Twisted

His arm was lifting, the cup at his mouth, his throat gulping back the contents a second later, and only when he’d consumed every drop did he even realize he’d moved.

After he’d drunk Sorin’s blood, he’d considered himself strong. He’d been a fool. This was strength. A warm cascade that shimmered through him, lighting him up like a house at Christmas. His eyes closed as he savored.

The fog that had seemed to attach itself to his mind disappeared completely. His cells fizzed as if they were dancing with champagne. All the remaining aches and pangs from the fight with Sorin vanished. His muscles plumped up, and he might even have shot up an inch or two.

Junior purred his satisfaction, and like a baby who’d just gotten a bottle at bedtime, he slipped back to sleep.

Aden, though, well, he just wanted more.

No more for you, Julian said, conjuring the Soup Nazi.

How had the soul known what Aden was thinking? Had he said the words aloud? Was he staring at Victoria’s neck? Wait. How could he be staring? His eyes were still closed.

He focused, realized he had dropped the cup and latched onto Victoria’s arms. Was pulling her closer… closer…

Jolting out of his stupor, he released her. Backed away. Maxwell and Nathan were watching him with unease.

Later, he would see the world through Victoria’s eyes. No healing sleep would stop it from happening. Would he also continue to want her blood, and only hers? If so, who cared?

Because—and here was the clincher—having her was worth the risk of addiction. He would endure anything to be with her, to have her blood. Everything that had ever bothered him and more.

Victoria shifted from one foot to the other. He was still staring at her, he realized. He lowered his gaze, and that’s when he caught sight of her wrist. Though she wore a long-sleeved robe, the material had pulled back to reveal a wound stretching from one side to the other.

She’d cut herself, and recently, but she hadn’t healed.

Why hadn’t she healed? For that matter, her hand had been cold earlier. Her hand had never been cold before.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“No.” She held her phone in front of his face. “Look what came in.”

He read the screen. “Tulsa. St. Mary’s. Dying. Hurry.”

“That’s from Riley,” she said, chin trembling as she fought her tears.

That’s not from Riley, Elijah said.

“How do you know?” Aden asked.

“Because he’s been—”

“Sorry.” He held up his hand. “Elijah knows something. Hang on.”

She nodded, both worried and hopeful.

First, the soul continued, deductive reasoning. If Riley was dying, he would not have typed so perfectly. And do you see any misspellings? No. Second, I just had a vision of Tucker typing those words.

As the bottom of Aden’s stomach fell out, he told the group what Elijah had said.

Then, he turned his attention inward again. “What else did you see? Show me. Please.”

You won’t like it.

“Do it anyway.”

Silence. Such oppressive silence.

A sigh. As you wish.

A moment later, Aden’s knees nearly buckled. In his mind he saw Riley strapped to a gurney, his skin the color of death and a gaping wound in one of his calves.

Mary Ann was also strapped to a gurney and being wheeled into an ambulance. An ambulance clearly marked St. Mary’s. She wore a pair of jeans and a bra, and she, too, had a gaping wound. Only, hers was in her shoulder. Someone had obviously tried to clean her up, because she was streaked with dried blood, patches of blue-tinted skin between the crimson.

Paramedics were pumping her chest, but she wasn’t responding.

“Tucker might have typed those words, but he wasn’t lying,” Aden croaked out. “They’re hurt. Badly.” If his friends died… If they’d already died…

“What’s wrong with Riley?” Maxwell demanded.

Aden explained what he’d seen.

The brothers cursed, dropping so many F-bombs Aden soon lost count. Victoria pressed her knuckles into her mouth, but a sob still managed to escape. “Could Tucker have killed the witches, then turned his sights on Riley and Mary Ann?” Nathan asked. “He’s part demon, and he can cast illusions. So, if anyone could defeat a coven of witches, it’s him.”

Caleb dropped a few sobbing F-bombs of his own, each one directed at Tucker.

“Tucker wouldn’t have been able to defeat Riley,” Maxwell said.

Aden had to concentrate to hear past the sounds in his head. “Whatever happened, we have to get to St. Mary’s.” He didn’t know a lot about the shifters, but what would happen if the paramedics discovered something different about Riley? “Can you teleport us, Victoria?”

To Tulsa? Yes, Caleb said, rousing himself from his anger and grief. We’ll go to Tulsa. We’ll investigate. We’ll savage Tucker if he did this.

The thought of vengeance was like a shot of adrenaline, Aden supposed.

All the color drained from Victoria’s cheeks. “N-no. I’ve been meaning to tell you…” Her gaze flicked to the shifters. “My, uh, brother…whatever he did to me must still be affecting my ability. I can’t. But maybe, I don’t know, you can.”

“Me?” He’d never tried, had no idea how to begin and didn’t want to waste time learning when he might not possess the ability anyway. “No, we’ll drive.”

There was a knock at the door, then hinges were squeaking as the beautiful Maddie entered. She wore the same expression she’d worn the day she’d told him about Sorin’s visit.

“I don’t know why I’ve been chosen to be the bearer of bad news again,” she began, licking her lips in agitation, “but your human friends have returned, majesty.”

“I don’t have time to deal with them. Tell them to go home and I’ll—”

You need to speak with them, Elijah cut in with an urgent tone. Now.

But the witches—

“Have to wait,” Aden said, cutting Caleb off with the same sense of urgency in his voice. “I’m sorry.” A muscle ticked below his eye as he motioned to Maddie to lead the way. “Take me to them.”

Down the stairs, around several corners and into the foyer they went. There stood Seth, Ryder and Shannon. All of whom were covered in soot, smoke practically rising from their shoulders.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“The ranch,” Seth began, then stopped to cough.

“B-burned down,” Shannon finished. “Every b-bit of it. N-nothing left.”

Aden stiffened. “Dan? Meg?”

“Alive, but injured, both of them,” Ryder said. “And they’re only alive because Sophia got them out.”

Sophia, Dan’s favorite dog. Don’t react. Not yet. One reaction would lead to another, and he couldn’t break down right now. He had to stay strong. But too much was going wrong all at once. Too many bad things piling up, weighing him down. Crushing him.

Looking so weary Aden wondered how he was even standing, Shannon massaged the back of his neck. Tears had dried on his cheeks, streaking through the soot. “S-Sophia didn’t make it, though. Neither did Brian.”

Brian, another boy who’d lived at the ranch. He’d never been a close friend, but still, Aden would not have