Page 35 of Revenant

As I grab the tray with a mangled sandwich that looks a few days old and a bruised apple, I head toward my normal table. I eat mechanically, shifting uncomfortably when more people appear and the room fills. I search each new face, my heart sinking when I mentally count the patients and discover one missing—Jaceson.

Though I try not to worry, it’s an impossible task. Sue and her group sit with me, though at a distance. They are quiet, only a few whispered words between them, but I don’t miss the long glances they cast my way. They note my injuries, the state of my clothing, but don’t break the silence.

I refuse to acknowledge the pity in their eyes.

Time passes slowly as I finish my meal. I’m almost the last one done, the room practically cleared before I reluctantly accept defeat and head back to my dorm. My intuition is screaming that something happened. As the day turns into evening, my worry increases, and I pace my room like a lion caged in a small space for too long, barely resisting the impulse to send out an army of ghosts in search of him.

Maybe that’s what they want?

Maybe they are testing me.

Supper is just as uneventful as my previous meal.

And still no signs of Jaceson or Gunner.

I spend another hour working out in my room, warming up my muscles in preparation for what’s coming. Every part of me is on edge, something warning me to be ready. Just when I decide to hunt for the guys, tear down the very walls in this fucking place to find them, the locks on my door engage with a harsh thud. I startle, then rush toward the door…and discover myself locked in for the night.

The walls close in on me, pressing closer and closer until my chest feels like it’s being crushed. A panic attack. Unfortunately, diagnosing the issue doesn’t automatically cure the problem. My control slowly unravels, despite my best efforts. The room darkens, the air cooling until frost crackles around me. Panic claws up my throat, closing off my airway like someone wrapped their hands around my neck and squeezed.

Memories of Ellis brighten my mind, his soothing voice as he calmly talked me off the ledge ringing in my ears. I close my eyes, then blow out a shaky breath and desperately recall his instructions. Just the thought of him relaxes me enough to remember his words.Focus on what you can see, what you can feel, and what you can hear. Steady your mind. Ground yourself in the here and now.

If that doesn’t work, think of my kiss.

My brain immediately skips over everything else and heads straight into the gutter. My imagination is so good, I’m almost able to feel him in the room with me, his lips hovering just out of reach. My body warms, desire stirs, and I swear I could reach out and touch him. The scent of books and burning candles fills my nostrils. I push out my senses, forcing my gift to its very limits, wanting more, but he remains hauntingly, frustratingly, out ofreach. Though I don’t reach Ellis, thinking about him eases the tightness that invaded my chest.

Shoving away my disappointment at being unable to connect to any of the men, I methodically prepare for bed, absently scratching my arm, then my hip, then the underside of my jaw as the drugs continue to work their way out of my system. The twitchy sensations only exasperate my unease.

I’m sure I’m worrying for nothing, but that doesn’t keep me from tossing and turning for most of the night. I unconsciously listen for footsteps, more than ready to leave this place, but neither Gunner nor Jaceson comes to collect me. The siren blares bright and early the next morning, but I’m already up and dressed, more than ready to escape my room. I’m so on edge that I barely slept more than two hours total. When the locks release a minute later, I lunge toward the door.

If Jaceson isn’t at breakfast, then I’ll know something has gone horribly wrong. As I open the door, I silently vow to discover what happened to him and Gunner, even if I have to tear down the world to do it. If they want to see my powers, I’ll fucking show them…even drag them to the afterlife, if that’s what it takes to find the answers.

Chapter Thirteen

JAMESON

Ibarely wait for the car to slow before I fling the door open and rush out. Ellis and Hicks curse in my wake, but I ignore them as I head toward the seedy bar in the middle of nowhere. The moonlight is the only illumination, casting the surrounding woods with an ominous overtone. My hands drop toward the dozen or so blades strapped to my body, and I barely resist the urge to pull them, the need to hunt my prey nearly irresistible.

No.

Focus on the mission.

The time for shedding blood will come later.

Getting pookie back is the only thing that matters.

The bar has over a dozen vehicles in the dirt parking lot, which is highly suspicious. Who the fuck goes to a dump like this unless there are drugs or strippers involved?

A couple stumbles outside, laughing drunkenly. Their clothes are askew, and I’m uncertain if it’s because they were pawing at each other or if they were so high they’re unaware their dirtyoutfits are falling off. They take one look at me stalking toward them and scramble in the opposite direction like their asses are on fire. Not that I blame them. I’m a mess. With my pookie gone, my hold on my sanity is flimsy at best.

The only thing keeping me from sliding into complete madness is knowing my pookie is counting on us to rescue her.

All that matters is getting her back.

My heartbeats nearly triple as I approach the bar, my palms sweaty as I grab the door handle, and I notice an annoying tremble in my hands. I want to dismiss the symptoms from my lack of appetite, so consumed by anger and my mission that I keep forgetting to eat, but I know that’s not the real reason.

No, my hands tremble from anticipation and dread.

I bow my head, muttering a quick prayer under my breath to any gods who might be listening that Gunner really has found her.

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