Dust

XV

          Soon after we call, Sloane appears with a few other hunters, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. She is wearing hunting apparel, but is unarmed save for a knife whose hilt I see protruding from her belt. The moon and stars are still high above the sky, darkened by the smoke rising from the burning bark of trees. As the flames blaze up in her eyes, Sloane immediately barks out orders to a few colleagues, who go to extinguish the danger.

    Then, with a heavy sigh, she comes over to me, closing me in her arms. "God, Gemma! Why didn't you tell me—"

    "You're grieving, Sloane; it wouldn't be fair to drag you into this," I reply as Sloane pulls back, giving me a meek but appreciative smile. "You were right, though. About Jeremiah."

    Sloane nods, her dark hair a mussed halo around her round face. As her eyebrows draw in, her expression becomes grave. "And...my brother?"

    I heave a sigh and take Sloane's hand, leading her away from the hubbub and towards Gael, who still stands beside Elliott as if he'll disappear if someone doesn't. Gael's head lifts as Sloane and I approach him. "Can Sloane talk to him for a second, Gael?"

    He gives a curt nod and steps away from Elliott, who spits at the ground in disdain. Gael turns a scowl towards Elliott, but it has dissolved into a smile by the time his eyes are on Sloane and me again. "Of course," he says, coming to my side.

    Sloane gives us both a smile. "Thank you," she tells us, and Gael and I begin to step away when we hear raised voices, and a crack of skin against skin. I don't doubt Sloane will handle him well—she may be smaller than him, but she's nothing if not terrifyingly stern when she wants to be.

    Gael and I pause near Sloane's off-road truck, watching as the flames turn slowly to mere wisps of smoke. There's the shut of a car door as Jeremiah is dragged off, kicking and being irritable the whole time. Damien is currently unaccounted for; he disappeared after I called Sloane, but I'm not worried. If anything, he has probably already headed to his apartment in the city. It is the end of a long night, and, as I guess he does, all I want to do is rest.

    I lean my head into Gael's shoulder, feeling him tense for a moment before his whole body seems to ease again. I shut my eyes for a second, exhaling. "So you survived."

    Gael says, "I guess so."

    "And how did it feel?"

    Both Gael and I start at the addition of Damien to our conversation, nearly jumping out of our skin. He has appeared on the other side of Gael, leaned against Sloane's driver seat door, his eyes narrowed in amusement. Dame's smile is lopsided.

    "How did what feel?" asks Gael uneasily, stepping away from him. He shakes his head, as if denying that Damien scared him, but obviously he did.

    Damien rolls his eyes, folding his arms and leaning his back against the car instead. His eyes lift to the stars. "How did it feel to kill me, I mean? You technically did kill me."

    "Damien, he killed Elliott's illusion of you," I correct, not knowing why I expected anything different from Dame. I've always known him to be melodramatic. I had once even told him to put making a mountain out of a molehill as a skill on his resume (which had ended in Dame muttering under his breath and leaving the room). "It wasn't you at all."

    "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night," Damien says. He glances at Gael, and chuckles when he doesn't return his gaze. His expression turns suddenly smug. "I should throw a lamp at you, you know."

    Gael looks entirely caught off guard, which gives him enough of a reason to lift his eyes to Damien's. Gael doesn't even need to open his mouth; Damien reads both of our bewildered faces and elaborates. "I mean that you need to lighten up. I was kidding."