Hello, everyone! I'm happy to say that after a slightly stressful weekend, things are beginning to look up! My poor dad fell and broke his ankle this weekend, and I was finally able to go retrieve him from the hospital last week. He needed a surgery to help fix the break, so he was in the hospital recovering a bit longer than we thought he would. But he's in relatively good spirits and he's home now, so we're both happy about that!

I hope y'all enjoy the chapter! I've worked very hard on it!

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Shion watched as the bathroom door clicked shut. Nezumi had meticulously bandaged his feet in plastic wrap, which Karan had handed him from the kitchen, ensuring that Shion's wounds and the bandages were completely protected from the water. He then informed Shion that he should spend "as long as he needed" in the shower before ducking out and leaving Shion to his own devices.

Now that he was alone, Shion felt the weight of the past two days pressing down around him. He sat on the edge of the tub, the bottom speckled with droplets of pale pink. He couldn't feel the ache in his feet anymore―Nezumi's calming magic had kept him soothed throughout the process of dressing the wounds, and Nezumi assured him that it would work the pains out of his muscles until they were little more than an unpleasant, distant memory―but he could still remember how it felt to tread across the scattered glass outside the Latch building, terrified that monsters would descend from the skies and rip him to shreds.

Shion frowned. Now that he thought about it, none of the Unseelie Folk had pursued them out of the mountain. In fact, there didn't seem to be any Folk on the streets as he and Nezumi raced toward the protection of the bakery. The big Folk that roamed the streets had disappeared completely, as if something had frightened them away.

Shion dismissed the thought of something worse than the big Folk storming around Kronos. He knew nothing of the Autumn Equinox and what it meant to the Fair Folk. Perhaps their absence had to do with the ritual. Perhaps the solitary Folk celebrated in their own manner, vacating the human streets and iron city corners in order to offer their own sacrifice to whatever infernal creatures governed them.

He suppressed a shiver at the memory of the Unseelie King's iron-wrapped wings. The burnt feathers and charred skin beneath coupled with the broken bones made Shion sick to his stomach. To think that there was something worse than him lurking in the shadows, something that even a monster as hideous and sadistic as the Unseelie King would cower in his bed because of filled Shion with a primal sense of dread.

"Calm down," he muttered to himself.

There would be plenty of time to panic later, after he'd showered and washed the blood away. The grime and sweat clinging to his skin felt like a heavy, disgusting blanket; Shion cranked the handle in the shower and pulled the tab to get the water running. It roared to life, sputtering out in a hard stream that Shion ached to stand beneath.

He stripped out of his clothes, kicked them into a pile in the corner of the bathroom, and jumped in without a second thought.

A shock of cold water blasted through his core before the water heater kicked in and turned it from ice-cold to boiling. Shion winced as it brushed the skin on his spine; he turned the dial a bit more to the right, allowing just a nip of cool water to intermingle with the stream and bring it down from burning to comfortable.

Shion stood beneath the steady stream, sighing. Beneath the water, all the worries of the previous day blasted away from him. He leaned against the wall and stood beneath the stream, the tension in his muscles washing down the drain. The plastic wrap around his clean, bandaged feet kept the water from seeping beneath and ruining Nezumi's hard work. The aches in the cuts had vanished beneath Nezumi's strong, careful hands, and the shower forced Shion to stop worrying about the prospect of death.

He would need to worry about the fact that the Unseelie King might not be dead. He would need to worry about where he and Nezumi would go to escape him, and how he would keep his mother and Safu safe from the Fair Folk. He would need to worry about what would become of the life he'd known for seventeen years.

But for now, beneath the steaming water, Shion had no worries.

⁂

When at last Shion stepped out of the shower, it was steadily growing dark outside his bedroom window. He stretched his legs as he walked into the room and shut the door behind him. The tan carpet had been scrubbed―it smelled like carpet cleaner and lemon-scented stain remover―and the curtains were still drawn. The sheets, blanket, and pillowcases had been stripped off his bed, leaving only the thin mattress and box-spring. Both had been washed, too, with soap and water from the smell of it, a small stain on the end of the bed the only sign that something had happened at all.

Shion's stomach did a little flip-flop as he crossed to his dresser and fished out a pair of clothes.

He could hear the sounds of the television playing in the other room, and his heart tightened at the realization that Nezumi was probably sitting on the couch, watching the flickering lights and trying to entertain himself. He'd promised not to leave, but Shion hoped he wanted to stay.

He didn't want to turn Nezumi into a prisoner.

Shion pulled on a plain white tee-shirt and a pair of black slacks. He slid them easily up his legs, wincing in brief anticipation of discomfort as the fabric brushed the still-dry bandages wound tight around his feet. To his surprise, he didn't feel anything as his legs shifted. The remnants of Nezumi's healing magic soothed the pain from his skin like a fast-acting topical ointment, and Shion exhaled as he hurried across the room and into the hallway. It felt good to walk without the sensation of knives drilling into his toes.

He ruffled his hands through his hair, fluffing the still-damp strands with his fingers. The scent of lavender and rosemary tickled his nose; it relaxed him in a way he hadn't been for several days. He let the scent linger in the room around him, quickly erasing the misery and terror of the past two nights. Standing here in his clean bedroom, freshly showered, Shion could almost imagine that the Autumn Equinox hadn't happened. That he hadn't been ripped out of his mother's bakery, dragged through the mountain, and offered up on a silver platter.

Almost.

He hurried down the hallway. His mother's bedroom was door was slightly ajar; the curtains inside were drawn aside, giving Shion a perfect display of the night sky beyond. He turned away from it, his throat tightening. He went into the living room.

Nezumi sat on the couch, though he didn't look comfortable. The curtains had been drawn, blocking any view of the world beyond the comfort of the bakery. The flashing blue lights from the television sharpened Nezumi's features; at first glance, Shion couldn't tell if he was still wearing a glamour, or if he'd dropped it since his mother didn't seem to be in the apartment anymore.

A mug of tea sat on the little coffee table in front of him; he'd placed a paper towel beneath it as a makeshift coaster. A plastic spoon sat in the cup. Shion wondered if Nezumi had broken into their plastic ware because there was iron in the regular utensils. He furrowed his brow. Did regular household utensils have iron in them? He'd never given much thought to it. Would carrying around a backpack full of spoons be a better deterrent for the Fair Folk than an iron charm bracelet? If he'd thrown a bunch of forks and butter knives into the Unseelie Court, would all of them scatter into the shadows to avoid being burned? The thought almost made him laugh.

In the pale blue light of the television screen, Nezumi's silver irises were nearly invisible. Only a thin pinprick of black let Shion know they weren't vacant; his eyes clicked over to Shion as he stepped carefully into the living room. There was a strange look on his face, an almost light curiosity that made Shion's heart warm.

"How was your shower?" Nezumi asked. His features smoothed into calm impassivity, and Shion averted his gaze and tried to focus on something else, hoping Nezumi's advanced hearing couldn't pick up the hammering of his heart.

"It was nice," Shion said. "Peaceful. My feet are feeling better, too." He looked around the apartment. "Where's my mom?"

"Downstairs in the bakery." Nezumi stretched his legs out. "She went to get the shop ready to open tomorrow. She's throwing out old pastries."

"I see." Shion pursed his lips. It should have bothered him that his mother was taking his disappearance so well―but then he remembered that Nezumi had enchanted Karan to think that Shion hadn't vanished two nights ago. Cold tremors quivered through him, but he tried to push them aside. He didn't know how to explain where he'd been to his mother, and as much as he hated to admit it, Nezumi's enchantment over her memories had made last night easier to stomach. He hated himself for even thinking it.

Nezumi pushed himself off the couch. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his borrowed sleep pants. With his hair down, he looked vulnerable, far more than he had when he and Shion arrived at the bakery. Shion could still picture him in his black armor, as if shadows had congealed against his skin. He'd looked cold and distant then, like the stars and the moon, and when Shion closed his eyes, he could still see the feral hatred in Nezumi's eyes as he drove the knife into the Unseelie King's unprotected spine.

Shion folded his arms across his chest, if only to have somewhere to put them. He felt a bit too unsteady, standing in the living room with Nezumi hovering nearby like he wasn't a creature from some dark legend.

"Um… the hot water should reheat in a bit. I turned it down about halfway through my shower so there'd be some for you."

Nezumi's eyes flickered. "You didn't need to do that. I've used cold water before."

"I know, but…" Shion averted his eyes and hoped he looked far more relaxed than he felt. "After the night we've had, I figure we could both use a nice, hot shower, y'know?"

Nezumi didn't respond for a moment, and Shion felt his heart fluttering in his chest like a trapped, scarlet bird. He thought about sitting down on the couch, but it felt good to stand without pain; he reveled in the remnants of Nezumi's healing magic, the echoes coursing through his veins and working out the pinpricks of pain as soon as they arose. The tiny droplets left over from the shower trickled down the nape of his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt.

The strange spell drifting through the air between them broke as Nezumi looked Shion dead in the face and said, "What we've done has consequences. If the Unseelie King isn't…" He stopped, as if speaking the words aloud might call the Unseelie King back to life, if he'd already abandoned it. "Your mother's bakery is the first place they'd look for you. It's not a good hiding place."

"I know," Shion admitted. "But… they can't possibly know that she's my mom, can they?"

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. "Based on appearances, you'd have to be an idiot to think you two were anything but related." Shion stared him down, and Nezumi shook his head. "Their quarrel wouldn't be with your mother. She doesn't have the Sight. And they wouldn't take her as a hostage because they wouldn't know where to find you to send the message. So taking her would be a waste of valuable time and energy. The Unseelie King's a twisted bastard who'd love to torture a human for no reason beyond alleviating some boredom, but after what we did… He's going to come after us."

Shion swallowed the lump in his throat. On the television screen, a woman in a cranberry suit spoke about a bus that'd crashed several towns over. No one appeared to be harmed, but a little girl had reported seeing a large wolf sprinting across the road before striking the fender. The front of the bus was mangled and twisted, and the little girl couldn't understand why no one could see the blood. She'd been brought to the general hospital for treatment.

"Maybe he's dead," Shion said softly. "Your knife went through his back. Maybe it hit his heart."

Nezumi made a noncommittal sound that Shion didn't like.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to think. "We'll deal with it. Whatever happens, we'll figure out a way to escape it." The words choked up in his throat, and Shion had to force them out, blinking back a wave of frustrated tears. "I know that means… leaving my mom. But I don't want to talk about it now. Just go shower, and we'll talk after, OK? I need a minute."

Nezumi pressed his lips together. "We need to―"

"I just need a minute, OK?" Shion gave Nezumi a desperate look. "This is hard for me. I know it's hard for you, too, but you're asking me to leave behind my mom. You're asking me to go on the run from some… some psychopath that tried to kill me, and you're asking me to accept all of it without a second thought. Until a few days ago, the Folk never knew I had the Sight. Now they do, and there's no way I'm going to be able to go back to normal. And that's just―" Shion sucked in a deep breath, the air around him sharp and cold.

Nezumi looked back at him with a blank expression.

"It's just hard," Shion finished lamely.

He hated himself. He sounded weak and pathetic, like some whiny kid complaining about not getting dessert unless he finished eating all his vegetables. Shion couldn't even begin to imagine what Nezumi must have gone through while living in the Unseelie Court. He couldn't imagine that the King had been kind to him, or else Nezumi might not have plunged a blade into his spine the first chance he got.

But Nezumi didn't look at Shion like he hated him. He looked almost sympathetic. His silver eyes, dulled by the glamour, flickered in a way that told Shion there was plenty he wanted to say in response to Shion's concerns, but the words just wouldn't come. The blue light bounced off the sharp edge of his high cheekbones.

"Your mom made some coffee before heading downstairs," Nezumi said, gesturing toward the half-full coffee pot on the burner. "You should have a cup; you look exhausted. I'm going to go take a shower."

Shion's shoulders dropped. "OK. The water should be warm enough by now."

Nezumi stalked toward him, and Shion's stomach clenched. He angled his head back as Nezumi drifted around him; Nezumi wasn't much taller than him, but it was enough for Shion to feel small and insignificant in his presence.

"There's a towel hanging from the railing by the bath," Shion explained. "I didn't use it. I'll get some clothes out for you and leave them on my bed."

"All right." Nezumi paused for a moment. "I appreciate it."

Something flickered across his face as he said it; a flash of discomfort in his eyes and a downward shift of his lips. Shion felt a wave of self-consciousness flutter through him, an ache in his chest like the thorned stem of a rose blooming through him.

"Does that bother you?" Shion murmured. "Thanking me?"

"It's not thanking, necessarily."

Shion's shoulders slumped. "No, I suppose you're right."

Nezumi ducked into the bathroom and clicked the door shut behind him. Shion hoped he'd figure out a way to turn the handle in the shower without burning himself on the iron. Was there even iron in the faucet? He didn't know. The more he thought about it, the more a sense of panic fluttered over him.

Was the soap in the bathroom all-natural, or were there chemicals in it that would leave nasty burns on Nezumi's skin? And what of the shampoo? Were the scents inside it natural enough for Nezumi to handle, or would those hurt him to? Or the water itself? If it came from a pipe, did that mean it was infused with remnants of iron and metal and would be the same as dumping acid over his head?

Shion shook his head and tried to calm down. If Nezumi was in danger, he would have told him. He didn't seem like the type to keep his gripes to himself.

He hurried into the tiny kitchenette and poured himself a mug of coffee. It wasn't the freshest in the world, and Nezumi had used up most of the little carton of creamer, but Shion splashed a bit in and dumped enough sugar to drown the bitter taste. He took a deep gulp, wincing as the heat bit the tip of his tongue.

A bit gross, but welcome.

Shion downed two small cups before he realized he should probably stop. He could feel the caffeine buzzing through his system, the synapses in his brain firing impulses to his fingers that made them twitch nervously. The bandages wrapped around his toes protected him from the scratchy carpet as he bustled into his room and pulled out a set of clothes for Nezumi to wear.

As Shion rifled through his dresser, he became painfully aware that nothing he owned matched the style of dress Nezumi seemed accustomed to. He picked up a long-sleeved white shirt and quickly stuffed it into the bottom of the drawer. No. He picked up a dark yellow shirt and furrowed his brow at it, trying to remember where he'd picked it up. Probably a hand-me-down from a thrift store or one of his mom's friends.

He unearthed a dark blue tee-shirt and another pair of sleep pants. He didn't think his slacks would be comfortable for Nezumi to wear, and sleep pants were better than nothing. He folded the clothes and set them on his stripped bed. He wondered if his mother had scrubbed the stains out and brought his bedding downstairs to the washing machine. His heart ached at the thought, but he was learning to try and see the bigger picture.

Shion sunk down on the edge of the bed, the metal springs creaking beneath the addition of his weight. He exhaled and rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes. He didn't feel like crying anymore, but there was a heaviness in his chest that he knew would come cracking back to the surface as soon as he and Nezumi knew where they were heading.

It didn't matter if he had to disappear with Nezumi. His mother would be safe. The Folk wouldn't hunt her down, and the Folk also had no way of knowing that Safu could see them, too.

Safu. Shion made a mental note to call her before he and Nezumi left. He couldn't tell her where he was going―he didn't know―but he could at least assure her that he was safe. He folded his hands in his lap and listened to the sound of the water running in the next room. The faint buzzing of the television out in the living room. The scratchy carpet in his bedroom and the too-small kitchen where he and his mother laughed each morning.

Shion closed his eyes and tried not to think about all the things he'd miss.

To Be Continued...