Gates of Thread and Stone

CHAPTER 7

“WE SHOULD CLEAN your cheek.”

Avan’s hand brushed my face. Heat shot down my neck, and I stumbled over the crooked boards of the bridge. Annoyed, I pushed at his fingers, and then blinked in confusion when they came away red. I touched my cheek, surprised to find it wet.

“It’s nothing,” I said quickly, and wiped at it. I didn’t wince at the sting, but I clenched my teeth, which only made my jaw ache more. I ignored Avan’s knowing look.

“And you’re willing to trust that the bottle was clean?”

He had a point. Okay, after we cleaned my cheek, then we would talk to DJ. Knowing which direction to take, any sort of lead, helped to temper the fear. The suffocating uncertainty of where the Rider might have taken Reev. The thoughtless rage that made me want to go back and throw Joss off the bridge.

Once we reached the other side of the river, Avan gestured with his chin for me to follow him. We walked along the bank, the waning light dyeing the river with ink. We kept above the sinking mud, alongside the stripped trees that stood like corpses in the gloom. The Labyrinth loomed behind us, a black shroud across the sky as the river angled north, and we continued east toward the freight yard.

Unlike the Labyrinth, the freight containers here had been arranged into neat rows, one level only, and with enough space between to provide the illusion of personal property. It wasn’t much, but the happiest I’d ever seen Avan was the day he moved out of the apartment above his dad’s shop.

My feet still ached. I tried not to limp but didn’t succeed. If Avan noticed, he didn’t show it.

We made our way through streets carved out by the large rectangular metal boxes. Some of the residents had set potted plants out front, bits of green that fought to survive beneath a sea of yellow clouds.

I cast furtive glances at Avan as we walked. I could barely see him in the dark, but he didn’t seem bothered by what had happened. Why didn’t he ask about what he’d seen? Now that we were safe, wasn’t he curious?

I wanted to know what he was thinking, but I didn’t want to ask. His silence was both frustrating and a relief.

His place turned out to be the last in his row. It sported a fresh coat of green paint. He unlocked the door and held it open for me to enter first.

Avan shut the door behind us and switched on a lantern. The place was larger than mine, in length anyway. A distinct kitchen area took up one end, sectioned off with a built-in counter and a stool. A rumpled bed larger than a cot—but not by much—sat against the adjacent wall beside a standing closet with a couple of tunics spilling out the bottom. There was even a real wall separating a washroom in the corner.

“It’s wonderful,” I said. His shoulders loosened a little. “You must love the freedom.”

“Bit of a downgrade from the shop, but it’s my own.”

He gestured to the stool and then disappeared into the washroom. I sat down as he came back with a jar and a clean rag. He dipped a corner of the rag into the jar and reached for my face.

I leaned away, catching his wrist. His arm tensed. The muscles in his forearm stood out. The inside of his wrist felt smooth against my thumb. My hand looked so pale next to his.

Was I seriously ogling his wrist?

“I can do it.” I reached for the rag.

“It helps if you can see what you’re doing, and I don’t have a mirror,” he said wryly. He brushed my hand aside. “Relax. It’s not a big deal.”

I held my breath as the rag drew closer, smelling sharp with disinfectant. The cut burned on contact.

He was so close. Beneath the disinfectant, I could smell the earthy, almost spicy scent of his soap—and his own scent underneath it, fresh like a cool wind. He hadn’t trimmed his hair in months, and it had begun to grow past his ears. I almost gave in to the urge to skim my fingertips along the hair that fell across his brow. I focused instead on the black lines inked into his neck. The tattoo was completely different from Reev’s. Graceful swoops alongside jagged arcs. Since I could see only a fraction of the design, I didn’t know what it was supposed to be. Maybe something abstract.

“Good thing I don’t have a mirror. It looks worse than it is.” He spoke quietly. I wished he’d stop being so gentle.

I remained still and didn’t respond.

“You fight well,” he said.

Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he hadn’t seen after all.

“But you still suck at conversation.”

I frowned, and he smirked at my reaction.

“Reev taught me,” I said.

“No wonder. He sucks at conversation, too.”

“I mean to fight,” I said, and then batted his hand away when his thumb smoothed over the bruise that was probably darkening my jaw.

“I know.” He capped the disinfectant and placed it on the counter. “Give me a second. There’s some food in the cupboard if you’re hungry.”

I wasn’t, so I stayed on the stool to rest my feet and watched Avan dig through his closet. I could see that he didn’t own much beyond the bare essentials, either. He pulled out a linen bag from a drawer and shoved some clothes into it.

“What are you doing?” I stood, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see with his back turned. “You’re not coming with me.”

“Looks like I am,” he said with a nod at his bag.

“No,” I said, louder. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I saw what you did in there. When you were fighting, you . . . ” He stopped.

I rubbed my palm against my stomach, but it didn’t help ease the churning. I didn’t know how to deal with this. I wasn’t going to offer an explanation until he asked, but I hoped he wouldn’t ask because I didn’t know how to explain.

“I’m not walking away from this. Whether you like it or not, I’m involved now.” Then he glanced up at me, gaze steady. “And I’m your friend. I can’t let you do this alone.”

It wasn’t that I couldn’t use the help. But Reev was my brother, and Avan had his own responsibilities. I didn’t know exactly what was wrong with his mom because he’d never said, but everyone knew she wasn’t getting better, not with the limited care available in the North District. She never even came down to sit with Avan behind the counter anymore. The sicker she got, the less sober his dad was. What would his parents do without him to help run the shop?

“I don’t need your help.”

Avan shrugged. “But if you do, then it’s a good thing I’ll be there.”

I sighed. It sounded like a sob.

Drek. I clamped my lips shut. I covered my face and pushed past Avan. He looked away.

The washroom door slammed shut behind me, and I collapsed against it. I pressed my palms against my eyelids and forced myself to breathe. In and out. Steady.

A tear slipped out, dampening my palm. My shoulders shook. Another sob escaped my lips, and I clamped my mouth tighter.

I needed Reev. I’d never been alone before. Sure, I could take care of myself; but Reev had always, always been there. How was I supposed to do this without him?

I swallowed hard. Stop. I couldn’t cry. Not now, and definitely not with Avan in the other room, completely aware of what was happening in here. Drek, I’d embarrassed myself in front of him. Now, on top of being a freak, he probably thought I was a stupid kid with no idea what I was doing.

It scared me that maybe he was right.