Page 79 of Scythe & Sparrow
“We’re on our way home. We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he says, his voice grave. Then the line goes dead.
It takes less than ten minutes for us to arrive at Lark and Lachlan’s building, a former textile factory in a quiet neighborhood. We’re just getting out of the car as another vehicle growls down the empty street. It’s Lachlan’s vintage Charger, racing toward us, squealing to a stop just behind us. We jog toward the car and he opens his door as he tries his phone, panic written across his face. The call rings unanswered on the other end before connecting to Lark’s voicemail.
“We called Rowan, but he and Sloane are in Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend. They’re on their way home but it’s gonna take a while,” I say as he pulls a gun from the glove box. “What’s going on? Where the fuck is Lark?”
“I don’t know,” he says as he leads the way toward the entrance of their building. “She called me to say her aunt died. She was supposed to meet me at the nursing home, but she never showed. Conor just found information about the man who’s been targeting her family. And now Lark won’t respond to any of my calls.”
Fionn and I exchange a weighted glance as we follow Lachlan into the building and up the metal staircase, Lachlan spitting venom about someone being in his shop as we take the stairs by twos. When we get to the door of their apartment above the textile floor, Lachlan hesitates, one hand paused around the handle, the gun clutched in the other. His eyes are every shade of desperation as he nods to us in a wordless request to stay back. And then he twists the handle and opens the door.
His knees buckle and Fionn catches his older brother. My hand is shaking when I cover my mouth.
The floor is coated in blood.
Lachlan stumbles into the room. He calls out for Lark, a heartbreaking, hopeless plea. But instead of her voice, there’s a desolate whine. We rush after Lachlan to find Bentley lying on the floor, the dog panting heavily, blood staining the patches of white fur on his side. His dark eyes are pleading as he looks up at us.
“Save that fucking dog,” Lachlan says to Fionn as he strides to the kitchen to gather tea towels from a drawer.
“I’m not a vet—”
“I don’t fucking care, save that goddamn dog.”
Lachlan rushes in the direction of the hallway, calling out to Lark without receiving an answer. “I’ll help you,” I say, heading to the side table where I know Lark keeps some of her sewing supplies. I gather a needle and thread and scissors and bring them to Fionn. My hands tremble as I take over the job of holding towels to the deep puncture wound on Bentley’s side so Fionn can prepare for sutures. “Good boy,” I whisper, stroking his bearlike head as he gives me a mournful whine. For what feels like the countless time today, I swallow a swell of tears. “What did he mean, someone ‘targeting her family’?” I ask as I lock eyes with Fionn.
“I don’t know. It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” he replies. “She never said anything to you?”
“Nothing at all.” I search his eyes, but Fionn’s expression is grim. There’s so much blood on the floor. A streak of it leads to the door, as though someone was dragged. I keep asking myself the same question, over and over.What if we don’t find her in time?
Lachlan enters the room and we break our silent exchange. “I’ll do what I can to stop the bleeding now and get him to the vet,” Fionn says as Lachlan passes him a set of clippers. Fionndoesn’t delay, turning them on to shave Bentley’s thick fur and reveal the extent of the damage. “Do you have any idea where Lark could be?”
“No,” Lachlan says as his gaze pans around the room. It seems to snag on something lying next to a broken lamp on the floor. When he strides away, I follow, watching as he picks up a phone from the floor. He looks at the screen. And a heartbeat later, a bereft, soul-shattering scream fills the room. Lachlan breaks apart right before my eyes. He tosses the phone on the couch and buries his head in his hands as though he could crush the anguish right out of his skull.
We’re losing time.
Bentley whines behind me as I wrap a hand around Lachlan’s arm and squeeze. He looks down, tears shining at his lash line. “Think. There’s got to besomething. Something weird. Something out of place.”
Lachlan takes a deep breath. Presses his eyes closed. The crease between his brows deepens before it suddenly smooths. His gaze snaps to mine. “Across the street. He wasacross the fucking street.”
Lachlan pivots on his heel and strides toward the door. I don’t even think about it. I’m not yet sure what conclusions Lachlan has drawn. Or who we’re after. Or how dangerous they might be. But I know Lark is out there somewhere. And Lachlan is on to something, a trail that starts across the street. So I just follow. I make my declaration. I’m going to go too.
“Rose, don’t,” Fionn says. His voice breaks on those two words and it stops me as though I’ve hit a wall. “Please.”
Time grinds to a halt. I turn. The sight of him grips what’s left of my heart. He’s so beautiful. So broken, kneeling on the floorwith his palm on Bentley’s side, his hands covered in blood. My pulse surges. Any doubt that’s left behind is washed away by the current humming in my veins. “Lark is my girl,” I say. “I’m going to get her back.”
“But—”
“I love you, Fionn Kane.”
The panic on his face is wiped clean, replaced with shock. It’s as though he can’t make my words fit into any reality that lies before us. His lips part, but nothing comes out. And I realize, I don’t need him to say anything at all. I know how I feel. And it’s still enough magic to be real, even on its own.
I take a step backward, and I give him a smile that fades as quickly as it appears. “Save the dog or this asshat will kill you,” I say.
And then I turn away.
I don’t look at Lachlan as I pass him, reaching behind my back to pull the hunting blade from its sheath.
I don’t know what trials I’m about to face. But I do know one thing as I feel the weight of this last secret lift from my soul.
The show can’t start until you jump.
