"I don't want to sleep," I said.

  "I'm going to run a few tests," Dr. Yelton said, seeming to ignore my comment, "and see what we're dealing with. They're going to ask you a few questions, but only a few." Dr. Yelton aimed the last half of his last statement at someone nearby. "Then get some rest."

  Agent Paulson took Dr. Yelton’s place. "I wish we could wait on this," he said, pulling the chair over. "But we can't."

  "I get it." What I didn't get was why there were so many people here. I kept glancing around, anxious to keep everyone in view.

  "Walk me through what happened," Paulson said.

  Vincent moved over, intent on hearing the story. It made me feel better to have him close by.

  The story went fast, since there were no interruptions. I could tell Paulson wanted to get the details before I drifted into la la land and couldn't give him anything else.

  I didn't need to look at Vincent to feel his anger building, though it wasn't buffeting me from side to side, as it once did. Instead, it swirled through the room enough for me to sense it, but not be affected.

  "How did you know it wasn't Vincent?" Paulson asked.

  "He looked off, somehow. It was as though he didn't get things quite right when pretending to be him." It's not like I could tell him Vincent still had a piece of my soul, or I had a part of his. I'm pretty sure something like that would add to the paperwork.

  "Anything else?" Paulson asked.

  "Well, he usually doesn't go around attacking me with a needle. That was a big clue." Then I giggled at the idea and slapped a hand over my mouth, surprised the sound came out.

  "There's going to be a guard on your door," Paulson said, knowing our interview was coming to an end.

  "And Boone's?" I asked.

  "If the doctor keeps him around, there will be," Paulson assured me. "Once we clear out, there will be limited access."

  "Thank goodness," I said, feeling relieved. Then I bit my lip, realizing I had said it out loud.

  "Do you need anything before we go?"

  It crossed my mind to say a shower, but I remained lucid enough to hold my tongue. "No, I'm good."

  "Let's go," Paulson called.

  Everyone started to file out of the room, including Vincent.

  "Where are you going?" I blurted out.

  "He's going to take a look at some video footage," Paulson said.

  "Oh, yeah," I said, my thoughts swirly and light. "That doesn't work for me."

  Paulson started to answer, but closed his mouth. He looked at a complete loss for words, but Vincent's mouth twitched in amusement.

  "I'll meet you outside," Vincent said.

  Paulson hesitated, but nodded.

  Paulson left the room and I hollered after him. "And close the door." After it snapped shut I muttered, "Raised in a barn," which is exactly what Gran would have said.

  "You needed me?" Vincent said.

  "Always," I said, my tongue feeling looser than it ever had. "Come here."

  When he got to me, he started to protest when I sat up.

  "Shut up," I said.

  He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, which was good. I grabbed his arm, pulled him in, and hugged him.

  Warmth spread over me and I shut my eyes and sighed. He patted me awkwardly on the back a few times, sort of returning the hug, but when I didn't let go, he relented and embraced me.

  His muscles were tense and stressed, but the longer I held on, the more relaxed he became. In the end, he was holding on to me as much as I was clinging to him.

  "That wasn't so hard, right?" I asked after a short time.

  It was his turn to sigh. "You're killing me, Cass."

  "Good. It's about time I tried to kill someone and not the other way around." Then I giggled.

  "That's not funny." Vincent pulled away, but sat down on the bed and held onto my hand, as if he never wanted to let go.

  It felt right. Exactly as it should be.

  "You're right." I smothered the laughter and I put my hand on his, content with the contact.

  As though he had just realized that he still held on, he let go and stood up. "Sorry. I shouldn't..."

  Depression welled up. "Right." Thankfully, a floaty feeling kept the emotion at bay.

  "Rider has you covered outside." Vincent said, changing the subject. "No one's getting in here without him knowing who it is."

  "Is he going to stay outside? He can come in here."

  "He's more comfortable in the hall for now."

  "Of course." I swallowed hard. This homecoming sucked. Rider should be over whatever had caused him not to talk to me, but he was still distant. Then there was Vincent. He and I were… what?

  "Cass, don't." Vincent stood there looking lost.

  "Don't what?" Then I sniffed. Wiping my face, I realized I had teared up. "No, I'm fine. It's been a long day, and the medicine and all..." It's amazing my nose didn't grow longer. I yawned, hoping to emphasize the statement.

  "Do you want someone in here with you?"

  "No." It killed me to say those words. "I'm just going to be asleep. And there's been so many people around..."

  "If you're sure," Vincent said.

  "I am. I could use my phone, though. I'd like to call Gran in the morning."

  "No one's given you your phone?"

  I laughed weakly, with no humor to hold it up. "No, but I'd like it back if I can."

  "I'll check on it." He looked troubled, but I only shrugged.

  "Can I get you anything before I go?" Vincent asked.

  "No."

  He didn't move anywhere and appeared to be thinking hard about something. I'm not sure where his thoughts had wandered, but I wanted to know. Whatever it was, he didn't share it with me.

  "Goodnight," Vincent said.

  "Night."

  Vincent quietly shut the door behind him. The room felt lonely, but at the same time, it was nice to be rid of everyone. I needed sleep, but it wasn't coming. It's hard to sleep when you're silently berating yourself. Who cries at work?

  I scrubbed my face with my hands to make sure no evidence remained, and then I sat in the quiet room, trying to get my brain to shut down.

  At some point, the medicine must have kicked in to put me to sleep, but when I woke up, I still didn't feel rested. Looking at the clock, I saw why. I'd only been asleep for a few hours.

  A noise in the hall caught my attention, and I could see the flickering shadows of feet standing in front of the door. Farther away, someone dropped something metal and it clanged on the floor.

  Why had no one left me a gun? I swung my feet off the side of the bed. The knockout drugs were still in my system, making me unsteady, but I could manage. Another crash came, louder this time, and I started to look around the room for anything I could use as a weapon, but came up with nothing.

  No phone, no gun, what was a girl to do?

  Gunshots rang out down the hall. I jumped and felt my heart begin to pound.

  Even if I had had a weapon, it wasn’t as if it would shield me from gunshots. My door quickly opened and Rider came in, snapping the door shut behind him and bolting it. He started toward me.

  "Don't," I warned him. How could I tell if it was Rider? My Rider could be somewhere bleeding out.

  Looking all business, he ignored me, and as he moved forward, I moved back against the wall. When he reached a few feet in front of me, he turned and waited.

  Another shot punched through the air and Rider backed up into me.

  "What are you doing?" I tried to push him off me, which felt like trying to move a boulder.

  "Guarding," he said.

  "Do you have to stand on top of me to do it?" I pushed again.

  "I would not stand on you." However, he took the hint and moved a few inches away.

  "At least I know you're my Rider," I muttered. "What's going on?"

  "I have only a small idea of what has occurred. The shots came from Boone's room."

  "What?" I ducked around Rider and went straight for the door.

  Rider wrapped one arm around my waist and easily picked me up.

  "What are you doing? We need to see if he's okay."

  "We will stay in the room until it is clear."

  I tried to pry his arm off me, but we might as well have been welded together.

  "Put me down," I snapped.

  "Our orders are to stay here," Rider said, seemingly unconcerned.

  "Orders from who? Vincent? Of course he's going to say that."

  "From Logan."

  That doused some of the fire that had been building. "Did he say why?"

  "Any more people would add to the confusion, and there would be two targets instead of one."

  It made sense, but I didn't have to like it. "Fine."

  Rider made no move to put me down.

  People were rushing down the hall outside.

  "There were guards on Boone's room, right? Why is he still in the clinic?"

  "Guards, yes. I do not know why."

  Rider's phone rang and he answered it, one arm still holding me in the air. "It is me."

  He listened, and I tried to pry his arm off again.

  "Yes," Rider said.

  "You can put me down, you behemoth," I snapped.

  Rider looked down at me confused. "I do not know what that is."

  I couldn't make out words from the other end of the phone, but the chuckle was clear, then whoever it was started talking again.

  "Yes," Rider said. After a longer pause, he said, "I will tell her."

  Chapter 20

  Rider didn't seem inclined to put me down while on the phone, so I reached for the Path. Once again, there was an eerily smooth transition when I closed my eyes and slid into the Path.

  "Logan has asked us to stay here," Rider said. "He said Boone is uninjured."

  "That's a relief. Did he say what's going on? Did they catch whoever is doing this?"

  "They did not catch the person responsible."

  "You can put me down now, you know," I said. The Path had me distracted. The gentle, rippling overlay of our world held no strength.

  Lying to myself was something I was fairly good at. The first time using the Path after my return showed me the same lazy flow. Since then, I'd been telling myself the Path would be back, that I would get over whatever had caused the issue.

  Now I was beginning to realize that wasn't the case.

  "Rider, you can put me down," I repeated.

  Still he didn't move.

  "Rider?" I tried to crane my neck to look back at him.

  "Logan asked us to remain here," Rider said.

  "Not remain right in this spot. He meant in the room. Put me down."

  Rider appeared to consider this. "That sounds reasonable."

  He sat me on my feet and I started to look around at the slow, glittery flow of stunted Path around me. Rider looked nervous when I walked around the room.

  "You will stay in the room, right?" Rider asked.

  "I'm not going anywhere," I said. What I didn't say was that it would be no use to go anywhere. The Path looked weaker than it had when I had first joined the agency. Could I do my job now?

  I tried to find the flows of my attacker earlier in the evening, but in my limited state, it wasn't visible. It hadn't been long ago—I should at least be able to see that Path.

  "What is wrong?" Rider asked.

  I sniffed, realizing it as I did so. "Nothing." I stopped and tried to focus my brain toward solving the problem, not dwelling in it.

  Had I used too much power and burned myself out? I'd never heard of that happening, at least not with the Reader surviving at the end.

  "Those stupid gremlins," I muttered. And that woman, Wyna. They had to be the cause of my loss of power.

  "Are the gremlins stupid?" Rider asked.

  "What? Oh, no, not really." I went to the door, but Rider appeared content on letting me wander. His Path, always the easiest to see, was still there from when he had entered the room. He had been scared, nervous, and upset. The twisting Path of greens and browns still showed his Path switch from someone running on instinct to someone thinking things through, as though they were giving and taking from one another.

  "Why do you suggest they are dumb if they are not?" Rider asked.

  "It's nothing," I said.

  Rider nodded, looking morose. He sat down on the floor while I followed small, individual little flows of Path, trying to make them move faster or slower, shift them forward or trace them back, anything that would indicate I had some sort of ability left.

  "You will not tell me what is bothering you?" I'm not sure if Rider had meant it as a question, but it sounded like one.

  Did I want to tell anyone about my loss of power? "No," I sighed. It wasn’t like I was actively working. Maybe I could figure this out before I needed to tell anyone.

  "I have broken our friendship," Rider said. He didn't sound sad; it was more matter of fact.

  "What?" I stopped and looked at Rider. He was almost as blank faced as Vincent could get.

  The Path would wait. When I pushed it away, I wavered. How could I be tired? I hadn't done anything. That would be something to figure out later.

  "I am torn as to whether I should stay or go," Rider said.

  "What? Why would you go?" I moved over to him and sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall to hide my unsteadiness.

  "This world is wrong in so many ways," Rider said. "I have made mistakes and do not understand."

  "That doesn't mean you have to leave. And you haven't broken our friendship." I thought about that and figured now was the time for honesty. "Actually, I'm not sure where we stand. I don't know what happened."

  "Vincent said the same. I did not believe him, but I should have."

  "Tell me what happened," I said.

  "You challenged me."

  That didn't make any sense at all. "Challenged you? For what? How?"

  "Your wolf challenged mine. I could keep our friendship while I made my decision to accept the challenge, but I did not do that well."

  "I don't understand." I rubbed my head as another headache started to form. I had no idea if it had come from the conversation or my use of the Path, but either way, the timing was bad.

  "I came to this world because I would not accept a challenge from my brother. He had already killed one of our sisters, and I had no interest in taking his position, so I left."

  I put my hand over my mouth. "Your brother killed your sister?"

  "Half-brother and half-sister, but yes. He wanted to maintain his status and knew we could be a threat. I could either fight or leave. I chose to try this world."

  "I am so sorry, Rider. I had no idea."

  "This is the only area of this world I care about. I did not wish to leave, but I did not wish to fight."

  "I don't want to fight," I said. "I don't understand why you thought I would want to fight."

  "You challenged me the morning after Einar came to your house. I thought it was because of Vincent, but I did not understand. I still do not understand."

  "I don't know what happened that morning," I said. "And I don't understand it any more than you do."

  "Vincent has suggested you have been imprinted with the memories of others. Something in you made the challenge."

  "But it wasn't me, and I don't know how to fix it. Can we forget it ever happened?"

  Rider hesitated. "There have been other mistakes."

  "Whatever it is, tell me and I'll try to stop."

  He shook his head. "The ones you have made I am not concerned with. You do not always know."

  "Huh, that's putting it mildly."

  "These are the ones I have made. Decisions which were not right. Friends in my world and friends in yours do not do these things."

  I frowned and looked at him. "I don't remember anything you've done."

  He stayed silent for a moment as though lining things up in his head. "When we came back from the city. After we got Vincent back, I told Ethan what happened. Not everything, but more than I should have. I asked Logan about it afterward and he thought it was a mistake. He told me to tell you about what I said, but I did not."

  "That's what you're worried about? I knew that."

  Rider's brow furrowed. "Ethan told you?"

  "There were some things he said which made me assume you told him. I was going to ask you about it, but finding Frank made me forget."

  He nodded. "As I struggled to make my decision about the challenge, I was not happy with you."

  "Yeah, I could tell." I tried to keep any bitterness out of my voice, but I still remember him kicking me out of the hospital room after he'd been shot.

  "I tried to make it easier for me to decide."

  The conversation was becoming uncomfortable and I had no idea what to say.

  "In the mountains, after you were injured by the wolf, I told Ethan about you and Vincent."

  "About our souls? I know that. It doesn't matter."

  "It has made it so you two may never truly become friends."

  "It's not that big of a deal. Ethan and I weren't right for each other anyway."

  Rider scooted back and leaned against the wall next to me. "I do not understand why you are with him if you are not right for each other."

  "I'm not. We broke up."

  "Because of what I said." It was a statement more than a question.

  "No, I messed that relationship up on my own. I kept things from him. You shouldn't do that with someone you want to stay with. You shouldn't feel the need to hide things. At least not with anything that would be important to them."

  "Does Vincent know you are no longer with Ethan?"

  I shrugged. "I guess so—he said he's talked with Ethan a few times."

  Rider nodded, and then sighed. "I told him about you and Vincent on purpose. It was not an accident and it was not for a good reason."

  My brow furrowed. "What reason?" I never thought of Rider as someone who could do something mean, so I couldn't imagine why he would say anything.

  He was quiet for a moment. "I had hoped it would change our situation."

  "You thought it would fix it?"

  "I thought it would make it easier to leave. It did not."

  Things weren't connecting for me. "How would that have made it easier?"