He slumped against me, and I almost panicked, thinking I’d have to drag him back, thinking he’d die, too, and then what would I do?
“I’m so tired,” he said, leaning on my shoulder. Just resting a moment.
“I know,” I whispered.
Turning at the sound of running, I saw Jeffrey, standing with a wool blanket that might have come from the hunters’ blind. When he saw us, he dropped it. His shoulders slumped, and grief pulled at his face.
A pair of gold filigree rings had survived the blaze. Gemma’s rings. I picked them up, squeezed them in my hand, and nudged Grant. “Come on, we have to go.”
Propping him up, I pulled him to his feet, and whatever moment of despair had gripped him vanished. He straightened, the look of cold stone settling over him. He folded his hands protectively to his chest and walked.
I picked up the blanket Jeffrey had dropped, held it up, showing the light that played through the fibers. Not a tight weave. “It probably wouldn’t have been enough,” I said, like that was any comfort.
“It might have been,” he said. “If I’d been faster.”
I hooked my arm through his and urged him on. Side by side, Jeffrey and I followed Grant back to the lodge.
Anastasia was waiting in the living room, toward the back, in shadows and away from the sunlight now pouring in through the windows. She had to know it was too late, but when we came in through the door she demanded, “Where is she?”
Grant, streaked with sweat and soot, could only look at her, his burned hands clawed in front of him.
Tina covered her mouth, her eyes narrowing with tears. Anastasia didn’t say a word. Not to reprimand him, not to weep. She nodded once, then went to the basement door and descended into her cave.
I followed.
“Anastasia?”
At the bottom of the stairs, I found her sitting on the bed, a noble statue, gazing into the corner.
“Anastasia, I’m sorry. He tried. He almost had her.”
“She died in his arms,” she said. “I could see that. Right now, I have nothing to say. I need to rest. I hope to see you come nightfall.”
Hesitating, I approached, opening my hand to her. Gemma’s rings lay on my palm. Anastasia stared at them a moment, then retrieved them with cold fingers, closing them in her own fist.
I left her, climbing back up the stairs with feet made of lead.
chapter 20
Tina, Jeffrey, and Grant were in the kitchen, tending to the magician’s hands with ointment and bandages. Someone must have found a first-aid kit. Grant’s jaw was taut, and he bore what must have been terrible pain without flinching.
Leaning on the counter, I watched, wondering what to do now. I asked myself what Cormac would do, and I couldn’t think of an answer anymore. No, that wasn’t true. He’d hole up somewhere defensible with a case of ammunition and shoot anything that moved.
Not a bad idea, that.
Jeffrey said, “Kitty, you should get some sleep. You look like you’re about to collapse.”
My muscles ached; my brain hurt. And the walls were closing in. “So do you.”
“Is there a plan?” Tina said.
I shook my head. “I’m all out of plans.”
“Anastasia can’t leave until nightfall,” Grant said, forcing his voice to stay steady. “Getting sleep in the meantime isn’t a bad idea. We can rest in shifts while the others keep watch.”
“They’re still out there,” Tina said. “You think they’re still after us?”
“Of course they are,” Grant muttered, harsh with pain.