Images of crumpled bodies lying in unnatural positions, scorched skin, and strangled victims stuck with him. It was probably his imagination, but the putrid smell of burnt flesh clung to him. Rolling out of bed, he opened the window, allowing the cool breeze to wash it away. It didn’t. The smell of the dead and dying continued to tickle his nose, distracting him, reminding him of all the things he wanted to forget.

He leaned his head against the window frame. A thin layer of frost covered the grass and shrubs, turning leaves and branches into crystalline wonders. The dense layer of fog forming beyond obscured his view of the forest, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his memories. The room suddenly felt very confining, stifling his thoughts like a thick sweater on a warm day.

The halls were empty in the early morning, even emptier than usual. The solitude was nothing like the bustling activity at the Hyland Estate.
No
, Allyn thought,
don’t think about that.
He laughed a self-deprecating laugh. The man running from scary dreams was the same man who, only a few hours earlier, had sacrificed himself to save the others.
Who am I?
Am I the self-sacrificing hero or the cowering wimp?
But he hadn’t sacrificed himself expecting to die. In fact, he had known they wouldn’t kill him. They wanted him. Everyone did.
And instead, they have my sister.
Whatever happened to her was his fault. He had failed to protect her. He had failed to get her back. Liam and Leira had showed him how
real
family took care of each other.

The ride back had begun with Leira checking Nyla’s injuries. To Allyn’s surprise, Elisa had told the truth and treated them with care. Leira said Elisa had gone further than she would have expected another cleric to go—that didn’t stop her from doing more herself, though. She patched her up, aiding Nyla by shouldering her pain. Leira even healed the wounds Elisa had called superficial, stroking Nyla’s cheek even as the injuries appeared on her own face. But Leira wasn’t just another cleric. She was a friend. She was family.

A clock chimed in another room, interrupting the silence with a familiar tune that he couldn’t put a name to. Allyn roamed the house, exploring rooms and admiring art and decorations with a freedom he rarely felt. During the day, he was an outsider, the first silent to be invited to live among a magi Family in centuries.

The notoriety didn’t make Allyn feel comfortable. Graeme and Liam had tried to make him feel at home, but they couldn’t be with him all day, every day. Allyn still appreciated it. The truth was, he valued Liam’s friendship and had grown to consider him a real friend.

Graeme had probed them about their capture, often stopping them midsentence to clarify a small detail or even to have them repeat certain parts as he committed them to memory. When there were mild inconsistencies between their two stories, he took great care to listen to each one. Allyn admired the older man’s ability to listen. In his own experience, a person’s memory of an event always veered from the truth. This wasn’t intentional, of course, just a byproduct of how the mind copes with painful experiences. Graeme wasn’t attempting to find out who was right and who was wrong, because he knew the truth lay somewhere in the middle.

Graeme was brief in his own retelling—he had allowed himself to be taken captive, and then, when the situation presented itself, he escaped. He refused to answer questions and dodged others by saying he needed time to think. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to answer any more questions, Allyn stopped probing.

The ride was long and quiet after that. Likely mad at him, Liam refused to look at Allyn, while the rest withdrew from one another. On a few occasions, Allyn caught Graeme watching Liam with a fatherly look. They’d nearly lost each other, and Allyn hoped that after being faced with that reality, their relationship would improve. Then at least something positive might come from an otherwise-terrible event.

Deep in thought, Allyn entered the foyer. Nyla turned to look at him, a surprised expression on her face. Moonlight poured through the window, reflecting off her silver hair, which she had pulled over her shoulder so it draped down her chest. She was sitting sideways in an armchair, with her knees pulled up close to her chin, letting her feet dangle over the arm.

“Sorry,” Allyn said, backing out of the room.

“It’s okay,” she said. Her gaze lingered on him, inviting him to stay.

Leaving felt wrong, but he’d never been comfortable around Nyla. Then she had saved his life. Twice. He leaned against the wall. “You can’t sleep, either?”

She shook her head. “I slept all day.”

“How are you feeling?”

She shrugged.

It was a stupid question. “Well, you look better.”

She gave him a small smile. “Are you all right?”

“I am. Thanks to you.”

“Good.” Nyla turned her attention back to the window. The entire back wall of the foyer was lined with windows, and a folding door opened onto a balcony, beyond which a large grassy field disappeared into the forest.