Page 86 of Hell and High Water

My eyes open again.

It’s still dark.

But I’m wide awake. Checking the clock, I marvel at the hour. I slept soundly for eight hours, but it felt like an instant. Slipping from the sheets, I gather a handful of clothes, sneaking out into the hall to dress in the bathroom.

Gavin is down below, snoring softly on the couch.

Total silence meets my ear when I press it to Evan’s door.

Carefully, so carefully, I sneak downstairs, keeping an eye and ear on Gavin as I ease the closet open and grab the box with the secret note and address. Tucking it under my arm, I scoop up Tell’s keys and scurry down the laundry room hall to the back door. The buttons are less likely to wake Gavin at this distance. Still, I position my fingers on the pad before smothering it with a scarf and punching in the code.

Outside, the morning is chilly, fog resting along the ground in the dim blue of pre-dawn.

Tell’s car pulled in last, so I gambled correctly. His little sedan is blocking Gavin’s truck to the long, curving driveway.

Easing into the car, I shiver, not just from the chill.

I’m shaky from sneaking.

And I’m about to do something kind of stupid.

“This is necessary, Hellena. Just stay cool.”

Shifting the car into gear, I thank the fates that Tell drives a stick shift, rolling the car back down the driveway almost to the road before I risk starting the engine. Points to my Aunt Rachelle for making me learn how to drive stick, too.

Probably more of her training for becoming a Sinful. Not sure how it applies, but everything she’s ever done comes into question, now.

I almost giggle at the absurdity of the thought.

Still.

Several miles from the house, my phone gets a signal, and I punch in the address. It’s not far from me, actually. Twenty minutes, tops.

The location is closer to Severance than Sanctum.

And of course, it’s in the middle of nowhere.

The quiet of the morning lets me calm my whirling thoughts, settling into the breathing techniques Tell taught me to sharpen my mind for the task at hand. By the time I arrive, pulling off at a mailbox and driving back a ways into the woods, I’m calm, steady.

The small house is quaint. Plain. Overgrown.

No one would see it from the road. Plus, the Private Property signs posted out by the road would deter most visitors. If anyone ever drove by it so far out along a no-name road.

Stepping from the car, I keep my head on a swivel, listening for any sounds.

I should have brought a weapon.

Not that I can stand the thought of using a gun. Or even holding one.

A holdover from my past. My old life.

Stepping up to the door, I am about to reach for the knob when I feel a presence behind me, followed by the click of a gun being cocked.

Fuck.

“Nice to finally meet you, Miss Michaels.”

16

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