Shelton sighed. He had pulled a straight-backed, red-velvet chair up to the bedside. Chess perched on the rumpled covers with her coffee cup. She wondered idly if they would bring more food, she'd tucked away six pancakes and a pile of scrambled eggs and was having longing thoughts of nice crispy bacon to top it all off.

"The Drakul's recovering, he's in the dormitory with the others. This is a… a delicate situation.” His tone plainly said he didn't think much of the situation itself. “On the one hand, you're the first potential we've been able to lock onto and bring in, for a very long time. And if what you're telling us is true, it was the Drakul who resisted corruption and the Malik who turned traitor. Which has never happened before."

"Not to your knowledge,” she returned, her eyebrow raising. “If what I'm telling you is true? Are you calling me a liar?"

He held his hands up, placating, the loose sleeves of his red sweater falling back from his muscle-corded wrists. “No, not at all. Not at all. But this is very… irregular. There are certain… rules."

Is he talking about what I think he's talking about? “In other words, you want to punish Ryan.” You son of a bitch, she added silently.

His calm brown eyes met hers. He studied her for a long time, the brushing of rain against the window oddly soothing.

A welcome flare of irritation sprang to life right in the center of her chest. “Look, Mr. Shelton, I'm going to put this into terms you can understand. Ryan's the only one of you inept jerkwads I trust. You want me to help you out, you want me to do something because I'm one of these Golden thingies? Fine. But only if you leave Ryan alone. He's my Drakul, and he stays, or no dice."

Shelton shrugged, crossing his long legs. “If we withdraw our protection, you might have to face the High Ones again.” But his mouth twisted down bitterly. “We're not willing to compromise your safety, even though the Drakul has broken… certain rules. It was a very irregular situation."

Damn right it was. Feeling slightly more justified, she settled back into the bed. “So what are we talking about here? When do I get to see him?"

"You may not be able to do him much good.” Was there a slightly cruel smile touching his lips, or was that her imagination? “He's already fading."

She barely realized she'd bolted to her feet, the coffee cup hitting the wine-red carpet and letting loose a flood of scalding liquid. Shelton stood, too, his eyes widening in a way that told her whatever reaction he'd expected, it wasn't this one.

Chess drew herself up to her full height, her right hand dropping to the hilt of her knife and her face freezing, the little tic in her cheek starting. It was, again, Mom's patented You-Are-Aware-I-Am-Potentially-Deadly? expression, and she saw with satisfaction that even though this man had a head and a half height on her, he still was no match for one of her mom's Looks. “Where. Is. He?"

And damned if that faint golden glow didn't start again, swirling in the air around her like colored oil on water. Great. Am I going to turn into a light bulb every time I get pissed off?

There were, she supposed, worse things. Like running in the dark and feeling a blue-eyed demon behind her. Goosebumps spread over her skin.

"There's no need for—” the man began hastily, his eyes turning round as quarters.

"You listen, and you listen good. You're going to take me to Ryan right now, posthaste, young man.” I sound like Charlie. “And you'd better pray he gets better. Because if you let him die, I am going to be all over you like white on rice. And believe me, after the week I've had, I am one librarian you do not want to mess with."

That sounds good, Chess, but how are you really going to force him to do anything? Her practical side spoke up about ten seconds too late, for once.

Doesn't matter, she told herself. I'll do what I have to, even if I have to search this whole goddamn place. He'd find me—he did find me, no matter what they did to him. And I'm bloody well going to find him.

Shelton shook his head. “Fine. You win. But you don't understand. They're animals, Miss Barnes, and you're not equipped to control him should some of his more aggressive tendencies—"

"Listen to yourself.” She didn't bother to disguise the disgust in her voice. “He's not an animal, you son of a bitch. He's a person. Now get your ass in gear. Where is he?"

"You're determined to—"

She glared at him, the golden light still swirling in the air. “You better believe it, mister. You don't want to see how determined I can get."

He visibly gave up. “Then you'd better come with me."

Drifting.

It was gray, the place where he drifted. Infinitely gray, the world turned to comforting cotton-wool static. Nothing left to fight. Nothing left to do but lie still, staring blindly into the grayness, and feel the welcome numbness as it slid up his arms and legs, increment by increment, searching for his heart. When it reached his heart the gray would turn to black, and he would be released.

It didn't matter. He had done… what? Something. He had kept someone safe, and that was all that mattered. Now there was nothing left to do. Nothing but lie here and wait.

Sometimes people spoke softly, his brothers keeping watch as a vigil for the dead, some leaving, some arriving; their silence was laced with the subliminal hiss of demons watching what could well be their own fate someday. Despair turned to numbness, grief turned to apathy, the will to live sapped, gone, forgotten. The body healed itself, in fits and starts, but that was of no use.

Not now.

"Oh, Jesus.” This voice cut through the gray, flushing it with gold for a bare moment.

The thought was slow. What? Stretched out like taffy, the single word hung in the gray mist.

"Jesus Christ. What have they done to you?"

Stinging, a faraway pain. He turned his attention away, fretfully, seeing the gray mist again. Let me go. Just let me go.

"Ryan? Orion!” She sounded close to weeping, and something jabbed him in the side. “Goddammit, wake up!"

Another voice intruding, this one smooth and male. Malik. One of the commanders. “You can't bring him back. He's too far gone."

"You stay out of this, you son of a bitch.” Coldly furious. The woman's voice was familiar, so familiar it almost roused his interest. The demon stirred under the floor of his mind, a hurtful flower blooming.

No. Go back to sleep. Just let it go. Nothing more to do here, nothing more to see. Just go. Just let go.

More prickling pain, in faroff territory he recognized as his fingers and toes. Tiny needles jabbing, jabbing; each one a thin diamond star of pain. Like a frostbitten limb slowly waking up, like the painful scrape of sunlight…?

"Wake up, goddamit! I'm not finished with you! Wake the hell up, Ryan! I'm talking to you, you big dumb jerk! Get up! I need you!"

That sent another uncomfortable spike of interest through him. Need me? Nobody needs me. I did what I had to do. Now let me die.

BLAM!

The impact jolted him; the sound of open palm hitting flesh. He heard a sharp collective intake of breath. Something against his side, two dimples of pressure on either side of his hips. The blow smashed through the shell of gray haze, white light bursting against his eyes, something pressing against his chest.

BLAM!

Again. The light burst through him, the demon rising snarling through layers of apathy, chemical adrenaline flooding his bloodstream, the listlessness shaking itself away. His hand shot up, closed around something soft and fragile. But gently. Exquisitely gently.

Ryan blinked. A low rumbling growl died in his chest; his pupils shrank, trying to deal with the sudden influx of light. “Quit it.” He tried to make the words forbidding, could only manage a whisper. Why was his body so heavy?