“And now we practice.” Knox threw an old photograph of Crow onto the ground. “There he is, Harper. There’s the bastard that targeted me again and again. He wanted me dead, and he used you to try to get to me – he even went as far as to try to cut out your womb so you could never carry my child. Killing him was almost a kindness, really, considering the pain he deserved to feel.”
She licked her lips. “You want me to call the flames to devour the photograph?”
“Unless you’d rather I’d brought a living person. Your ex would be my preference.”
“The dolphin would be mine.” Harper rolled back her shoulders. “Talk me through what I need to do.”
“Tap into the link you have to your wings – the link that allows you to call them to you. It may feel physical, but it’s psychic in nature. Find it.”
Harper didn’t need to search for it. The link was as much a part of her as the wings themselves. “Got it.”
“Good, now you’re stood on that bridge we were talking about. Crow is your target. Stare at that photograph and think about him. Think of everything he caused, every bit of pain the people around you suffered. Think of what he did to you and what he would have done to me.”
She did, feeling fury build inside her like a firestorm. “The link… it’s getting hot. Really hot.”
“I want you to direct every bit of the rage in you at that picture. Feel the rage, and focus on the cause of the rage… and call the power that’s on the other side of the bridge.”
She glared down at the photo, trying to project her anger onto it. “The link’s super, super hot right now.”
“Don’t break away from it,” he said, hearing the wariness in her tone. “The heat can’t hurt you. You know that. Focus on the photo, Harper. Focus on Crow.”
She sensed the power on the other side of the bridge raring to be released; she called to it. The air buzzed and the ground trembled, making the dead leaves at their feet flutter. It scared her enough that her resolve faltered for a minute.
“They won’t hurt you, Harper. They can’t. Direct them at Crow. He slapped you, he sliced you open, he tried to remove your womb and —”
Harper winced as an almost unbearable power shot up the “bridge” and flames erupted out of the ground with a roar. She stepped away from the blistering heat, even as she marveled at what she’d done. They consumed the photograph easily, but they didn’t die down.
Knox was instantly at her side. “Okay, Harper, I want you to shove aside the rage. Crow is gone now. Dead. He can’t hurt you ever again, and he can’t hurt me. It’s over.” He whispered into her ear. “All over. That’s it, good girl. The flames did what you needed them to do; now let them go.”
The flames slowly eased, and the buzz in the air died away as the power returned to where it came from. The photograph was gone. All that remained were ashes that were dotted with a red residue. Harper gaped at him. “I did it. I actually fucking did it.”
“Of course you did it.”
She smiled. “Can I do it again?”
“I had a feeling you’d say that.”
Harper clasped the door handle, staring into the dark, mostly bare room. The cradle was shaking in time with the baby’s cries. Her heart ached at the sounds. The cries weren’t loud, sharp or high-pitched. They were more fussy, whiny “Where are you?” cries that held a little indignation. But they still tugged at her, drawing her into the room.
She walked toward the cradle – each step was slow, careful, tentative. Some part of her wanted to turn and flee, though she didn’t know where the wariness came from. But she kept moving purposely forward.
The cries lowered to soft, nasal snorts… as if the baby knew attention was coming its way. Harper swallowed as her unexplainable wariness built. Still, her steps didn’t falter. And then she was there, staring into the cradle.
So tiny, she thought, with a smile, as she watched the baby writhe and kick. It squinted up at her, eyes dark and familiar. Then those eyes bled to black, and the cradle burst into flames.
Harper woke with a silent gasp, wincing as the spotlights in the mahogany ceiling pricked her eyes. She quickly became aware that she was lying on the living room sofa, covered in a blanket that Knox must have thrown over her. He’d muted the wall-mounted T.V. that she’d been watching before she fell asleep. Well, calling on the flames of hell was tiring.
Double-blinking to clear her vision, she sat upright on the curved, beige sofa that was identical to the one opposite it. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see Knox staring at her, his head cocked.
“You’re awake.”
“You sound disappointed.” Watching him slip on the jacket of his suit, she realized… “You’re going somewhere and were hoping you could leave me behind.” Sneaky.
“No such luck, apparently,” he grumbled.
“Where are we going?”
He looked about to argue, but instead he sighed and said, “To visit McCauley’s mother.”
“You know who she is?”
“We’re pretty certain it’s a she-demon from our lair by the name of Talia Winters. McCauley bears a strong resemblance to her. Of course, she can confirm it for us.”
He walked soundlessly along the light pine flooring and over to the beautiful fireplace. Grabbing her cell phone from the mantel among her knickknacks, he tossed it to her. She’d added a few other personal touches to the spacious, high-ceiling room, such as the thick oak book shelves and the soft throw blanket that was the same ocean blue as the Persian carpet.
“I recall Talia being pregnant,” Knox added. “She claimed that the child died shortly after its birth.”
“I’m guessing it was exchanged for a human child who did die shortly afterwards.” Harper stood and did a long, catlike stretch. “Tell me about Talia. I don’t recall ever seeing her.”
Knox curled an arm around her and drew her against him. “That’s because strip clubs aren’t really your thing.”
“She’s a stripper?”
“Yes. She’s unmated, has no other kids, and is rumored to be a junkie. I’m not sure how true that rumor is.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged, smiling at her gasp. “Tanner is coming with us and he’s almost here. As soon as you’re ready to leave, we’ll head to her apartment and find out.”
“All I need is a quick coffee; then we can go.”
A short while later, Levi drove them to what was a shady part of Las Vegas. Harper thought her old apartment building was bad. This area was way worse. It was the kind of place you expected to find squatters and addicts, and should worry that you might be hit by a stray bullet. The building itself was covered in graffiti and strange yellow stains, and it also looked charred in places. Many of the windows were grimy while others were broken or bordered.
“Again, I’ll watch over the car,” said Levi.
Since there were small groups of shifty people scattered around, Harper figured that was a good idea.