That's my entire future, right there on the screen.
I lurch for the remote, ripping it away from Melchom when he protests and turning the TV down until it's understandable instead of making my fucking skull vibrate.
"—receiving many conflicting stories about the accident that took place this morning near the West Loop in downtown Chicago. Some eye witness reports say that Heidi Elise Murley, the alleged estranged daughter of the late Frost family whose existence has made international headlines today, fled of her own accord directly into the path of the bus that hit her. Otherreports claim that she was forced into the oncoming traffic by a riled crowd, and others?—"
At first, I think the deafening static is coming from the TV, but I realize it's just my ears when my vision starts to turn red.
The bus that hit her.
The bus that hit her.
The bus that hit?—
The remote snaps in half in my clenched hand.
Melchom sputters, barely audible with the furious static still pounding in my head. "Hey, what the hells? You break it, you've gotta fucking replace it! Damned mutt, what's wrong with?—"
"Shut up," I tell him, not letting myself breathe as I wait for the reporter to give me something,anythingon how my woman is doing.
Is she alive? Is she breathing? Who the fuck was driving that bus, and where do they live? If it was the crowd that pushed her, I'll hunt every single one of those fuckers down, cover their head in liquid metal, pop those fuckers right off, and?—
"Local authorities of the Chicago area are not officially disclosing any more information about the accident at this time or the condition of Miss Murley. However, other eyewitnesses reported that it appears the Frost family's hidden other child was fatally injured but still alive before paramedics arrived at the scene. Some are speculating that to survive the extensive injuries sustained, Miss Murley must be a shifter or siphon of some kind, which again raises the question of why there is no record of her in past legacy records or of having attended Everbound University."
I force myself to breathe again, ignoring Melchom cussing me out as he gets the broken pieces of the remote from me. Injured, but alive. She's alive. She's a shifter, so she would've started healing.
"Did she say Chicago?" I manage, my voice thick enough that I would be embarrassed if I gave a single infernal fuck about what Melchom thinks about anything.
He looks between me and the screen. "The report? Yeah, guess that shit went down in Chicago. What the fuck's that got to do with?—"
I don't let him finish before I grab my bike keys and throw open the front door, deciding I'm not waiting for khaos to get its shit together this time.
It's time to get another taste of my girl.
13
ASHER
I adjust my coat,leaning against the trunk of the biggest oak tree on the top of this hill as I pull up the nanny cam app on my phone. It's an hour past sunset, and the night mode on the nanny cam is complete ass, but after a bit of squinting, I decide Dev's fangs still haven't budged in Jada's backyard.
Damn it.
Why is it taking so long for him to respawn?
Eight months?I swear he's just taking his time to piss me off now.
The acrid sensation of necromantic magic nearby makes me pocket my phone and focus. Ducking under more trees, I move to crouch at the edge of the hill. This elevated spot at the edge of the surrounding woods gives me a great view of the old, remote estate nestled in this Northern California valley, complete with a big, showy mansion. Parked in the circular driveway is the kind of gleaming black car that rich people can't seem to resist.
Rich people who are paying a shit-ton of money for whatever this necromancer is offering.
I sense when my mark stops casting. Several moments later, I watch a well-dressed young couple leave through the granddouble-door entry of the estate. I can't make out their faces from here, since I didn't bother bringing binoculars. I don't have my rifle with me to peer through the scope, either.
I haven't carried that around ever since I got back to work.
What can I say? Something about getting shot in the back of the head with a nine millimeter really makes a guy stop and reconsider if firearms are worth the trouble. When I said something along those lines the last time I was around the Amato quintet a month or so ago, their demigoddess keeper agreed that guns are inelegant, boring weapons and recommended that I look into getting myself a mace.
As if I'm going to take advice from a freak who names her weapons like they're pets.
Nowadays, I use good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat, a knife, and magic. So far, it's served me well enough that every bounty hunter pal who ribbed me about losing my fire in that coma has been eating their words for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.
