I ran into the front yard, dragging PC with me by my death grip on his leash. The little dog yipped happily as he fol owed at my heels, but I barely heard him over the rushing in my ears.
Stil on his knees, Falin swayed, his eyes half closing.
One of his hands—gloved as always—gripped his side, where something dark spread along his shirt. The other hand groped outward, his fingers sliding over the side panel of Caleb’s car. He’s hurt. Bad. I was stil yards from the driveway. I needed to cal an ambulance, to get help .
But I had a dagger in one hand and PC’s leash in the other.
I dropped both.
I patted my pockets as I ran, hoping I had my phone. I didn’t. Crap.
Falin swayed again. His hand fel from the car. He’s going to black out.
“Falin,” I yel ed, trying to get his attention, to keep him focused. I was almost there. Just a short sprint left.
focused. I was almost there. Just a short sprint left.
Falin looked up. His hair clung to one side of his face, the pale locks dark and sticky. “Your eyes are glowing,” he whispered.
Then his eyes rol ed back in his head.
I lunged forward, grabbing his shoulders as he col apsed.
It was a messy move to start with, and his added weight overbalanced me, sending me sprawling. My ass hit the pavement as Falin’s back slammed into my stomach, and the air whooshed out of me. But I caught him, his head hitting my chest instead of cracking against the pavement.
Of course, judging by the blood matting his long hair, someone might have already cracked his skul .
PC ran a circle around us, dragging his leash behind him before final y stopping to lick Falin’s hand. The man didn’t so much as twitch.
“What happened to you?” I whispered, stil trying to regain my breath. I turned Falin’s head to an angle that looked more comfortable—and one that I hoped would give me a better view of his head injury, but I couldn’t make out a thing under his blood-soaked blond hair. Oh, this is bad.
And there was more blood than just from his head wound.
My grave-sight made his clothing appear worn and moth-eaten, but the remaining fabric was saturated with blood al along one side from the middle of his chest down to his pants.
“Caleb,” I screamed. Please be able to hear me. “Caleb, help me!”
The front door opened and Caleb rushed out, Hol y a few steps behind him. I tried to shift my legs from where they were pinned under Falin’s body without jostling him—which I failed at miserably. His brows scrunched together, his grimace making his sharp features draw in pain, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“What—?” Caleb stopped short, stil several feet away.
Hol y kept running. She dropped to her knees beside me.
“Alex, what happened? What’s wrong?”
“Alex, what happened? What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? Clearly the unconscious fae sprawled in our driveway. But Hol y wasn’t looking at him. Was he glamoured?
“Hol y, go back inside,” Caleb said, not moving.
She looked between Caleb and me, her indecision clear on her face. “What’s going on?”
“Just do—” Caleb cut himself off, then lowered his voice to a more civil volume and said, “Wait inside.”
I think he would have said “please” if his nature had permitted, but it didn’t. Hol y’s frown etched deeper and she looked at me, her eyes asking me what I wanted her to do.
I wanted help for Falin. Now. I didn’t know what Caleb’s issue was, but Hol y couldn’t see Falin if he was glamoured, so she couldn’t help. Swal owing the sour taste of adrenaline, I nodded. “I’l explain later.”
Hol y scowled, but she pushed herself up and stomped across the front lawn. When the door slammed behind her, I looked at Caleb.
“Help him?”
He shook his head. “It would bring more trouble down on you and on my house.”
“He’s hurt. We have to do something.”
Caleb didn’t move. “Get up, Al. Let’s go. I’l cal someone to deal with him.”
Falin didn’t need “dealing with”—he needed help. And I wasn’t about to leave him until he got it.
“Please, Caleb. Help him. Please.”
At my words, I felt the potential for imbalance between us.
He owed me a favor because I’d listened to Malik—I’d forgotten about that favor—but I’d asked him for help, and he was so against the idea that if he did help, I would be the one indebted to him. I didn’t care.
“Please,” I said again.
He winced. “Alex—” He shook his head and then exhaled a long breath. “For you, Al. Not for him. We should get him inside.”