“I guess one of you is driving,” I mutter, already reaching for the door.
Pain flutters beside me before it seeps through the walls and into the night sky. There are no clouds tonight—just an endless stretch of black with scattered stars. I can barely see it as it disappears into the darkness.
Cassian takes the driving duty. He doesn’t say a word as he steps ahead of the group, keys already in hand, and heads for the sleek, dark car parked just outside the hospital. It's different from the truck they used to bring in the body, but I guess, with all the precautions these guys take, it makes sense.
Nathaniel and Talon follow him without hesitation, slipping into the car and letting me sit next to the driver this time.
As soon as Cassian starts the engine, the low rumble vibrates through the car, and I settle into my seat, arms folded tightly over my chest. The pull is getting stronger, winding around my ribs, urging me forward, but I force myself to breathe through it.
“You okay?” he murmurs in a low voice.
I don't know why, but it pisses me off.
“Yeah,” I bite back. “I'm a wisp of nothing, after all.”
He doesn’t react to my jab, not outwardly. But something flickers across his face—too quick for me to identify—before he shifts gears and pulls onto the road.
I stay quiet most of the time, closing my eyes and focusing on the pull. I speak only when I have to—when it's time for him to take a turn or change directions. And since we're so far from the center of my jurisdiction over the dying humans, we need to drive for a while.
I exhale sharply, eyes fluttering open as the pull tightens one last time.
“Here,” I say. “Turn left.”
Cassian does without hesitation, the tires gliding smoothly against the asphalt. We pass by closed shops, a few late-nightdiners, and then, at the very end of the block, we reach it. A swimming pool.
It looks like a fairly new community center with glass doors, white walls, and a well-lit parking lot that's nearly empty at this hour. The only sign of life is a single bike parked near the entrance.
Talon gets out of the car first and walks over to open the door for me. I shoot him a glance, wondering why he'd bother, but he explains on his own.
“I know it takes some effort for you to pass through things,” he says, looking smug. “I've noticed. Come on, let's move.”
I step out of the car, my gaze flicking up to the building in front of me. The pull is stronger here—like some invisible force has hooked a leash around my waist and is reeling me in. The faint smell of chlorine lingers in the air, mixing with the cool night breeze.
Someone is dying inside.
“There shouldn't be anyone here at this hour,” I mutter. “What time is it?”
Nathaniel glances at his watch. “Just past midnight.”
“Sunday, at that,” Cassian supplies. “The last time the center was open was Friday evening.”
The way he says it sends a chill down my spine. I shake it off and press forward.
Pain swoops low, its wings nearly brushing my hair before it perches on the roof of the entrance, tilting its head like it’s already waiting for the soul to slip free.
I don't exactly trust this bastard as much as I used to, but this death should be routine. Just like the others.
Everything feels the same so far.
“Doors are locked,” Talon notes as he tugs at the handle.”Well, I don't have time to wait,” I tell him.
“Neither do we,” he responds.
I don’t get it until he steps back, puts gloves on, rolls his shoulders like he’s preparing for a WWE showdown with a door, and then—
CRASH.
Talon drives his elbow into the glass. A sharp crack splits the night as the window shatters, spiderweb cracks spreading across the surface. He doesn’t stop there—he steps in, grips the broken edge with his gloved hands, and yanks, tearing an opening large enough for all of them to slip through.
