Page 82 of Threadbound

Bran gaped at him, almost losing control over the glamour in his shock. “Jamie?—”

“If it’s done, they can’t stop it anymore,” Jamie pointed out, his jaw set in a way that Bran recognized as being stubbornly decided. It had been set the same way when Jamie had decided Bran needed to go to the hospital. Bran was in only marginally better shape now—his magic was still erratic and weak, he was increasingly exhausted from trying to hold onto the protectivespell, and… Well, at least he wasn’t bleeding to death at the same time.

“You canna undo it once it’s been done,” he warned Jamie, wondering what in Dunatis’s and Lugh’s name he was doing going along with this.

Jamie nodded. “But that’s good, right? It means they can’t undo it, either.”

“You dinna know what you’re asking,” Bran rasped, trying to beg Jamie to take back what he’d just asked. Because Bran had to follow through on it. He owed Jamie too much to refuse, even if he knew—as Jamie did not and could not possibly know—that this was a terrible, terrible idea.

“I know the S—Sidhe King—” Jamie stumbled over the word, but kept going. “—doesn’t want it to happen. I know that he’s willing to… kill me to stop it.” Blue eyes bored into Bran’s green. “It will help your magic, too, won’t it?” he asked, pointedly.

Bran half-swallowed his answer. “Aye.”

“What will it do to me?”

“I dinna know,” Bran answered him honestly. “But I dinna think it will bring you any harm.”

Jamie nodded again. “Okay.” Then he turned and began walking up Chambers toward Greyfriars, the Kirkyard, and the massive tree that marked the Gate.

Bran had no choice but to follow him.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Jamie had never been so utterly terrified in his entire life. Not when he’d first felt the back of Bill Eckel’s hand, not when he’d had two baby teeth knocked out by Bill Eckel’s fist, not when he’d been attacked for holding Christopher’s hand, not when he’d interrupted Bran being beaten… Not ever.

He’d also never traveled to another world. Much as Edinburgh had felt like a different world from Maynardville, Tennessee, it was nothing in comparison to being ripped through some sort of magical doorway to a place where the grass itself was alive with flowers that had literal eyes, blinking and glowing in a wash of moonlight so bright it hurt to look at. A place where a butterfly had four too many wings and teeth that showed in a flash as itatesomething that might have been a mouse or maybe a small bird.

Nothing was what it should have been—or, rather,Jamiewas definitely not where he should have been. Not Kansas, not Tennessee, not even Edinburgh.

“Jamie.” Bran’s voice was a rasp, yet it was the only familiar thing Jamie had to cling to as he hunched over, gasping, his eyes closed tightly against the several impossible things that he’d just seen. He tried to respond. Couldn’t.

A hand touched his arm, and Jamie flinched, unable to help himself. He’d just upended everything he thought he knew about the world and how it worked—he’d known, in theory, that he was traveling by magic to another plane of existence… but it was one thing to think it in theory and another thing entirely to actually make the journey. His skin and soul felt raw and exposed.

“Breathe,” came the next word, and Jamie struggled to obey. He needed air. He knew this. His brain wasn’t completely convinced that therewasair here, or, if there was, that the air wasn’t going to sprout claws and try to rip its way out of his lungs, but he didn’t actually have a choice. His lungs were going to breathe whether he wanted them to or not, and it was probably a better idea if he let them do it before he passed out. Passing out seemed like a terrible idea.

“That’s it,” Bran soothed, the roughness of his tone evening out a little.

Jamie opened his eyes again, less because he wanted to and more because it had occurred to him that he should probably be able to see what was coming at him so that he could avoid having his face eaten by a butterfly-monster or something else equally horrifying.

He tried to straighten up, breathing a little better when he found Bran standing directly in front of him, looking completely normal. That, at least, was a relief.

Then he realized it probably wasn’t real.

“You—this isn’t what you really look like, is it?” Jamie asked, nervous.

“This is my human form,” Bran answered. His lips quirked. “I thought it might be better if I were… familiar.”

The fae was probably right. Jamie wasn’t sure if he could handle Bran being… something else right now. He nodded to show his agreement. Having Bran look the same was definitely helping. At least as long as Jamie didn’t take his eyes off the fae.Not that he minded, exactly, although he’d have preferred that the context be different. Extremely different.

Jamie took a couple breaths, not taking his eyes off Bran. He could do this. He had to do this. He had no idea how, though. “Now what?” he managed to croak out.

“Now we get so that you dinna panic,” came the answer, and Bran sounded almost amused. Which, Jamie thought, was not appropriate, given that they had just been essentially running—well, walking quickly—for their lives from the people who had already tried to kill Bran once.

“Can—can thosegeàrdpeople find us here?” he asked.

Bran frowned. “Aye, theycan. But they dinna usually hunt at night.”

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