Midnight's Daughter(89)

The pain changed from ice to flame in an instant. What had frozen before now boiled. I gasped as the constriction on my throat disappeared, and scalding air rushed into my lungs. A clinical pewter gaze watched as I arched in white-hot agony, my body bent like a bow as flames poured through me. Fire ate away at my nerve endings, but instead of deadening, the pain kept building, getting worse every second, until it felt like my bones would climb right out of my flesh.

The ice in front of my face melted and the puddle began to steam. It looked like the air itself had turned to fire, a boiling mass of knotted lightning. I was surprised that my skin wasn’t doing the same; it felt like my blood was actually boiling in my veins. The Fey put his hand on me again, but where it had been ice before, now it was fire. My shirt began to scorch, as if the fabric had been left too long under an iron. I could feel my skin start to bubble beneath it.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. I collapsed to the ground, splashing in a puddle of water hot enough to burn. My flesh throbbed with every heartbeat; my breath hitched in my lungs as I tried to breathe. I choked on the acrid smell that rose from the burnt edges of my shirt, like the fumes of a candle that had just been extinguished. The Fey pulled his hand away and sat back on his heels. Part of my shirt had flaked away, exposing red, blistered skin that ran from my breastbone to below my belly button. It took me a second to realize why the shape of the injury was so familiar. The perfect imprint of a long-fingered hand had been burnt into me like a brand.

“If I wasn’t protecting you, you would already be dead,” I was told. “But we have two elements to go, do we not?” He wasn’t touching me now, but a constriction was suddenly about my throat. My hands scrabbled at the burning sand beneath me, but I didn’t have the strength to lift them to my neck—I couldn’t even claw at the nonexistent cord. I bit the air, as if I could tear chunks out of it with my teeth, but nothing helped. Too many needs warred in my head—fight back, get air into my lungs, scream for mercy—

Almost as if he’d heard my last thought, the Fey leaned over to look in my eyes. “If you wish to save your life, tell me where the null is to be found.” The constriction relaxed, and I could breathe, although my lungs almost felt like they’d forgotten how. He waited while I gasped and choked. “Nothing to say?” I stared up at him, too raw in every nerve even to glare. Helpless wheezing sighs accompanied my every breath, but I said nothing. I only wished I had enough water left in my parched mouth to spit.

Then I realized the fun wasn’t over, as my lungs kept expanding even after filling to capacity. It felt like I had two balloons in my chest, balloons that were being stretched to their limit and beyond. They would soon burst; they couldn’t possibly hold any more. My eyes blurred with pain and I couldn’t stop a violent shudder. My vision began to fade. Something was screaming inside my head, a high, inhuman sound that had no beginning or end, a raw vibration of wet agony.

Just as I was sinking into blackness, the pressure stopped and I was allowed to exhale. I didn’t cough this time. The air trickled out of me slowly, and I took a few weak, shallow breaths afterward, as if my lungs were afraid to try for more.

I’d hurt worse in the past, but this definitely made the top ten. I wasn’t sure, but it might make the top three. The Fey regarded me thoughtfully, a finger tracing the burns on my chest delicately. “You surprise me. Most of your kind would have screamed themselves hoarse by now.”

I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of the truth, that my throat had locked up, that I’d been too choked on pain to scream. “You’ve never met one of my kind.” It came out as a dry croak, but he seemed to understand.

“No.” The storm-colored eyes narrowed. “I suppose I have not. Well, then.” He stood up, and hauled me to my feet. I stumbled, but that iron grip wouldn’t let me fall. After a moment, the dizziness passed and I found to my surprise that my legs would hold me. I was even more surprised that I hadn’t dropped into a berserker rage. Pain of that magnitude had never failed to bring it on. I never had this much control, not unless…

Unless Claire was around.

I forced myself not to look. That triple-damned Heidar. I’d already promised to kill him, but for this I would kill him slowly.

“Since you act like a warrior, we will treat you as one,” the Fey said. “I will give you the opportunity to die fighting.” He draped an arm around my waist to keep me upright. The feel of it made the sweat on my body suddenly chill. “Do you see the house?”

Since it was lit up like a Christmas tree against the boiling darkness of the sky, it was a pretty stupid question. But then, the Fey didn’t seem to have a lot of respect for human intelligence. I nodded. Anything was better than going on to element number four. I didn’t know what form it might take, but somehow doubted I’d enjoy the lesson.

“If you reach the house, I will let you go.”

“Reach the house?” My voice sounded thin and breathy, not at all like usual. But I was grateful for it. If my vocal cords still worked, I couldn’t be as hurt as I felt. Right?

“My people will not try to stop you. But the fourth element will. Touch the house, any part of it, and we will leave you be. Fail—” He shrugged. “I will tell your people where to dig for you.”

I assumed he meant that literally, since the only element left was earth. Goddamned Fey and their goddamned games. I’d heard the stories, but never thought much about them. I had certainly never thought I might die in one. Even worse, that I might die for nothing.