“Someone was murdered. In a dressing room.” I look up to meet their eyes, fear and exhaustion washing over me. “I felt it. Like someone was there. It’s like an alarm went off in my head and I got us out of there.”
“Us?” Chris asks, distributing mugs.
“Me and Morgan. We were shopping in this store and then I felt it. I don’t know what it was, but I just got this feeling that something was about to happen. I told her we should leave. Once we were away, and I didn’t feel it anymore, we heard screaming and people were running everywhere.” I turn to Chris. “She doesn’t know, by the way. She shared what she knows about her family, and she doesn’t know what’s inside of her.”
Chris nods, understanding what I mean. My best friend isn’t an immediate threat. “How did the girl die?”
“They said it looked like her throat was ripped out. I heard it was gruesome,” I cringe.
“Oh no!” Donna gasps, shakily pouring tea into each of our mugs.
“Someone was there for me. I know it! And Morgan could have been hurt!” Now it’s my turn to freak out.
“But they couldn’t track you. That’s a good thing. Must’ve been someone else there that you either came in contact with or had a little something in them already.” Chris takes a sip of his tea.
“So what are you saying? That they are tracking people’s powers? Or that they can pick up my scent if I touch them or something?”
“Yes, dear,” Donna chimes in. “That’s why the herbs are so important! You need to have them twice a day now. The smoothie in the morning and tea at night,” she says pointing to my mug. I take a small sip in response and nod. She gets up from the table and pulls a small plastic container from the cabinet. “Here. Take this with you on your trip, if you still feel the need to go. I really wish you wouldn’t. But if you insist, make sure you consume these twice a day. No exceptions.”
“Yes, Mom.” Combining it with hot water and drinking it as a tea should be easy enough to handle.
“Look, I’m exhausted. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine this weekend. The worst thing I could do is start acting strange and draw attention to myself. I’ll be safe, I swear. We’ll talk later, ok.”
Fatigue suddenly has hit me and I chalk it up to the trauma at the mall and my contact with Paul. Once my skin touched his, he was instantly soothed and cooperative. I’m reminded of the time Dorian helped me after my meltdown outside the Italian restaurant. He was so drained and visibly rundown, it was as if the process aged him. Could I be experiencing the same thing?
After a quick shower to wash away the day’s horror, I lie in bed, trying to piece together a reasonable explanation for the senseless murders. Someone obviously knows who I am. I’ve received messages, demanding that I pledge my allegiance to the Dark. So why is someone brutally murdering random women? Why not come straight to me and finish the job quietly? Why draw so much attention from the police and FBI, and risk exposing themselves? It just doesn’t add up. Even Dorian said that he thought it was someone ignorant, someone that didn’t realize what he was getting himself into.
The only logical explanation would be that there is more than one Warlock after me. One trying to intimidate me into ascending into the Dark, the other trying to silence me altogether.
Chapter Twenty Six
Honk! Honk!
“Come on, Bitch, let’s go!”
There should be a rule against calling someone a bitch so early in the day. But try telling Morgan that. The only thing worse than Whiney Morgan is Excited Morgan and right now, Excited Morgan is in full swing. I shake my head at her sitting in the passenger seat of our rented van, clad in a fur vest and dark oversized shades. Miguel is in the driver’s seat and he jumps out to help stow my suitcase in the trunk as I approach. Usually it would have been Jared helping me but I discover that he’s a bit occupied in the backseat when I climb into the 9-passenger van.
“Oh hey, Gabs,” he says pensively as I take my seat next to James.
I look back and flash a lukewarm smile. “Hey Jared. Aurora.” Ugh. This is so not how I pictured our ride up to Breckenridge. Thank God it’s only a few hours.
“Hello, Gabriella. Oh, I just love your sweater. It’s so cute!” Aurora says with artificial kindness. I just want to punch her in her perfect little pink pout.
I look down at my V-neck black sweater and shrug. “Thanks,” I mutter, sliding on my own sunglasses and sitting back in my seat. This is going to be a long ride.
“Ok, ladies and gents! Our badass weekend getaway has officially begun!” Miguel announces, pulling away from the curb. The car erupts into cheers and applause.