Eilahn came around the car, scooped my gun from the ground and put it in the console between the seats. “I will drive,” she told me as she took me by the arm then walked me to the passenger side and stuffed me into the vehicle. “Bad,” she muttered. “Very, very bad.”
“What the hell was that?” I asked after she slid behind the wheel. “I said I was going to call him.” I scowled, shook my head. “Like that would ever . . .” I trailed off as my chest tightened in vague panic. I knew the truth. “Eilahn,” I gasped out, “I’ll call him when they get back. If I even think about not calling him . . .” I clenched my teeth on a mewling whimper as a surge of terror left me shaking. It passed within seconds, leaving its mark like a trail of slime.
“You will not call him,” she stated as she drove toward the house. “I will sit on you until Mzatal can assess what has happened.” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “I also felt it, though it did not affect me.”
I rubbed at my eyes, clung rigidly to the knowledge that my current mental state wasn’t right, even though I knew in my gut that accepting the fear as normal would ease it. “Maybe Zack can fix this or . . .” Nausea roiled at the thought of fixing it. “Shit. This is vicious. No, call Ryan.” The fist in my chest tightened, and I gasped. “No.” I shook my head almost frantically. “No, I’m okay with it now. It’s cool.” The fist eased, the nausea retreated.
Fortunately, Eilahn didn’t agree with me one tiny bit. Her face remained locked in a fierce scowl as she drove one-handed and called Ryan on my phone with the other.
“Come home,” she said when he answered. “She needs you.” I couldn’t hear his response. She simply repeated, “She needs you,” then hung up and drove like a hell-bound demon the rest of the way home.
I found myself comparing the bizarre incident to Elinor’s influence, yet where her touch was subtle, Farouche’s overwhelmed. I knew, knew, that if I stopped fighting his influence, relaxed into it, the unnatural fear would subside, but I’d lose all ability to maintain distance. It would become an ingrained part of me. I couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen, and so I danced its dance without allowing it to take me home for the night.
The car crunched along the gravel of the drive. Eilahn looked over at me. “Ryan will be here in ten minutes.”
“I told you I don’t need Ryan. I’m cool,” I insisted through clenched teeth.
“He is coming anyway,” she insisted right back as she parked the car.
I managed a nod, flung open the car door and staggered out. I made it into the house and collapsed onto the living room sofa with a groan, ignoring the growl of Fuzzykins as I disturbed her gestational nap at the other end. In the background, I heard Eilahn on the phone with Zack.
“Zack is on the property adding warding to the perimeter,” she told me. “He is coming in.”
I didn’t try to respond. I curled on my side, focused on telling myself over and over that this was wrong. I backed off when I felt the fear about to drown me and pushed more when it receded. I danced the dance.
A few minutes later, Zack crouched beside me. “Kara, I’m here. Ryan will be here in a minute.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, shivering. “I’m cool.”
“You are sooo fine, and the coolest,” Zack said, light tone tinged with worry. “It’s why Ryan is coming to see you.”
I gave a nod. “Yeah. Sure,” I said. “This is wrong.” Terror flared, and I gasped out a whimper. I backed off and did my best to keep dancing.
I heard the door, then Ryan’s voice. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Zack stood. “Kara ran into some trouble with Farouche,” he told Ryan. “You know how you do the memory shift thing? I think she needs help like that. He’s got some sort of fear compulsion bullshit going on with her. You up for giving it a try?”
My nails dug into my palms as I clenched my hands hard. “Hurry,” I said, then hissed through my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. This was nothing, nothing, compared to what Rhyzkahl had done to me. I silently repeated that over and over, still barely able to hold on against the rising tide of fear.
“Damn right I’ll try.” Ryan shoved the coffee table out of the way and helped me sit up, then crouched in front of me and took my head between his hands in a firm grip. “Hang in there, Kara,” he said. His eyes locked on mine, and a heartbeat later his face went stony, and his jaw tightened. Ryan couldn’t read minds—if he could, Zack wouldn’t let him anywhere near me since he’d pick up the truth about Ryan/Szerain—but he could feel into a person and muddle recent memories. Ryan considered it a quirky talent. In reality it was a hint of Szerain’s mind reading and manipulation ability that bled through. The hope intruded that Szerain could surface enough to actually neutralize this, yet terror followed close in its wake.
I gripped Ryan’s wrists and gave a half-hearted tug. “I’m fine!”
“Hold still, damn it,” he said, mouth tight in concentration. “This is . . . I don’t know.”
Sick fear rose, and I tried harder to pull his hands away. “No. I’m okay. Really.”
Wasn’t I?
Vertigo struck as a fragment of the dream flooded me. I threw my arms wide as my inner world tipped, and I lost my footing on the plain of glass.
Memory whispered like falling sand.
Rowan.
“Kara!” Zack said forcefully. “Kara. Be still.” His voice cut through the fear and the dance and the dream and all of the bullshit. I dropped my hands to my sides, clenched them in the fabric of the couch.
Ryan shifted his grip. “You’re not okay. This doesn’t feel right. I don’t understand what it is, but I’m going to try to make it feel like . . . you. Do your best to relax.”
I unclenched my hands and tried to focus on something, anything besides fear or not-fear or the horrible sense of my Self sliding into oblivion. The cat hissed at me again. Fuzzykins. I could focus on our mutual-hate relationship. I closed my eyes, imagined a world without cats who wanted to claw my face off.
The next thing I knew, Ryan withdrew his hands from my head. “That feels better to me now,” he said. I opened my eyes to see him peering at me critically. “How are you doing?”
I shook my head to clear it. The cat wasn’t on the sofa anymore. “Wow. That was totally bizarre.” Frowning, I rubbed my temples. “It’s still there, but not at all like before.”
Ryan sat beside me. “What the hell happened?”
I gave him the rundown about the roadblock and the conversation with Farouche. “Ryan, it was crazy. There was one time when it seemed as if he read my thoughts, but mostly it was like he could tell whether or not I was telling the truth, and he narrowed my answers down to what he wanted to know.” I shook my head. “All that’s bad enough, but he has this fear thing going on too. When he told me to call him when Thatcher and Paul got back, the mere thought of disobeying him was utterly terrifying.” I rubbed at my temples. “It’s still there, but muffled. I can handle it, at least for now.”
“That sounds like what Paul and Mzatal told you about,” he said. “I didn’t really get it before, but damn, it really had you.”
“Looks like Farouche’s halo is pretty fucking tarnished,” I said.
“He’s very dangerous,” Zack agreed. “Now that you’re stable, I’m going to go back and finish my perimeter inspection.”
“Thanks, Zack,” I said. “I have some things I need to talk to you about. I’ll check in with you in a bit.”