Stolen Sight (AIR Book 3)

by Amanda Booloodian

"You don't have to follow me," I said.

  "That's funny. I think the others might disagree."

  That made me crack a smile. "They might at that."

  "Pretend they're here now. What would your partners want me to know while following you around?"

  "Make sure I don't get lost?" I suggested. "And make sure I don't wander into the street and get hit by a car or something."

  "I can manage that," Ethan said.

  We walked without talking for a while. Ethan was especially wary when we approached a busy intersection, worried that I might actually walk out in front of a car.

  Ethan took a phone call. My inclination was to snoop and listen in, but this time I didn't pay much attention, staying intent on the Path. The call was followed by giving instructions through his radio.

  When we entered a park, the hustle and bustle of the busy campus and surrounding streets faded away. The Path itself was lighter, and I felt some tension fall away.

  "If I talk, will it distract you?" Ethan asked.

  I shrugged. "That probably depends on what you say."

  He seemed to mull that over. "Fair enough."

  When he was quiet again, my curiosity became piqued. "What did you want to talk about?"

  Being deep in the Path, I could not only sense his anxiety, but also see and feel it fill the area.

  "I wanted to apologize for last night."

  I slowed and my grip on the Path wavered. "Oh." It was lame, but I couldn't think of anything to say.

  "But then I figured it wasn't the best time," Ethan said. "Maybe we can talk later?"

  "Um, yeah, maybe later." I picked up speed again while trying to drive thoughts of my personal life out of my mind.

  "Cassie." Hank's voice seemed farther away, but I'm sure the comms was still in my ear. "Logan's pulling back. Are you at the sorority house?"

  I started to talk, but then remembered the comms was muted. "No, I'll be a little while."

  "I'll relay the message." Hank didn't sound happy about it.

  "The others are meeting back at the house," I said.

  "Should we do the same?" Ethan asked.

  I shook my head. A part of me knew I could help if I followed a bit farther. Another part was telling me that was stupid and I had already done too much.

  Looking ahead, I tried to see how far the Path ran, but there appeared to be no end. Knowing I had to walk away made me feel worse than the pains that were radiating through my body. Still, I knew it had to be done.

  From experience, I knew that with the dense black cloud of Path beside me, I wouldn’t be able to stop reading. I tried anyway, but I didn't expend too much effort.

  "We need to move away from this Path." I peered closely at it one last time, watching the brilliant, waving strands of color, then turned my back to it and walked away.

  Ethan stuck beside me. He was quiet, but I could tell he was watching me carefully. I didn't know what he was looking for. Maybe he thought I was going to grow another head or something.

  When we reached a bench, I sat down to hide the fact that I was becoming unsteady on my feet. Hopefully I was far enough away.

  "The Path goes that way," I told Ethan, "but I don't see an end to it. I can't tell where he stopped or went."

  "Got it," Ethan said. "That's more than what we knew before."

  Nodding, I closed my eyes and thrust the Path away. The moment it was gone, my pain rammed home, back in full force, and I could feel myself sway. Gripping the bench stopped the swaying part.

  "How far away from the house are we?" I asked.

  "I'd say about a mile. Maybe a bit more."

  "Lovely," I muttered.

  "Should we go back?"

  "We should," the next part was like pulling teeth for me to admit, "but I need a few minutes."

  Ethan got another call. He answered, but then walked away to talk.

  Leaning my head back, I stared at the sky for a while. Puffy white clouds shifted across the blue backdrop. It was calming to watch. Ethan was still talking, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on feeling the warmth of the sun across my skin.

  It was a beautiful day, but I was covered in bruises and sore as hell. You can only drive that kind of thing aside for so long.

  I couldn't open the Path when I needed it, and couldn't follow it as long as I needed to. The stronger the flow, the faster my energy drained away. Coffee helped, usually. Maybe I should start carrying around caffeine pills or energy drinks.

  Then again, what would happen if I kept taking them and then kept going? Not being able to do my job was one thing. Killing myself while trying to do my job didn't sound like the smartest way to move forward.

  "Logan wants to know if you're still reading," Ethan said.

  Being lost in thought, I hadn’t heard Ethan come back. I also hadn't heard the comms.

  "I'm not. Do you mind letting him know where we stopped and which direction Einar left the park?" I plucked the small piece of plastic from my ear and examined it before turning it off and stowing it away.

  "No problem."

  I yawned and started to stretch, which turned into a wince and a groan. Carefully, I laid my head on the back of the bench and closed my eyes again. I was feeling steadier, but I wasn't ready to start moving around yet.

  Ethan settled down on the bench beside me. "You didn't tell me you could die from what you do."

  I didn't open my eyes and tried to let the remarks flow over me without getting frustrated. "I'm an agent, you're a lieutenant. We could both die from what we do. For that matter, so could anyone on the street."

  "Fair point," Ethan said after a while. "They should be wrapping things up at the house soon. You all have a forensics unit on the scene already. Another house is taking in the residents overnight."

  "And from the scene this morning?"

  "Logan and Vincent are going to the morgue."

  My brow furrowed and I lifted my head. "Did he say where Rider was?"

  "Bringing us your car."

  "Thanks for that. And sorry, I should have called him. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be working with your guys, not following me around."

  "I went where I was needed. Logan seemed to approve anyway."

  "They all would," I muttered.

  "Besides, my side of things is a little...less complicated."

  "You can catch up with Logan if you need to," I said, stifling another yawn. "I'll meet up with Rider and work with him."

  "I'm on strict orders to take you home."

  I raised an eyebrow, but I was too tired to feel any real frustration. "Did Logan give you an order? You don't have to listen to him, especially not if it gets in the way of the case."

  "Technically, Logan made a suggestion. It was one that I happen to agree with, though."

  "So you ordered yourself?"

  Ethan nodded. "Orders that I intend on following."

  I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm fine. Just tired. We can go back and help out."

  A horn honked. Rider was at the edge of the park, waiting for us. Being incredibly stiff made standing an ordeal, and after a few steps, I was grateful that we didn't have to walk back to the house.

  Ethan opened the door for me and I slid in without comment. Rider's nose curled as Ethan slid into the back seat.

  "You are bleeding."

  "Still?" I asked, feeling aggravated by my body's limitations.

  Rider leaned over and helped me tug off the jacket Ethan had given me. My scrapes burned in the places the where the fabric had to be peeled off the skin.

  "I think I ruined your jacket," I said as Rider lifted and turned my arms until he found the spot he was looking for.

  "Don't worry about the jacket," Ethan said, leaning forward in the seat.

  "It has slowed," Rider said. "Are you injured elsewhere?"

  "Bruises and scrapes," I said.

  "Your bruises have their own bruises now. Have your muscles healed?" Rider asked.

  "Those take longer
. I'll re-wrap them when I get home," I said.

  Rider swerved in and out of traffic and I felt Ethan grip the back of my seat.

  "We need a plan to fight Einar," Rider said.

  "Yeah, we really do," I said.

  "Vincent has volunteered—"

  "No." I put all my resolve into the response. There were two options for Vincent, take Einar's soul, or take him between the worlds, and I didn't want Vincent to do either of those things.

  "I agree," Rider said. "He has not gone back to his old work since he came to this office. That should continue. We will meet and come up with another plan."

  "That sounds good," I said.

  Rider parked in front of the sorority house, but didn't get out of the car. "I am working here with the clean-up crew. Ethan is driving you home?"

  "I could drive—"

  "Yes," Ethan said over me.

  Rider looked in the rear view mirror at Ethan and then back to me. "I have not spent much time with Ethan. Do you trust him to help with your injuries?"

  "I know first aid," Ethan said. "It comes with the job."

  Rider pretended not to hear, but continued to look at me until I answered.

  I patted Rider's hand. "I trust him."

  Rider didn't look completely satisfied, but he nodded and got out of the car. Ethan followed suit and came around to the driver's side. There was a brief exchange of words between the two before Rider moved back and Ethan got behind the wheel.

  Ethan looked a little pale and he watched Rider in the rearview mirror as we drove away.

  We were a block away before Ethan said anything. "So, werewolf, huh."

  "Yep." I looked out the window to hide my grin.

  "I don't think he trusts me."

  "He doesn't know you."

  “You two seem to care for each other. A lot.”

  "Of course. He's my best friend."

  "He takes his friendship seriously."

  "You could say that. We both do."

  "How did you become such good friends?"

  I had to think about that for a minute. About where the friendship actually started to form.

  "I shot him," I said finally. "That's where it had all started anyway."

  "You what? Why did you shoot him? How did that make you all friends?"

  I wondered if Ethan was going to get pushed too far again. He had walked away last night when I had answered his questions.

  In the end, I decided I wasn't going to tip-toe around in my own life. "He was going to kill me. Actually, I think he wanted to eat me, but I'm not sure if he was serious."

  Ethan started to say something and then stopped. The rest of the drive to my house was made in silence. At some point, I must have dozed off because I missed a great deal of the ride.

  Yawning, I hauled myself out of the car and into the house, straight to the coffee pot. Unfortunately, we had left the house in a hurry, so I had to clean out the current pot before I could start another. Once the coffee was brewing, I turned to find Ethan leaning against the kitchen entry, watching me.

  "You don't have to stick around," I said. "You can take my car and ask one of the others to bring it back."

  "Actually, I was hoping we could talk."

  Chapter 19

  If Ethan had started speaking in tongues, I'm not sure my look would have been any different.

  "Not right this minute," he assured me.

  Waiting for the coffee wasn't an option, so I grabbed the pot while it was still brewing and poured a quick cup.

  "Help yourself to anything," I said, knowing full well that Gran would be shocked by my poor manners. Still, I felt grungy. "I'm going to get cleaned up."

  I wasn’t at my best today. Hell, the last few days were varying levels of depressing. Taking time to contemplate what I wanted, I didn’t rush through my shower and I inspected my bruises and scrapes. There was a lot to contemplate. My job, my social life, my on-again, off-again powers as a Reader, and not the least of which, the fact that someone seemed intent on killing me.

  Again.

  Looking in the mirror and seeing bruises marring my skin everywhere didn't help my mood. After running a brush through my hair, I threw on some loose-fitting clothes and then went downstairs. Ethan was waiting for me in the kitchen.

  "I hope you don't mind," he said, gesturing to the table, "but I rummaged around your bathroom for supplies."

  Strewn across the table were different sizes of adhesive bandages, alcohol, peroxide, and a giant bag of cotton balls. He had enough stuff to disinfect a small platoon of goblins.

  "Thank you for helping out," I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  "Consider it self-preservation at this point." He grinned at me and winked. "Oh, you received a package while you were upstairs."

  I looked around and didn't see anything.

  "I left it at the front door. Let's start with your arm."

  He had a careful hand, but I hated him seeing all the bruises and scrapes. It made me feel distinctly not pretty. It wouldn’t be so bad if I had been capable of taking down the bad guy, but alas, that was not the case.

  "You've had a busy few days," Ethan said, moving to the other arm. "Or are things always like this?"

  "Only when someone's trying to kill me."

  Ethan looked up at me, startled.

  "In other words, it's not often like this," I said.

  Ethan nodded, but when he spoke again his voice was softer and slower. "When you were on your last big case in the city, things got bad there, too."

  Memories flickered through my mind. The basement. Being tied up. Pain.

  My breath was shaky and my veins started to fill with ice. "What do you mean?"

  Ethan rubbed my arm with one hand before moving to the next scrape. "Rider mentioned..." He didn't look me in the eye.

  "What?"

  "When you got back into town, he said things got bad. That you were hurt. He wanted me to keep an eye on you."

  I shook my head trying to dislodge thoughts that rose up and threatened to overtake me. One disaster at a time. That was all in the past.

  "Rider gets worked up over little things," I said.

  Ethan didn't say anything.

  "Trust me; it's not every day that this stuff happens. Most of the time I'm doing house calls and checking in with people. I told you before; I usually don't even carry a gun."

  Ethan nodded, but still didn't look directly at me.

  "Would it be an issue if it was like this often?" I kept my voice level because I was curious about how he felt about my job. Then I realized that this was the exact opposite of giving him time. “Not that you have to answer that. I’m not trying to…” I tried to get my brain to catch up with my mouth and it wasn’t working.

  Ethan ignored my babbling. "It would take some adjustments."

  That sounded promising at least. Now, I needed to figure out exactly what I wanted here.

  I winced when Ethan put alcohol on a particularly nasty gash. He leaned forward and blew on it to take the sting away.

  "Did you learn that in training?" I asked, letting a smile escape.

  "Sure. The guys really appreciate it when I do that." Ethan chuckled. "No, that I learned from my mother."

  "Get into a lot of scraps when you were a kid?" I asked.

  "A fair few. How about you? I picture you as hell on wheels. Hanging with the guys and giving your mother fits."

  I laughed. "Maybe a few small incidents, but I didn't give Mom fits until I quit my job as an accountant and started to work for AIR."

  "She doesn't approve?"

  "Not exactly. She'd rather I forget about what I can do, and get a job where she works. After Zander, I started in that direction, but it wasn't for me. I didn't even last a full year at my firm before AIR recruited me."

  "Zander's the guy from last night."

  "Has it really only been one night?" The thought made me tired.

  "It was a long night," Ethan said. He sounded dej
ected, which started to fill me with tension.

  "Yeah," I agreed. "A long night. Followed by a long day."

  "Turn around and lift up your shirt."

  "Uh...what?"

  He started to turn red. "Your back. You slid down the roof on your back, I wanted to check..."

  "Oh, right." I turned and lifted up the back of my shirt.

  Ethan's fingers felt cool as he traced a few lines onto my back. "Rider wasn't wrong. Your bruises have bruises."

  I twitched away and let my shirt drop. "It's fine. They'll fade away soon enough."

  "Yeah. I guess they will."

  This wasn't improving the atmosphere.

  "Let's get your arms wrapped," Ethan said.

  "I'll get it." I was getting self-conscious of Ethan seeing my injuries.

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Self-preservation." He snatched up a long wrap and started to wind it tightly around my aching muscles. He worked for a while, looking very intent on the process.

  Then he waded into the deeper waters, ones I was hoping to avoid. "I need to apologize for last night."

  "I understand," I lied.

  "I shouldn't have left the way I did."

  "I'm sure it was a lot to take in all at once."

  Ethan cleared his throat. "As soon as I drove away, I knew it was a mistake."

  Since I agreed, I didn't say anything. He picked up the second wrap and moved to the other arm.

  "I seem to be tripping myself up where you're concerned,” Ethan said.

  "I'm not always the easiest person to get along with."

  A ghost of a smile flickered across Ethan's face. "You're plenty easy to get along with. I'm just a little on the slow side and having a hard time catching up."

  "You kept up pretty well today."

  Ethan let out a grim laugh. "When I saw you fly out the window, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. And I barely recognized Logan. And with Vincent...well, I'm not even sure what happened there."

  I nodded sadly at his description and became uneasy.

  "I'm betting I've seen more unreal things in the past few days than most people do in a lifetime."

  "You're not wrong," I said, trying to keep the looming stress out of my voice.

  Ethan finished the arm and tentatively took my hand. "I really want to say that I won't fall over myself when...I don't know…when a fairy jumps out at me or something. But I'd be lying if I said that."