Twisted

She would not be cowed. She might be human, but Riley had trained her in self-defense. Weak as she was, she wasn’t completely helpless. “Yes, I did.” And having taken a page from the Aden Stone School of Ass Kicking, she’d stored daggers under the sleeves of her robe.

Motions fluid, Ryder sat up and pushed Shannon away from him. “Do not touch me with your filthy hands, human,” he snapped, and despite his vehemence, his voice was formal, cultured, with a slight Romanian accent in the undertones.

A tremor slid down the length of her spine. She knew that voice. Both loved and hated that voice. But… but…impossible, she thought.

“A-are you o-kay?” Even though Ryder had just admitted to destroying Shannon’s home, Shannon obviously cared about his welfare.

“I’m fine. Or rather, I will be.” Ryder reached for his boot, withdrew a dagger of his own—and stabbed Shannon in the heart.

He moved so quickly, Victoria only registered what had happened after Shannon screamed. After the blood was flowing. After Ryder twisted the blade deeper and deeper still.

Shannon gurgled, unable to form words. His eyes said it all. What? Why? How could you?

“No!” Victoria dove into the backseat, placing herself in front of Shannon while thrusting Ryder away from him. Using her back as his shield, uncaring if she was stabbed, she jerked the blade out and pressed her palms into the wound. Warm blood met her quaking hands.

Ryder gave a little laugh. She thought he might even have rubbed his hands together in a job well done. “Smells good, doesn’t it, Tucker, my lad?”

“Yes,” Tucker replied automatically.

There was nothing she could do. No way to help. Or to save. Tears burned Victoria’s eyes, spilling onto her cheeks. “Shannon, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have…” Done something, anything.

Shannon was gasping now, desperately trying to lure oxygen inside his lungs. Blood seeped from the corners of his mouth. He was in pain, so much pain, and she hated that more than she hated the thought of his death.

“That,” Ryder said to Tucker, “is how it’s done. Had you done that to Aden, my daughter never would have been able to save him.”

His daughter.

Not impossible, then. Vlad had possessed Ryder.

He’d done this. Vlad had done this. To Shannon. To Aden. To all of them. The man she’d once mourned the loss of had done this.

She couldn’t teleport Shannon away. She couldn’t carry him out of the car. Waiting for Aden would cause him needless suffering.

Aden. For a moment, she was thrown back to the night of his stabbing. He’d been in pain, too. He’d wanted so badly for it end. All of it, including his life. Anything for a little peace. At one point, he’d even begged her to let him go.

She hadn’t, then. She could now.

“I’m so sorry.” Hating herself more than ever before, she slashed into Shannon’s jugular with her fangs. Fangs that were not as long or sharp as they’d once been, but there was nothing she could do about that now. His gurgling increased before it faded, but he didn’t fight her, and as she gulped at the blood as quickly as she could, she tasted copper and what was surely despair. She didn’t let herself dwell on that, not here, not now, and kept drinking, until there was nothing left. Until his head lolled to the side.

Until he was gone, his pain no more.

Distantly she heard the clomp and scratch of a wolf’s paws. Nathan. Maxwell.

She straightened with a snap, panting, crying again, and scanned the area outside the car. Everything was blurry. Sniffling, chest heaving—how could she have done that to Shannon, even to set him free?—she wiped at her eyes with the back of her wrist.

There was Maxwell, still wearing his shades, and Nathan, still in his Seeing Eye dog uniform. They were bumping into cars as if they were both blind.

“They’ll never find this car,” Tucker said. “I’ve made sure of it.”

“Your ability to cast illusions is the only reason you’re still alive, boy,” Ryder remarked. “I hope you know that.”

They were having this conversation now? As if nothing had happened? Heartless monsters.

Victoria twisted to face the father who wasn’t her father, not anymore, and the boy who had changed her life forever. “How could you do this?”

“So wonderful to see you again, my love.” Ryder’s smile was all winter ice and black dagger. “Even though you have betrayed me in ways I can never and will never forgive.”

His intent to kill her shone so brightly in his eyes, she felt spotlighted. “You don’t scare me. Father. Not anymore.”

He tapped his chin with a fingertip. “Whatever can I do to change that?” A grin so heartless even his amusement was tainted. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

How did I ever look up to this man? “Shannon did nothing to deserve that kind of death.”

Finally. An expected reaction. His amusement faded, his eyes narrowing to tiny slits and his lips peeling back from his teeth. The expression of a predator who’d spotted prey. “He aided Aden. Of course he deserved to d —”

Victoria dove for him, landed on top of him. Vlad might have possessed Ryder, but Ryder still had a human body. Which meant, Ryder was still vulnerable.

He had nowhere to go as she chewed on his jugular.

As a human, she wasn’t so ineffective, after all.

TWENTY-TWO

ADEN HAD FILES STUFFED under his shirt, inside his pants and clutched under his arms. So did Seth. They’d busted into the small, dusty room Julian had led them to, and as promised, no one had been inside. No one had been inside for a really long time, he suspected. The lock had been rusted, the hinges on the door squeaking and practically falling off with the pressure he’d applied.

They’d hurried from one box to another, rifling through the papers—realizing everything related to the unexplainable. Unexplainable deaths, unexplainable injuries, unexplainable healings. They’d grabbed everything they could hold. Later, they’d come back for the rest. As for today, Mary Ann and Riley were priority one.

Now they were on their way back to the SUV, and he couldn’t shake a sense of nervousness.

“Elijah,” he muttered.

Seth cast him a strange glance but didn’t say anything.

The apology couldn’t wait for a little private time. “I’m sorry.” The soul wasn’t usually vindictive, but then, maybe Elijah couldn’t talk. Maybe something was wrong. “I was frustrated.” The words left him in a rush. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

A pause. A familiar sigh. I know.

Finally. Blessedly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

I’ve just been thinking. What if all your problems stem from me? From my guidance? What if these bad things happen to you because I tell you they’re going to happen? Like a self-fulfilling prophesy?

“Uh, that would be a ‘hell, no.’ I need you. Now more than ever.”

What if none of this would have happened if I’d kept my mouth shut?

Aden didn’t have to be a psychic to know where this was leading. “Don’t do this to me, Elijah. Not now.”