In its wake there was only anger. Only rage.
So many dead witches. Deadwomen. Brutalized at the hands of men in their senseless quest for power.
Bring them down.
Burn them all…
“Gray? Are you quite alright?” Darius’s firm grip on my upper arms pulled me back to reality, and I blinked up at him in the darkness, waiting for his features to come into focus.
Strong jaw. Lush, full lips. Eyes the color of honey, framed by thick, dark lashes.
Wasn’t he just working at the back, by the drawers? How long was I out?
“Darius?”
“There you are.” He smiled briefly, but it wasn’t a happy one. Cursing under his breath, he said, “I never should’ve allowed you in here.”
“You can’t cut me out of my own plan.”
“Gray, that’s not what I meant.” He slipped a cool hand around the back of my neck, thumb stroking my skin. His touch was soothing, and I felt my nerves settle, my entire body relaxing in a way it never before had in the vampire’s intimidating presence. “I didn’t think about how difficult this would be for you. It’s only been a week since your friend died.”
I inhaled sharply, the sincerity in his words piercing my heart.
“Would you like to wait outside?” he asked. “I’ll just be a few more moments.”
“No, I… I’ll be okay.” As much as I didn’t want to be in a room containing the bodies of my dead best friend and the others, I’d rather be in here with Darius than out there in the empty hallway. What if that soul-sucking feeling returned? What if it happened when I was alone, and I couldn’t find my way back?
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” I turned away from him, rubbing the sudden chill from my arms as I glanced out the window in the door. The guard upstairs had been smitten with Haley, but how long could she keep up the act before he got suspicious? “I just need to find the charts. You finish… whatever it is you’re doing.”
Darius returned to the body—to Marisol—and I headed for the tall file cabinet closest to the door. Each time I heard another body drawer open, I flinched, but I forced myself not to turn around. Seeing Marisol’s hair was hard enough. If I saw even one lock of Sophie’s bright copper…
The phone buzzed in my hand—text from Haley. It’d been fifteen minutes since I’d left her.
Clock’s ticking, Gray. Kyle’s asking what’s taking you so long in the bathroom.
Tell KYLE I have my period,I replied.That will shut him up. Also, first name basis, huh?
What can I say? I move fast. :-)
You okay otherwise?I asked.
More than okay. I have a date next weekend. Score!
Haley’s bubbliness reached through the airwaves and bolstered me just enough to keep going.
The files were organized by date, so it didn’t take long to find what I was looking for—three manilla folders, each tagged with the names of the victims and dates of the murders.
I flipped through Sophie’s first—various lab reports, handwritten notes scrawled with medical jargon, a copy of my and Ronan’s statements—nothing Alvarez hadn’t already shared.
But there, behind all that paperwork, I felt a stack of slick, shiny paper that could only be photographs.
Oh, Sophie…
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought of my best friend, the last time I'd seen her alive—the real Sophie, not the magic version from the book of shadows incident. I pictured her rainbow hair and the swirling ocean tattoo dancing across her chest.Thatwas my Sophie, just how I wanted to remember her always. I knew the moment I looked at those photos—really looked at them—I would never be able to unsee them, never be able to think of Sophie without recalling these gruesome images.
Bile rose in my throat, the darkness nipping once again at my heels, but I forced it down. I had to do this. For Sophie. For the others. For anyone else this maniac was thinking about hurting.
