Not like this.
Not in front of Daire.
Though there’s nothing I can do about the constellation of stars that swirl bright and shining before me.
“Funny, I don’t feel so lucky.” I grind the words between clenched teeth, as I fight to steady my breath and get a grip on myself.
“And now … the wounds.” Leftfoot lifts the blood-caked key from my chest. Pausing to give it a thorough inspection, he shoots Daire a look of reproach, then goes about the business of removing the gauze and poultices that held me together like a mummy so he can better inspect my torn and ravaged flesh.
The sight of my wounds causing Chepi to sob into her already soggy tissue, as Daire looks on with a face crowded with guilt-laced sympathy.
It’s a look I can’t bear.
A look that proves just how much I’ve failed her.
“You’re lucky Chay found you when he did,” Leftfoot says.
“How did you find us? How’d you know where to go?” I ask, unable to recall that particular detail.
“Intuition.” Chay’s words are directed at me, though his eyes remain fixed on Leftfoot. “I was out riding when we had a small earthquake and I instinctively headed for the vortex, sensing it wasn’t the usual shifting of the earth. I’d only been there a few minutes when you two appeared.”
“What were you doing down there?” Chepi asks.
Daire and I exchange a look. I have no idea what she told them, so I bypass the question, and tell them about the mine instead. Explaining its connection to all those disappearances Leftfoot told me about.
Glad for the chance to concentrate on something other than the sharp sting of potions Leftfoot uses to sterilize my wounds, before he gets to stitching them closed and mummifying me again in several layers of gauze and herbs.
When he’s finished, he tosses me a clean shirt, tells me to get dressed, and damn if I don’t need his help. As if I wasn’t emasculated enough for one day.
His words directed at Chepi, he says, “Take him home. In order to mend, he’s going to require serious bed rest.” Then turning his focus to Daire, he adds, “Chay can drop you off at Paloma’s. It’s time you two stay away from each other. For good this time. I guarantee you, next time you won’t be so lucky.”
bleeding sky
thirty-six
Daire
When I lose count of the number of times I’ve called Dace only to have Chepi pick up and refuse to put him on, I know it’s time for another approach.
While she may have succeeded in confiscating his phone, while the elders may be working together, doing whatever it takes to keep us apart, there’s no way they’ll prevail.
I need to see him.
Need to check in and make sure he’s okay.
Last I saw, his body was as battered as his ego. And I need to tell him that I don’t think any less of him for being beaten by Coyote.
Twice now Dace has purposely jumped in the path of that psychotic, demonic, bloodthirsty beast—willing to sacrifice himself in an effort to save me.
It’s touching beyond words.
It’s the very definition of heroic.
But the look in his eyes when I left Leftfoot’s adobe, made it clear he felt far more ashamed than valiant.
It’s a look that continues to haunt me—one I’m desperate to change.
The question is how?