Nightingale by Jennifer Estep Read Free Book Online

grilled him about that before I signed the deed.
    The elevator door slid back, fronting a short hallway with a door at the end. I tugged Talon out of the elevator, opened the door to my loft, pulled him inside, and flipped on the lights. Then, I closed the door behind me and slumped against it, taking a much-needed breather.  
    My loft took up the entire fifth floor, but the space was empty, almost barren, mainly because I wasn’t around enough to fix it up. Boxes full of clothes, books, and dishes lined one wall—the same spot they’d been in for months. The only thing I’d completely unpacked had been my collection of CDs and albums. Music was the one thing I couldn’t live without—and the only loud noise that didn’t automatically give me a headache.
    Speaking of music, I needed some now. I shucked off my dripping boots and shrugged out of my coat. The coppery stench of Talon’s blood on the black fabric made my stomach roil, and I made a mental note to drop the garment off at the dry cleaners.  
    I padded over to my stereo system, which took up the better part of one wall. I hit a button on my iPod, and a playlist featuring The Killers blared on. Maybe the pulsing rock beats would get me energized enough to get Talon into the bathroom so I could clean him up.
    The superhero still didn’t wake up, not even when I unwrapped the bag from around him. Talon was surprisingly dry, considering all of the snow I’d dragged him across and through, and he didn’t seem to be any worse for wear from the bumps he’d taken during the trip—except for the wound in his shoulder. A small trickle of blood ran out of it, and the edges had turned purple from the cold. That didn’t look good.
    I plodded over to my desk and retrieved my executive-style chair—complete with rollers. Sweet, sweet rollers. I dug through one of the boxes marked Towels and put some black ones over the chair so the leather wouldn’t get soaked with melting snow and blood. Then, I wrestled Talon up into the chair. From there, it was a breeze to slide him across my hardwood floor into the bathroom. I pumped the reclining lever on the bottom of the chair and tipped Talon over into the bathtub, which was sunk into the tiled floor.
    I wiped the sweat off my face and cracked my neck to relieve some of the tension. I wouldn’t have to work out for a week after this Fiera-like effort. I thought screaming at Kyle sapped my energy. Lugging a superhero around was worse.
    But I wasn’t done with Talon yet. Promise, or no promise, I wasn’t letting him die, which meant figuring out some way to see how injured he really was and warm him up at the same time. I crawled into the oversize bathtub with the unconscious superhero, propped him up into a sitting position, and placed a towel under his head.  
    Then I stripped him.  
    I started with his boots, yanking off the heavy blue shoes and matching socks, before moving up and unbuckling the silver belt around his waist. The leg harnesses and grappling hook gun came next, minus the hook, since Talon had shot it away in the alley.
    I put the weapon aside and moved on to the crossbow gun. I hefted that weapon in my hands, surprised by how light it was. The metal bow on top was the same cobalt color as the rest of Talon’s costume. A bolt rested in place, the string pulled taut. All you had to do to fire it was pull the trigger mounted on the gun below. I peered at the bolt. The metal shaft led down to a clear, arrow-like tip that seemed to be made of glass. Something blue shimmered inside the bolt, and I jiggled the bow. The material sloshed around like liquid. Maybe Talon has his own version of blinding gas, just like Bandit did.  
    I curled my hand around the barrel of the gun, my finger on the trigger. A row of buttons ran along either side of the barrel, just pressing into my hand. Each and every one of the buttons would probably make the weapon do amazing things. I didn’t push any of them, though. I