Page 12 of Infernal Hearts

I should probably give Rani a call. I pat my pocket for my phone. But goddamn it—it’s missing. And so is the necklace I got from that “psychic” last night.

I search the room until I come across a landline in the corner. Rani’s number is one of the few that I have memorized. The phone barely has time to ring before her voice immediately sounds on the other side. “Hello?”

With a huge sigh, I already feel relaxed talking to her. “Hey, it’s me.” I shift my weight to avoid putting pressure on my injured side. The soreness is already setting in. “Just wanted to let you know I’m okay.”

“You son of a bitch, I knew this wasn’t gonna be as easy as you made it sound.” She huffs, and I can practically hear her grit her teeth. “What happened? I could feel your anxiety.”

I hold up my had to slow her down—as if she can see me. It always works in person, so maybe it’ll work now. “Just some unfriendly locals. Nothing I don’t have under control.”

She snorts out a laugh. “You in control. That’s funny considering how chaotic your life is.”

“Tell me about it. But right now I need sleep. Call you tomorrow?”

“You’d better.”

I hang up the phone. My limbs are so heavy that a single yawn would make me collapse. It might have been the excitement of the night, it might have been the physical trauma, or maybe it was those little over-the-counter pills he gave me. If it’s the last one, they’re fabulous.

I stumble into bed and use my last waking thoughts to take stock of my life. My Maker is dead, my brother is missing, and someone tries to kill me as soon as I start looking. As I slip into the drug-induced haze, my brother’s face comes into view. He’s still out there…somewhere… I need to find him.

The sooner I find him, the sooner I can leave. And the sooner I leave, the better.

Chapter Three

Jason

My alarm blares as the morning light cuts through my blinds, but I’m already awake. The harsh sound of it is more annoying than anything, but I’ve been waiting for it. I snatch my phone off the nightstand, eyes still blurry, and shut it off.

My eyelids are unbearably heavy and my senses are all dulled, not to mention the fog in my brain—I don’t think I slept for more than an hour at a time the entire night. I had fitful dreams every time I drifted off, even going to the window a few times to look out at the guest house. Checking for signs of movement.

All last night, I replayed the ritual over and over again in my brain, overanalyzing it. I’d like to say the fact I was on edge was because I had an uninvited houseguest, but that’s not the case at all. It’s not that I’m bad at my job—because I’m definitely not—it’s just always healthy to have some doubt and come up with an option B, just in case.

In this case, however, there wasn’t a plan B. For all I know, he could have gone up into smoke in the middle of the night. Highly unlikely, though.

Dabbling in magic…again. The thought of breaking down and just calling my dad crossed my mind more than once, but I held back. I won’t be pressured into being the first one to reach out. Hopefully, the worst is now behind me and I can move forward as planned.

But to be fair, it’s been a long time since I even looked inside that suitcase. Why did I even keep it? I should have thrown it in the river. Burned it all. If there’s no holy water, there’s no option to take part in the ritual. What the hell have I done?

But I can’t let what happened to my mom happen to me.

My body moves slowly as I pry myself out of bed and stumble over to my closet. The sunlight hasn’t been out long enough to warm up the room yet, so I grab the first button down and cardigan I can get my hands on to stay comfortable. I can’t say I’ve ever put too much effort into my appearance. Results have always ended up lackluster, anyway.

The sooner I get ready, the sooner I can check on my patient and get rid of him. I’ll even take Grover along with me and get his walk out of the way—two birds. With a quick rub of deodorant, some warm water through my hair, and minty paste on my toothbrush—I’m ready for another day of work. Let’s hope it’s less eventful than last night.

My German Shepherd sniffs, trying to get inside as soon as I get to the guest house’s porch. I think he can smell the creature—that same dangerously decadent smell that was coming off of his blood last night, like a toxic dessert.

“Grover. Stay.” He drops to his haunches, panting with a smile. Always a good dog.

I wet my lips and take a hard swallow before the lock on the guest house gives a quick pop. I shut it quietly behind me and sneak as silently as possible to the creature sleeping in my guest house. His blanket is down to his hips with his arm up above his head. The stitches on his bare abdomen are still slightly glowing, but more of a burnt orange than bright gold.

He looks…peaceful. I don’t trust it, but I’ve gotta say, I like him more when he isn’t running his mouth. I wonder if half the things he says are just to get a rise out of people. No one can actually have that much hubris while at death’s door. And I have to admit, he is sort of…handsome in a “never introduce to your parents” kind of way.

But that’s beside the point—he’s breathing, and that’s a good sign. My muscles relax at the sight that I handled last night correctly.

It’s time to get back to a normal day, or at least as normal as possible. I slip back through the front door, leading Grover back into the office.

Turning the corner, I nod to my receptionist, Andrew, sitting at his desk. His broad shoulders are actually covered today—I need to keep reminding him not to wear muscle shirts to work. His giant reusable bottle is in front of him, filled with a morning protein shake. Not to mention a mug with about seventeen thousand pens—that I provided because he always manages to lose them.

Andrew turns his head toward me from his computer screen. His bright, youthful face lights up with a smile. “Good morning, Dr. Blackwell.”

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