AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Someone—not something. My eyes narrow, though I don’t bother voicing the anger burning in my chest; Marcel’s intentions are not malicious. Instead, I scratch the copper stubble along my jaw to hide how tightly it’s clenched. I haven’t bothered shaving in days, and it’s starting to irritate my skin. “That doesn’t explain the break in the connection,” I point out in a gruff voice. “Unless she—”
“No,” Marcel says over me, shaking his head. “Do you believe she’s dead, Gabriel?”
My throat constricts, and I frown at the difficulty I find when trying to swallow. “No.” I don’t believe it—I refuse to.
“Right. Then there’s another explanation we haven’t considered yet. Blood oaths are tricky things. You guys knew that when you entered into it all those years ago.” He flicks his wrist back and forth. “Witches and their spells.”
My eyes widen as a thought hits me with the speed of a train. “A spell,” I say. “Wherever Calla is could have a spell blocking our connection to her.”
Marcel purses his lips. “It’s possible.”
Not only is it possible, it’s a far better alternative than what’s got my stomach in painful knots. What has kept all of us up every night since she disappeared.
“I don’t suppose you have a witch handy?”
“Wouldn’t matter anyway, considering the only witch that could undo the block is the one who put it in place.”
I slam my fist down on the armrest. “What am I supposed to do with that?” I growl without looking in Marcel’s direction. I don’t direct the question at him because I don’t expect him to have an answer, though I really wish he did.
I scrub a hand down my face and sigh.
Why did you have to run, angel?
“I mean this with the utmost respect and only mention it out of concern for your wellbeing. You look like absolute shit. You’re not going to be able to help Calla if you end up passing out from exhaustion or snapping and getting caught chowing down on a human because you’re starving. You need to take care of yourself.” His voice is stern but laced with worry.
I manage a weak smile. “Your concern is noted and appreciated.”
“And ignored,” he remarks dryly, shaking his head before he pins me with a level stare. “I’m serious, Gabriel. I don’t know her much at all, but I can’t see her wanting you—or the others for that matter—to get to a point where you’re not giving yourself basic necessities because it could take away from potentially finding her. You’re no good to her like this, okay? So smarten up.”
My hands curl around the armrests, making the wood groan under my grip. He’s right.
“Listen, I know you want to get back to Washington, but I think you should stay tonight. Take a break from everything and refocus. I know of a place that has voluntary feeders on standby. I’ll text you the address. Go and replenish your strength.” He nods, his voice stern but kind as he says, “Take care of yourself, Gabe.”
I rise from the chair at the same moment Marcel stands, finding it in me to smile at him. “Thank you, Marcel. You know we appreciate the work you do for us, but you constantly go above and beyond to show how much you care. It doesn’t go unnoticed, I hope you know that.”
He shoots me a grin, and we walk through the main level, the aged hardwood creaking under our steps as we near the front door.
Marcel slaps me on the back as he opens the door for me. “Keep me posted. You know where I am if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I tell him again, stepping out into the bitter afternoon air.
“Gabriel,” Marcel calls, causing me to turn back. “You’re going to find her.”
I nod, jogging down the concrete steps in front of his townhouse to the sidewalk, where the wind picks up, the cold air making my cheeks tingle.
Wearegoing to find her.
And then whoever is behind taking her from us will live to regret the decision… until we slaughter them.
2
Calla
The pressure in my temples makes it hard to open my eyes. Painful even. Like jackhammers pounding into my head at every angle. I manage to pry them open slowly, immediately squinting at the lamp casting light across my face. Blinking hard in an attempt to clear the blur spattered across my vision, I turn away from the light, groaning as my muscles protest the sudden movement.
I have the fleeting thought that I’m dead, but I quickly dispel it. If I was dead, surely it wouldn’t hurt so damn much.
When I attempt to sit up, I grit my teeth against the ache in my back. I haven’t felt this awful since I got the flu in freshman year, and Brighton ended up having to take care of me as if I was a child.
