Page 103 of Anchored to the Storm

Letti confirmed, “Only the pastor scoping the Weathers’.”

Styx practically had smoke coming out of his ears from thinking so hard. “Hence you casing his joint, coming up with no true threat.” After a pause, he yelled, “Damnit!” at the windshield, then said, “Cock, tell Venge to split when lights roll up.” He growled, “Letti, make the call.”

Letti dialed nine-one-one on speaker, then waited.

The town the Weathers lived in was rather small, but I’d never heard of that emergency number going down. Instead of reaching a dispatcher, there was only a failed busy signal screeching through the line.

Letti hung up, and the SUV went deathly silent. Then the engine was pushed even harder.

Finally, still driving like mad, Styx said, “We’re missing the bigger picture. The connection. Pastor. The kids. There’s something there.”

My heart was squeezing so tight, imagining what was happening inside that house at this very second. “Only one I can see is Kristen.”

Styx’s foot slipped off the pedal. He quickly recovered as Letti gripped his armrest. “Ah shit. Two cops stopped by the house.”

“What?” Styx was livid.

Letti nodded. “They were investigating the pissed-on tires and stolen portrait. Dale ate both of them for lunch, threatening to contact their superior, whom he knows.”

Peacemaker slapped his forehead. “Her connection felt we should leave Bluebell out of the system⁠—”

“Jesus Christ.” Styx blew through a red light. “They’re in with the pastor.”

The rest of the men cursed: “Fucking hell… And it sounds like the dirty cops may also have bruised egos… But Kristen’s connection wanted to protect kids.”

“Or fuck them,” I sneered, feeling so double-crossed by someone who helped Kristen do right by us.

Cocky got on his phone. Into it, he said, “Venge. Think we got dirty cops.” After a moment, he hung up, whistling low and long. “He. Is. Pissed.”

“And rolling up now.” Letti was watching his phone again.

When we got there, the house was still very dark. We unloaded the SUV like a SWAT team and entered the house the same way, with guns drawn and ready to deploy. My ski mask was in place, and I was ready to battle to my own death. Not witness an array of bodies. Two men had been stabbed in various places and tied to furniture. Another body lay on her side. No beautiful brown eyes to see. They were closed, but I knew it was her because of her greying blonde hair spread out behind her. I knew it was her because of who was holding her hand. And I knew she was dead because her blood had drained from the slice across her neck.

“You must save her.”

Hitting my knees, I realized I had saved the wrong one. Sarah had so many around her at the pastor’s. This dear woman only had Dale.

When I woke at the pastor’s, I felt as if I had failed Sarah. I hadn’t. I’d failed Harmony.

I grabbed her other hand and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Three mothers. I had now lost three mothers. And I felt the blame for them all.

“Brass?”

I looked up to see Dale on his back. “You’re here?”

Avenger, putting pressure to Dale’s stomach, was shaking his head at me. He was buying me time. These would be my last moments with one of the best father figures I’d ever have.

“I’m here.” I scooted to Dale, staying on the floor to be with him. I lifted my mask, letting it rest on my forehead so he could see me. Then I grabbed his arm and hand, thumbs locked. Repeating words I had been told. “I’m here. I’m with you.”

It was surreal. I was reliving what I had just experienced myself. Now I knew I had been stuck between realms. One of them was now coming true.

Dale was smiling. Blood dripped from his mouth. The courageous man was dying yet fucking smiling at me as if this wasn’t all my fault. “Your skin. You’re made of dancing stars, Brass.”

I burst into sobs. He was being given Death’s Gift.

Then I thought of the fog Styx and I had floated in when on the invisible conveyor belt. Death’s Gift is a transformation. Dale is… shifting.