by Anne, Meg
“I love you,” she whispered as his mouth opened in a surprised o. “I’m so sorry I tried to leave you.” She kissed him again. “Please don’t give up on me,” she repeated, her voice no more than a broken whisper.
She watched his throat bob as a sliver of moisture collected in his eyes.
“Skye, if you can hear me,” he started, his voice hoarse, “I’m coming for you, baby. Hold on, okay? I’m going to find you, and when I get there, I am going to kill that fucker for what he’s done to you. And then, after we get home, you have some explaining to do, but you’ll do it in our bed, while you’re in my arms, because I won’t let you out of my sight again.”
She sobbed as he spoke, her body shaking with the force of her tears as she held onto him. “You’ve got it, Detective Loomis. Whatever you say. Just get here.”
The light began to fade, and Skye only had a matter of seconds left with him. Not knowing if there’d be another chance, she kissed him again, praying with every fiber of her being that he would feel it and know that she was with him.
That she loved him.
When she opened her eyes, he was gone.
The tears were still wet streaks on her face when she woke up. The Druid had dragged her to some other room, one he obviously spent more time in. There was a cot he’d been sleeping on, if the blankets and pillows were any indication, as well as a desk with a thick tome, runes scrawling across its pages.
The chair, with its ripped vinyl and broken spring, was currently empty, and for that she was grateful. She didn’t think she could muster the courage to fight him right now. Her heart was raw, torn open by the sight of a grieving Lucas.
It was one thing to feel her own heartbreak and have to learn to live with it. It was another thing entirely to witness the full impact of what her absence had done to the man she loved, to know what that kind of devastation looked like. There was no unseeing it. And the knowledge hurt worse than any vision of death she’d ever experienced.
The door swung open with a crash, and Skye jerked upright.
“It would seem we have both misjudged my grandson, Seer.”
To say the Druid was displeased would have been the grossest of understatements. His black eyes had a red glow, and his lips were twisted in a sneer.
“Either he is truly incompetent,” he continued, “or we overestimated his attachment to you.”
She’d Seen the truth for herself, but still, the words stung.
Not waiting for her reply, he stepped toward his desk and began to rifle through the pages. “I know he felt you. He should be drawn to your beacon. What could possibly be keeping him?”
Dragging a finger along one of the pages, the Druid let out a soft “ah” that left Skye trembling. There was entirely too much pleasure in the sound.
“Perhaps he just needs a little more incentive. What do you think, Seer? Should we send my grandson a gift?”
His eyes trailed along her body, and Skye felt like spiders were crawling along the length of her. She began shaking in earnest.
“Let’s start off small. It needs to get his attention, but not completely ruin your charm.” The Druid chuckled. “In the end, it doesn’t really matter. Although, if he finds you too disfigured, he may not think you’re worth saving.”
He reached for her hand, and Skye spit in his face.
He flicked his eyes up to hers, and the look he gave her was so full of menace, she knew she’d just witnessed evil in its purest form.
“When will you learn, Seer?” he crooned, a dagger flashing in his hand.
Where did that come from? Skye pressed herself back, trying to escape him, but it was too late. Her pitiful act of defiance had stripped away the last piece of his sanity. If he’d even had any to begin with.
“N-no,” she whimpered. “Please.”
She’d gotten used to his games, but he’d never looked at her like this. And if he wanted to send Lucas a present, that sounded a lot more permanent than what he’d been doing.
“A little souvenir, I think,” he murmured, dragging the cool blade along her cheek in the most twisted imitation of a caress.
She began babbling, nonsensical words leaving her in a rush.
“Shhh,” the Druid whispered, the dagger lifting up off her skin.
Skye knew better than to hope. There was no escaping this.
When his wrist slashed down, she flinched, but he’d once again used his power to hold her in place. His blade struck true, and sticky warmth trickled down the side of her neck, but she was too numb to do more than stare at the bloodied piece of flesh in his outstretched hand.
Shock took over, protecting her in the only way it could.
Her ear. The bastard had cut off her ear.
“A little token for the both of you. Fitting, really. Maybe now you’ll learn how to listen. Or at the very least, obey.”
The shock began to fade, and Skye let out her first bloodcurdling scream as searing pain tore through her head. With a final sneer, the Druid left her to her horrified screams.
Chapter 10
Lizzie
“Skye, no! Please, don’t leave! Skye!” Lucas jumped out of his chair, spinning in a circle as he searched every inch of the kitchen. “Come back!” he called, frantically checking for the ghost of Skye that haunted him.
Lizzie watched, completely helpless, as her big brother, the one man who had always been braver and more together than anyone else she’d ever known, completely broke down. She hadn’t ever seen him fall apart like this. Not even when their parents died.
Lucas fell back into his chair, head falling into his hands as he began to sob uncontrollably. His entire body shook with the force of his tears. He was muttering something, but the words were unintelligible. Not once in their entire lives had she ever seen him look so fragile.
Clearing her throat and trying unsuccessfully to contain the emotion inside of her, Lizzie rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders in a desperate attempt to comfort him.
“Lucas, what’s wrong?”
It was obvious some of his Druid mojo had allowed him to connect to Skye, but for her part, it just looked like her brother had spent the better part of five minutes talking to a ghost. If he’d been anyone else, she would have assumed he belonged in a psych ward.
“She was here. I felt her, Lizzie.”
“And could you hear her?” she asked hesitantly, not sure which answer she was hoping for.
“No, damn it!”
“Shhh, it’s okay. If she is still strong enough to find a way to connect with you, then it means she’s still alive and fighting.” Lizzie sat down on the small table and faced her brother. “What do you need to find her? If your detective skills aren’t working, what else can we try?”
Lucas’ head shot up, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers with panic that bordered on desperation. “I don’t know? Don’t you think I’ve tried everything already?”
“Unless you’re ready to give up, that means we need to think of something you haven’t tried,” she told him matter-of-factly.
He stared at her helplessly. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You have all this power now, surely there’s some kind of spell that can help you track someone down.”
Lucas shook his head. “We already tried that. Giles and I—”
“You tried that before. Didn’t Giles say that the Druid broke whatever spell was blocking you from finding her? Maybe you just need to try again.”
Hope blossomed in his eyes, and Lucas pushed himself out of his chair. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” he muttered, already walking toward the door. “Giles!” he bellowed.
Lizzie shook her head, as he walked out of the kitchen. “You’re welcome,” she called after him with a sigh.
He might have completely forgotten she was there, but at least he’d stopped crying. That was the kind of win she could feel proud of. It might be a small one in the scheme of things, but right now, her brothe
r had newfound hope and a plan. Two things he desperately needed.
Now, all they could pray for was that he found Skye so they could bring her back home.
James came into the room a few seconds after Lucas disappeared. “Hey, beautiful,” he started, but stopped, his smile faltering as he rushed to her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Lizzie shook her head, not sure she could find the words without completely losing it. She’d managed to help Lucas gain some hope, but her own was disappearing every day that passed leaving them no closer to finding Skye.
“Shhhh, baby,” James murmured in her ear, pulling her against his body.
Lizzie wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, enjoying the warmth and strength of him.
“Lucas felt her,” she finally said, stepping back and wiping her eyes.
James’ brow lifted. “What do you mean felt her?”
Taking a seat, Lizzie shrugged as James sat next to her, gripping her hand. “I’m not sure. One moment, he was sitting here in all his typical frustrated glory, and the next, he was talking to a—”
“To a what?”
“A ghost?”
James paled. “Does that mean she’s dead?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe she connected with him somehow? Found a way to reach him?”
James slumped back in his chair. “I know I’ve said it before, but this is the craziest shit I’ve ever witnessed.”
Lizzie offered a slight smile to the man who managed to make her happy even on the darkest of days. “Same here.”
He kissed the top of her hand. “I tell you, I long for the days of secretly checking you out over the diner counter.”
“Oh?”
James grinned. “I stole a lot of secret glances,” he said with a wink.
“I suppose that makes two of us.” Her smile disappeared as the broken image of her brother came back into her mind. “You should have seen him, James. He looked so…fragile. Like one small gust of wind would make him crumple.”
James instantly sobered. “Babe, the woman he loves is missing; that’s enough to make any strong man fall to his knees. If anything happened to you…I don’t know what I would do.”
Lizzie scooted her chair closer and leaned against his shoulder. James pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and they sat in silence for a few moments before Lizzie got to her feet.
“I guess we’d better go see if we can help.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Lizzie turned, about to grab a fresh cup of coffee to take with her, when she spotted a small box on the counter. “What’s that?” she asked. “It wasn’t there before, was it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
James approached the small box with caution, as if it were a snake about to strike at any moment.
“Then where did it come from?”
“I have no fucking clue.”
Grabbing a wooden spoon from a drawer, he gently tapped the box, before scooting it farther onto the counter. When nothing happened, he set the wooden spoon aside and lifted the lid using his index finger and thumb.
Lizzie shuffled closer to his back, standing on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder and see inside.
“Fucking shit!” he exclaimed, slamming the lid back down.
Harsh buzzing filled her ears, and she swayed back onto her heels. “Oh my God,” Lizzie breathed, covering her mouth with her hands as her brain scrambled to process what she’d just seen hidden within the innocent-looking container.
Stomach rolling, she spun toward the trash can with a horrified yelp.
Chapter 11
Lucas
Lucas flew through the house, heading straight to the study where he’d last seen Giles. The Scot was sitting in the same dark green, high-backed chair in the corner he’d been in earlier, his nose buried in a book.
“I want to try again,” Lucas said, stepping farther into the room.
Giles looked up, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “Want to try what?”
“To track her. I think I’ve been—”
Lucas broke off to search for the words to explain what he’d experienced on the patio. Skye had been there, he knew it. Somehow, she found a way to reach out to him to let him know she was alive. The ball was in his court now, and he’d be damned if he let her down. Finally, he settled on the closest thing to the truth he could think of.
“I’ve been feeling her.”
Giles raised a bushy eyebrow, his eyes owlish behind the golden frames. “Feeling her?”
Lucas ran his hands through his hair and down his face. Shit, I sound crazy. “I don’t know how else to explain it, but she was here, Giles. I know it.”
The older man’s brows knitted together. “Could it have been the Druid reaching out to ye?”
Lucas thought of the brush of air against his cheeks and lips that reminded him so much of tender kisses, and the tingle on his scalp that always accompanied Skye’s fingers running through his hair. The Druid was a determined bastard, but Lucas very much doubted even he would go that far. His forms of torture were more sadistic than emotional.
After a beat, Lucas shook his head decisively. “No way it was him. It was definitely Skye, Giles.”
Giles studied him for a moment, his moss-green eyes giving nothing away. After the silence stretched into uncomfortable territory, he shut the book gently and set it on the table beside him. “Very well, let’s give this a try.”
The older man got to his feet and stretched his back, the series of accompanying cracks and pops testament to the fact that he had been sitting in the same spot for most of the afternoon.
“I’ve been searching through the book, looking for a tracking rune—”
“And?” Lucas interjected impatiently.
Giles raised a brow. “But I haven’t had any luck so far. We’ll have to do this just like before. Ye ready?”
“Yes.”
Lucas shook out his hands and rolled his neck a few times, trying to force his body to relax. He was running on pure adrenaline, and calming his mind enough to focus on the task at hand was a trial in and of itself. After a few deep breaths, Lucas closed his eyes and focused on his favorite memories of Skye. He imagined running his hands through the silky strands of her dark hair while she slept beside him, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, the impish way her nose crinkled when she called him Detective. He focused as hard as he could on the love between them.
There had to be some power in that.
Minutes ticked by painfully slowly as nothing but the images he created filled his mind. His hands clenched as impatience spread through his body, each muscle tensing with an overwhelming sense of frustration. He opened his mouth to complain—
Pain exploded in his head near his right ear, then shot down his body, sending agony through each limb, into each digit. Lucas gasped, lights exploding behind his eyes at the intensity of the fire raging within his body. He nearly opened his eyes, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted, so he concentrated harder, letting the pain envelope him.
“I think it’s working,” he ground out.
“Good, focus on that feeling. Try to see her, Lucas,” Giles told him softly. “What is the source of her pain?”
“It’s all over…I can’t pinpoint a single spot.” He clamped his teeth together, the throbbing ache so powerful it nearly fractured his focus.
As he continued to breathe through the pain, an image began to take shape. It was Skye, lying on the ground, her body shaking as she cried.
“Skye?” he whispered, moving toward her.
She didn’t hear him, but he drank in every inch of her. Lucas’ body began to tremble as he took stock of her injuries. Based on what he could see, she’d been beaten—repeatedly. She was bruised and broken, but at least she was alive. Her once white shirt had been nearly shredded and was covered in dried blood.
“Baby, what has he done to you?” Agony laced Lucas’ words, and fresh tears splashed his c
heeks. “Where are you, Skye?”
Lucas looked for anything that might show him her location, but the room was nearly dark and mostly empty with the exception of a cot, small desk, and an old chair. He turned around slowly, and his lip curled. Behind him was a window made with what looked like one-way interrogation glass.
Stepping toward it, he tried to peer out, but just as he got close enough to maybe see what was outside, a scream radiated through him, and he was pulled from the vision.
“Fuck!” Lucas shouted, beyond frustrated to lose his connection to Skye. “What the hell is going on?”
He looked to Giles for an answer, but the man was staring past him into the hall.
“MacConnell!” Matthews yelled. “You need to come see this! Now!”
“What is it?” Lucas called back, torn between trying again and seeing what the commotion was about.
“Now, damn it!” Matthews growled.
Decision made for him, Lucas and Giles raced down the hall toward the kitchen, rounding the corner as Lizzie heaved violently into the trash can. Lucas lunged toward his sister, but Giles stopped him.
“I’ve got her, go.”
Lucas turned to Matthews, fully taking in his partner for the first time since entering the room. He stood, hands on his hips, looking like he was seconds away from joining Lizzie. His face was beet red and twisted in a mixture of agony and rage.
Panic sent Lucas’ heart stuttering within his chest. “What is it?”
Matthews pointed to a small box on the counter. Lucas stared at it in confusion. How could a tiny box cause such extreme reactions?
The box was small—maybe large enough to fit a softball inside—and was made of dark mahogany. It was old, scratched, and looked completely harmless, but Lucas knew better. Nothing good could be in there. The real question was: how bad was it?
Swallowing hard, Lucas stepped forward.
Lifting the box carefully, Lucas removed the lid. The tremor in his hand intensified and all coherent thought fled his mind. He stumbled, the lid falling from his hand as he reached for the counter to help keep himself upright. He gagged on a wave of nausea, nearly losing the contents of his stomach right there.
