Flamebound A Lone Star Witch No(48)

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “Pretty sure.”

“Well, fuck. That didn’t turn out the way I thought it would. Stupid chicken.” She thinks for a second, then reaches for the doughnut bag. “Well, if the sky really is going to fall, you might as well load up on fat and sugar.”

I laugh because the alternative is crying and I’ve already done enough of that to last a lifetime. Then I decide what the hell. I take the bag and scarf down a couple more doughnuts.

Lily joins me and soon the entire bag is empty. Now I’m feeling even sicker but for totally different reasons. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.

Pushing back from the table with a sigh, I say, “I need to get going. Travis will only hold down the fort so long before freaking out.”

Lily stands up as well. But it’s obvious her mind is a million miles away. I’m halfway down the hallway to my room before she speaks. “He hasn’t killed anyone, you know.”

I don’t pretend to misunderstand. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. And so would you if you’d just let yourself believe what’s right in front of your face.”

She’s right. I know Declan hasn’t gone that far into the darkness. At least not yet. “That doesn’t mean he won’t.”

“But he hasn’t yet. He’s holding on. And that means you have to as well. If you can’t hold on to anything else, hold on to that. Hold on to him.”

I nod, because she’s right. I have enough trouble in my life right now without borrowing more. Declan’s taking things one day at a time with me. It’s about time I do the same with him.





Fifteen





I’ve just pulled into the back parking lot at Beanz when it hits me. Half in the car, half out of the car, I feel the world starting to spin around me. I sink back into my car seat and try to figure out what the hell is going on. And then it’s too late. The damn blackness sweeps over me before I can even begin to fight it.

Xandra! It’s Shelby’s voice and she’s screaming my name, her little hands reaching for me as tears pour down her face.

I’m here, Shelby.

Where did you go? You were gone for such a long time.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m here now.

Don’t leave me, Xandra. Please don’t leave me here alone! Not again.

I’ll try not to. I promise. I only hope I can keep that promise. This connection with Shelby is different from the compulsions, different from the way I slip inside the victim and experience what he or she experiences. With Shelby, I’ve done that, but more often than not it’s this strange voyeuristic thing, where I’m looking at her instead of looking out at the world through her eyes.

I try to glance around the room, to pick up some clues about where she is or who might have her. But I can’t see anything but her, can’t feel anything but her. It’s like she’s in a vacuum—one I can’t hope to breach.

Tell me where you are, Shelby. Give me some clue and we’ll come find you right now.

I’m scared. She’s mean.

She? It’s a woman who has you?

Yes. And a man. He’s mean, but she’s worse. She tries to act like she’s nice, like if I do what she says, she won’t hurt me. But I don’t believe her. She has really mean eyes.

Good. Don’t believe her, Shelby.

I want my mommy.

I know you do, baby. Can you look around the room? Or tell me what you see out the window? I know it’s high, but maybe there’s something out there—

Suddenly, I’m no longer in my car, no longer in the parking lot at all. Instead, I’m in that dingy little room, with the skinny cot and threadbare blanket and tiny window close to the ceiling. It lets in a little light, but not much—especially on a grim-looking day like today. I can’t see much more than the plain white walls, the dark wood floor.

And Shelby. I can see Shelby, though she isn’t talking to me anymore.

I can see her face clearly despite the dim light. Her pretty face has lost its color. The small smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose stands out in startling contrast against her pale skin. Her eyes are dim, unfocused, and she’s no longer squirming. No longer crying. No longer doing anything but staring sightlessly toward the center of the room.

My heart stutters in my chest for a few impossibly long seconds. She’s dead. Oh dear goddess, they’ve bled her out, too. Killed her, too. Hysteria rises up inside me—terror and confusion and sickness all mix together in a way they didn’t when I first saw what had been done to Councilor Alride.

That’s enough. The words are snapped out, the voice deeper in pitch than Shelby’s, but still feminine in nature. Don’t kill her. We may still need her.