Hunted

I pressed my hands on his chest. Heal him.

Nothing happened.

I clenched my teeth, my body shaking with fear. Heal him, damn it!

Nothing.

Tears filled my eyes. Maybe I was doing this the wrong way. Master Haziel always told me the strength of the dagger depended on the wielder—me. I was scared now, afraid of what I’d done. Fear weakened me, therefore weakening the powers of the dagger. I needed to find my source of strength.

Source of strength? Another familiar expression.

Closing my eyes, I let images of Grampa over the years flash through my head. Grampa cooking in the kitchen with Aunt Janelle, laughing at something I’d said, on stage at the Circus performing a trick, teaching me to sword fight, wiping my tears after I fell off a bike…

The more the images, the stronger I felt. The love I felt for him flooded my body. A tingle spread from my back to my hands. When I opened my eyes, everything was white, yet I knew everything would be okay. I pressed my hand against his chest again. Heal him.

Then Grampa’s voice reached me. “I’m okay now, sweetheart.”

“I know.” I blinked and my vision cleared. My hands glowed like a thousand-watt bulb, green light shooting from my palms to Grampa’s chest, the dark ancient writings stark against the glow that snaked up my arms. I clenched my fist and the writings ebbed as they disappeared under my skin. The light dimmed.

I got up, giving Grampa space. Color returned to his cheeks, but the silence in the room was eerie. Slowly, he stood too.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Grampa. I would never do that.”

He smiled and patted my cheek. “Of course not, sweetheart. I was desperate for answers and went deeper than I should have.”

I searched his face. “What did you see?”

He shook his head, his hand gripping my wrist. “There’s quite a bit of residual energy left, but it’s unfamiliar. Tomorrow, I’d like you to link to the Psi-dar.”

Lucky me. I hated that pool of ghost energies. “And the memories?”

“I heard a woman’s voice though the words weren’t clear. I stayed longer, hoping to understand her words. If you remember anything at all, however small, tell me or Bran. Now I want all of you to go home and rest.” He glanced at the other senior Cardinals. “We have much to discuss and decisions to make.”

If it weren’t for my heightened senses picking up signals from him, I would have left without arguing. He was trying to get rid of us. “The woman you heard in my head, could she be the demon that attacked me?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure the Psi-dar will give us answers.” I opened my mouth to ask another question, but stopped when he pinned me with a stern look. “We are not speculating about the identity of the owner of that voice, Lil. Now go home. You, too,” he added, glancing at the rest of the junior Cardinals.

“Did they say we can’t leave the valley?” Sykes asked as soon as we left HQ offices behind and headed toward the tunnels.

Remy chuckled. “Nope.”

“Want to hook up with the waitresses?” Sykes asked. He walked backward, hazel eyes twinkling, the meeting in the conference room all but forgotten.

Remy shrugged and the two bumped fists.

“You had time to make dates in the middle of that mess in L.A.?” Izzy asked.

“Hey, no one is stopping you from ditching Rastiel and hooking up with someone now and then.” Sykes wiggled his brow suggestively and pointed at his chest.

Izzy laughed. “In your dreams.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Sykes added, smirking.

Bran chuckled. “You’re losing your touch, Sykes.”

“I’m just warming up.” He interlocked his fingers and snapped his knuckles.

“Am I the only one who feels the Seniors gave us the runaround back in there?” I asked when we stopped by the tunnel leading to my house. “The Cardinals’ behavior was weird.”

“I think they have no idea what’s going on,” Bran cut in. “Master Haziel is the one with the answers. We need to come up with a plan to make him talk to us. He’s proven to be more cooperative that the seniors.”

The others thought it was a brilliant idea. I just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep even though it was only four in the afternoon. “Master Haziel will only tell you what he thinks you should know. Nothing more and nothing else.”

“You don’t have to deal with him if you don’t want to,” Bran said.

“She must,” Kim insisted. “He has a soft spot for her.”

“He doesn’t,” I protested. “He yells at me the most. I’m definitely in. Are you guys really sneaking out tonight?”

“Maybe,” Remy said.

“Yes,” Sykes corrected him.

Telling them not to go would be like waving a red flag at a bull. “Be careful. If you haven’t noticed, the Tribe only appears when we are out there.”

“We’ll be fine,” Sykes said confidently.

“Watch your backs,” Izzy warned them, then she and Kim teleported.

I shook my head as Remy and Sykes headed toward their house. “They are so reckless.”

Bran chuckled, taking my hand. “Sykes is. Remy just goes along to make sure Sykes doesn’t do something stupid.”

No surprise there. Sykes tended to break rules with no thoughts of consequences. Yawning, I sighed. “What did we do last week when we were on lockdown?”

“We hung out and practiced. Kylie stopped by a few times. Come on. I’ve been saving something special for your birthday, which drove you nuts because you wanted to see it so badly,” he grinned, dimples flashing, “but I think you should see it now.”

I hated reminders of my lost memories, but surprises from him were always fun. They usually involved teleporting somewhere, though I doubted that would be the case this time with lockdown and all. “What is it?”

He rolled his eyes then pulled me back into his arms. “Always impatient.”

“Okay, where to?”

“My room.”

“Oh. I like it already.”

He chuckled. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

I blushed, though I refused to be embarrassed for loving him and wanting to spend time alone with him. We dematerialized and reappeared in his room. The house was quiet without Celeste. The seniors had never said when the students would come back from Xenith.

Bran’s room looked more lived-in than I recalled. The iPod on a docking station and the laptop were new, as was an armchair and the rug on the floor. Two canvases were flipped to face the wall. Near the window sat a table with pencils and sketch pads. I knew he sketched, but he’d never shown me any of his work.

Or maybe he had and I’d forgotten. The urge to cry washed over me.

“You are worrying again,” he whispered against my temple.

“No, I’m not.”

He leaned back and studied my face. “Yes, you are.”

The urge to cry increased. “I’m trying not to, but I hate that everything is different and new because of my messed-up memories. My room. Your room. Keiran is a stranger to me when he shouldn’t be. Dante can’t come close to me without getting hurt.”

“Then mind-blend with me and relive the last four months.”

Stepping away from him, I shook my head. “No. Not after what happened to Grampa. I could hurt you too, or worse.”

“There’s a difference. He was searching for—”