Page 4

Did everything I touch do this?

To test it, I picked up a gun wrapped in an evidence bag, watching it vanish as my fingers touched it, then reappear when I put it down.

Strange.

And possibly very useful.

Useful or not, I needed to get the fuck out of here.

So, I left the evidence room, ran out of the FBI office, and nearly hit a man walking down the street. Even as I opened my mouth to apologize, even as the words formed on my tongue, the man kept walking, completely oblivious to me. Bile churned in my stomach. Then everything hit all at once—the blare of car horns, bits of conversation, brakes squealing, sirens off in the distance—and I clamped my hands over my ears and fell to my knees just as the reek of the city hit me.

The thick, rancid stench of urine.

And I recognized where I was immediately.

Downtown Chicago.

Beneath my palms, the sidewalk felt rough and gritty, its uneven surface biting into my skin as I doubled over. I pressed harder, letting the sting anchor me. What was happening to me? My chest tightened, and a skitter of fear ran up my spine.

A strangled sound erupted from my chest, and I sat back on my heels. My very bare heels, with the pavement scraping against my soles.

Fuck. Shoes. I really should have stolen shoes too. Being barefoot in the city was not a good idea. Lord knew what littered the streets. Needles. Drugs. Broken glass. Human waste. The list went on and on.

And I was wearing a dress that barely covered my ass, looking like a crime victim. Not that anyone could see me.

I. Was. A. Ghost.

But I was free.

Sunlight shone down on my face, and I lifted my chin to meet it. Warmth cascaded over me, and for the first time, I let myself feel the sun’s caress without fearing an attack from an Order member.

I bathed in the warmth and light for one moment.

It was nice. Peaceful.

But the honking of a horn broke me out of it, ripping me from my tranquility and thrusting me back into reality.

I was in downtown Chicago with nowhere to go.

Three years had irrevocably changed my life. I didn’t have one anymore.

There was nothing to go back to.

Frantically, I looked around for a safe place, but there was nothing. Nowhere safe to go. No money, no house, and no support.

Maybe I could pickpocket?

Going back to my family was out of the question. Severin, too. Their betrayal had made certain of that.

I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to figure out a plan, but twenty minutes later, I still had nothing.

Then a deep red Lamborghini pulled up beside me, and the window rolled down.

"Get inside." The black-haired woman watched me with unsettling familiarity, everything about her dark and haunting, like she'd just clawed her way out of a mirror or something equally horrific.

I glanced around. She must have been talking to someone else because I was still invisible.

But there was no one else around.