Chapter 220

Chapter 220: Chapter 220

Heather

"I don’t know. We have to call Presley." His jaw ticked as he stared off into the distance.

Anger burned hot. It was eating him up, but I couldn’t figure out what he was so pissed off about without digging into his head more, and he was still holding back. "Why are you so mad?"

The glow in his amber colored eyes faded a bit as he cupped my cheek. "I’m mad for a lot of reasons. At Presley. Why didn’t he call and let us know that there was a problem? But mostly I’m mad at myself. Why the fuck didn’t I check in? Disconnecting was my idea, and it nearly got you killed."

No. He couldn’t take the blame for this. I wouldn’t let him. "This wasn’t your fault. I wanted time alone together as much as you did, but now we just have to figure out what’s going on. And I really, really want to know which member of the Seven died today."

"Me, too." Brent’s sorrow made tears well in my own eyes.

I stood to brush sand off my leg, but gave up. Sand caked the whole back of my body. Only a shower was going to fix it. "Come on. Let’s go back to the house." I grabbed up my bag and towel, and started off toward the house.

I couldn’t believe I’d drowned. I couldn’t believe one of the Seven was dead. And if I was right and I’d been feeling their death, then whoever had died was murdered. Brutally.

Which meant the Seven were down two members. What did that mean for the werewolves?

Three, Brent chimed in, correcting me. They’re down three members.

"Three? Donovan and whoever just died. Who am I missing?"

"When Ferdinand was killed after his attempted coup, Presley was chosen to take his place. There’s a ceremony involved to become a full member, which he hasn’t done yet. Until he does that, he’s just a stand-in, and his bond to the Seven is weaker than the rest."

"Wow. I had no idea." I thought for a second. "And then Donovan broke his bonds with the Seven the day after his and Serena’s Full Moon Ceremony."

My heart started beating too fast. Oh shit. I wasn’t sure how Donovan leaving the Seven was connected to the demon attacks at St. Francis’s, but they had to be related somehow.

Now a third member had been murdered.

I’d had no idea that the Seven was in shambles.

Add to all that my visions being off?

I was wrong. Something wasn’t coming. It was already here.

A shower helped clear my head, but I needed a nap. Near death must’ve killed a royal fuckload of calories because I was seriously dragging. I threw on a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top and managed to clip my hair up before calling it done. The fact that I was alive was good. Better was the knowledge that Brent was arranging our travel home to Texas.

I’d had an amazing time on our honeymoon, but we couldn’t stay when our friends were in trouble. It was time to get back to reality. Something bad was happening and we had to get home.

Brent smiled at me as he paced around the house, talking to the water taxi people. I left a snack for you on the coffee table. Please try to eat.

Thanks.

The polished concrete floors were cool against my feet as I ambled through the living room and settled down on the faded, navy couch. It was covered in a million fluffy pillows. Every time I laid on the couch it was like getting swallowed by a cloud. The air conditioning was blasting, so I grabbed a cozy, plaid blanket and cuddled into it. A massive flat screen took up most of the wall in front of me and a pack of Bimbo pound cakes—literally the best thing ever—sat on the coffee table with a glass of milk and my phone.

I stared at the cakes. Just the idea of reaching over to grab them seemed like a lot of work.

The shower had helped calm me down a little, but the terror was still lingering, hovering underneath my skin. My body felt like it was filled with Jell-O, and emotionally, I was hanging on by a thread. I couldn’t believe I’d had such a close call.

My hands were still trembling as I finally reached for the cakes. Food wouldn’t solve all my problems, but it would give me back some of my strength.

I usually loved the little pound cakes, but today they might as well have been filled with sawdust. I forced myself to chew and swallow small bites as fast as I could. I tried to think of what my next step was, but beside wanting to get home, all I had were questions. I needed to call Claudia.

My phone started vibrating. I jumped, knocking a sea of pillows to the ground. Claudia’s picture and name popped up on the screen.

I froze, watching the answer button blink. I dropped the cake on the floor as I fumbled for the phone, swiping my thumb across the screen. "Claudia? Are you okay?"

"I’m fine, but I’m worried about you."

I spun to Brent. When did you call her?

I didn’t.

"One sec." I stepped outside and closed the glass door behind me.

Somehow Brent could pay attention to multiple conversations at once and still converse coherently. I couldn’t. Listening to Brent make travel plans while trying to give Claudia my attention wasn’t going to go well.

I walked past the patio table and chairs, a few loungers, and an infinity pool to the railing overlooking the water. The ocean was still peaceful, even though I’d died for a second out there.

Whatever had happened out there was magic-based, and I wasn’t about to let it ruin paradise. The sun was getting lower, and we’d have to cook dinner soon, but I was glad Claudia had called. I really needed to talk to her.

Through our bond, Brent’s voice was now just a faint hum. Good enough. "Hey. You still there?"

"Of course."

"Are you really okay?" Brent felt pretty certain that whatever happened to me was an isolated incident, but it seemed pretty convenient that she was calling me this evening when I hadn’t heard from her in weeks.

"I’ve been off lately, but..." She sighed. "It’s not important. Not after what happened to Muraco. That’s why I’m calling."

I froze. "What happened to Muraco?"

"I’m sure you felt him pass. I hear all wolves should’ve, but...it was bad."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He didn’t just fade?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from her.

"No. He didn’t. Someone murdered him."

I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to this, but I had to ask. "Earlier today I was out swimming, and I got this searing pain in my hands. It felt like someone was slicing through my knuckles, very quickly one by one. It was weird. And then the pain was in my wrists. And my elbows and then—"

Her high-pitched gasp came through the line. "Your shoulders. Toes. Ankles. Knees. Hips."

I swallowed. "Yes."

"You felt his murder."

"If that’s how he died, then I think so?" The question came out as a high-pitched squeak.

"No. I wasn’t asking. That’s how he died. No one knows but a few of the wolves from Lucas’ pack. It was a ritual killing. He was placed in a circle of his own blood. There were candles. And each joint was severed—from his knuckles to his knees and toes—in one clean cut."

I sat on the balcony floor, threading my legs through the rungs of the railing, and stared at the waves crashing on the shore. "Did Lucas feel his death?" If anyone else had, the Alpha of Muraco’s pack had to have felt it. Please, don’t let it just be me.

"No."

Shit. "Then why the hell did I feel it?" And what did it mean?

"I don’t know." Her words were a whisper, like she didn’t want to say it too loud or else it’d be true. "But I’m pretty sure the spell and the cuts drained him of his power."

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of me. I couldn’t breathe. "Does it look like—"

"No. It wasn’t the same magic that Luciana used to take your power, but it’s similar. Too similar."

Xander’ email came to mind. I couldn’t fathom it, but I still had to ask. "Do you think Luciana’s back? That she’s somehow still alive?"

"No! How could you even think that?" She groaned.

"I got an email from Xander about the demon activity around St. Francis’s. He asked me if I thought it was possible, and—" 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

"Wait a second. What did you say?" Claudia’s voice grew cold.