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It was when the last of the guys and I had sex, with the forming of the final mark, that the connections between us opened wide enough that we could exchange powers as well as our simple awareness of each other’s presence.
“We’re blood,” I say. That motto got us through our childhood of imprisonment and torturous experiments. It’s kept us going through our escapes that’ve so far either failed or been far too temporary.
And it’s true. We are blood—the only people on the planet quite like us, bound not only by our shared heritage but by all the years we’ve had only each other to count on.
But we aren’t the only shadowbloods in the world. The guardians made more after us, if with weaker talents.
I don’t think I could share my powers with anyone other than these five men. There’s something a little more that binds the six of us together.
Of course, there’s no telling what else might be possible now that our most powerful enemy has started making shadowbloods of his own.
The memory of receiving the news of Balthazar’s latest scheme yesterday tugs at my nerves. I’ve been craving answers since that moment, but Rollick insisted that we put more distance between us and our former captor’s last known location before further discussions.
None of our previous jailers—Balthazar or the guardians—should be able to track us here. When the guardians hunted us down before, it was with the help of Griffin’s locating skill. The times when he refused, we could evade their notice even without the support of a very powerful demon.
By the time we arrived at Rollick’s Spanish estate last night, the six of us were exhausted. And he wanted to have his people question Toni, the woman who turned against her employer in the end to help us, before he listened to any more stories about Balthazar’s plans.
I shift my weight from one foot to another, unable to completely tamp down my growing impatience. “You have a pretty good idea of what we can do now. It doesn’t really matterhow, does it? We have to figure out what Balthazar is going to do next—and stop him.”
“Patience, little banshee,” Rollick says in the droll tone that’s sometimes reassuring but I’m currently finding infuriating.
As he opens his mouth to say something else, a shorter figure comes charging through the trees of the country estate’s vast grounds.
Zian springs to my side faster than anyone would expect from a man of his bulk, his fingers curling as if to form his wolf-man claws and his muscles tensing defensively beneath his peachy-brown skin. But before he can even growl, he must recognize the bouncing blond curls, like I just have.
“Hey, shadowbloods!” Pearl comes to a stop at the edge of the clearing and beams at all of us. She has a large canvas sack clutched against her curvy body. “Are you done showing off for the boss? I’ve got new clothes for you.”
We’ve been stuck in the same smoky-smelling clothes since yesterday. Despite my restlessness, my spirits lift. “Thank you.”
The curvy succubus waves her hand toward the house. “Come on. It’ll be easier to sort through them on the table on the back lawn. I don’t know how well those doofuses followed my instructions…Ishould have gone to collect these.”
“Youhave already shown yourself around Balthazar’s people,” Rollick reminds her, but he strides after her as we do. “When we don’t want to give them any hint of where their escapees have gone, caution matters more than fashion.”
He’s kept his tone light, but I think I catch a hint of tension in his words. Balthazar managed to breach even the demon’s defenses—stealing a laptop from his hotel back in Miami while Rollick was distracted with his rescue efforts.
The laptop may have been the key to Balthazar perfecting his process for creating new shadowbloods. But I can’t blame Rollick for losing it. I’m the one who told Balthazar where it was, not realizing how big a mistake that would be at the time.
We emerge from the trees and cross the lawn to the broad wrought-iron patio table that’s painted white to match the walls of the sprawling mansion beyond it. The building’s arched colonnades and clay-tiled roof give it a traditional flair, but its overall vibe is modern enough that it doesn’t stir up bad associations with the old Italian villa where Balthazar had us trapped.
Pearl upends the sack over the table, sending a deluge of fabric across the white surface. The guys and I gather around to paw through the offerings.
I’ve just dug out a hoodie that’s a size too big but otherwise looks appealingly cozy and a pair of jeans that I think should fit when Pearl makes a small, tight noise in her throat. I glance up to see her gazing toward the house.
Three figures have just emerged. Sorsha—the only human-shadowkind hybrid we know of who wasn’t created by the guardians, who has the fiery powers of a phoenix—and a roguish shadowkind man named Ruse flank a tall, wiry woman whose sleek black bob is unusually ruffled.
Toni. They’re finally letting her come talk to us again.
All thoughts of the new clothes flee my head. I have just enough self-control to walk around the table rather than leaping right over it.
Sorsha and Ruse escort Toni all the way to us. Sorsha tips her head with a swing of her bright red ponytail. “We’re confident that she’s being honest about her intentions. I think you can trust her.”
Rollick folds his arms over his chest. “Let’s hear what Balthazar’s minion has to say, then.”
Toni’s lips tighten in a faint grimace at being called a minion, but I don’t see any emotion in her dark eyes other than sadness. She reaches into the pocket of her slacks. “Before we get into anything else—when I snuck into Mr. Balthazar’s office to turn off your bracelets, I saw this. I think it’s yours, Riva?”
She holds out a silver chain dangling a charm of a cat curled around a ball of yarn. My pulse hiccups in surprise and relief.
I dart forward to take it from her. “Thank you. I didn’t know what he’d done with it.”
