Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
She glanced back at the torn-up house. They’d even affected claw marks in the sofa and walls just to be very clear that it was the gargoyles behind this mess. That it was Jessie who had done this. She was being thrown into the big players club whether she liked it—or knew about it—or not.
A knock sounded at the door. That meant Sebastian had torn down the protection spell—and the spy’s spell layered into it.
She flipped the latch and shoved it open.
Sebastian looked at the framing. “If there is a countdown, that’s going to start it. Everything ready?”
“Ready. Let’s—” She grabbed his shirt and yanked him around, rubbing at his face. “Wait, you have some blood…”
“Thanks,” he muttered, glancing at her face as well. His expression crumpled. He wiped at her cheek. “Tears come off a little easier than blood, at least.”
“Not when they come from a wounded soul.”
“Look at you,” he whispered with a sad smile. “So poetic.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll talk about it when we get home.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I just need to get used to this kind of thing again. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” he said noncommittally.
In silence, they started loading stolen items into the van. He’d be taking the fancy car out of here. It would be covered in a spell that made it look like the van she’d be driving. When they were loaded up, they did a last sweep through the house.
“It’s convincing. They’ll believe Jessie’s crew did this,” he said, knocking over a small porcelain statue just for fun. It shattered across the ground.
“Either that, or they’ll think shifters are behind it.”
“Shifters can’t pull down spells like this. That takes power. They know she has it.” He nodded and took Nessa’s arm, guiding her out. “It’ll work. In Kingsley’s battle, she was pushing her little cart to the top of the hill. This shove will send it careening down to Momar.”
“Your metaphors need work.”
She passed him by and headed to the van, soon relishing the silence as they drove to their current hideout. The streets were mostly deserted this late at night—early morning, actually. Country roads took them to the estate way outside of town, over an hour’s drive. They tucked the automobiles into the empty garage and left them for the time being.
“Do you want a nightcap?” Sebastian asked when she stopped in the bare kitchen to grab a glass of water.
“No, it’s okay. I’m going to head to bed. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he murmured, his façade fading away and his tone dripping with sadness. “I’m sorry, Nessa. Truly.”
“It’s not your fault. This is what needs to happen. I know that. I’ll adjust. I just…need some time.”
She closed the door to her bedroom with a sigh and leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes. Her heart was beating too fast and her insides felt hollow.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she berated herself quietly, pushing off the door. She’d always known she would end up in this situation. She needed to just get on with it.
An unexpected flash of color had her reaching for a knife. Adrenaline dumped into her body as she focused in on what it was.
Sitting on her desk in the corner, beside her laptop, was a crystal vase filled with deep purple tulips. The computer was opened and turned on, a green rectangle flashing in the upper corner of an otherwise black screen. A little card sat in front of the tulips, folded in half.
She approached it slowly as tears sprang to her eyes. With a shaking hand, she picked up the note.
Call me next time, little deathwatch angel. I told you—I don’t mind getting my hands dirty so that you can keep yours clean. No exceptions.
- YM
YM. Your Monster.
Tristan.
How the hell had he found her this time? After he’d found her last time and sent those books, she’d been so careful.
And how had he possibly known what she did tonight?
She looked at the screen, her fingers itching to reach for the keys. To talk to him. He was on the other side of that blinking green rectangle, she knew. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d told him to get lost by these means.
It was the first time she needed to talk to someone, though.
She leaned on her elbows, staring at the note.
No exceptions.
That sounded so good right now, but there were always exceptions if you were rotten enough.
She needed to close the laptop down. She needed to disconnect it from the network and change the IP. They’d have to move yet again. They’d planned to anyway, but they hadn’t wanted to do it so hastily. Tristan had found her, though. He had a knack for doing so. He’d told her once that he could anticipate her. That he could discover her plans as quickly as she made them.