“Marissa,” Helene said louder. “Nick just got here. Why don’t you give him a chance to get acclimated before you start telling him what he’s going to have for dinner.”
Marissa grinned and let go of him. “Okay. But I want to show him my new room.” Excitement filled her dark eyes again as she looked at Nick. “Do you want to see it?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He laid his hand on her little shoulder and pushed to his feet, and as he did, Cynna caught the subtle movement. The way his finger hooked in the collar of the girl’s coat and pulled the fabric back just an inch, revealing long, red, clawlike scars that ran down her neck and disappeared under her clothes.
His shoulders tensed. He let go of the girl and forced a smile for her before he dropped his arm to his side and said, “I’ll find you in a bit.”
The child ran off to rejoin a group of children kicking a ball down the street. But Nick turned his fiery gaze on Helene. “What happened to her?”
“She’s fine.”
“That’s not what I asked. I want to know what happened.”
Helene sighed. “She was inside when the attack happened. She had a vision of daemons and satyrs at the school. She came to tell me. I went running out there. I…I didn’t think she’d follow.”
Nick’s eyes grew shadowed. And the way his muscles bunched, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides… It shot worry straight down Cynna’s spine.
She reached for his hand, hoping to soothe him, to keep him centered, but he pulled away from her touch.
“Where’s her mother?” He glanced around the courtyard. People were still mingling, waiting to talk to him. “I don’t see her. She never lets Marissa out of her sight. Not since the fire.”
“Nick,” Helene said softly.
“Where is she?”
Helene’s face dropped, just as it had earlier when she’d told him about his men. “She was one of the fifty-eight.”
Nick took a step back. His chest rose and fell with his rapid breaths. Every muscle in his body grew taut. His jawbone turned to a slice of steel beneath his skin. And his eyes… They were now cold, unfriendly, dead. A look Cynna instantly recognized. Because it was the same look she’d seen on her own face in the mirror when she’d finally decided to turn to Zagreus for revenge.
“Nick.” Cynna reached for him.
He turned before she could touch him, stalked away, and disappeared between two buildings.
Fear and worry melded inside Cynna. She took a step to follow, but Helene’s hand over her arm stopped her cold. “Wait. What’s wrong with him?”
Cynna turned toward the blonde. “Who was the female?”
“A friend. One of the colonists.”
“Nothing more?”
Helene let go of her arm. “Nick rescued them—the mother and Marissa—from a daemon attack years ago. They were living in the wild with her human husband. He didn’t make it. Nick brought them in to the colony and promised to protect them.”
And he hadn’t. Cynna’s heart sank. “I have to find him.”
“But—“
“If he comes back by here before I get to him, don’t let him leave.”
A perplexed expression crossed Helene’s face as Cynna stepped away. “I’ll do what I can. But—”
“No buts, Helene.” Panic spread through every inch of Cynna’s body. “If I don’t find him before it’s too late, all hell could break loose. And I don’t mean that figuratively.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
A gust of wind lifted Cynna’s ponytail, and a chill rushed down her spine. Crossing her arms over her chest, she hurried down the street, looking in every shop window she passed, searching for Nick.
He didn’t know the layout of Kyrenia. Wouldn’t know where to go to get away from the crowds. At this time of day—midafternoon—there was still a fair amount of people on the street doing business, but the weather was growing colder, the skies darker, and something in her gut said a storm was moving in. One that likely couldn’t compare to the storm surging inside Nick right now.
She made a right and stepped over a pile of snow pushed up against a newly renovated building. Where would he go? If she could track him the way he tracked her, this would be a hell of a lot easier. Biting her lip, she glanced around, then remembered Delia’s house.
It was a long shot, but it was the only place he knew. She made a left and hurried down the sidewalk, not wanting to flash in the hopes she might run into him along the way, all the while hoping—no, praying—she’d find him there.
Three blocks from Delia’s house, movement between two large, empty buildings with broken windows caught her eye. She hesitated, turned back. A shadowy figure stood halfway down the darkened alley, hands pressed against the brick wall, shoulders hunched, head hanging low.
Panic spread beneath her ribs. Panic and fear and hope. Cautiously, she moved into the alley. “Nick?”
No answer. She couldn’t tell if it was him. The person was big enough, but she’d breathe easier if he’d just lift his head so she could be sure. She took another step forward. “Nick, is that you?”