“I’d like to know where we’re going, though,” Liza informed him as she shoved a few bills and her ID in the back pocket of her jeans.
He could have sworn they were snug enough that even a breath of air wouldn’t have fit.
“I thought we’d take a ride out by the lake,” he told her. “I go out there every few days to feed the ducks.” That, and to investigate the area several miles to the west where Liza and Claire had gone over a barren cliff and nearly died in the resulting accident.
Even twelve years later, Stygian had found evidence of the accident, but he’d also found evidence that something more had gone on during that time.
A sweat lodge had been set up not far from the wreck in the canyon below, though great effort had gone into ensuring all evidence of it was wiped away.
Certain things couldn’t be wiped away, though.
The large rocks used in the fire pit had been scattered about the canyon, but even more than a decade later the scars and discoloration of certain herbs used in ritual sweats held to the rock.
Those particular herbs and medicinal roots were such an odd combination, their scent so powerful, even after such time had passed, it had sent a chill racing down Stygian’s spine. Confused by it, he’d had Braden bring his empath Megan to the canyon, to help sort it out. The moment she’d picked up the first stone she’d dropped it as though it still held the heat of the fire and refused to advance any farther into the canyon.
“Fine then, you know where we’ll be,” Liza stated as she turned back to Chelsea.
“Yeah, thankfully, the lake isn’t really that hard to drag. When old man Dunkirk fell out of his boat and drowned himself last summer, they even found that bag of bones secured to the bottom. Remember that?” she asked Liza.
And Liza did remember it. The discovery of that bag of bones had literally preceded the nightmares and odd flashes of someone else’s memories.
A year’s worth of tortured dreams, of waking, screaming, certain she was dying in the flames of the crash, only to have the dream twist, to morph into something far more sinister. It hadn’t been a crash she was burning within. She had been burning from the inside out, restrained to a metal table, screaming for mercy—
“If you’re ready, we can leave then,” he offered, those blue-black eyes seeming to see straight into her soul as he met her gaze.
The urge to wipe her palms along the sides of her jeans was nearly overwhelming.
“Be careful, for God’s sake,” Chelsea called out as Liza stepped from the house. “The last thing I need to do, Liza, is watch you die again.”
Liza flinched, the reaction nearly strong enough to steal her breath at the memory.
The overwhelming darkness, the sound of voices, singing—or was it chanting?—and then the feeling of her soul being ripped from the security of her body.
“Liza.” Stygian was there, one hand gripping her arm, the other going around her waist as she felt her knees threatening to buckle.
Concern filled his voice as she realized she was gripping the door frame desperately, dragging in hard breaths, her chest tightening in something akin to panic.
“I’m fine.” Giving her head a hard shake, she forced herself to ignore the fact that he was the only reason she was still on her feet, despite her hold on the heavy wood encasing the door.
Releasing it, she took each step with deliberate caution, forcing herself to move to the cycle.
“Are you sure?” Dark, dangerous, his expression appeared more savage than ever before, the planes and angles tightened into sharp relief.
“Bad memories.” Yet she still couldn’t seem to drag in enough oxygen. “Sorry.”
“What was she talking about?” The growl in his voice should have been more frightening than sensual.
Yet, sensual was exactly the reaction it caused.
“She meant I died for a few minutes,” she admitted. “Claire and I were in a wreck when we were fifteen. The EMTs lost me several times before we reached the hospital.”
“Chelsea was in the wreck with you, too?” he asked as he led her to the Harley.
“No, she wasn’t with us,” she said, swallowing tightly. “She was with her father when he received word that we were in the bottom of the canyon. She arrived with him, from what I understand.”
Chelsea never seemed to remember much of it except the three times she swore she had felt a part of Liza fighting to die.
She allowed Stygian to hold on to her as he swung a powerful leg over the cycle’s seat before bracing herself on the foot rest and swinging on behind him.