Cassidy heard the woman on the other side give a startled exclamation.

Xavier went on. “We need to comb every road to either side of Hoover Dam and south of it. Can you get me sheriffs’ departments on both sides of the state line? Diego’s stuck up on one of the cliffs. We need to get him down in one piece.”

I’m on it. Cassidy heard the woman’s voice buzz through the phone.

Xavier hung up and called everyone he knew. Eric would be doing the same behind her. Rallying his trackers, Nell, all of Shiftertown if need be.

Cassidy’s heart warmed in spite of her frantic worry. They were coming, they were helping, they wouldn’t let Diego die.

But only if they got to him in time.

Diego clung to the tree root and refused to look down. Panic poured through him in waves, sometimes receding enough to make him believe he was over the fear, only to have another wave buffet him a second later.

The wind kicked him around as well. The gorge of the Colorado, made deeper by the dam that collected the river upstream, was a giant wind tunnel. The river was nice when you were down on the beaches beside it, when you took a day off to fish or just laze around on a boat. It wasn’t its best when you clung to the side of the cliff far above, trying to find handholds.

No way in hell was Diego going to let a gust of wind lift him and send him over the edge. He would climb the hell out of here and call for help. Right?

How the f**k did I get into this?

Helping Reid. Because I felt sorry for him. Teach me to have compassion.

No, this was the fault of whoever had persecuted Reid. Their trap was perfect and cruel. They’d give Reid the hope that he’d found his way home, and then kill him up here.

Two thoughts chased that one: Sadistic bastards and What the hell did Reid do to garner this treatment?

Maybe nothing. Some people were simply cruel, like Enrique. They practiced brutality because they could. They liked to watch people twisting in the wind, like Diego was now.

A gust blasted Diego, and his toes lost their hold. “Son of a bitch!”

He grabbed for another handhold, his fingers bleeding, toes desperately scrabbling for a crevice. He managed to lodge one foot on a protruding rock. Hanging on to the tree root, he swung the other foot back to the ledge. Scrambling and swearing, Diego got himself on the narrow ledge and wedged his body back against the rock.

The overhang helped with the wind a little, but it trapped him. He couldn’t climb out above, and without rappelling gear, he couldn’t descend.

He had a cell phone. When Diego was at last able to tug it out and open it, he of course couldn’t get a signal. He left it on, though, in case they could find him through the GPS inside it.

It looked like the sky was lightening. Diego didn’t remember that much time passing, but the eastern horizon definitely was a little grayer.

No, wait, the sky itself hadn’t lightened. Mist shimmered about six feet away from Diego’s ledge, right in the middle of empty air. And damned if two more Fae—not dead this time—didn’t just raise bows and aim through the mist at him. Not crossbows, longbows, as though Diego had landed in some kind of Renaissance Fair.

Diego brought up his Sig and fired. The Fae ducked aside faster than Diego had ever seen anyone duck, then they stared at him in amazement.

The gun’s kick nearly dislodged him, but Diego held on and shouted, “This is steel. That’s made from iron. Want a piece?”

More staring. Then the Fae shot. One arrow ripped Diego’s cell phone from his hand and sent it spinning away down the cliff. Diego dropped to the ledge, breath snagging in terror as his face looked into nothing.

He felt a sudden, sharp pain and looked down to see an arrow sticking out of his side.

It shocked him more than it hurt, but he knew pain would come. And blood loss, and weakness. Then death when he tumbled over the side from all of that. He brought up his pistol and fired again.

The Fae ducked back but they nocked arrows to their bows again.

“Damn you, I’m not Reid! I sprang the f**king trap by accident.”

Didn’t look like they cared. Who the hell guards a gate for fifty years? And why do they hate Reid so much?

“You’re hoch alfar, right? I’m human.”

They hesitated when he said hoch alfar, but obviously they didn’t understand any of his other words. Probably wouldn’t make any difference if he said it in Spanish. Maybe if he knew Gaelic.

I really should have bought that audio course.

Diego aimed his Sig again. “Stand down or this bullet goes into your chest.”

Fire spread through his side. He was going to die up here.

The second Fae nocked another arrow and shot, his fingers a blur. Diego fired at the same time. The Fae he aimed at went over backward, blood on his mail-shirted chest.

So, they could die. But then, so could Diego.

The arrow that had left the bow glanced across Diego’s hip, missing because the second Fae had jumped when his colleague went down. Diego aimed again and shot.

The second Fae knew enough to duck aside. The air shimmered and the gate closed.

Diego lowered his aching arm, trying to catch his breath. Would it open again? Would they send more to kill the man who’d just shot one of their own?

His side hurt like hell. He knew an artery hadn’t been severed only because he was still alive. Either that or the arrow was holding the blood vessels closed.

Maybe his gunshots had drawn attention. But the wind was hard, blowing sound away. Echoes could come from anywhere. Diego didn’t dare keep firing in case the Fae returned and he needed the ammo. He had half a magazine now in his gun and that was it.