Read Online Shattered Spirits by C. I. Black - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C. I. Black
Ads: Link
my stubborn drake has done?” The glasses rattled again, and she sucked in another breath.
“Hunter has gone to find the Handmaiden.” Grey pointed to the medallion on the coffee table.
“Thank God. It’s about time.” She strode to the medallion and hung it around her neck. “Although that means you’ll have to come with me to face my soon-to-be ex-husband’s lawyers tomorrow.”
“Jeez, Hunter couldn’t have waited a day?” Sure, Grey was managing not to have a panic attack every second he was in the human realm, but most of that time he was in safe, confined spaces. An office, with strange humans, was not safe.
“I hadn’t told him. He’s been so worried, I didn’t want to bother him.”
“You’re too kind,” Grey said, letting playful sarcasm color his tone. “But couldn’t you postpone it? I’m sure finding the Handmaiden won’t take long.”
Anaea’s expression turned serious. “I hope it doesn’t. Dragon-kind needs her and so do I. I’m terrified I’m going to kill someone.”
“You’re not going to kill anyone.”
The glasses in the cupboard rattled again. “You so sure?”
CHAPTER 9
Ryan kicked his shoes off in the front hall of his childhood home. A fog had settled around him, and he couldn’t seem to shake it. He couldn’t remember why or how he’d become so exhausted. Or even why he’d returned home to Newgate. There was something he needed to do. Something he had to…
Jess, his ten-year-old niece, squealed from the kitchen and appeared at the end of the hall. She rushed to him, her ponytail swishing behind her in a curly brown cloud.
“Not so fast, young lady.” Trisha had taken her place in the archway to the kitchen. “You can hug him after he cleans up.”
He glanced at his clothes. How—? What—? He was covered in dirt and a sticky something that was hardening into a clump along his arm. He couldn’t remember getting filthy, or even being in a situation that could have covered him in dirt… or was that dust?
He picked at the goop with a nail, but only managed to smear it. He’d been doing something… What the hell had he been doing?
Jess stuck out her bottom lip. Her mother raised an eyebrow at that, and the pout disappeared.
“So how does rolling around in the dirt get you your job back?”
“I—” How did getting filthy get him his job back? No, he had a job. He’d transferred to Elmsville after Internal Affairs had started asking about that apartment fire and how he’d gotten to the scene so fast. It was as if he’d known before anyone else, and he knew where that would go—accusations of setting the fire and charges for the death of that kid he couldn’t save.
But he couldn’t tell them the truth, that he had known before everyone else. They wouldn’t have believed him and the possibility of being declared criminally insane could be added to the list of terrible options.
Something boomed. He jerked back. Special Agent Jones crashed into the wall beside him, her head slamming against it. Blood stained her side and smeared across her face. Another gunshot hit the beige concrete blocks beside her temple, and shrapnel sliced her cheek and forehead.
His heart pounded. The next shot could kill her. He had to do something. Had to stop it.
He reached for his gun at his hip.
The hall wavered.
No. Not the hall. Jones wavered. Ripples on a still lake.
His breath burned, and he couldn’t draw enough air to fill his lungs.
The image wavered again, and Jones’s features blurred, melting into a broad forehead and cheeks, her hair darkening and lying still around her face.
“You look beat.” Trisha’s frown deepened.
The vision snapped, lancing through him and stealing the rest of his breath.
He gasped, drawing in warm air tinged with the aroma of popcorn. He was back in the hall of the house he’d grown up in, now owned by his sister. She hadn’t changed anything. He didn’t know if she didn’t want to, or if she just
“Hunter has gone to find the Handmaiden.” Grey pointed to the medallion on the coffee table.
“Thank God. It’s about time.” She strode to the medallion and hung it around her neck. “Although that means you’ll have to come with me to face my soon-to-be ex-husband’s lawyers tomorrow.”
“Jeez, Hunter couldn’t have waited a day?” Sure, Grey was managing not to have a panic attack every second he was in the human realm, but most of that time he was in safe, confined spaces. An office, with strange humans, was not safe.
“I hadn’t told him. He’s been so worried, I didn’t want to bother him.”
“You’re too kind,” Grey said, letting playful sarcasm color his tone. “But couldn’t you postpone it? I’m sure finding the Handmaiden won’t take long.”
Anaea’s expression turned serious. “I hope it doesn’t. Dragon-kind needs her and so do I. I’m terrified I’m going to kill someone.”
“You’re not going to kill anyone.”
The glasses in the cupboard rattled again. “You so sure?”
CHAPTER 9
Ryan kicked his shoes off in the front hall of his childhood home. A fog had settled around him, and he couldn’t seem to shake it. He couldn’t remember why or how he’d become so exhausted. Or even why he’d returned home to Newgate. There was something he needed to do. Something he had to…
Jess, his ten-year-old niece, squealed from the kitchen and appeared at the end of the hall. She rushed to him, her ponytail swishing behind her in a curly brown cloud.
“Not so fast, young lady.” Trisha had taken her place in the archway to the kitchen. “You can hug him after he cleans up.”
He glanced at his clothes. How—? What—? He was covered in dirt and a sticky something that was hardening into a clump along his arm. He couldn’t remember getting filthy, or even being in a situation that could have covered him in dirt… or was that dust?
He picked at the goop with a nail, but only managed to smear it. He’d been doing something… What the hell had he been doing?
Jess stuck out her bottom lip. Her mother raised an eyebrow at that, and the pout disappeared.
“So how does rolling around in the dirt get you your job back?”
“I—” How did getting filthy get him his job back? No, he had a job. He’d transferred to Elmsville after Internal Affairs had started asking about that apartment fire and how he’d gotten to the scene so fast. It was as if he’d known before anyone else, and he knew where that would go—accusations of setting the fire and charges for the death of that kid he couldn’t save.
But he couldn’t tell them the truth, that he had known before everyone else. They wouldn’t have believed him and the possibility of being declared criminally insane could be added to the list of terrible options.
Something boomed. He jerked back. Special Agent Jones crashed into the wall beside him, her head slamming against it. Blood stained her side and smeared across her face. Another gunshot hit the beige concrete blocks beside her temple, and shrapnel sliced her cheek and forehead.
His heart pounded. The next shot could kill her. He had to do something. Had to stop it.
He reached for his gun at his hip.
The hall wavered.
No. Not the hall. Jones wavered. Ripples on a still lake.
His breath burned, and he couldn’t draw enough air to fill his lungs.
The image wavered again, and Jones’s features blurred, melting into a broad forehead and cheeks, her hair darkening and lying still around her face.
“You look beat.” Trisha’s frown deepened.
The vision snapped, lancing through him and stealing the rest of his breath.
He gasped, drawing in warm air tinged with the aroma of popcorn. He was back in the hall of the house he’d grown up in, now owned by his sister. She hadn’t changed anything. He didn’t know if she didn’t want to, or if she just
Similar Books
