One piece of glass remained, and he prayed he’d either learn more or get no images at all. Drained of energy, he slid his hand along the quilt, its texture soothing to his fingertips, its fabric bringing only a brief glimpse of Glory’s sweetness and nothing more.
Okay, last one. He raised his fingers and dragged the piece of glass to him, groaning and curling into a fetal position as its sensations hit him. God, make it stop. The burning sensation, the thirst. The horrible, horrible thirst because nothing will go down, nothing will cool the veins and arteries as they dry up, empty out, refill with acid. He had to stop it, had to stop, had to stop, had to—
“Nik!”
Someone pried his fingers open, and as suddenly as the mental assault had begun, it ended. His mind cleared, and all he could do was curl up tighter and let the tears come.
“Bloody hell, do I need to call Krys? Do you need a doctor?” The bed dipped as someone sat down, and Nik opened his eyes to see Cage, mumbling and fumbling with his cell phone.
“Don’t call Krys. Give me a minute.”
Cage looked at him, brows drawn together. “Hang on, then.”
He disappeared and came back in a couple of minutes with a washcloth. “Here, you have a nosebleed.” He shoved the cold, saturated piece of green terry cloth into Nik’s hands and reached behind him to erect a mountain of pillows. “Move back and elevate your head, pinch the bridge of your nose. It’ll help slow it down.”
Nik had been down nosebleed highway before, and he did as Cage suggested. The cloth was cool against his nose and upper lip, and he closed his eyes and finally began to relax. It was done, but he didn’t know what the hell to make of what he’d seen.
It was easy to say what he hadn’t seen: a face, an identity.
When he opened his eyes, Cage was studying the pieces of glass. “Where’d these come from?”
“Your bedroom at the burned house, I think.” Nik took a final dab at his nose, found no red smears on the washcloth, and set it aside. “Robin and I went through the house today, and we think that’s where it started.”
“So I was the target?”
Nik shrugged. “Maybe, or maybe it’s coincidence.”
“My room’s in the center of the hallway, so that’s not likely.”
Nik agreed. “Go in Robin’s room and see if there are any drawings lying around—she likes to stick stuff under her pillows. It’s what I got from the house, before she found the pieces of glass.”
Cage got up and headed for the door but stopped halfway.
Nik smiled. “Don’t worry, she’s not here. Probably out flying around somewhere.”
“Right. That does make it simpler.” Cage disappeared, and Nik heard him in the room next to his, walking around.
He returned holding Nik’s sketch pad and flipped through it. “You’re quite the good artist.”
“Look at the last one in the pad.” The coyote whose skin he’d inhabited briefly.
“A wolf? No, too small. Another dog, or is it a jackal?”
“Jackal, I think, or coyote.” Nik watched Cage as he processed the meaning of it, his frown deepening. He looked at the piece of blue glass in his palm and back at the drawing. “Can shifters take on more than one form?”
Nik groaned. “God, I hope not. But there could be two different shifters hanging around.”
“Fuck. How can strange jaguars and jackals be running around Penton without us seeing them? A bloody jackal ran in my house? Why didn’t that useless piece of dogflesh Barnabas bark or something?” He jerked out the leather cord tying his hair back and ran his hands through his hair. “Well, maybe we can get some answers.”
“Maybe Robin can come up with some theories. I haven’t known her all that long, but her pattern seems to be that when she flies a long time she’s either after somebody or thinking through a problem.”
Cage quirked an eyebrow. “After somebody as in a criminal?”
Me and my big mouth. Nik knew about Robin’s little vigilante program to reform domestic abusers, but that wasn’t his story to tell, and even he didn’t know why she did it except that it had something to do with why she was on the run from her family in Texas.
“Yeah, you know, like this guy in Houston that did the bombing last month—she tracked him all over eastern Texas and western Louisiana.”
“Right.” Cage pursed his lips and gave Nik a perceptive look. The man saw too much, and Nik’s hesitation in answering gave him away. “Anyway, I had Hannah in mind, for answers. I came here hoping to feed, but I don’t think you’re up to that. Maybe you could meet Hannah, though. Talk to her.”