Page 27 of Court of Evil

“Here.” I float through the door before remembering and opening it for her. “Whoops,” I say with a shrug. Sometimes I forget humans cannot float through things the way I can.

Rolling her eyes, she follows me into one of the many spare rooms Shamus keeps on his floor. This one has a bed and some furniture, as well as an en suite. Technically, I also have a room, but since I’m dead and don’t sleep, I mostly just watch anime in there.

“Thanks.” She sits heavily on the bed, eyeing me as I continue to float. “You can leave now, ghost boy.”

“No can do. I need to keep an eye?—”

“Ronan.” My name makes me stop since she has never really said it before. Her tone is tired and calm, which is worrying. “I’m tired. I just need some time to myself to . . . to figure out everything that happened. In the last twenty-four hours, I have been burned, stabbed, and tortured. I almost died, then I was brought back, fed to a fae, and have now moved in with my commander. I need some space.” She looks at me. “Please,” she pleads.

I know I shouldn’t, Shamus wants me to keep an eye on her, worried she will run off half-cocked after Black and her team, but I nod and float backwards through the walls. I linger long enough to see her let out a long breath and slump back, only to still at the sight of the fae.

“Not going anywhere, human,” he warns.

Grumbling, she climbs under the covers, turning her back to him, and I float away. I will check on them later, but despite his nature and, well, obvious mental issues, the fae doesn’t seem to want to kill Tate.

I leave them to it and find myself floating to Shamus’s room. He must feel me coming because he groans.

“What have I told you about privacy?” he mutters, but he doesn’t protest too much. He’s stretched out on his sofa, his shirt removed to expose the extensive bleeding and weeping wounds on his back.

“Shit, I can’t remember much about being human, but that can’t be fun. How are you even still walking?” I ask.

“Stubbornness and pride,” he admits, agony tight in his voice. “Can you get the herbs?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. You’ve been hurt so many times, I know where they all are by heart,” I mutter as I float away. “Though, this has to be one of the worst, bar the time that troll tried to take off your head with its fists.” Gathering the gifted magic and herbs, I head towards him and make myself solid as I straddle his ass and start to apply them generously across his back.

At first he groans with pain, fisting the sofa as he tries to hold it back, but as the magic works into his system, he sighs, slumping into the cushions. When I’m done, I lean back, taking a look at my handiwork. “Well, you won’t win any beauty contests soon, but you’ll live.”

“Thank you, brother,” he murmurs sleepily, snuggling deeper into the sofa. It’s surprising how different Shamus can be. No one sees this soft, gentle side of him, one that was beaten, tortured, and almost ripped out of him.

“Lie like that and try to get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on your angel for you,” I tell him. “Next time, we’ll treat your wounds first. You die, I die, remember?”

“That’s the only reason?” he jokes before becoming serious. “It was more important that she was safe. Everyone else comes second.”

I find myself staring at the pale side of his face for a moment before I float down and press my chin to the edge of the sofa so I can peer into his eyes. “Why is she so important to you?”

I don’t think he’ll answer, his dark eyes meeting mine before he rolls his lips. “Not just to me,” he admits, but he says no more. “Keep your eye on them. I don’t trust the fae. If he makes one wrong move, I want to know immediately.”

“What will you do?” I laugh. “They are notoriously hard to kill, the tricky bastards.”

“But not impossible,” Shamus replies, his voice going cold. This is the commander everyone else knows, the monster of Stalkers’ Rest. “I have been hunting for a very long time, brother. Do you truly think I do not have a way to kill the fae if I must?”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“He may be . . . useful. For now, as long as he does not cross the line, I will allow him to live.”

“You know, sometimes you’re kind of terrifying,” I admit with a ghostly shiver.

“Only sometimes?” he jokes before his smile wanes. “You and I both know what I’m capable of and what I am willing to do for my duty. I think they should be more than terrified of me.”

“Is it really worth all this, Shamus?” I ask, voicing something I’ve often wondered. I understand why he is doing all this, I’ve been his best friend too long not to, but I have to know.

“It has to be,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes again. “Keep watch over her for me.”

“Got it. Rest now, brother. Never fear, ghost boy is here!” I disappear, floating through the floor.

After all, I owe Shamus everything. He’s the reason I’m still able to be here. Without him, I would just be . . .

Gone.

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