does he care about me, especially after the trouble I’ve caused? Not that she’d let him see her doubt. That would leave her cracked open like an egg dropped from its nest to the pavement below. And this wasn’t the time for confessions, anyway. She’d just about had her soul snatched. After a long moment, she stepped back, heaving a long breath. She was grateful he’d come and angry he’d stolen her power, and she didn’t have the strength to deal with either of those things right then.
Instead, she pointed at the fae writhing at their feet. “What happened to him?”
“I’m not certain, but my first guess would be indigestion,” Merlin replied drily.
A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Clary. Her world wavered and she gripped Merlin’s arm. Humor aside, the enchanter’s remark made no sense, but the evidence was before her eyes. Still, how could her life energy be toxic to a fae? It was ludicrous, and just a little embarrassing.
She opened her mouth to say so just as she passed out.
* * *
Clary woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom. After jerking into a sitting position, she pressed a hand to her aching head and found a lump where she’d hit the pavement. An involuntary groan escaped her as she blinked the room into focus. She was clothed and lying on a king-size bed. One wall of the room was exposed brick, the floor wide planks of hardwood sanded to a soft sheen. Another wall was a balcony with a view of the sun fading over the distant hills. This had to be one of those trendy lofts in the downtown’s converted warehouses. The furniture was plain but top quality, the bed linens definitely not from a big box store. Whose place was this?
She swung her feet off the bed and took a second look around. The room was nice, but the clutter said a real person lived there. A bookshelf spawned stacks of books around it, like seedlings around a tree. Unfolded laundry was heaped in a chair and spilled over onto the floor.
Slowly, Clary bent and pulled on her shoes, which someone had removed and left beside the bed. Her head throbbed with the change in angle, but it was manageable. When she stood, she caught sight of the T-shirt on the floor by the closet. It was black with a faded logo of a metal rock band, and she’d last seen it stretched over Merlin’s chest. Was this his place? It looked too—she searched for the word—normal.
She left the bedroom, curiosity in full flood. The room opened directly into the main living area, and she caught an impression of more wood, brick and large windows hung with plants. “Anybody home?” Clary called.
Merlin appeared around the corner. “Ah, you’re up.” His usual mask was firmly in place—cool and slightly amused, as if the world were a movie and he’d already seen the credits. The only clue to his mood was the vertical pleat between his brows.
“Do you live here?” she asked.
He nodded, sipping from a glass of something green. “How are you feeling?”
“Not sure yet.” She wrinkled her nose. His drink smelled like lawn clippings. “Is that brew from the Fabrien Spell Scrolls?”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “It’s wheat grass from my juicer. Want some?”
Clary shuddered. “Not unless we’re going for a true exorcism. Why am I here?”
“Medical observation. You’ve been through a lot in the past few days.” His eyes were thoughtful as he sipped his disgusting drink. “Why did you run from your sister’s place? Imagine my surprise when Gawain lumbered in to announce he’d seen you crossing the parking lot.”
She looked away. “I’m putting everyone in danger.”
“The danger won’t vanish with a change in location. You’ll just take it somewhere else.”
Clary heaved a breath. “Vivian wants revenge on you, and she threatened Tamsin so I would cooperate. We’re dealing with more than a slight touch of possession.” There, she’d said it. She watched Merlin’s face for a reaction.
To her disappointment, he just shrugged, hard to read as ever. “That’s Vivian.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” For an instant, his composure slipped and she saw lines of tension bracket his mouth. “I suspected as much about halfway through the show at Medievaland. Not even demons are typically that skilled at conjuring, but she is.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Her tone grew sharp.
He tossed back the rest of the wheat grass, making a face as he swallowed. “What would Vivian have done if I’d confronted her?”
Clary swallowed, not liking the truth. “She’d have lashed out.”
“And that would not have ended well for anybody, especially you.”
Clary buried her face in her hands. Of course Merlin had figured it out. He’d just kept his cards hidden from his ex-lover. She hated him for it, but knew her life depended on his skills. “Vivian will come back, you know.”
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