Page 21 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 1

Flashes of imagery came to me and left just as quickly. I saw a man with curly red hair and a beard smiling down at me. A sticker with a cartoon ladybug on it. A workbench with coils of golden wire laid out across it. A woman with wide green eyes reading out loud from a picture book. The swooping view of a backyard as I was pushed on a swing. A battered pickup truck. A wheeled dragon toy with wings that flapped as I pulled it across the ground.

Fire. Fire, fire, fire, so much fire, all around me—inescapable.

And suddenly, I was back in my kitchen.

“What the fuck,” I said, then passed out.

8

GABRIEL

Icaught Evangeline before she could hit the floor. I wasn’t naturally given to panic, but my body decided to give it a try on my behalf. I scooped her limp form into my arms and carried her over to the sofa, scanning her face frantically. She was breathing, and I could see the faint jump of her pulse in her neck—something my darker instincts were all too eager to focus on.

I shook myself out of it. What did witches need? Should I get her some water? Did she need food?

Before I could spiral any deeper, Evangeline stirred. She blinked, then let out a quiet groan, pushing herself into a sitting position. The apartment moved a few cushions around to better support her.

“Are you all right?” I asked, crouching in front of her so that I could see her face, even though she’d rested her head in her hands. “Are you hurt? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine,” Evangeline mumbled. “I just feel… weird.”

“Weird?” I repeated. Weird didn’t sound reassuring.

“Like when you’re getting a massage and they finally manage to get a knot to release,” she said. “Except, it’s in my brain.”

I looked at her for a long moment. “Okay,” I said gently. “Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?”

“I’m not concussed,” she said. I held my hand up pointedly, and she sighed. “Three. Your turn. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Just one,” I said with a shake of my head. “Good to see you’re still capable of being rude.”

“Always,” Evangeline said, but she stopped flipping me off. She sat up straighter, looking down at her hands. “Seriously, though, I feel… good. Really good. Strong. It’s like there’s this little glow in my chest.”

My worry faded, and I suddenly knew exactly what she was talking about. “Right here?” I said, pressing a hand over my sternum.

She looked at me, brow wrinkling. “Yeah, exactly. How’d you know? Have you read about this or something?”

I shook my head. “I can feel it, too.”

“Did you see anything?” Evangeline asked, her voice suddenly urgent. “Visions?”

“All I saw was you passing out,” I told her. “You had a vision?”

“Right. Okay. Shit.” She rubbed a hand through her hair and stood.

I shot to my feet as well, ready to catch her if needed. She ducked back into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of scotch and two mugs.

“I’m not dealing with this sober,” Evangeline said, flopping back down on the sofa. I sat at the far end of it, watching as she poured a hefty measure of liquor into one of the mugs. She hesitated. “Do you drink booze?”

“I do.”

She nodded and poured me some as well, then waved a hand at the mugs, offering me first pick. I picked up the one that said THIS GRANDPA LOVES FISHING with a cartoon fish contorting its fin into a thumbs-up. Evangeline took the other one. On it was a photo printed of a woman with extremely large, dark hair, and an amazingly low-cut dress. Beneath the photo was bright red text that read MISTRESS OF THE DARK ROAST.

“Thank you,” I said, although it came out sounding more like a question. Scotch wasn’t usually to my taste, but I took a sip, anyway. On the other end of the sofa, Evangeline downed her drink in one long chug. The pale line of her throat was very long, and she had a freckle just under the hinge of her jaw. I took another sip.

Evangeline poured more scotch into her mug. A drop ran down the side of it, and she wiped it away with her thumb. I watched, hypnotized, as she licked the scotch off the pad of her thumb. It made me feel like I was about to burst into flame.

“I think I saw my parents,” she said quietly, leaning back against the cushions.

---