in from the yard. Not the first place she’d take a prisoner. She glanced up, but the condition of the ceiling said there’d been considerable water damage on the third floor, perhaps from a leaking roof. She’d try her luck in the immediate area first.
Six doors faced onto the hardwood hallway, including the room Nim had just left. A few stood open and one was missing altogether. Most of the rooms were little more than stinking burrows, telling the tale of how far these fae had sunk in their addiction.
The fourth room she peered into was different. The window had been boarded up, but a single candle threw a pool of light over the space. Some attempt had been made to furnish it with a sagging sofa and a moth-eaten rug. Unfortunately, what it had acquired in fabric it had gained in the stink of mildew. Nim stifled a sneeze.
One of the shadows moved. A male fae rose, holding Susan to his chest. Nim couldn’t tell if he meant to protect her or use her as a shield, but when she looked into his eyes all became clear. His expression was filled with fury—and that was only possible if he’d drunk from her soul.
“Who the stars are you?” he rasped. He was shaking, a telltale sign of the damage addicts suffered. Next on the list was incurable madness.
Nim kept the gun to her side, unwilling to risk shooting Susan. The violinist looked barely conscious, as if she would collapse if her attacker released the arm he clutched around her waist. The fae himself looked barely able to stand, overcome by the emotions swirling inside him.
Nim kept her voice soft and calm, but she knew better than to beg him for Susan’s life. If the fae had still possessed a better nature, he wouldn’t be there in the first place. “I’m here to save you.”
“Oh?” he scoffed.
“From dishonor,” she said in the same even, implacable voice. “You blacken our people’s name.”
“Does it matter?” His lip curled. “They call this house haunted. What are we fae but ghosts?”
His barb struck home, echoing Nim’s darkest thoughts. But she took a step forward, knowing every inch closer to her target improved her aim. “Even so, remaining true to our best selves is the test of our worth.”
Fine words, considering the suitcases already packed and waiting at her condo. They were both running in their own ways, this man with his addiction and Nim with her plans to vanish. They were both running to meaningless ends. The thought made Nim falter, and the fae must have seen it in her step.
He thrust Susan forward. The girl stumbled forward, but Nim’s reflexes were too swift. She pushed Susan onto the sofa and stepped aside in the same moment. Susan fell hard into the dusty cushions, but now Nim had the opening she needed.
She took aim, but was a split second too late. The fae had a gun, too.
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