A twig snapped.
Lyra let out a strangled cry. Shivering in her soaking wet tank top and tiny pair of shorts.
“Is…is she dead?”
I turned her away from the body, using my own as a shield. I narrowed my eyes on the girl’s face and lips. They weren’t yet drained of color, meaning she hadn’t been dead long. Probably less than a day, but the cold water could have preserved the body. Something was carved into her stomach. The white shirt she wore was ripped and bloody, barely clinging to her body.
That’s when I smelt it. It was faint and hidden under the damp earthy scent, but there was no mistaking the lingering scent of magic on the corpse.
Lyra shook like a leaf beside me. Muffled sobs tore from her throat.
We needed to get the fuck out of here. Now.
I gripped Lyra’s shaky hand, yanking her toward the car, but she fought each step of the way. “We can’t just leave her here like this. We need to help her!”
“We need to go.” I hauled her over my shoulder, hooking an arm around her thighs in one easy motion. There was no time to argue. Nothing could be done for the girl anyway. “She’s gone.”
“Put me down!” She clawed and beat against my back. Anger flared as she tried to escape my hold. “This is all my fault.” The words were only a whisper as she finally slumped over my shoulder, becoming deadweight on the hike back to the car.
“None of this is your fault,” I said, trudging up the riverbank.
I gently lowered her to the ground and helped her into the passenger seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know that, right?”
She said nothing. Only shivered. She was soaking wet from head to toe. We both were after our swan dive into the river.
It wasn’t until we were a few miles down the road that I asked, “How’d you end up on the bridge tonight?”
Lyra looked out the window, refusing to meet my stare, “I don’t know. One minute, I'm watching Netflix in bed, and the next, I’m standing on the bridge. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think the girl’s spirit tried to ask for my help earlier. She was pleading for her life, and I ignored it. I ignored her.”
I rubbed my hand on her thigh.
“I know I’m a freak.” She tried to pull away from my touch, but I only gripped tighter. Lyra would never be able to get awayfrom me. No matter how hard she fought. “You saw me with the spirit in the church last night.”
“Welcome to the circus, baby girl. We’re all freaks here. You communicate with the dead, so what? You also fuck demons. One of those things makes you more of a freak than the other.”
She smiled, but it was a clear attempt at appeasing me.
I gripped her chin, pulling her face towards mine. “Look at me,” I said, taking my eyes off the road to meet hers.
“Don’t do that. Not with me.” I dug my fingers into her skin.
“Do what?”
“Don’t fucking fake a smile. I want to see every messy, broken part of you, little witch.”
CHAPTER 23
LYRA
The shaking wouldn’t subside, even as the heat blasted from the vents of Grey’s car. Leftover mascara clumped together as I tried to blink away the tears. Despite my best effort, a few still trailed down my cheeks.
Grey’s large, callused hand rested on my thigh, the pad of his thumb rubbing small circles. His touch drove away the tension, relaxing my muscles, pumping endorphins straight into my veins. The heady feeling was addictive. After just one hit I was hooked, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to kick the habit. He was a high I would be chasing for the rest of my life.
“Lyra,” Grey said my name softly. I lifted my head; my eyes were puffy and red as I turned to look at him. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been sitting in his driveway, but my ass no longer had any feeling in it.
“I’m sorry,” I said between steadying breaths.
“Don’t apologize.”
