Lily notices my shift in mood, and reaches out to squeeze my hand. “She’s alive, Xandra.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, I don’t. But I believe it. And you need to, too.”
“Why?”
“Because it will break your heart if you don’t. And, honestly, I’m not sure how much more heartbreak you can take.”
Again, she has a point. Besides, how could it hurt? Thinking of finding Shelby alive might be the only thing that gets me through the next few days. Because, whether she’s dead or alive, after speaking with her the way I did—after feeling her pain and her fear—there’s no way I can just turn my back on her. I am going to find her. And when I do, I’m going to tell her that she’s the bravest little girl I’ve ever met.
I should have told her that before, when we were talking. A sudden realization hits me, one that makes me believe, really believe, that Shelby actually is alive. “I talked to her.”
“What?” Lily asks, looking up from where she’s making another pot of tea.
“I talked to Shelby. It wasn’t a dream. Obviously,” I say, gesturing at the damage to my leg. “I never did that with any of the others. I felt their pain, lived through their deaths with them, but I never talked to any of them. I couldn’t.”
“Because they were dead.”
“Exactly.” Relief, pure and overwhelming, rushes over me. Because as much as I hate to think of Shelby suffering at the hands of some monster, I hate more to think of her dying alone and terrified. “And she isn’t.”
“That’s what I like to hear!” Lily settles back down at the table, a big smile on her face. “So what are we going to do to find her?”
“We?” I ask.
“Hell, yeah, we. You got to do all the heroics last time. This time, I definitely want in.”
“I’m not sure being tortured is actually heroic, you know.”
“It is if you end up capturing the murdering bastard in the end.” She pops a cracker into her mouth, chews pensively. Then she says, “What do you think we should do first? Do you want to try to reach out to her again?”
“I’ve already tried a couple of times. Nothing’s happened. I think whoever hit her”—I gesture to my bruised face—“probably knocked her out.” I deliberately refuse to think of other, worse scenarios.
“So, we just wait?”
“No.” I reach for my phone, scroll through my contacts. “I think we should call Nate.”
“And tell him what?”
“The truth. He already thinks I’m psychic—that’s why he asked for my help. The fact that I’ve connected with Shelby shouldn’t even have him raising an eyebrow.”
“Maybe you’re right. But you do realize that it’s two o’clock in the morning, don’t you?”
I freeze, my thumb suspended over his contact information. “Good point. But don’t you think he’ll want to know? He is the one who asked for my help, after all.”
Still, I don’t press SEND. Maybe Lily’s right—maybe I should wait until morning. I don’t actually have much information for him. Maybe if Lily and I work at it—
That’s when it hits me, a wave of power so all-encompassing that it sends my phone skittering out of my hand and across the table.
“Xandra?” Lily asks, leaning forward, a concerned look on her face.
Before I can answer her, another wave hits. This one actually picks me up and slams me back down into the chair with enough force to shatter the thing into a thousand wooden splinters.
Eight
“What the hell?” Lily scrambles around the table to help me up, but I throw out an arm to ward her off. Whatever is happening to me isn’t good and I don’t want her anywhere near it.
She freezes in place. “Xandra?”
“Give me a minute.” I’m on the floor now, in the midst of the debris from the shattered chair. I have just enough time before the third wave hits to thank the goddess that I don’t have a bunch of splinters in my ass. This one knocks me flat on my back. Then it lifts me up again, arching my back even as it spread-eagles me five feet off the kitchen floor.
“Xandra!” Lily wails.
I hit the ground again, this time even harder than before.
Totally disregarding my warning, Lily rushes toward me. She drops to her knees next to me, her hands going immediately to the back of my head, where she feels for bumps and bruises. “Are you all right?” she demands.
I try to answer her, to tell her to get back because the electricity is still zinging around inside me and I have a sick feeling that this—whatever this is—is far from over. But that last hit was so strong that it knocked the wind out of me. I’ve got absolutely no air, and no matter how hard I try to force my lungs to expand, nothing’s happening.