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If I was being honest, I couldn’t blame the fact that I hadn’t slept on the travel. Every second that passed felt like a second closer to the demon coming for me again. I’d closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but it was too much like the black nothingness I’d wandered through yesterday.
I spent time googling how to break a demon’s tie, but there wasn’t a ton of information out there about them. Until I had a specific demon to research, I was SOL. Plus, I wasn’t sure I could trust anything I found on the internet. Too much was on the line to put all my hope in something I found from an unverified source.
I’d texted with Meredith what was going on before we got on the plane. She said she was down to do some research in the Irish pack’s library, but she couldn’t leave. The pack there was still coming back from all their drama. Which was a bummer, but I got it. I’d managed to talk to my mom for a second to tell her we were coming home. She was worried, but said she’d be there to help if she could.
What I really needed first was to get ahold of Claudia.
She’d managed to help me snap the demon’s control once, and if I knew the specifics of the spell, then maybe I could do it myself to prevent him from doing it again. Maybe she’d know some way to break a demonic tie. At the very least, if she could just overnight some of those crystals she found in Peru that saved Raphael, then maybe I could use them to fight the demon.
I grabbed the cell phone and dialed Claudia again.
“Chérie. She’ll call you when she can.”
My knee bounced faster as I held my breath, waiting—hoping—that this time would be the time Claudia answered. “This is bad. With what happened, she should’ve called us by now.” I chewed on a fingernail.
“Maybe she’s been traveling, too? For all we know, she could be on her way here.”
That would explain it, but we didn’t know that for sure. “Or maybe saving me hurt her.”
“We’d know if something was wrong.”
“Would we?” Because I wasn’t so sure that we’d know anything unless she died. There was a whole spectrum of not okay between being alive and being dead.
While I usually loved Dastien’s cup-half-full attitude, I was feeling more like the fucking cup was empty.
I’d been calling Claudia all day—well, at least every time I had service—and I still couldn’t get ahold of her. Last night I’d been able to brush it off, but I couldn’t do that anymore. My stomach was churning with the thought that she might need my help, especially after she’d saved my ass. Until I heard word from her or someone in Peru, I just had to wait. But waiting around was not my strong suit.
Dastien flicked on the blinker. “We’re here.”
I looked up from my phone to see the break in the brick walls that separated St. Ailbe’s from the outside world. As we pulled up, the massive black wrought iron gates opened, letting us into the parking lot. It was odd not to see any reporters at the entrance, but it’d been six weeks since we’d been here. Hopefully, the constant stream of reporters had died down for good. The ten Cazadores guarding the gates might have finally become a deterrent. Or maybe it was the demon attacks.
Either way, that was one thing I wasn’t sorry to see go.
Dastien waved to them as he passed and then pulled into a spot right by the path to campus. As soon as he stopped, I swung open the door and breathed in. Pine. Cedar. Dirt. Home.
The last took me by surprise. I wasn’t sure when St. Ailbe’s had become my home. I’d lived in Los Angeles most of my life. We’d only moved here at the beginning of the school year, and it was almost Thanksgiving now. But oddly enough, St. Ailbe’s was the only place I’d ever felt free to be myself, even if this version of me turned furry every once in a while.
“I thought you’d never get here,” a familiar voice said, and I spun in time to see Chris coming around the bend in the path. The sight of my friend made my anxiety ease a bit. I could focus on something a little more trivial—Chris and his need for a haircut. His dirty blonde hair looked like it might almost be long enough to pull back into a small ponytail and he had a full beard. He’d said he was tired in his email, but his easy grin was in place as he opened his arms, pulling me in for a hug.
“Hey,” I said. “After nineteen hours of travel, it’s really nice to not be moving.”
“I bet.” After one last squeeze, he stepped away from me.
Chris’ blue eyes were the color of the clear summer sky. Like just about every other werewolf I’d met, he was well over six feet tall and thick with muscle. The beard made him look older and a bit more rugged. He was wearing a faded navy polo under a gray hoodie and a pair of dark jeans. Which was good. That meant he still wasn’t into being a Cazador, even if he’d stuck around to fight demons. He was too chill and calm to join their numbers, but he’d stuck around to do what was right. That was one of the many reasons why he was amazing.
He narrowed his gaze, apparently noticing my too long once-over. “What?” He asked.
“Nothing. Can’t I just be happy to see you?”
“You sure can,” he said with his slight Texas drawl. He gave me a big grin that made his eyes shine. The guy was a flirt. He just couldn’t help himself. “I missed you, too.”
“Quit flirting with my mate.” Dastien teased him as he stepped beside me.
Chris pulled him in for one of those manly hug-back patting combos.
“What’s going on?” Dastien asked. “Anything we need to worry about tonight?”
Chris looked over to the Cazadores. “Still nothing, right?”
