Still not convinced? We heard DIRECTLY from a savvyEyes on Empathsreader who works at Stone Solutions. According to Anonymous, staff had to use the service elevators this morning because construction crews are replacing the front windows.
Maybe they can fool the public, but WE know when something is suspicious—just like we know there’s more going on with the empaths than we’re being told.
—Gretel Macy, blogging forEyes on Empaths
Reece woke late, with a headache and a crawling along his skin.
Evil is hungry.It was such a cliché. And yet he felt it, like his body was crackling with electricity, a lightning storm lookingfor a target. It wanted to strike and revel in the destruction it left behind.
Reece pushed the thought away. It would settle. He was just even less of a morning person now.
He reached for his phone out of habit, then yanked his hand away before he picked it up. He didn’t need to see Grayson’s texts again, definitely didn’t need to see if Jamey had sent more messages. Even Liam and Diesel had tried texting. He should block them all.
But you won’t, the little voice in his head said.You need to know if someone tries to hurt them. Your sister, your friends, your—whatever you and Evan are.
Reece huffed. He and Evan were enemies, obviously.
Say it out loud, if you’re so sure it’s true, the voice in his head needled him.
Reece threw back the covers and forced himself to his feet.
One of the changes corruption had brought was a heightened awareness of the emotions around him. He followed the sense to the kitchen and found the other two empaths sitting together at the breakfast table, Alex scrolling on his phone while Cora peered at the screen of a laptop. On the wall, a television was playing local news with the sound muted.
Reece squinted into the too-bright light pouring in the many windows. “Thralls?”
“Guarding Traynor,” Alex said without looking up. “Y’all’s friend Ms. Macy has already posted about last night.”
To Reece’s fuzzy and headache-addled brain, his accent sounded extra reminiscent of Grayson’s. One more thought to carefully ignore.
Cora did look up, meeting Reece’s eyes. “‘Y’all’s friend,’ he says, as if he isn’t a blogger himself and a genuine fanboy ofEyes on Empaths.”
“It’s not like Iagreewith her,” Alex said. “But she knowswhat’s going on better than the news. And she cares about the truth.”
Reece side-eyed him. “Didn’t Gretel tell everyone we can mind-control pumpkins?”
“If you had actually read October’s featured story,” Alex said long-sufferingly, “you’d know Ms. Macy was speculating that an empath could influence the emotions of the person carving the pumpkin.” He gestured at the three of them. “And she’s notwrong.”
Reece rubbed his temple.Eyes on Empathswas not going to help the headache. “Are you still in touch with her?”
“She hasn’t texted since our last exchange. And I’m not texting her, for the obvious reasons.” Alex held out the phone. “Though she has dedicated tags for both of you.”
“You’d have your very own tag too, if she knew what you were,” Cora said to Alex, as Reece glanced at the phone.
On-screen was a picture of the auto show he’d gone to in Vancouver, he himself just visible on the picture’s edge, wearing the hat with bear ears that Grayson had bought him. The photographer had obviously been focused on Grayson, though, centering the tall figure speaking into his phone. So annoyingly good-looking, obviously drawing the eye of several others in the photo.
Even if Photo Grayson’s own eyes were on Reece.
Reece quickly averted his gaze. “She’s also tagged this one for your brother.”
“I know.” Alex wrinkled his nose. “I do try not to see her whole readership lusting after the so-calledDead Man.” He scoffed. “I can’t believe Evan has a secret code name. He probably thinks he’s Batman.”
Cora snorted. “So the thralls wrote down what they could remember of Stone Solutions’ recent textile deliveries. I’m searching for warehouses and shipping lines,” she said, pointing to apiece of paper next to the laptop. “Then Alex pointed out that in the meantime, we could relieve Stone Solutions of some of their current materials.”
Reece perked up. “Oh?”
“Don’t get excited yet,” Cora said ruefully. “Because according to our new friends Eton and Pelham, after delivery, materials for empath gloves are stored in locked vaults on the second sublevel. And for security reasons, the codes are known only to leadership—and the head of security, Wayne Smith.”
This time, Reece did groan, his palm covering his face, the sensation of his own warm bare skin instead of cold gloves still unexpected. “And I let him go last night.”
