She felt his warm fingers clasped to hers. Beyond his powers and unknown destiny, she saw he was also a lonely young boy, bereft of his father, his mother.
As Paul had been after her trial.
Her fingers tightened over his, an unfamiliar feeling rising in her.
Protectiveness.
11:32 P.M.
In the backseat of the stolen silver Audi, Jordan clutched the car’s grab bar as Rhun raced across Stockholm for the airport. He tried to ignore the red lights that they blew through. Desperate times called for desperate measures, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be wrapped around a light pole.
He hoped the owner of the car had good insurance.
Now on the highway, Rhun wove in and out of lanes, as if the freeway lines were mere suggestions. Christian sat up front, oblivious to the danger, studying his new phone, using its cellular connection to keep track of the countess. A moment ago, he had reported that she was already airborne, whisking south from Stockholm over the Baltic Sea.
Rhun refused to allow her any more of a lead. He sped alongside a semitruck, the side of their car racing less than an inch from the truck’s running board.
Erin clutched Jordan’s arm.
“It’s easier if you close your eyes,” he said.
“When my death comes, I want to see it.”
“I already died once today. I don’t recommend it, eyes wide or not.”
“Do you remember anything from when you were . . . ?” Her words trailed off.
“When I was dead?” He shrugged. “I remember feeling the kick to the chest and falling. Then everything went dark. The last thing I saw was your eyes. You looked worried, by the way.”
“I was. Still am.” She took his hand with both of hers. “What do you remember after that?”
“Nothing. No white light, no celestial choir. I vaguely remember having a dream about the day I got struck by lightning. The lines of my tattoo burned.” He scratched at his shoulder. “Still sort of itches.”
“Marking when you last died,” she said, studying his face, as if looking for meaning in this detail.
“Guess Heaven didn’t want me then or now. Anyway, next thing I knew I was staring into your eyes again.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Like I just woke up on Christmas morning, full of energy and ready to go.”
“Seeing you sitting here is like Christmas morning for me.”
He squeezed her hand—as Rhun suddenly slammed the brakes, pitching Jordan against his seat belt.
“We’re here,” Rhun announced.
Jordan saw they were back at the airport, parked next to their jet.
They all quickly exited, hurrying to continue their chase.
Rhun and Christian led Erin toward the plane.
As Jordan followed, he felt guilty lying to Erin a moment ago—or at least not telling her the entire truth.
He rubbed his shoulder. His entire left side burned with a fire that refused to subside, tracing along the fractal lines of his lightning flower. He didn’t know the significance of that blaze—only its source.
Something is inside of me.
32
December 19, 11:50 P.M. CET
Airborne over the Baltic Sea
As soon as the jet reached cruising altitude, Rhun unbuckled his seat. He needed to move, to pace out his frustration. Earlier, he could barely contain his anxiety while Christian performed his interminable preflight check, and Jordan examined the plane with a sensor for any hidden explosives. Both were wise precautions, but Rhun chafed against any further delays, sensing Elisabeta flying farther and farther away with every passing minute.
He pictured the smug countenance of the man who had killed Nadia. Elisabeta was now under his thumb, a man who could murder her with a single gesture
Why had he taken her?
Why had she gone with him?
Rhun at least understood the answer to that last question. He glanced back to the empty coffin in the rear of the plane, where Elisabeta had been imprisoned on the flight over.
I failed to protect her.
But who was this man truly?
While driving to the airport, Grigori had sent a text to Rhun’s phone. It was a single picture of an old-fashioned anchor.
Beneath it were the words: This is his symbol. Be wary of it.
Needing to move, Rhun walked to the cockpit and peered inside the room lit with instruments.
“You can come in,” Christian said, waving to the empty copilot’s seat.
Rhun stayed in the doorway. He did not like to be close to the controls, afraid that he would inadvertently bump into something and cause havoc.
“I’m still tracking the countess’s plane,” Christian said. “It continues south, sticking to the prescribed air corridor. Now it’s just a matter of following, seeing if we can close their lead. But should we even be attempting this?”