Page 8 of Hell Raising and Other Pastimes (Grave Concerns 2)

“But you didn’t.”

“Because of whatever you did, not because of me at all. I bet you don’t know exactly what you did, do you?”

“I saved your ass—that’s what I did.” Sure, the words came out sullen and annoyed, but that was only because we both knew he was right. I hadnoidea what exactly I’d done, and if I needed to do it again, I’d be hard pressed.

When Troy had been taken over by that shadow, when he’d lost his damned mind, when I’d realized it would destroy everything I had—no matter how little that might be—I’d reached into him and wrapped my fingers around that shadow. I’dfeltthe difference between the other presence and Troy, been able to run along the lines of his spirit and that shadow. It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet I’d used some instinct I’d never known about, something deep inside of me to do it.

He finally looked at me, anddamnthat hurt. There was so much pain inside those silver eyes, so much fear. I’d never have looked at Troy and thought fear, yet there it was. He was terrified. Of himself, most likely, of his nature, of parts of him he couldn’t control.

I got that more than I ever wanted to admit. I understood that sort of feeling, where I had powers I didn’t know how to control, where I wasn’t easily definable.

It was a scary place.

“I don’t care what you say,” I told him. “I’m not afraid of you. I know who you are, and that wasn’t you.”

He pressed his lips together, a sure sign he didn’t believe me one bit.

Then again, people tended to hold onto the negative, to their own hang ups, no matter how much others fought against it. Strange how easy it was to believe the worst in ourselves and how hard to really hear the best.

“I—” he said, and I could already hear his excuses, his nonsense.

I silenced him with a kiss. It was soft, sweet, just an attempt to say what he refused to hear.

For just a moment I thought it had worked. His lips softened, gave, as if instinct alone made him react to my touch.

Maybe there is something to this mate thing.

As soon as it happened, however, it stopped. He pulled backward and shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered, as if his actions hadn’t said it well enough.

I was left staring at Troy’s back as he turned away and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it would just take time.

Or maybe I’d been right, and I’d never had a shot.

* * * *

Tiny rocks dug into my fingers like slivers of glass. I’d never thought of sand as particularly sharp, yet the knicks and cuts on my hands told a different story.

“You hanging in there?” Grant knelt above me, then stuck his hand out to help me up and over an especially large boulder as we made our way up a steep hill covered in rocks.

“I thought this was going to be a ‘stroll down a path’ sort of thing,” I panted out, breathless.

“I feel like there’s a joke here about the road to hell.”

“If there is, I ask you keep it to yourself. People should be sent to hell for making puns, but free from them once we get here.”

After he helped me up, I rolled to the side and sat on the oversized rock. Whenever I needed to stop—and it had been far more often than any of the others needed—they all slowed. Funny how we could be traveling together and yet somehow be so entirely separate.

The men kept to the peripheral, drifting in and out of my line of sight, each taking up a different point as we went.

Occasionally they’d venture off farther and every once in a while come back more disheveled.

It seemed they’d rather take out dangers before they got anywhere near me.

Then again, I was the only mortal in the group.

Grant handed me water, and I gulped it down. It felt like mud coated my esophagus, like the ash had mixed with just enough water that it only thickened. I had no idea where they were getting water from, but I’d guess it wasn’t easy. When Hunter returned with a new supply in hand, he always had a fresh wound. For that reason alone, I didn’t complain about the quality.

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