Only problem was, the roller coaster ride through the darkness had left me a numb, trembling mass. And if we landed on that terrace, Hank was a goner and I was in deep shit.

We glided toward the terrace at a sedate pace. Hank was nowhere in sight, thank God. Llyran was much stronger than the both of us—all he had to do was use the darkness to grab Hank and jerk him off the terrace, and I was doubtful my partner could survive that kind of fall despite his healing abilities.

I pointed my toe, reaching for the railing. Almost there. A breath of relief slid out of my open mouth, and my body relaxed a fraction.

Right before my deranged partner jumped up from behind the railing and took a flying leap toward us.

“Hank! No—”

His six foot four frame crashed into us, knocking us back into midair and crushing me against his chest as he wrapped his arms and legs around Llyran—me sandwiched in between them and utterly helpless.

Llyran shouted in surprise, losing his command over the darkness. We fell straight down, windows and terraces flying by at incredible speed.

“Hold on!” Hank yelled.

Llyran cursed, struggling, trying to shove Hank off as we tumbled, going end over end. My eyes rolled back in my head, and the need to puke or pass out or both made me grit my teeth and force myself to do neither.

Anytime now. We’d hit anytime now.

I didn’t want to die like this. Images of my family flashed like a slide projector behind my eyelids, and a moment of calm descended upon me as the power began to coil in my gut.

Screw this. I was not going to go out like this.

“Don’t, Charlie!” Hank shouted. “Keep it inside! Trust me!”

The power inside of me ballooned, pushing against my ribs, surging down my arms and legs. I screamed. I couldn’t control it.

And then we were jerked to a fast halt. “Now! Let him go!” Hank yelled as Llyran regained control over the darkness. But he had stopped us too fast and when the darkness began to lift Llyran, his grip on me slipped.

Hank and I continued to fall two stories. We nearly separated, but he pulled me close as I flailed to get my arms around him.

We crashed into the flower garden in the center of the tower’s U-shaped drive. A loud “oomph” went out of Hank as his back hit first, along with my arms, which I’d somehow wrapped tightly around him.

I screamed as pain exploded along my collarbone, shoulders, and back. My shoulders dislocated, and my collarbone snapped, the sound of my bone breaking stinging my eardrums. We sank ten inches into the soft soil, the crush of flowers falling in on top of us.

I was immobile. And if Hank so much as twinged, the pain would be … unthinkable.

“We have to get out of here,” he rasped through gritted teeth; I knew he was injured, too.

“No. Don’t move.”

He groaned, his heart pounding hard against my temple as I lay there completely still and trying to breathe through the pain. “Charlie. He’s coming back.”

“I can’t move,” I muttered, mouth squished against his chest and hot tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. “I’m broken. I can’t.”

“Heal. And heal fast. Right the fuck now.”

“What the hell were you doing—trying to get us killed?”

“Trying to prevent it, actually.” He hissed in pain. “The only way was to get out of that tower fast and there was no other way but down. I knew he wouldn’t let himself hit, and that he’d try to hold on to you.”

He straightened his leg and winced. The movement sent a hot jolt through my shoulder blades. “Stop it!”

“Sorry, kiddo, but we’ve got to go.”

I braced as he drew in a deep painful breath and sat up with me on top of him. “You bastaaarrrddd!” My vision went blurry. The pain turned my stomach and made my head swim. “Oh God, I hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered as though it hurt too much to speak louder, grabbing my arm. “You’re about to hate me even more.”

I gasped, realizing what he was about to do, right before he twisted my arm and shoved the first of two dislocated shoulders into place. I was passing out, but I held out long enough to slur, “You’re right …” And then blackness took me.

I woke to my forehead slapping against my partner’s lower back as he carried me like a sack through the Underground lobby and down the well-lit tunnel that led to Helios Alley. My arms dangled, the jarring movement threatening to send me right back into oblivion.

My shoulders were useless and limp, and radiating such agonizing heat that my insides had shriveled. Each jab of Hank’s shoulder into my gut pushed a little bile up my throat.

Please let me pass out again. Please.

“Start healing yourself, Charlie,” Hank said in ragged breaths, apparently sensing that I was conscious, moving as fast as he could down Helios Alley.

“Go to hell,” I snarled, blinded by pain so bad I couldn’t think straight.

Hank turned into the entrance for The Bath House, fishing in his back pocket for his wallet and then finding his membership card to slide through the access panel near the large wooden doors. It clicked open, and he hurried inside the massive space built to resemble the baths in Elysia. The air was warm and humid. The sounds of birds echoed in the main entrance area, but all I could see were the blurry mosaic tiles and the edges of palms and containers.

A moan rumbled in my sour throat amid the sound of Hank’s low voice and that of another. I was going to puke.

We swung left, went a few more steps, and then entered another room. Hank laid me on a wide chaise lounge; the jolt of sharp pain that shot through me was the last straw. I turned, my collarbone screaming, and vomited on the tile floor.

After I was through, I laid my head back on the soft white cushion, gasping for air and realizing I was completely alone, left with just the potted foliage and the piped-in flute music that was barely audible over the sound of a fountain.

Now that I wasn’t being bounced on Hank’s shoulder, I attempted to heal. I regulated my breathing and opened myself to my Elysian power—the side that responded so well to those thoughts, emotions, and images of my loved ones. I healed quicker that way; my Charbydon power was also able to heal me, but hell if I had figured out how to access it for that purpose.

It started small, but built until the energy hummed inside of me, the familiar, cool vibration like a welcome island breeze. Beyond my relaxing mind and body, I heard movement and felt a wet cloth being placed on my forehead. Murmured words passed between what I guessed was a Bath House attendant and Hank. Then all the outside stimuli fell away as I withdrew into myself and let the healing energy take over.

I had no idea how long I laid there in a semi-conscious state as my body healed, but when I finally roused and turned my head to the side, it was to see Hank sprawled out on the twin lounge set against the opposite wall. We were in some sort of private massage or meditation room with its own bath, one of many within the complex. The rectangular walls were inlaid with mosaic tiles like the rest of The Bath House, and four columns rose from the corners of the long rectangular pool. Iron sconces held fat-burning candles and two large basins in the far corners held open flames. The faint scent of citrusy herbs made the warm air seem thinner, fresher, and easier to breathe. The only light came from the soft glow of the candles and fires, giving the place a dark, aged feel as though I’d stepped back in time to ancient Babylon.

My arms and shoulders still tingled with healing energy, but I was unsure if I’d healed completely, so I used my stomach muscles to rise and get a better look at the surroundings.

Hank was flat on his back, hands resting on his stomach, his breathing deep and even. There was a gaping hole in his pants leg and blood surrounding it, some deep scratches still on the sides of his arms from where some of the stiffer, thicker stems must have cut into his skin, but other than that he appeared okay.