Kissed by Ice(56)

"I don't—" But before I could finish the sentence, she twisted to the right. I knew the minute the shard hit her heart; between one breath and the next, she exploded in a cloud of dust and ash.

I stared at the small pile of ash for a moment, then turned and hurried to the boy. He was deathly pale, and his breathing was shallow. His pulse was weak and erratic. I had no idea how I was going explain this to anyone, but the kid needed a hospital fast.

I shrugged out of my jacket and yanked my T-shirt up over my head. I pulled my jacket back on, zipped up, and then pressed my T-shirt against the wound on the boy's neck to stem the flow of blood. With the other hand, I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and dialed 911. Then I settled down to wait and make up my story.

About a minute later, I heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance. The back door of the club swung open, and Axel stuck his head out. His eyes glowed eerily for a moment, and then the glow was gone.

"You need to get out of here before the cops arrive," he said.

"Can't." I shook my head. "If I take pressure off this wound, this kid is going to die." I could not let that happen. I'd seen far too many people die because of the vamps. This kid wasn't going to be one of them. Not if I could help it.

"Fine," he growled, stomping outside and letting the door swing shut behind him. He knelt beside me and placed his hand over mine. "I've got this," he said. "Go. I promise not to let him die. Bad for business, you know."

With a nod, I pulled my hand out from under his, letting him take over. He was right. He was used to dealing with the cops, and I couldn't get involved in this. There was too much at stake. With a last glance at the pale form huddled on the ground, I slipped into the night and let the shadows take me.





Chapter Twenty-one



I slumped into the guest chair across from Kabita's desk. Slouching down, I slung one leg over the arm and swung it back and forth. "Cordelia says we should scry for Alister," I said casually. I eyed her closely. She was wearing a cute little pair of black-rimmed cat's eye glasses. They suited her warm skin and exotic looks marvelously, but I'd never seen her wear glasses before. "When did you get those?"

"Well, good afternoon to you too," she said dryly as she shuffled through a stack of papers on her desk. "I'm fine, thanks. How are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, whatever. I'm great. How are you, Kabita? Good morning. Now, glasses?"

She studied the papers in front of her a little more intently than necessary. "The doctor says I need them for reading." She shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Now, can we get down to business? What's this about scrying?"

"Alister. Cordy thinks we should try scrying for him. Can you do it?"

"No."

I blinked. That was unexpected. "Excuse me?"

She sighed and leaned in her chair. The leather squeaked in protest. "I'm too close, Morgan. Whatever I may think of him, he is my father."

"So what? You can't scry for family?"

She shook her head. "It's not that exactly. But in this case, there's too much… emotion involved." She meant anger. Betrayal.

"Ah," I said, swinging my foot a little bit harder. "It's 'cause you're pissed as hell at him, right?"

She gave me a wry smile and slid her glasses off. "Something like that. Besides, we would need something personal of my father's in order to scry for his location. I don't have anything like that."

I cleared my throat. "I do," I reminded her.

Her eyes narrowed. "The letter opener?"

"He was playing with it at the pink house while we were talking. It's real silver, too, with his initials engraved on it. Pretty sure that counts as personal."

She sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay. I guess it has to be done. I do know someone who might be able to help you."

I tried to raise one eyebrow, but both went up. Stupid, uncooperative eyebrows. "Someone from your coven?" I knew very well Kabita was a solitary witch. Covens weren't really her thing. Although she would visit one from time to time, she preferred to practice on her own.

"Not mine, a new one. The leader moved to Portland recently. But she's good. Real good. I'll text you her number."

I nodded and started to get up, but her next words stopped me.

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Why do you ask?"

She gave me a look as she slid her glasses back on. "You look tired."

"Gee, thanks," I said. "You really know how to make a girl feel special. I'm fine. Really." But it was a lie, and we both knew it.





"Thanks for picking me up."