by Kelly Meding
“Perhaps. But is that what you want, Evy?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
He blinked rapidly, as if my question surprised him. “Because I’ve seen your heart. You show it every day in the way you fight to protect those you care about. You have so much love hiding inside of you. Please don’t deny yourself the chance to share it.”
Those damned tears were back, choking me. I fought them, unwilling to cry. There was too much to do and no time for an emotional breakdown. Still, I couldn’t let it go. “And what happens when I die again and break Wyatt’s heart for the third time?”
“No one can predict the future, Evy, not even the wisest of mages. Lovers die and hearts break. Losing my wife was the worst agony I have ever endured, but even knowing our short time together, I’d gladly suffer it again. Because now, with time between us, I can think of her and remember the joy.”
He pulled his hands from his pockets and cupped my cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed away a stray tear. The warm touch and sweet gesture undid me. I flung my arms around his shoulders and held on. Emotions churned and burned in my chest, but I couldn’t force out that first sob. The dam wouldn’t break.
Phin held me close, solid muscle beneath skin as soft as air. His heart beat nearly twice as fast as mine—its natural pace. He had so many reasons to hate me. Over three hundred, to be perfectly frank. And yet he didn’t. It would be easier to hate myself if he wasn’t so forgiving of my worst sins.
I pressed my cheek to his shoulder and just held on, waiting for the world to stop spinning out of control. Allowing my emotions time to right themselves once more, so I could step outside the infirmary and do my job. The night was far from over. Depending on what we got from Felix, it may have only just begun.
“Please, Evangeline,” he whispered. “Please don’t harden your heart before you’ve allowed it to truly love.”
The dam began to crack. And then the sound of an old-fashioned bell ringing filled the room. I pulled away, confused, until Phin pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. His expression sharpened.
“Emergency page,” he said. “Come on.”
Operations was in a state of minor chaos when we arrived. Created from the skeletons of three different stores, the combined space was full of computer workstations, whiteboards, a map of the city, and a few cubicles. Half a dozen volunteers were always on duty, manning the computers and an intricate switchboard setup that connected more than a hundred different cell phones to one another on a private network. It often reminded me of a police station bull pen, where all the major activity occurred. Just like now.
At least thirty people—human, Therian, and vampire—were in Operations. It was the busiest I’d ever seen it, and that simple fact settled a cold knot right into the middle of my already upset stomach.
Astrid, Marcus, and Wyatt were hunched over a desk, listening to the same phone conversation. Adrian Baylor and Kismet were at one of the computers. Kyle had taken over a chair near the partitioned conference area, phone clutched in his hand; he looked absolutely panicked. Milo, Tybalt, and Quince all showed signs of distress. As if sensing our arrival, Astrid spun around, her copper eyes flashing with fury.
“What’s going on?” Phin asked.
“We have disappearances,” she replied. “Civilian and actives, all within the last two hours.”
Internal alarms clanged in my head. Attention was shifting in our direction.
Phin marched right into her personal space. “Who’s missing?”
“Lynn Neil. She isn’t answering her phone, and a neighbor says the front door of the apartment is ajar. Sharpe’s squad is closest. They’re checking it out.”
Shit. Lynn was Felia and had been connected to me before we ever actually met. She and her then-boyfriend Kiefer had lived together in an apartment that Wyatt and I had once used as a hiding place during the first day of my resurrection. A few days later, Kiefer threw in with another were-cat named Belle, defied the Assembly, and helped kidnap Joseph and a still-pregnant Aurora from my Parkside East apartment. I’d stabbed Kiefer with a nail file and then Leo Forrester shot him to death.
Lynn hadn’t known about her boyfriend’s extracurricular activities, and I was unclear on how she and Kyle ended up together. Theirs was the only mixed-Clan relationship I knew about, and I doubted everyone approved. But I met Lynn once, and she was the very definition of sweet—even after I told her I’d borrowed and ruined some of her clothes.
I glanced at Kyle; he had to be a wreck inside.
“Michael and Dawn Jenner,” Astrid continued. “One of them hit a panic button seven minutes ago. The nearest squad just reported their house has been broken into and both are missing.”
Double shit. Michael Jenner was the voice of the Assembly of Clan Elders, and he often did their business for them. He’d proved a valuable ally and had helped save my life once. Even gave me a place to stay while I healed from injuries obtained during a factory explosion. Wait—
“Dawn?” I asked.
“His daughter,” Phin replied. “Equi children live with their mothers. Why was she—?”
“Probably visiting,” Astrid said. “She just reached the age of maturity and is free to travel as she likes.”
Equi shifted into various wild horses, zebras, donkeys, and tarpans, but I didn’t know enough about this particular Clan to understand the intricacies of who raised the kids. At the moment, it didn’t matter.
“Leah is also missing,” Marcus said, his deep voice dripping with anger.
“Seriously?” I said. “Does Jackson know?”
“Not yet.”
A member of the Ursia Clan, Leah de Loew was one of the founding members of the Watchtower, as well as a good friend of both Astrid and Marcus. She led one of the squads, and her mate, Jackson, was a member of another. Given the fact that Leah shifted into a three-hundred-pound black bear, whoever took her didn’t do it randomly.
“Someone is kidnapping Therians?” Phin asked.
Astrid nodded, her expression pensive. “All Therians connected to the Watch in some manner.”
Phin paled. “Aurora and Joseph?”
“I called the house. No one answered, so I sent out a squad.”
He turned and bolted out of Operations faster than I’d ever seen him move. I didn’t wait for permission—I simply followed him, tamping down my own growing sense of dread. Aurora, her daughter Ava, and Joseph were the only surviving members of Phin’s Clan. They lived in a small country house twenty miles outside the city and stayed far away from Clan politics. I had been named Ava’s Aluli—the Therian equivalent of a godmother—and although I’d seen the rapidly growing child only twice since her birth, she meant a great deal to me.
And she meant even more to Phin, which was why I was chasing him down the mall corridor in my bare feet, well aware of people staring at us.
“Phineas, wait!” I mustered a burst of speed and caught up to him in the parking area. He’d stripped off his shirt, and he stopped to unbuckle his belt. “Phin—”
“I can fly the distance faster than anyone can drive,” he said, his voice as cold as I’d ever heard it.
“Take me with you.”
“Evy—”
“Ava is my goddaughter, Phin, and if anyone is still there you’ll need backup.”
He seemed poised to argue. Instead, brown and white mottled wings unfolded from his back, stretching to an impressive width. “All right.”
The moon was out, its accompanying stars hidden behind a haze of light pollution. Flying out of the city like this wasn’t as dangerous in the middle of the night, but we would still be open targets the entire way—and neither of us cared. All that mattered was getting to our destination.
I crossed my arms just below my breasts in a familiar position we’d used several times in the past. Phin pressed against me from behind, his chest to my back, and looped his arms around my waist, jus
t under mine. And then up we went in a rush of air, his powerful wings lifting us into the sky.
The city passed in a blur of lights, and then metal gave way to greenery as the forested mountains rose up around us. The air cooled a bit and reminded me I was still in my rave getup and still barefoot. Our hasty departure hadn’t left much time for finding shoes or strapping on extra weapons—two things I regretted. But my regret didn’t overshadow my fear.
Fear that we were already too damned late.
We didn’t talk. Phin flew too fast, and my extra weight had him working twice as hard. His perspiration dampened the back of my tank top, despite the constant whir of wind around us. His arms had developed a very faint tremor. He’d once flown me like this for a mile and a half, but never for twenty.
A seed of guilt burrowed into my guts. I was slowing him down, using up his strength, because I hadn’t wanted to be left behind. But it was more than just needing to be there to protect Ava. Phin and I were so much alike when people we loved were in danger—we both proceeded with a very narrow focus, danger be damned. Nothing put Phin’s blinders on faster than his family. If they had been taken, I couldn’t allow him to lose control.
The excuse made me feel a little better about my decision to go with him, but it didn’t erase the fear that he’d arrive too tired to defend himself.
The occasional light peeked out from the trees below us, and Phin altered his direction slightly until we were following a mountain road. He descended rapidly, and I clutched at his wrist, half-afraid we were actually falling. Then he beat his wings hard and we slowed. Down through trees and into unexpected darkness.
It was the least graceful landing ever. He was exhausted and breathing hard, and he stumbled as his feet hit the driveway. We both pitched ass over teakettle into the dirt. Phin twisted around at the last moment and took the brunt of the fall.
His arms loosened, and I rolled off his chest, giving him as much room as possible. He hadn’t pulled his wings back in whatever way he does when he bi-shifts (a gift only a few of the Clans possessed), and I realized I was kneeling on one. I scrambled away on my knees, about to apologize.
“Go,” he said, flapping one hand at me even as he gasped for air. “I’ll be right there.”
I didn’t argue, just squashed down that seed of guilt, rolled to my feet, and ran toward the house.
It was a two-story log cabin style, with a wide front porch and lots of windows. It was also completely dark, not a single light on in the house or the yard. The moon provided a bit of illumination, but I didn’t have super sight or even very good night vision. I grabbed a large, smooth stone out of the row lining the flower beds, and then crept up onto the porch.
My heart thundered in my chest, so loud in my ears that I swore anyone within a hundred feet could hear it. Boards creaked beneath my feet. The front door was ajar. I inched closer. Toed it open a bit farther.
A brown blur flew in past me—Phin in osprey form. Dammit.
I busted in behind him, one hand holding the rock back and ready to swing, and the other reaching for a light switch I knew was there somewhere. The house was nearly silent, save the whispery sounds of flapping wings. Phineas was usually the epitome of caution. The fact that he’d barreled inside like this spoke volumes about his state of mind.
My questing fingers finally found the damned switch. A table lamp blazed to life, casting a yellow glow on the cozy front room. A rocking chair was knocked onto its side, and several books were scattered around on the floor as though shoved there. Nothing else seemed out of place.
The downstairs held the living room, kitchen, and a bathroom, and I checked them quickly. Then I hit the stairs, taking them two at a time, confident that if anyone was lurking upstairs to attack, Phin would have let me know. The second floor was basically a short hallway with four open doors. I went into the first on the left—Ava’s room—and froze.
It was a mess. The crib lay on its side, bedding and stuffed toys scattered about. A framed picture of a dancing princess had fallen, and its glass littered the pale yellow carpet. A curtain was ripped off the rod. Toys spilled out of an upset basket. Aurora had been so proud of this room …
“Phin?” I said.
“Here.”
I followed the sound across the hall to Joseph’s room. Phin had shifted back and stood stark naked in the middle of the bedroom, staring down at the floor. The bandage was gone, and his cut from the rave fight had healed a bit; it was still red and puffy, but no longer bleeding. I couldn’t tell if anything in the room had been disturbed, because it looked like a monk’s cell—single bed, single piece of framed art, a few books on a side table, nothing else.
“They’re gone,” Phin said. The utter heartbreak in his voice chilled me. He turned his head to look at me, devastated blue eyes glittering in the semidark.
Furious tears stung my eyes. As I approached, my nose told me what he’d been staring at on the floor before I made out the stain. I squatted. Touched it. Cool, but still damp. “We didn’t miss them by much,” I said. “Blood’s fresh. Not Halfie blood.” I hadn’t even realized Halfies were my top suspects for this until I said it.
It made a horrific kind of sense, and Felix had been the perfect distraction.
“It’s Therian,” Phin said.
“You can smell that?”
“Yes. Our blood is … earthier.”
I touched his shoulder. “We’ll find them, Phin. I swear to you, we’ll find them. Alive.”
He met my gaze. Blinked. A single tear tracked down his cheek. His wings were back—another mark of his absolute fury. “Ava is the future of our race. I will kill whoever took them.”
“And I’ll help you.”
Chapter Four
12:55 A.M.
Eleri’s squad showed up ten minutes later. A vampire ally from before the Watch’s inception, Eleri was one of the few vampires I trusted with my unprotected back. Her squad was an interesting mix of ex-Handler Conrad Morgan, ex-Hunter Paul Ryan, a Cania named Crow, and a Felia named Sanchez Drake. With the squad was a Gifted human named Brett Lewis. Never officially a Hunter, Brett was often brought in to do freelance work for the Triads and had, likewise, been recruited into the Watch as a floater—not assigned to any single squad.
Like Wyatt and me, Brett had a tap to the Break, and his particular ability was a kind of telepathy called post-cognition. He could sense recent events in a particular area, usually as a series of images and flashes, especially if high levels of emotion were involved.
I was damned glad to see him.
Phin offered clipped answers to Eleri’s questions while observing Brett, who had squatted next to the overturned books in the living room. Brett closed his eyes. I felt the snap-pop of his tap as he accessed the magic of the Break. Lately my ability to sense when others were using their Gifts had increased—a development no other Gifted could explain.
Just one more quirk of being me.
“A woman with curly hair was asleep here,” Brett said. “A noise startled her. A red feather. She fell, knocked over the books.” He was silent for several long seconds, then stood up. “That’s all I sense here.”
“A red feather could be a tranquilizer dart,” Eleri said. “I imagine that sedation is the only method by which so many Therians were captured so quickly.”
“You’re probably right,” Phin said.
“Where else?” Brett asked.
Phin led the way upstairs to Ava’s room. Brett was quiet for a long while as he examined the room, touching toys and the crib. He shook his head.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
He quirked an eyebrow at me, the message clear—was I an idiot for questioning him? “Yes. The child was probably asleep and didn’t feel anything.”
“But the room’s a mess.”
“Probably for show. To freak you out, which it’s obviously doing.”
Okay, so I was starting to really hate this guy. Even if
he did have a good point. The sight of this room had horrified me, and I couldn’t stop imagining the dreadful things that might have happened to Ava. It made the entire kidnapping that much more personal.
“Across the hall,” Phin said. “There’s blood in that room.”
Brett nodded. We followed him out. He took two steps into Joseph’s room and stopped. Gazed around. He shivered—nearly imperceptibly, but perfectly timed with a slight Break snap-pop sensation. Two more steps, closer to the bloodstain. He angled slightly, giving me a view of his partial profile, and closed his eyes.
“An elderly man wakes. He seems startled. Concerned. He moves”—Brett’s eyebrows arched—“very quickly out of bed. A red feather hits the pillow. He’s fighting someone smaller, younger. He’s struck. Falls. There.” He pointed straight at the stain.
“Who’s fighting him?” Phin asks.
“They’re unclear. I can’t decipher faces, but they’re likely Halfies.” He opened his eyes and turned. “Half-Bloods are difficult to detect with my ability, because their emotions are radically altered from what they ought to be. They’re harder to pinpoint and therefore harder to see clearly.”
It made sense. It was an annoying handicap, but it made sense.
“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Lewis,” Eleri said.
“You’re welcome. Was anyone else in the house during the incident?”
Phin shook his head, lips pressed tight, as unhappy with the results of Brett’s visions as I was. “At this hour?” he said. “No, it should have been just the three of them.”
“All right.” Brett hesitated. “With your permission, Mr. el Chimal, I’ll check the other rooms.”
“Feel free.”
Brett excused himself from the room. Phin’s cell phone rang. He made no move to answer it, so I yanked it out of his back pocket. Astrid’s name was on the caller I.D.
“This is Stone,” I said.
“Stone?” Astrid replied. “Why—?”
“He’s preoccupied.”
Phin shot me a grateful smile. He was struggling to remain outwardly calm, and I could easily imagine the inferno churning beneath. Although his Clan had lived peacefully in the city for decades, they were a warrior race. Sitting still and waiting were not in his nature. He wanted his family back.
