She refused to humiliate herself in front of him a second time. Third time?
So she clambered off the ladder and into the hole.
—
On Gwen’s firsttrip through the wall, she’d somehow emerged uninjured. This time, the jagged stone under her hands and knees promptly sliced into her already-sore palms, then ripped through her oversized cargo shorts and thin leggings to skin her knees. But she was used to ignoring pain, and soon enough, Kip and Lorraine were half carrying, half guiding her down the next ladder and onto the narrow strip of gravel between the wide moat and the wall.
If she squinted in the right direction, Gwen could spot the lone drawbridge that allowed access across the moat. At this distance, it looked remarkably small. Also still horizontal. And unless something had changed in the past several hours, Lorrie’s SUV should be parked on that bridge, the front bumper almost touching the enormous access door that separated the Containment Zone from the outside world.
As she and the trolls had confirmed overnight, the breach conspirators had somehow lowered that drawbridge and everyother drawbridge within the Zone, allowing free movement across the protective moats. They’d also opened all the wall access doors…with one key exception. The door through Wall Four had remained firmly shut for days. The zombies wouldn’t have been able to exit the Zone even if they hadn’t all been killed.
Whether that would have remained true for long, though, no one knew. The closed door might have been a technical malfunction, soon to be corrected. Or maybe the conspirators had simply wanted the zombies to be fully fed and at maximum strength before they were unleashed on the greater populace.
Either way, leaving the Zone had required that magicked hole in Wall Four. But the rest of the journey to and from the breach site had been significantly more straightforward.
The trolls didn’t bother helping Hugh as he followed Gwen through the hole and down the ladder, although she kept an eye on him until she was certain he was safe. And once Gwen had placed her wig and sunglasses in one of the group’s supply bags, the cousins hefted those bags with ease and turned toward the drawbridge.
Kip paused after only a single step, however. Obviously remembering their earlier trip from the SUV to the wall, he offered his elbow to Gwen.
As they’d discovered, the gravel strip ringing the moat truly did become very narrow at points, and her balance wasn’t exactly foolproof at the moment. Not given her fatigue and occasional lightheadedness. Last time, before Kip had begun assisting her, she’d stumbled on the gravel while putting on her warmest winter jacket and dropped it in the moat. Lorrie had fished it out again, sure, but it wouldn’t be usable until it dried.
“I’ve got her.” Without warning, a strong leather-clad armsettled over her shoulders and tugged her close to a hot body. “Assuming that Gwen wants my assistance, that is.”
Her startled gaze swung toward the demon who’d unexpectedly appeared at her side.
Wait. Why was Hugh glaring at Kip?
Didn’t matter. They needed to get moving, and she was more than happy to cuddle up next to a sexy furnace and his too-flattering crop top.
“You’re sweet, Kip,” she told the enormous troll as she slung her left arm around Hugh’s waist once more. “Thank you for the offer of support, but I think I’m covered. Hugh will help me.”
“You sure?” He grinned down at her, his teeth startlingly white in the dim morning. “I welcome any excuse to embrace you, Gwen-my-love!”
That was bullcrap, so she shook her head at him. His grin only widened in response before he began sauntering after Lorrie.
The tension stiffening Hugh’s frame relaxed. Until, that is, she reached down to reclaim her still-sopping, frost-stiffened jacket from the spot where she’d abandoned it earlier.
Frowning, he immediately removed it from her grasp.
“I can carry my jacket,” she protested as they started walking, even though her fingers were already half-numb with cold and holding wet clothing would only compound the problem. Hugh might be plenty warm against her side, but his body heat didn’t reach her extremities.
His own leather jacket was still open in front, his abdomen bare to the blustery breeze. Between demons’ naturally higher body temperature and thicker skin, maybe he didn’t feel the cold. He certainly didn’tlookcold. In fact, he looked…well…
Hot. Far too hot for her comfort.
“Your hands are bleeding.” It was a flat, factual pronouncement, and Hugh made no move to return the jacket.
Giving up, she resigned herself to her continued status as the group’s albatross.
“My hands often bleed.” She fisted those stinging, red-splotched hands. “Unavoidable hazard of the oracle job.”
Not entirely true. The strongest oracles didn’t need to cut themselves to access their abilities. That said, those oracles often experienced nosebleeds during or after their prophecies, because power always exacted a price. One way or another.
Her own nose had bled badly during her unexpected apocalyptic vision, but she was trying not to think about the implications of that development right now.
“—superior vessel for osetra caviar is clearly melba toast,” Kip declared a few yards ahead of them, far too loudly for discretion. “Not blini.”
“You might as well smear your caviar on cardboard,” Lorrie sneered over her shoulder.
