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It’s strange how much I need that. Something to ease the ache of loneliness inside of me. Something to wash away the hurt and pain from my past and bring something good to life.
I turn my thoughts over to the magic I’ve attuned to, like a background hum only I can hear. With the boost provided by the brothers’ blood, I listen intently, hoping it will expose its source. The longer I listen, the more certain a little voice becomes.This was Simon’s doing. But I’m just not yet convinced.Or maybe you refuse to believe.
“What group could possibly do this?” Orson mutters as we post up on the porch of a two-story house on a street corner. “It’s basically an extermination.”
“One person,” I correct.
His eyes snap to mine. “Just one person?”
I nod. “A member of my Blood Pack. Given terrible new powers by the Blood Mages.”
“One person,” he whispers, surveying the carnage that riddles the intersection. Men, women, and children were murdered all the same. He’s visibly disturbed at the implication. One person ripped through town like a twister, enough rage to keep them going until every last soul was cleaved from its flesh. How did these kinds of horrors start to feel normal?
“Can you do this?” he asks, those mismatched eyes of his finding mine.
I hesitate, then decide to be honest. “I don’t know, but I don’t like dark magic.”
A shiver rolls through me. Not liking it is an understatement, but the mention of it brings to life those black wispy things at the edges of my vision. The ones that whisper to me. The ones that urge me to use the powers inside of me to fix… everything. To make my life better. To free myself from all the pain and all the sorrow.
I shudder. Fuck.
“I don’t like it either,” he says. “I realize that response isn’t logical and that power like this could be useful in a good way, just as much as it can do something like this, but some deep, instinctual part of me doesn’t care.”
“Same,” I tell him, surprised. Everything the fucking wisps whisper is true, but it doesn’t make my instincts calm down. They scream to stay as far away from any power that can do this as possible.
He coughs and pushes his face into his shirt. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m not used to anything like this.” Then, he makes a retching sound that makes my own stomach give a flip in response.
The smell is horrendous, a stench that entwines fire and death.This is what hell must smell like, I muse. It’s inescapable, like a noxious vapor choking the town. Yet, after all I’ve been through, the smell is manageable if I don’t breathe through my nose. Not pleasant, but manageable. As a shifter, I can’t exactly stop smelling things altogether, the sense is just too important, I can just try to focus on what’s important.
A trace of something else catches my attention. It’s familiar, harkening back to the days before everything went to shit. I feel the color drain from my face as I inhale, identifying the scent to my shock. It’s a member of my pack. Who, I don’t know, but I don’t care, as long as they’re alive.
The problem? I need to follow the scent alone. As close as I’m becoming to these men, my people are still my main priority. I can’t risk what any of them will do if the person is dangerous, or even if they’re not.
Will my pack member end up behind bars no matter what?
I can’t risk it. I need to get away from this group and follow the scent. Even if I feel a wave of guilt because of what I intend to do. .
We move on to the next house moving like a well-oiled machine, where two parts are working perfectly, and two parts are standing around with their thumbs up their asses. Okay, not the perfect example, but that’s how it feels. Max and Braxton prepare to enter, starting to split off from our group, and I realize this is my chance.
“This would go faster if you actually used your new monkey instead of keeping him on babysitting duty,” I say to Max, pointing at Orson.
“She’s right,” Orson agrees without missing a beat.
Max looks at Orson, then back at me. “Is this because you want us to clear the entire town before backup arrives? Because it will take however long it takes, if we’re careful, which we have to be.”
“If anyone’s left, time could be of the essence. One of my pack members could be bleeding out as we speak.” He stares, and I try a different tactic. “The three of you all have some training when it comes to this shit, so why not use all three of you? Any time you save is time you can save lives, and you’ll be just as careful.”
“Hedoesn’t have training.” Braxton points out the flaw in argument with irritation.
“Although prison did teach me how to take care of myself,” Orson says, followed by a shrug.
Max’s eyes darken as they focus on me. “What if you run into trouble?”
“I’ll scream like a delicate girl,” I tell him, fluttering my lashes, then stand up a little taller. “I’ll use my incredibly dangerous powers to take them down or, you know… shoot them.” I indicate the Glock still in my hand.
Max sighs. “Fine, but you stay right here,andyou do scream if you see anyone.”
They all disappear into the house and I don’t hesitate, slipping away from its porch, scenting the Blood Pack member I know must be lurking in the woods nearby. I stalk past the border of the woods, moving silently through the underbrush. Their scent grows stronger.I’m close.I peer into the greenery, seeking movement, but I don’t see anything.
