Stray
Page 57
Michael dropped his eyes and felt around for the doorknob, as if he’d rather leave than say anything more.
“Please, Michael. I need to know.”
Frown lines appeared around his mouth. “Vic said he could smel them on her.
Three of them. All over her, Faythe. One was a stray, but the only scent he recognized was Sean’s.”
Sean. I’d been right, for once. At least in part. But being right didn’t feel good.
It felt like shit.
“Her clothes,” I whispered, fingering the hem of my own green halter top. “Vic smel ed them on her clothes, right?”
He shook his head slowly, and this time his hand found the doorknob. “They didn’t find any clothes.”
I couldn’t catch my breath. Air was there, but it wouldn’t fil my lungs. I opened my mouth, and that solved the problem. I’d forgotten to breathe.
They’d raped her and beaten in the back of her skull. Then they’d taken her home for her brothers to find. It was just like the human girls, only worse. They’d gone through special efforts for Sara because she was one of them. One of us. She was one of ours, and they’d kil ed her. Then put her on display.
Nausea gripped my stomach with an iron fist. My knees buckled. The room lurched, wal s flying past my eyes. As I fel , Michael lunged for me. He got one arm beneath my shoulders before I hit the ground and gently eased me the rest of the way to the floor.
My vision grayed, and I fought to remain conscious. Somehow I won. I was on the floor, but not by choice, and al I could see was my ceiling. Michael was right; I should have sat down.
“Is she okay?” Marc asked from somewhere outside my field of vision. I hadn’t even heard him come in.
“Stay with her,” Michael said, and his arms were gone. My door latch clicked softly and his footsteps faded as Marc’s face appeared over mine, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“Can you sit up?”
I nodded and shoved away the hand he offered, pushing myself up to lean against the dresser. I hadn’t passed out, but I might as wel have. Fal ing on the floor stil made me look the part of the delicate woman they were always trying to protect. Why don’t you just buy a corset and a parasol while you’re at it, Faythe?
“You heard about Sara?” I asked, rubbing the sore spot on the back of my head.
“Yeah. Your dad told me.” He swiveled to join me against the dresser, scooting several inches away to avoid the handle poking into his back. “We’l get them,” he said. “I promise you we’l get Abby back.” His jaw tensed, the muscles clenching and releasing rhythmical y.
I trailed my finger along the pattern in the carpet, avoiding looking at him.
“We may not have to. It looks like they’l bring her home in a couple of days.”
“Stop it, Faythe,” he snapped. Then his voice softened. “We’l find her, and she’l be fine.” He seemed to need me to believe it, so I nodded. But I didn’t believe him. I didn’t believe in anything at al at that moment, except my own need for revenge, convulsing through me like an emotional seizure.
“What are we going to do, Marc?”
“Greg wants you to stay in your room until things calm down a little.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I didn’t know how to explain it, and for the first time I viewed my lack of enforcer experience as a true drawback. I didn’t want to know what to do with my hands, or how to keep my mind occupied. I wanted to know what we were going to do. How were we going to find the monsters who kil ed Sara? And how were we going to make sure they didn’t kil Abby, too? I wanted practical information, a plan of action. I wanted him to tel me how I could make those sons of bitches pay for what they’d done. I wanted them to pay with their lives, but not before someone had a chance to slice them each open and—
My face throbbed, the sudden pain breaking into my thoughts. Something sharp pricked my lip, and I tasted blood.
Marc stiffened beside me, inhaling deeply. “Are you bleeding?”
I touched my mouth with one finger. It came away bloody. “I think I bit my lip,” I said, but the words didn’t come out right. I ran my tongue carefully over my upper teeth, gasping to feel sharp, not quite unfamiliar points. “What the hel ?” My hands hovered around my mouth, shaking, as I tried to figure out what to do with them.
Marc sat up on his knees and took my chin in one hand, turning me to face him. I opened my mouth obligingly, in a grotesque imitation of a smile. His eyes widened, and he touched the point of one tooth gently.
“Holy shit, Faythe. Your teeth Shifted. Just your teeth. No, wait.” He took my head in both hands and turned it toward the light. I winced, slamming my eyelids shut against the piercing glare, but he’d already seen what he wanted. “Your eyes Shifted, too.”
“That’s impossible.” My mouth butchered the words. “My teeth feel different, but my vision hasn’t changed. I still see like a human.” I could barely understand what I’d said, so I expected Marc to look confused, but he didn’t. He just gestured toward the mirror.
“See for yourself.”
I stood in front of the dresser, staring at my face in the mirror. My mouth looked strange. My jaw was elongated, but only slightly. It might not even have been noticeable if not for the full-size canines growing down from my upper jaw and up from my lower one. I couldn’t even close my mouth.
The effect was bizarre, and less than attractive. And pretty damn scary. I shivered, frightened by my own appearance.
“Please, Michael. I need to know.”
Frown lines appeared around his mouth. “Vic said he could smel them on her.
Three of them. All over her, Faythe. One was a stray, but the only scent he recognized was Sean’s.”
Sean. I’d been right, for once. At least in part. But being right didn’t feel good.
It felt like shit.
“Her clothes,” I whispered, fingering the hem of my own green halter top. “Vic smel ed them on her clothes, right?”
He shook his head slowly, and this time his hand found the doorknob. “They didn’t find any clothes.”
I couldn’t catch my breath. Air was there, but it wouldn’t fil my lungs. I opened my mouth, and that solved the problem. I’d forgotten to breathe.
They’d raped her and beaten in the back of her skull. Then they’d taken her home for her brothers to find. It was just like the human girls, only worse. They’d gone through special efforts for Sara because she was one of them. One of us. She was one of ours, and they’d kil ed her. Then put her on display.
Nausea gripped my stomach with an iron fist. My knees buckled. The room lurched, wal s flying past my eyes. As I fel , Michael lunged for me. He got one arm beneath my shoulders before I hit the ground and gently eased me the rest of the way to the floor.
My vision grayed, and I fought to remain conscious. Somehow I won. I was on the floor, but not by choice, and al I could see was my ceiling. Michael was right; I should have sat down.
“Is she okay?” Marc asked from somewhere outside my field of vision. I hadn’t even heard him come in.
“Stay with her,” Michael said, and his arms were gone. My door latch clicked softly and his footsteps faded as Marc’s face appeared over mine, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“Can you sit up?”
I nodded and shoved away the hand he offered, pushing myself up to lean against the dresser. I hadn’t passed out, but I might as wel have. Fal ing on the floor stil made me look the part of the delicate woman they were always trying to protect. Why don’t you just buy a corset and a parasol while you’re at it, Faythe?
“You heard about Sara?” I asked, rubbing the sore spot on the back of my head.
“Yeah. Your dad told me.” He swiveled to join me against the dresser, scooting several inches away to avoid the handle poking into his back. “We’l get them,” he said. “I promise you we’l get Abby back.” His jaw tensed, the muscles clenching and releasing rhythmical y.
I trailed my finger along the pattern in the carpet, avoiding looking at him.
“We may not have to. It looks like they’l bring her home in a couple of days.”
“Stop it, Faythe,” he snapped. Then his voice softened. “We’l find her, and she’l be fine.” He seemed to need me to believe it, so I nodded. But I didn’t believe him. I didn’t believe in anything at al at that moment, except my own need for revenge, convulsing through me like an emotional seizure.
“What are we going to do, Marc?”
“Greg wants you to stay in your room until things calm down a little.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I didn’t know how to explain it, and for the first time I viewed my lack of enforcer experience as a true drawback. I didn’t want to know what to do with my hands, or how to keep my mind occupied. I wanted to know what we were going to do. How were we going to find the monsters who kil ed Sara? And how were we going to make sure they didn’t kil Abby, too? I wanted practical information, a plan of action. I wanted him to tel me how I could make those sons of bitches pay for what they’d done. I wanted them to pay with their lives, but not before someone had a chance to slice them each open and—
My face throbbed, the sudden pain breaking into my thoughts. Something sharp pricked my lip, and I tasted blood.
Marc stiffened beside me, inhaling deeply. “Are you bleeding?”
I touched my mouth with one finger. It came away bloody. “I think I bit my lip,” I said, but the words didn’t come out right. I ran my tongue carefully over my upper teeth, gasping to feel sharp, not quite unfamiliar points. “What the hel ?” My hands hovered around my mouth, shaking, as I tried to figure out what to do with them.
Marc sat up on his knees and took my chin in one hand, turning me to face him. I opened my mouth obligingly, in a grotesque imitation of a smile. His eyes widened, and he touched the point of one tooth gently.
“Holy shit, Faythe. Your teeth Shifted. Just your teeth. No, wait.” He took my head in both hands and turned it toward the light. I winced, slamming my eyelids shut against the piercing glare, but he’d already seen what he wanted. “Your eyes Shifted, too.”
“That’s impossible.” My mouth butchered the words. “My teeth feel different, but my vision hasn’t changed. I still see like a human.” I could barely understand what I’d said, so I expected Marc to look confused, but he didn’t. He just gestured toward the mirror.
“See for yourself.”
I stood in front of the dresser, staring at my face in the mirror. My mouth looked strange. My jaw was elongated, but only slightly. It might not even have been noticeable if not for the full-size canines growing down from my upper jaw and up from my lower one. I couldn’t even close my mouth.
The effect was bizarre, and less than attractive. And pretty damn scary. I shivered, frightened by my own appearance.
