Wordlessly, Elena turned and continued down the road. My breaths became shallow and faint, so I focused on Elena’s dark hair in front of me.
“Mom left me with Kismet—my Familiar—to go after him. She never came home. I didn’t watch them die, but I still hear them screaming as if I did.”
Silence fell again. Emotions rose in my throat, choking me, cutting off my air supply. I gasped gulps of air, but my head still spun.
“It isn’t your fault, Desi,” Elena said firmly. “I know you don’t believe me, but it isn’t your fault. Even if he hadn’t lured you away, he would’ve found another way.”
I nodded, dazed. “Right.” But I didn’t believe it.
Elena stopped and turned to face me. Fire burned in her eyes, but sorrow and despair lingered there, too. “I know, Desi. Pablo gave his life to save me. A few shapeshifters trapped me. They’d already started feasting on me.” She rolled up the sleeve of her left arm and revealed deep, red scars that zigzagged up her arm.
I gasped, my eyes wide. “Merciful Lilith.”
“He cast a spell, binding himself to my fate. The shapeshifters couldn’t refuse. They lunged at him. I harnessed the light magic from his sacrifice, but by the time I did, it was too late. I had to save the rest of my coven. And his body was—was long gone.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes, and she looked away, her cheeks reddening.
My mouth fell open in horror. Warmth prickled behind my eyes, and I touched Elena’s hand. “It isn’t—”
“My fault?” Elena smiled wryly. “I’ll believe that when you do.”
I dropped my hand, my heart sinking to my stomach. So much pain. So much tragedy. Even though we had powers, Elena and I were still only human. If only there were some spell to hasten the grieving process, to get us back to normal and to the other side.
“Does it get easier?” Elena asked me.
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t know. I’m in the same place I was five years ago. But I’ve been told the pain doesn’t go away. It only gets more bearable with time.”
“Have you found that to be true?”
I hesitated. “I don’t cry about it every day, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I sighed, emotion lodged in my throat. I blinked moisture out of my eyes and said quietly, “If you find the right ways to cope, then yes, it gets bearable. But I’ve buried my head in the sand. Eventually, I’ll have to pull it out and face this.”
Elena nodded. “Me too. Maybe we can face it together.”
She turned to glance at me, her eyes wide, vulnerable and . . . hopeful. Such a different gaze from what I was accustomed to seeing on her face.
“Maybe,” I said quietly. I didn’t voice my concern about returning to my own time period. I didn’t want to be in Cuba for much longer, and a part of me knew that getting past the grief of losing my parents would take more time than I could afford.
Which was why I’d avoided it for so long.
Silence fell between us as we continued walking. But something comforting existed between us now. A connection forged by our similar tragedies. I’d originally thought I would bond with Oliver over this—and in a way, I had. But Oliver had coped with his loss better than I had. Elena understood me in ways that he couldn’t. While Oliver insisted I get past the loss, Elena knew firsthand that that wasn’t the hard part. The hardest part was figuring out how.
And for the first time since I’d arrived here, I was grateful to be in her company.
Elena led me down narrow alleys and pathways that made my head spin. At times I swore we passed the same building twice. We were both silent, and we crept carefully, stopping occasionally at the sounds of the wind blowing or doors creaking.
“How much farther?” I whispered after we’d walked for at least half an hour. My legs ached, and my head throbbed from how often my gaze darted around.
Elena held up her hand to stop me as we approached the end of the road. She peered around the corner and glanced both ways before motioning for me to follow. “We need to distract the demons with your scent for as long as possible. I’d say another mile or so.”
I gulped. “So demons are following us?”
“Undoubtedly.”
My blood ran cold, and the back of my neck prickled. “Why haven’t they attacked yet?”
“They’re trying to herd us. That’s why we’re weaving in so many different directions. I don’t want us cornered.”
My eyes rounded, and my breaths sharpened, each one tearing right through me. “Yeah, that’d be bad.”
I closed the distance between us so I was only a foot behind Elena. Her tight braids bobbed against her shoulders.
“How can you tell?” I breathed as fear crept up my throat.
“I can smell them.”
I sniffed the air. The scent of magic swelled around me, like that hot, steamy smell after a dishwasher finished its cycle. But I couldn’t smell anything else.
“What does it smell like?” Part of me was irritated that I didn’t have this perfect ability to sense demons like Elena and Oliver could. The other part was angry with myself for being too lazy to practice. They were Hunters, after all. And I was nothing but a slacker.
“Shh.” Elena raised a hand again, and I stopped short, almost slamming into her.
A breeze swept through us, ruffling our hair and skirts. A shiver ran up my spine. Silence pounded against my ears as my instincts screamed that something was wrong. It was too quiet.
“Damn it,” Elena muttered, glancing quickly over her shoulder, her eyes furious.
“What?” I whispered.
“The shapeshifter. He’s the hardest to smell.”
I gripped the handle of the athame tightly, trying not to tremble with fear. Don’t be afraid. Fight. Don’t flee. You can do this.
Elena drew two daggers from her leg holsters
