Page 65

Why am I the one who breaks the pattern? Why do I have to be the anomaly? I don’t want to be special. I only want to be normal, maybe even happy. Is that too much to ask?

The sun is starting to peek over the horizon when I arrive at Carver’s home. I’m on the sidewalk on the back side of the house, as always, but the sounds of arguing on the side of the home pull me up short. The wards brush over me, buzzing softly against my skin. They haven’t tried to stab me again, and I like to think we’ve become friends, even if it is a little delusional.

I glance at the door I should be going through, take a step that way, but the frustration in those voices draws me in. Curiosity wins. I leave my cart at the back door and edge toward the argument, keeping out of sight so I can eavesdrop.

“—will do this, Drake.”

My head rears back. Drake? What’s he doing out here?

“And if I say no?” His usual frosty tone is subarctic today.

“I’m not asking,” the voice I don’t recognize snaps.

Who is that? I take a step closer, only to instantly regret it. A man appears in front of me so suddenly, I slam back into the brick wall. The wards snap in surprise, electricity shooting into me, but that’s not what makes me gasp. It’s the face of the man—more lined than the last time I saw it—who took Addy away from me.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, soft hands—the type of paranormal who has never known true hard work—his brown hair cropped short and not a strand out of place. That stupid mustache is the same as I remember, and so are the hard lines of his brow and jaw, giving him an almost permanent scowl.

“You,” I seethe. Adrenaline surges through me. A long-burning hatred begins to rage at the sight of this man. He took my sister. “Where is she?” I snarl, struggling against the wards, but they pin me in place like a fly trapped in a web.

{Careful.}

I’m too angry to heed the voice’s warning. The man scowls with eyes that have haunted me for years. They’re so cold, detached. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in them, no matter how much me or my twin begged to stay together. He grips my chin. “Why were you spying?” he demands, compulsion pummeling me, forcing the words from my lips.

“I wasn’t spying,” I practically hiss, bucking against his hold and the wards, pointless as it is. Carver’s fucking magic has me pinned in place.

Drake rounds the corner of the building, shock rippling over him. He takes a step toward us, then stops with a shake of his head, like he can’t be bothered, the fucking asshole.

Why am I not surprised he somehow knows this man? He’s the type to cavort with the God of Destruction, and as far as I’m concerned, this man is evil.

The guy’s grip tightens to the point of pain. “Slinking around and listening to conversations you’re not a part of? That’s spying.” If he squeezes any harder, he’s going to break my jaw.

Indignation shoots up like flares inside my body. I swallow the pain and demand an answer again. “Where’s my sister?”

Smoke tickles my nostrils. My vision hazes at the edges. I don’t know if the wards are burning me alive or if someone started a fire. I don’t care, either. All my attention is focused on one man.

“Where is she?” I scream again. Why isn’t he answering? I’ll fucking torture the answers out of him if I have to. I lunge for him but only make it a few inches before the wards slam me into the wall once more.

The man rears back slightly, blinking and looking me over with renewed interest, trying to place me. He releases my chin and steps back. If he recognizes me, he gives no indication. There’s a lot I don’t recall about my life, but, oh, how I remember him. That night he dragged my sister away kicking and screaming is so vivid in my mind. My throat aches the way it did as I sobbed and begged for him to let her go.

Ash coats my tongue, smoke threatening to choke the oxygen from my lungs. My sight loses focus again. I don’t understand that, or the scent of smoke, but I do understand that he’s the reason I ended up with Mr. Peters.

An image of fire consumes my thoughts, so hot and bright I can feel the flames, but it’s there and gone before I’m staring at him again.

He’s the reason I lost her.

I struggle against the magic, still seething. Him. Him. Him. My vision wavers. “Where is she?” The pitch of my voice is high enough to wake anyone nearby, not that I care. “You took her and then she disappeared. WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SISTER?”

“What’s she talking about, John?” Drake asks.

John. John? That’s the name of the asshole who ruined my life. Rage consumes every part of my being until I can’t even see. The world around me is entirely unfocused. My bones rattle with how hard I’m shaking.

The fire, wherever it is, continues to burn, the smoke practically coating my lungs now. Why is no one putting it out? Why doesn’t anyone else care?

“I’m afraid I don’t know what she’s talking about,” John says coolly, stepping back. His answer is too indifferent. Too controlled.

“Liar!”

With his hold on me gone, nothing is stopping me from lunging at him, and I do just that, only to be slammed back into the brick wall. These fucking wards! “Carver! You fucking piece of shit, let me go!”