* * *
Hours later, Nate pulls up in front of my house. He’s been quiet most of the ride, lost in his own thoughts, and again I wonder about how much this job takes out of him. Goddess knows, I’ve been at it only a couple of weeks and I feel drained to the very core of my being.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him as I reach for the car door. I’m exhausted, completely burned out, and all I want to do is stumble up the walkway and fall into bed. I won’t have long, though—dawn is only a couple of hours away, and with it comes my shift at the coffeehouse.
“Hold on a minute.” He reaches for my hand and I glance back at him, realizing for the first time that he looks just about as worn out and haggard as I feel. Hunting murder takes things out of a person that nothing else in the world does. It’s something I’m beginning to realize more and more as my magic manifests itself.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I shake my head. There’s nothing really to say. My gift is what it is, even when it feels more like a curse. Or maybe especially when. I don’t know. All the pain and anguish is blurring together until I can barely breathe, barely think.
“I wanted to let you know, we found where Shelby was being held.”
I grab onto him then, my fingers digging into his arm as I demand, “Is she alive? Did they—”
“She wasn’t there. But there was a blue sweatshirt crumpled in the corner identical to the one she was wearing when she was abducted and the view from the window was exactly as you described.”
“Is she—” My voice breaks. I don’t want to say the word. Not tonight when the scent, the feel, the touch of death already surround me.
“I don’t know.” He reaches into the backseat, pulls out a plastic evidence bag. In it is a small navy sweatshirt. “I need to get this to the lab tonight, but I wanted you to see it first. I thought maybe you could pick something up—”
“I already told you. My gift doesn’t work like that.”
“I know.” His green eyes are steady on mine. “But I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”
Oh, but it could hurt. And now, when I’m already so emotionally bruised and battered, I’m terrified it will deal me a blow I’ll never recover from. And yet, I can’t ignore it when it’s sitting right there in front of me. I’m just not built that way.
Reluctantly, I reach for it. I open the Ziploc top to the bag, reach my fingers in and gingerly brush them against the fabric.
Close doesn’t count, little girl.
The voice slams through me and I’m confused—so confused—until I realize that whoever has Shelby must also be responsible for the deaths of those two Council members.
But why? What does some little girl with no connection to the Heka world have to do with two members of the ACW? And what about her makes her different from the thousands of other little girls within Austin’s city limits?
Her blood.
The thought chills me, but that must be what it is. Nothing else makes sense. Two powerful Councilors bled out. One little girl, also being bled. But not all at one time.
Why not? Why keep her alive and not Mei and Alride? Because she isn’t a threat? Or because they need more blood than she can give at one time? She’s a small girl—her blood volume can’t be anywhere near what a grown adult’s is.
I’m sickened all over again. I hate what I’m thinking, hate what I’ve learned to think ever since my magic finally kicked in. There was a time when the darkest thing I thought about was how to escape my mother’s clutches. These days, that seems like child’s play.
A sob rips through my chest and I know I’ve reached the breaking point. Unable to do anything else, I shove the sweatshirt back at Nate and dive for the door. This time he doesn’t try to stop me.
I’m halfway up the path to the house when the door opens. Declan is standing there, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweats and looking absolutely livid. I must look even worse than I thought, though, because the moment he gets a load of my face, his scowl turns to concern. Then he’s rushing down the front walk toward me.
“You okay, Xan?” he asks, wrapping his uninjured arm around my shoulder and pulling me against him.
I bury my face in his chest and shake my head, hot tears leaking down my cheeks.
Declan doesn’t ask anything else, just propels me toward the house. His hold is hesitant, gentle, and the sweetness of it only makes me cry more.
When did everything get so goddamn complicated? And when will it get uncomplicated? I don’t want much. Just to save that little girl and to hold on to Declan so tightly that, soulbound or not, he’ll never slip away.