CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Daphne
Ishould’ve known that something was wrong when the coffee shop sounds around me became muted. But it didn’t register at first because I was in deep conversation with Travis.
Realizing how unusually quiet it was around me, I looked up. The place was bustling as normal, but it seemed as if everything was on the other side of a warbled piece of glass. People’s features were slightly blurred, and the signs on the walls were hard to read. I couldn’t even tell if the cat-shifter in line was a tiger or a leopard.
It was as if I were inside a bubble looking out. Or in a dream. Even stranger was that everyone seemed to be going about their business as if they couldn’t see me.
And that was when I sawhim.
With his legs crossed and coffee cup in hand, Mr. Griffin sat at the table next to me, his features crystal clear. He was on my side of the bubble-thingie. Pharma-Douche in the flesh.
He’d found me.
“Hello, Daphne,” he said with that smooth, every-woman-wants-me-because-I’m-a-rich-ass-son-of-a-bitch smile on his lips.
The phone slipped from my hands and clattered to the floor.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Travis
Blood pounded in my ears as I ran down Nightshade Avenue, dodging the huge Monsterval crowds as best I could while not mowing down tiny children. Every few steps, a fan recognized me, but I ignored them and kept going.
I thought I’d heard a man’s voice before the call with Daphne suddenly ended. I’d tried calling her back, but I kept getting the coffee shop’s voicemail.
The bell above the door at Unholy Grounds jangled noisily as I burst through, banging it against the opposite wall. Several people jumped, startled at my loud entrance. Stomping inside, I spun around but didn’t see my mate anywhere.
“Where’s Daphne?” I barked.
Sister Mary-Francis blinked at me, bewildered. “Daphne…was here?” she asked slowly, glancing around.
“Yes! I was talking to her on the phone. Your phone. She was just here.”
Brow furrowed, Sister Mary-Francis tapped her foreheadwith the tips of her fingers as if to clear her head. Apparently, it worked. I could see the realization in her eyes.
“Of course, Daphne was here,” she said, more to herself than to me. “I don’t know what just happened to me. She was sitting right over there.”
The nun pointed to an empty table where a cup and saucer sat next to several crumpled napkins. I scowled. Something was very off. The nuns ran a tight ship and rarely left a table looking like this.
“Well, that’s odd,” she said, echoing my thoughts as we made our way through the line of magical creatures waiting to place their orders. “She didn’t bus her table. She always busses her table.”
“And you’re sure she was sitting right here?” Daphne’s scent wasn’t particularly strong, so it could’ve been from another day.
“You bet your tail she was. I brought her the phone to call you. What in heaven’s name?” She bent and picked up the coffee shop’s phone from the floor.
My rising panic had me seeing red. “Did you notice her talking to anyone? Did someone come over to her table?”
“I...I honestly don’t know,” she said apologetically. “My last recollection is of Daphne sitting here, talking on the phone. I didn’t see anybody approach her. And I didn’t see her leave.” She pursed her lips and scrunched up her nose as if she had caught a whiff of something bad. “Some strange magic has been used here.”
I took a deep breath and sniffed the air. I smelled nothing rancid, but I did detect a scent-masking agent. The same one used when Daphne’s villa was ransacked.
Rushing outside, I scanned both sides of the street. Where could she have gone? There were people, so many people. And magical creatures.Everywhere.
I was about to shift into my wolf form to better pick up her scent when I caught sight of Merrick and his wife standingoutside Dark Tarts. They appeared to be having a heated argument. She pushed him hard in the chest, then her claws came out. She tried to take a swipe at his face, but he grabbed her wrists before she could scratch him. Catching my eye, he said something to her and shoved her away. Then he jogged over to me.
“You’re looking for Daphne,” he said, eyes dark with anger. It was a statement, not a question.
