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My eyes shot that direction.
Emory’s eyes were on the door, brows furrowed. A broken cup laid at his feet.
“Are you alright, man?”
He didn’t even glance at me. His eyes were cemented ahead. The rate of his pulse nearly doubled. Cortisol wafted from his skin, filling my lungs.
I glanced ahead, and another scent touched my nose. Expensive perfume.
Brooke. She held the door open, and another girl walked in behind her. Judging by her natural smell, the sister she’d mentioned this morning. Just looking at her though, I wouldn’t have known they were related.
She stood a head and a half shorter, probably around five one. Brooke was tall, curvy, and voluptuous. She had round hips, a bigger bust, and a soft stomach. Her sister was an itty-bitty thing. Flat chested, almost half the width of Brooke, and so thin that she looked malnourished. Brooke said she was nineteen, but I’d have thought sixteen.
Her hair was jet black, skin the fairest shade of white, and eyes so pale they almost blended into her flesh. Not that she was ugly. She was pretty, but she looked unwell.
“What the hell happened to her?” Emory asked.
Honestly, I was wondering the same thing. She and Brooke looked like they lived polar opposite lives. “I don’t know. We haven’t met yet—”
“Not her.” His eyes were still stuck ahead. “Brooke. What happened to her?”
My face screwed up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Her energy signature changed. She’s, like…” Another burst of cortisol—the hormone associated with fear and anxiety—drifted from his skin in a heavy wave. “She’s more than twice as strong as she was Saturday.”
Angels, Guardians, Witches, Fae—pretty much every supernatural race aside from Werewolves and Vampires—could feel one another’s energy signatures. So I knewwhathe was talking about, but I couldn’t feel it.
Their strength came from each other, Mom’s words reverberated through my psyche.
“We’ll talk about it later.”
Emory’s eyes came to mine, breaths quickening. “What the hell happened, Declan?”
Awkwardly clearing my throat, I met Brooke’s gaze as she approached the counter. “Hey.”
She smiled. “Hey. Can I get a drink?”
“Sure.” I grabbed a glass. “Pepsi?”
“Please,” she said. Putting her hand on her sister’s back, she gestured to me. “Declan, this is Ria. Ria, this is Declan.”
She extended a hand over the counter. “Nice to meet you without all the blood.”
I huffed, shaking her palm. “Can’t disagree with you there.”
“But can I get a glass of wine too?” Brooke laid her bag on the bar and sat on one of the stools. “I need it for the spell. I was gonna grab some at the liquor store, but I couldn’t find anywhere to park. I figured you had some.”
I filled their glasses and slid them their way. “Yeah, what kind?”
“Preferably a zinfandel or chardonnay. But anything with a high alcohol content should do the trick.” As she lifted her Pepsi, she glanced at Emory. “Are you alright?”
Slowly, his head shook. “Not really.”
“What’s the matter?” Brooke asked.
“He’s fine,” I said. “Are you hungry? Do you guys want anything?”
Brooke and Emory were still in an awkward stare down. She was confused. Head tilted, thinking, focusing. His brows were furrowed, heart still racing, stomach gurgling loud enough that I doubted I was the only one who heard it.
