I fling my arm up instinctively to shield my face as the window implodes inward. Shards of broken glass drive into my skin like the sting of a hundred angry wasps. Blood wells from the wounds, soaking into my clothes and leaving hot rivers across my skin.

Everything's a blur. There's a cacophony of screeching tires and honking cars outside that only grows more unbearable as my hearing returns. And from just beside me, a strange, tortured growl rends the air.

My gaze snaps to its source—but she doesn't look right. E.J.'s eyes are strange, and at first I can't pinpoint why. Then I realize its because her pupils have contracted to slits, revealing around the edges the true color of her eyes—A color I can't make out because of all the flashing lights.

I reach out to her reflexively, and in doing so send lightning bolts of pain careening through my body where my muscles twist around the broken glass.

And then I see my arm—really see it. Red streams across every inch of flesh that my torn jacket reveals. The flashing lights from outside slide and refract across the glass where it protrudes from my skin like grotesque translucent quills. There's a sudden, intense flare of violet light, and I reel inward—away from the horror, the pain, the confusion. Away from consciousness.

~*~

The first thing I'm aware of as I come to is the scent of lemon balm, and beyond that—the crisp air and familiar combination of fragrances I've come to associate with E.J.

The disorientation I'd felt immediately upon waking clears within moments. I must be back at the townhome. She's not far away. For one blissful instant that thought is all there is. Then the moments before my blackout come reeling back to me, and I have to spend several seconds focusing on my breathing. Experimentally, I clench and unclench my hand. There are places where the skin feels tight, but it doesn't hurt. I move my right arm, and sudden tears spring to my eyes. Relief and horror.

My arm is stiff, but it's not painful to move. Just difficult and awkward. I open my eyes in time to see Somi flit out of sight. The room is lit, albeit very dimly, by a grayish glow emitted from an inset channel that runs along the wall near the ceiling.

On my bedside table are my keys, my companion, and a note from E.J, saying she's taken my shredded jacket to her personal tailor in hopes of salvaging it.

Through the window beside my bed I can see the ornate wrought iron paneling that borders the room's balcony, and the fir-covered mountains beyond, drenched in a gray early morning mist.

Wait.

The view is slightly out-of-focus, and I blink several times before realizing it's the glass—or rather, the additional protective enchantments that must have been activated in it. Carefully I sit upright, dangle my legs off the side of the bed, and shift my weight to my feet. Still no pain. Going over the window, I'm able to make out the tangled, ever-shifting sigils moving across the glass.

The door opens behind me and I turn—a little too fast—to see the face I'm expecting and hoping for.

"Ashwyn," she says the instant her eyes land on me. "I am so sorry."

"E.J!" I suppress the sudden, powerful urge to run up to her and wrap my arms around her waist. To cling for dear life. "What happened? Where are we?"

Her expression is pained, like someone's twisting a knife in her back.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"The car is warded, and it's always been enough. I don't know how the bullet got through—"

"Bullet?"

She runs her hand through her hair, drags it back down over her face.

"Someone's trying to kill me, apparently. They took a shot, and it shattered the glass. Somehow. We pulled an emergency teleport."

"Wh—what?"

"It's expensive, and burns up an unspeakable amount of Umbra—but I have a port sigil set up between my car and my mountain house. Welcome to my mountain house, by the way." She spreads her arms sheepishly, and I almost laugh.

"The glass—"

"Don't worry about any of that. I got it out. Cleaned the wounds and set them to healing. I know your arm's probably stiff right now, but with some work we'll get it back to normal in a few weeks." She frowns suddenly. "I'm sorry about your dress. It was torn up, covered in blood. We had to change you out of it."

Of course E.J. Butler could patch up a few cuts. How in the Seven Curses does this goddess even so much as look at me?

Wait. A few weeks?

"What's wrong, Ashwyn?"

"Ms. Thornstrap. My commissions—"

Her face hardens. "Don't worry about that. Recover, and then work on it. I'll talk to her."

And just like that, tears.

"You don't understand, though," I sniff, wiping at my cheeks with the heel of one bandaged hand. "I'll run out of money soon. I won't be able to pay rent, I'll lose my apartment."

That pained expression flashes across E.J.'s features again, wrenching at my heart. She strides forward, dipping down to her knees beside me as I slump onto the ground. "Oh, Ash, no. please don't cry."

A part of me that exists somewhere beyond the blind panic and despair warms at the abbreviation. The first time she's ever called me anything but my full first name or last name.

"You were harmed in my vehicle. Under my protection. Because of me. You can sue me if you like, and you won't have to worry about money for a very long time. Or, if you'll allow it, I'll pay your rent and expenses in reparation, for as long as you need. However..."

I take a deep breath, willing the tears to stop, as I wait for her to continue. "However?" I prompt, my voice breathy and higher than usual.

"I would pay your rent to keep your apartment, but I would want you to stay here while you recover."

I can feel my eyes go wide as I stare at her. "Oh?"

"I don't know if my would-be assassin or whoever hired them caught sight of you. If they know who you are or suspect you might be significant to me. I'm afraid if I send you back out into the world, they'll find you. No one knows the exact location of this place, not even the people who work here. It's incredibly well-guarded."

"H-how long would you want me to stay here?"

She takes a deep breath, runs a hand through her hair. "Until we can be as sure as we can be that it's alright for you to go home. Or, if you'd like, we can help you find and move into an entirely new apartment. Either way, I can appoint bodyguards—" The words come in a stream, and I can tell she's been torturing herself over this.

"I'm sorry," I cut her off gently. "I'm a little overwhelmed. I will stay here while I get better, if that's really ok...but can we talk about the rest later?"

Relief sets her face aglow. "Of course."

I take a deep breath. Let it out.

And then I begin to shake like a palm in a hurricane.

"Oh no, no no..."

E.J. wraps her arms around me, rocking me until the violent trembling subsides and I hiccup my way back to breathing normally.

"I feel pathetic," I manage to choke out after a while. "You're the one someone's trying to kill, but I'm the only one breaking down."

"You were hurt, you went through something awful, and you have every right to be upset, to be in shock." She takes a long, shaky breath, and suddenly I feel even more horrible. Of course I'm not the only one who's not alright.

"I expected this sort of thing to happen eventually, but I never expected it to get through my defenses. It shook me too. You just happened to be unconscious for the worst of it."

"Oh. I'm so sorry—"

"Stop apologizing. Please."

"Ok! I'm—"

She glares at me, and I swallow back the final word.

"I have a lot to deal with today, but I'll check on you as often as I can. You have free range of whatever parts of the house you can get into, but I'd prefer you rested as much as possible." She reaches into her pants pocket before withdrawing and extending her clasped hand to me. "Here," she says, dropping something cool onto my cupped palm.

"Use this to speak to Somi. Just press that part there," she turns the pendant over, pointing to the little moonstone cabochon fixed at its center, "and she'll hear whatever you're saying. If you need anything at all, just ask and she'll see to it."

I just nod through it all, once again questioning reality. I'm going to be living in E.J. Butler's secret hidden mountain house with her. This is a dream. It's definitely a dream.

I hope I never wake up.