and dark magic. And they could do that because Greyson is a Necromorph—half alive, half dead. Whatever he did to Chase so she could do it too—his own Soul Complement . . .” He blew out smoke again. “It makes me wonder how much that bloodsucker would burn in sunlight. He’s using a hell of a lot of dark magic.”
“No. Greyson didn’t use magic. He had to use Tomi to cast Blood magic for him.”
“And now he has Chase to act as his hands. Happily ever after, evil-style, in their evil little hovel with the evil little picket fence around the evil little garden of poisonous weeds and dead bugs. Evil cookies, evil nooky—not that I have anything against those last two.” He got out of the car and I did too.
“Don’t you take anything seriously?”
“No,” he lied. “It makes me interesting.” He started off toward the elevator that would take us to ground level.
Elevator. Great.
But before I closed the door, I leaned back in the car. “You be a good boy, Stone,” I said. “Sleep. Okay?”
Stone cooed but didn’t move one granite muscle.
I shut the door. And strode across the parking structure of gray, gray, gray, my boots cuffing a loud rhythm against the concrete ceiling.
Shame waited by the elevator, hood up, his shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets, the discarded cigarette sending up a tendril of smoke at his feet. He didn’t face the elevator doors. He faced me. Good to know he was keeping an eye out for trouble.
Just as I stopped next to him, the doors opened with a horror-sweet ding.
“After you,” he said.
Okay, I could do this. I’d done it plenty times before. “Are there stairs?”
“Fuck stairs,” he said. “Too slow. And too damn much work.”
I gritted my teeth. Couldn’t get my feet to move.
“Need a push?” he asked.
“No.”
A hand slammed into my shoulder and a body followed it. I stumbled into the elevator. “What the hell?”
“Your phobia was saying no, no, but your feet were saying yes.”
He stabbed the button and stood in the corner nearest the doors, facing me.
“If you ever listen to my feet again, I will end you, Flynn.”
He glanced at me, grinned. “Ooh. You’re kinda hot when you’re angry. I suddenly see why Jones likes to make you mad and then tumble you on the mats.”
“Don’t. Just don’t. Or they’ll have to scrape you up off this floor with a dustpan.”
He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and instead stood there and whistled.
Whistled. Using up all the air in the tiny, tiny room, filling it up with sound so that there wasn’t even room for me to hear my own thoughts. There wasn’t enough room for me to breathe. I closed my eyes and tried to picture open fields, blue skies, oceans, deserts. Big horizons, big space, big air.
A hand grabbed my upper arm and tugged, hard, propelling me toward the open doors.
I didn’t stumble this time. We were at the street level on a sidewalk covered by the overhang of the parking structure.
Shame made a tsk sound. “And you were going to do this alone.”
“Alone I would have taken the stairs. You are seriously pissing me off.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
He started off toward the doors. “Good thing about anger. It keeps you going when nothing else will.”
He’d done it on purpose. Shoved me when I didn’t even want to be touched, irritated me. My heartbeat was up, but other than that, I was thinking clearly. And not at all freaked-out from the elevator ride, though I should be. Usually it took me a couple minutes to shake off the panic from the phobia.
“You’re a real jerk, you know?”
He smiled and it looked like it hurt. “I am whatever it takes to get the job done.”
We stepped into the hospital and checked with reception to see where Violet and Kevin had been taken. Both had been admitted. Violet was in the prenatal ward three floors up. Kevin was in the intensive care unit, and visitors were not allowed. They were doing what they could to tend his magic-induced injuries with what little magic they had left.
Shit. We wouldn’t be able to get in to see him unless we wanted to storm the place. I weighed my options. Sneak in and somehow be lucky enough to see if Kevin was okay, or check on Violet.
Dad pushed at the backs of my eyes. Yeah, well, I knew what his vote would be.