Chapter 27
I was vaguely aware of an unpadded shoulder cutting into my belly as blood rushed to my upside-down head. Then I was lying flat on my back atop a foul-smelling dumpster, Gunner’s hands rubbing heat back into my limbs.
“Damn it, wake up!”
I wasn’t unconscious and I tried to tell him as much. But the attempted words instead came out as a moan even as the scent of fur dampened into bitter-almond concern.
Gunner dropped his sword, I realized, the words materializing far more slowly than they should have as my own star-ball-turned-weapon throbbed in my clenched right fist. Which explained why I was suddenly weak as a newborn kitten, unable to do more than roll over onto my side and strain against the darkness in search of the other half of my soul.
To my relief, the second sword
