Page 21 of Touch of Evil

“Why?” she asks.

I furrow my brows. “So, you couldn’t call for help.”

“I realize that, Bren,” she says. “What I mean is, why me?”

“Why not? For all you’re the quiet and shy one of the Weird Girls, you’re still a Weird Girl. Anyone with an ounce of magic knows that.”

“Wird,” Emme clarifies, appearing insulted. “Our last name is Wird, and you know it.”

“I’m not trying to offend you,” I say. “But the Weird Girls are what you and your sisters are known as. You’re one of the powerful four who flipped the supernatural world on its ass. Like it or not, you are a threat, and something the bad guys can use as leverage.”

“They really see me as such?”

Emme’s not really asking. She’s just having trouble believing it. It makes sense. She’s never given the credit she’s earned or deserves.

“Yeah,” I say, wishing it wasn’t true. “Things will keep coming after you, Emme. Now, more than ever.” I drag my hand through my hair. “I know you were counting on your meeker personality to keep you in the shadows, and I think for the most part it’s worked. Shayna, with her sword skills and how she skips into danger, Celia with her agility and strength, Taran, well, just being Taran, they were harder to ignore. Everyone pegged you as the weakling and follower. And when you were with Liam, they viewed him as your much-needed protector. Now though, you have everyone’s attention. Look at how many missions you’ve been a part of.”

“I guess,” she hesitantly agrees.

“And look at who calls you their fam,” I add.

“Aric,” she mumbles.

“Yeah, only the most powerfulwerein history, who’s fathered a child with your sister that’s destined to save the world.” I rub my chin. “Em, for all you’ve bowed out and allowed your family the spotlight, you never stood a chance, kid.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she says, suddenly looking up.

“What? A kid?” The hurt in her small features makes me want to slap myself upside the head. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

Emme quiets and plays with her hair, something she does when she’s feeling shy or scared. “So much of this doesn’t make sense,” she says. “I can understand being used as leverage against Celia and Aric if I’m caught. But what do I have to do with the witches who were found on the Nevada side? I’m certain I don’t know them. I didn’t go to witch school. That was all Taran and she’s not even here.”

“I don’t know. All I know is that you’re not leaving my side tonight. Come on, let’s get where we’re going and figure this shit out.”

Chapter Seven

Bren

The apartment complex was pretty decent. If I’m right, Aric bought it a few years back to help theweresdisplaced during the war. Singlewerestake residence in the smaller apartments on the upper levels, while the larger residences with direct access to the courtyard are mostly made up of young families. It’s a nice, modern building: clean, well-kept, except for Ted’s place.

Holy shit, what a dump!

Fast food bags and old pizza boxes litter the floor. And what reeks of old cheese floats in a clogged kitchen sink. The best part of the place is the giant hole where Emme must have sent this loser flying. It allows air in, and more importantly, some of the nastier smells out.

Thewereswho gave chase linger in the small living room. There are two beat-up couches and a broken recliner with too many stains to count and too many stinks to name. No one is sitting. Smartweres. A human would need an STD test and a shot of penicillin if he or she wandered anywhere near that recliner. Hell, I’m surprised it hasn’t killed a passing squirrel.

The cougar who met us at the entrance guides us inside. “We didn’t clean up in case ya needed to look for evidence.

I kick a pizza box out of my way. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

I shoot Emme a glance. She finds someplace else to look. If Ted were still alive, I’d seriously wipe the floor with that fucker. Kill two birds with one stone, feel me?

The cougar motions to a small hall. “The body parts are in there,” he says.

He leads us into a bathroom, barely big enough to allow the three of us in and with some elbow room. Mold and mildew spread across the subway tile. Toothpaste stains and used floss plaster the sink, wall, and floor. Nice to see dental hygiene was a priority.

I take a good look at the tub and immediately block Emme’s view. “Christ,” I mutter. “You sure you want to be in here?”

“No,” she says. “But if I can help, I should be.”

---