Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“The hair,” Antonio says, eyes dropping to the clump on the table. “You’re going to cast a locator spell. They’re going to take the blood to Vivian.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “The guy was wearing a hagstone, but I ripped it off. He won’t replace it right away. He has maybe a half-hour head start, but I can track him.”
“And wherever he goes…” Xavier says.
“Is where Vivian is,” I finish.
We all go quiet.
Antonio grabs a bowl from the cabinet, grimacing as he picks up the clump of hair and drops it inside. “That was reckless, Wren,” he says.
“This whole thing is reckless,” I shoot back, letting out a breath.
Xavier pulls me gently toward the sink and grabs a washcloth, carefully wiping the dried blood from my face before inspecting my arm.
“This is going to hurt tomorrow,” I mutter. “Movies make it seem like you can just stab someone with a needle and get blood. You actually have to hit a vein. You would know,” I add, glancing at him with a faint smile.
For a second, no one says anything.
“Do you have what you need for the locator spell?” Xavier asks. “You went out for supplies.”
“I have just enough to do it one more time,” I say. “The cops showed up to investigate a robbery. I didn’t think it was a good idea to, uh, keep shopping.”
“Where is it?”
“In the parlor. Still in the bag.”
I move to grab a glass of water, but Xavier beats me to it, handing it to me like I might break. I let him.
“I’m guessing Leo got the message through?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Antonio says. “Vivian moved fast. All Ryder had to do was make sure the right people overheard.”
I take a drink, giving myself a second to process. Part of me wanted Ryder to fail. Part of me wanted a reason to keep hating him. It’s stupid.
Because if he fails, we all lose.
“So Vivian thinks Antonio is a vampire,” I say, setting the glass down. “And that he took something from Marcus Henry.”
“Do you know where she’d go?” Xavier asks.
“The locator spell will give us the exact location,” I say. “But if they move, it won’t keep tracking.”
“She thinks I hid it in the warehouse,” Antonio says and I look at him. “That’s where she’ll go.”
Our eyes lock across the room.
He’s good at compartmentalizing…but going back to the place where he died? That’s something else.
Scrambling, we set up so I can cast the locator spell. If this guy is bringing fresh blood to Vivian at the warehouse, he should be arriving just about now.
I’m working fast—too fast—and I’m worried I’m going to make a mistake.
Forcing myself to slow down, I take a breath and close my eyes for just a second. A vision of my mom flashes in my mind.
I snap my eyes open, pushing it away. I can’t think about her right now. She would be so ashamed to know I’m about to free the demon our ancestors trapped.
The herbs shift, sliding across the surface and settling on a location almost instantly.
The warehouse.
We all stare at it, waiting—making sure it doesn’t jump somewhere else. It doesn’t.
“We have to go now,” Antonio says. “If they’re there, we don’t have time to waste.”
Xavier and Devon exchange a look.
The sun hasn’t fully set yet. We still have at least half an hour before it drops low enough for Xavier to even consider leaving the house. But this isn’t an opportunity I can pass up.
They’re there at the warehouse. And they have the key.
I inhale slowly, steadying myself, then meet Antonio’s eyes and nod.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
The warehouse looms ahead, and it’s like we’re about to walk into the same nightmare, only it’s worse this time. We pause just outside, knowing there’s no time for hesitation. We have to act, and we have to act now.
The place is in bad shape. It was completely engulfed in flames not that long ago, and only the main structure of the metal building remains. It can’t be safe to go inside, yet we cross the gravel lot without a second thought.
The administrative section of the building burned completely to the ground, leaving only the garage bays in the back. The particular section we’re heading toward holds onto memories—taunting and teasing us the closer we get.
Suddenly, the hunter who jammed the needle into my arm back at the store stumbles out from behind the shell of a burnt-out delivery truck.
His throat has been slashed—neat and clean, in a single line. Antonio and I recognize it instantly: a ritual kill. Vivian must have needed his blood. The same way Marcus Henry needed Antonio’s.
The reanimated corpse narrows in on us, but doesn’t attack.
“I think he’s their watchdog,” Antonio says, pulling his knife from his belt. “If we kill it, it’ll alert them.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
“I’ll distract it.”