Storm of Sin - Patricia D. Eddy Page 0,64
from the elevator.
Dion’s in trouble. I’m going to pick her up on Market Street, then bring her to the Bureau. Get your ass back here ASAP.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzes as I double-park around the corner from Macy’s. Sin’s name flashes across the screen, but I shove the phone into my pocket. I don’t have time for this now. He’s just going to yell at me, and in five minutes, I’ll have Dion and we’ll be on our way back to the Bureau.
My feet are already starting to ache as I turn onto Market Street, but Dion’s mane of jet black hair is just barely visible over the rest of the crowd and so I push through the discomfort. She’s facing away from me, pretending to window shop at the department store. Thank God.
“Dion!” I say as I reach for her arm.
“Do not say another word,” an accented, alluring voice says in my ear. “Your voice belongs to me now.”
Panic wraps icy fingers around my heart, and I try to scream, but nothing comes out.
“Give me your phone and your keys,” the woman says, and my entire being aches to please her. I can’t give her my phone. I need it. And my keys. Dion is only a foot away from me, and her eyes…they’re so serene, almost like she’s floating on air. Her lips are parted slightly, and she watches the woman behind me. Regina.
The keys slip from my hand, but I don’t make a move to pull my phone from my pocket. Fight. Find your voice and scream your damn head off.
A tiny, weak sound tickles my throat, and for a second, I think maybe I can fight her. Until Regina turns me around, takes my chin in her long, bony fingers, and pins her cold stare on me. “You will do as I ask, or I will kill the panther by flaying her skin from her body one inch at a time. Give. Me. Your. Phone.”
Each word is like a sledgehammer to whatever fight I have left. I’m so tired. And if I give in…everything will be okay. I know it will. Because the old woman is smiling now. Her orange eyes…how did I think they were cold? They’re full of tenderness. Understanding. She knows what’s best. She’ll take care of me.
I slip my phone into her palm, then take out my earbud and drop it on the ground. As Regina slams her foot down on it, something deep inside me knows I’ve made a terrible mistake. Until she speaks again. “Come now, ladies. Your new master awaits.”
With an arm around each of our waists, Regina leads me and Dion to the Thunderbird, tells us to get into the back seat and sit still, and slides behind the wheel.
Fight, Zoe. She’s dangerous. She’s going to kill you. And Sin.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try desperately to scream, to move even a single finger. I’m close. So close. The thought of losing Sin—of him caught in Thorn's clutches again—is almost enough to let me break free. But then the Fae bitch turns around with a tiny, odd-looking gun in her hand. “Time to say goodnight.”
The dart pierces my neck, and the world turns cold and dark. A tear tumbles down my cheek, and my eyes flutter closed.
As I slip away, I’m so confused, because my inner voice—the one that just a second ago told me I failed—utters one, final thought.
No. You succeeded.
Twenty-Seven
Sin
Zoe is not answering me. Shoving the Bureau doors so hard the walls shake, I call out for her, but I can tell she is gone. As is most everyone else. On their assigned stakeouts across the city.
I should have been here. Should not have driven so far. Why did I not start with a phone call? Sariel, the only watcher I know in the earthen realm, would not answer my questions. He was downright angry at being disturbed, and we battled—physically—for an hour before I bested him and demanded he tell me why the Almighty would torture me like this.
“We cannot claim to know the Almighty’s will, demon spawn. If this Zoe truly is your Genevieve reborn, there is a reason she is here. You will have to see it through.”
I shove him up against the wall of his shed, lifting him off his feet. “How do I break through the wall built around her memories? At least tell me that!”
The watcher shakes his head. “You cannot. She must do that all on her own.”
Stomping