It was well past midnight when Declan and Avian crossed the doorstep of the townhouse trekking water with each step. It was as quiet as a church, sans the dying embers of a fire hissing in the sitting room.

They didn't speak, merely grunted a farewell and dragged themselves to their respective bedchambers on two separate floors. The storm showed no signs of easing.

Drenched, bone-tired and feeling like someone had repeatedly kicked him in the head and stomach, Declan only had one thing in mind: reach his bed and PTFO, hopefully in that order. However, his pulse sped up with every step that brought him closer to Harper's bedroom. He'd need to pass it on his way to his.

The door was one of those heavy slabs of wood that let no light slip through if any were on inside. Declan slowed to a stand in front of it.

The night before Harper had left played over and over inside his head. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the feverish burn of her lips on his, hear the soft gasps escaping her as he made his way down her neck. She had left before he'd woken, and now he didn't know how he was supposed to act around her. Did they pick up where they left off? Something told him that was a capital-N negative.

He lifted a shaky hand to knock but thought better of it and dropped it. As he turned to leave, a strangled sound rose from inside that jolted his tired body into high alert. Without another thought, he marched in expecting to find someone had broken in and was choking Harper, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized she was alone, thrashing and crying in her sleep.

He grabbed her shoulders, gently shaking her awake. Her hand floundered dangerously close to his nose, and she kicked out her legs a few more times before coming to. Her eyes flew open wildly as she let out a hoarse scream.

"Harper!" said Declan. "Harper, it's me. You're safe. You're here, you're safe," he crooned, stroking her cheek. Her eyes slowly focused on his face, but the fear behind them was slow to fade, much like the hot embers in the fireplace that burned flameless through the night.

"Aisling? Beth?" she stammered. "Are they..."

"They will be alright. They questioned them—and threatened them for harboring a fugitive, I'm sure—but left them otherwise unharmed. It was only you Crispin was after. They must've placed surveillance on anyone who knew you. Being that Beth is your sister, that one was to be expected. We watched them leave before transporting back."

Harper slumped back with short-lived relief. She quickly bolted upright again. "Transported back? Declan, you know what that does to you, you can't—"

"Harper—Harper, breathe. I'm a little worse for wear, true, but otherwise fine." He opened his palm to reveal a dull emerald on a tarnished gold chain. When not in use, the quasar could pass for a cheap trinket picked up at the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. Its color was a deep moss green, and it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it off its surface. In the dim bedroom, it looked black and ancient.

Harper's fingers gently brushed Declan's palm as she took it back. She felt the urge to immediately put it on, but placed it on the nightstand for the moment. She'd grown so accustomed to its weight over her chest that being without it made her feel somehow bare. On a range from alpha being lowest power and Delta the highest, it was a Delta-1 grade quasar, which made it one of the rarest, most powerful ones in known existence. The ability to appear in any place and vanish just as quickly. A thief could use it to steal anything, anywhere, from anyone. It would make a perfect assassin who could, like a ghost, kill and disappear in the blink of an eye. Someone with that power could take down governments and change the course of history. And Harper had used it to get out of the Society of Ra alive. To her, it was a lifeline.

Declan eyed it apprehensively. "I don't know how you do it. I feel like I waded through thick mud and some of it got in my head and is still there. I keep trying to shake it clear, but all it does is slosh around and make things fuzzier." In the half-light spilling in from the hall, his handsome face looked haggard and a decade older.

"It is completely opposite for me," she said. "Things crystalize. I wish I could explain it, but it feels like someone's lifted the cobweb from my eyes and I can see. Everything is sharper, and I feel like I'm everywhere all at once." Her breath hitched as a jolt of pain ran up her arm, almost on cue. She pushed it under the cover before Declan could notice, but his frown said he had. To her surprise, he said nothing. "Can we move them to a safe house?" she asked, promptly changing the topic. She rubbed her hand under the blanket, not that it did much. These acute pains were becoming almost a daily occurrence.

"If we try to move them, we show Crispin that they are much more valuable than he thought. The safest place they'll be is right under his nose."

Harper hated that he was right. "Did you hear anything more about the lead?"

"Tomorrow. We all need rest. Especially you." The vertical lines between his eyebrows deepened. "Nightmares again?"

She gathered her knees into her chest, resting her chin on top. The heavy velvet curtains blocked the windows, but the rain echoed all around them in this old house. The wind blew through its rickety vents with a vicious howl, bringing back the images she so fought to erase. Theo. Theo falling. Theo's black hair. Aisling's dark curls.

Her silence was the answer. I don't want to talk about it.

Declan knew right away that she'd dreamt of Theo. He was a fool, being jealous of a dead man. If only she would talk about it, he could be there for her. But there were things she never spoke of and wouldn't, at least not to him. That didn't lessen any the urge to reach across and pull her into him, physically tell her she'll be alright, but it wasn't his promise to make. Instead, he patted the bed and rose to his feet. It took him a moment to regain his balance. Using the quasar four times in a night felt like he'd stuffed his head full of sticks, rocks, and all kinds of debris. He turned to go when he heard the sheets behind him rustle.

"Declan?"

"Yes?" He glanced over his shoulder at Harper. She'd never looked smaller. Nothing but a big pair of eyes amidst layers of covers.

There was something in her look that said stay, and Declan almost did, but she lowered her chin with the tiniest shake of her head and said, "thank you for going back for them."

He nodded and stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

In the dark of the bedroom, Harper sank back, knowing full well she wouldn't be falling back asleep anytime soon. She blew out a frustrated breath. The last thing she wanted was to pick up where the nightmare had left off.

Theo's green sweater.

Falling.

Falling.

Forever falling.

She shoved the sheets aside and felt the skin on her bare legs pucker from the cold air. She'd taken to sleeping in a long black tank she'd found left behind in one of the closets, but it didn't cover much. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she padded to the door and opened it slowly, unsure of where her feet were taking her. Anywhere, as long as it was away from the nightmare. She could get a snack in the kitchen, or maybe—

Declan was leaning with one arm against the doorframe. He was as surprised to see her as she was to find him there, and there was something else in his hooded gaze that made Harper's pulse quicken. The shiver that ran through her body could no longer be justified by the temperature. Their eyes locked in an unspoken question.

Harper was the first to answer it.

She stepped back into the bedroom, and Declan followed, shutting the door behind him.