Flamebound A Lone Star Witch No(49)

Strange rustling sounds, the clang of metal—like a handle hitting a bucket. And just that simply I’m pulled out of the room . . . and into Shelby.

My thigh hurts and my head hurts and I’m cold. So cold. A warm hand strokes my cheek. It feels good, though it doesn’t chase the chill away. Or the pain.

Dear goddess, it hurts.

No, I remind myself violently even as the thought forms. I’m not cold. I’m not hurt. Shelby is.

This isn’t happening to me. I repeat the thought like it’s my new mantra, determined to hold it together. I have to hold it together if we have any hope at all of finding Shelby before it’s too late.

Locking out the pain, the cold, the fear that is a ravenous monster inside me—inside Shelby—I try to focus. To see not just her, but the room around her. To see through her eyes. The room. The man hurting her. The woman who seems to control everything.

It’s the first time I’ve ever tried anything like this and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. It’s hard, impossibly hard, because everything seems to be muffled. The woman’s voice. The eyes I use to look at her. Everything. Nothing is as it appears.

Shelby! I try to separate myself from her, from the pain that is coming in waves now. From the cold that seems to get deeper and more frigid with every second that passes. Shelby! Answer me.

I’m here, Xandra.

Can you give me something? I repeat. Can you see anything out the window? Can you see the woman’s face? Can you hear any noises? Construction? Traffic? Water?

My head hurts.

I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.

I’m sleepy. My legs hurt. There’s a strange clicking noise that I can’t identify, until I realize that it’s her teeth. She’s shivering so much, her teeth have begun to chatter. Poor, poor baby.

I know, honey. That’s why I want to come find you. So we can get you some medicine. Your mommy will help me take care of your head and your leg. Provided the monsters who have her don’t bleed her dry before then. But I need to know where to look. Is there anything—

Shelby turns her head and I get it. A quick picture, just a glimpse, of the top of a building outside her window. And not just any building. One with tall, glass-paned, triangular turrets on the top. And a clock built in right below one of the turrets.

I’ve got it, Shelby. I’ve got it.

Okay, Xandra. Okay. Her voice is fading. I’m so tired now.

I know, sweetheart. I know. Just hang on for me. Can you do that? Can you hang on just a little longer?

She doesn’t answer. Panic rears its ugly head, but I beat it back down. She’s asleep, I tell myself as I climb out of my car. Just asleep. Not dead.

I grab my purse and cell phone, head into Beanz. As I do, I can’t help looking up at the small part of the Austin skyline I can see from where I’m standing. The Frost Bank Building, with its glass turrets and imbedded clocks facing out in all directions.

* * *

Travis hits me as soon as I make it through the door, lobbing questions at me about my bruises and cuts and whether I need him to take me to the hospital. Within seconds, my other employees—all of whom feel more like family than anything else—gather around me. Marta makes the biggest fuss, insists on helping me back to my office and bringing me a cup of tea and some oatmeal.

I let her because it makes them all feel better—I probably should have tried to put some makeup on to cover these bruises before heading out this morning—and because it suits my purposes to be alone in my office for a while. I want to call Nate, to tell him what I found out about Shelby.

Goddess knows, it isn’t much, but there aren’t that many places in Austin with a bird’s-eye view of the Frost Bank Building. Even fewer with that particular angle. Surely Nate will be able to do something with it, even if it means searching every building in the area.

But when I call, I end up getting his voice mail. Disappointed and more than a little worried—I’m not sure how much longer Shelby is going to be able to last—I leave an urgent message. Then I stare at my phone and contemplate calling Declan. He hasn’t called me this morning, but then, I am the one who flinched away from him last night. Who let him leave. Maybe that means I should be the one to call him.

But what if he doesn’t want to hear from me? After all, Declan isn’t much of a game player when it comes to this kind of stuff. If he wants to talk to me, he’ll talk to me. Maybe I should—ugh! I barely resist the urge to slam the phone, or my head, into the desk. This is why I don’t do relationships. Trying to figure out the other person’s intentions makes you bat-shit crazy.

Deciding to hell with it—if he doesn’t want to talk to me, he doesn’t have to pick up—I search through my contacts for his name. But before I can press CALL, my phone starts to ring. It’s my aunt Tsura and, while I adore her, I can’t help thinking about sending the call straight to voice mail. Because while she’s my favorite aunt, she’s also my mother’s twin sister and accomplished spy. Oh, she’ll hand me some crap about wanting me to send her some of my special French roast coffee beans—because nobody has better coffee than I do—but the truth is she’s probably on a reconnaissance mission for my mother.