When I tried a third time, the pain of a young woman shifting for the first time filtered into my mind. The voices were one thing, but sharing the sensations was too much. I quickly tuned out and moved onto a voice that registered about three miles away.
The location was close to Basker Street. My heart sped as I listened.
The chick works at a blood bank for God’s sake. Match made in heaven.
Not Thalia. I couldn’t lock on her—or track her at all for that matter. Ditto for Circe. The rest of the supernatural world surrounding us was vacant of any thoughts regarding the Liettes.
I panned the area for an hour before calling it quits. Releasing a final slow breath, I concentrated on blocking the voices altogether. It wasn’t foolproof. The voice of one elemental or another still occasionally punctured my own thoughts but, overall, I was getting a handle on my abilities.
The trance-working drained all my mental and emotional energy. As Paloma had taught me, I drank the water and ate the cookie I’d set nearby to replenish my energy.
Almost immediately after I flicked the lights on, Charles tapped the wall at the bottom of the basement stairs.
I yawned, though I’d been aiming for a smile. “You still haven’t heard from your parents?”
“They don’t usually call back right away. Come on. Let’s get to bed.”
We headed upstairs. Just as I shut the basement door behind me, a voice swirled through my thoughts.
Close.
Too close.
The next moment happened so fast, I didn’t have a chance to fully process the thoughts of our invader. Where had they come from? I’d just been searching.
They lunged at Charles, and instinct threw me in front of him. Pain stabbed my shoulder. My gaze dropped to the stake, coated in dark fluid, that jutted from my body. A sharp gasp echoed—not just my own, but the attacker’s as well.
Two shapes flashed around the room. Charles fighting another Cruor. As my vision faded, their preternatural movements blurred into meaningless colors. A heavy fog pushed over every synapse in my brain. The attacker’s influence. I couldn’t fight it—couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I fell away, into the dark.
***
AN OPEN DOOR revealed a simple white bathroom and a hairbrush on the vanity. I was lying in our bed. Light streamed in through the small window to my left, marking the comforter with a long, pale rectangle.
A stringent antiseptic smell burned my nostrils, and I lifted a hand to touch the pain gnawing at my shoulder. My fingertips brushed a rough, damp material. Blood-stained gauze clung to my skin. Images from last night—was it last night?—replayed in my mind. Someone had invaded our home. Someone had tried to kill Charles, and might have succeeded if I hadn’t gotten in the way.
Shit. What if it’d been Marcus? Why hadn’t I heard anyone near the house? It’d been too dark to see anything more than Charles’ shape beside me and a moving darkness in the shadows of the hall.
I parted my lips to speak, but my mouth was too dry to form words.
I licked my lips and tried again. “Charles?”
His name left me like a breath, but no sooner had I rasped those words than he appeared in the doorway and, another moment later, at the bedside.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. Through my groggy vision, the lashes framing his eyes looked darker, his eyes more arcane and intense.
“Not so great.” I winced, pulling the shoulder of my nightgown back into place. “Is it okay?”
“Not as bad as it looks.”
“My clairaudience didn’t pick up anything.” I shook my head. “I was listening, but—”
“Hey,” Charles said softly, “don’t think about that now. Your gift…it’s still new.”
“Where’s the attacker?” I asked. Before he could answer, my clairaudience registered their life. Their thoughts sped too fast to tune into. I got a sense of anger, regret, and…love? I shot up in bed, alarm pulsing in my chest and throat. “They’re still here?”
“Stay calm.” He touched his palm to my face. “What you did last night—jumping in front of me—I would never have wanted you to do that. I’m glad you’re okay.”
Something wasn’t right. We didn’t have time for platitudes. I tried to break into his thoughts, but he blocked my attempts. I felt each beat of my heart, hard and distinct, slamming against my chest.
I put up one finger to silence him and tapped into my clairaudience. Pain muddled my ability. After a few tries, I barely managed to discern the attacker was female. Thalia? But I’d been searching for her all night. “Why is she still here?”
He gazed toward the hallway. A bruise yellowed his forehead, already fading, and pink scratch lines puffed beneath his left cheekbone. His injuries would be gone soon, leaving behind only the scars of his childhood.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” he whispered.
I hopped from bed. Pain shot from my shoulder to my elbow, but I forced myself forward, gritting my teeth as I stormed to the basement door.
Charles darted ahead, grabbing my uninjured arm as I reached for the door handle. “Wait, Sophia. Let’s talk first.”