Page 144 of Shadowblood Souls
I’ll protect her from everyone out there and fromme.
And from the power inside her she’s still afraid of. We need to find one of these monsters and get them to cough up their secrets.
I haven’t spotted a single clue around us so far. My jaw clenches with frustration, a looming sense of failure—and a jump of my nerves as my own power sparks.
One of the lights overhead crackles out with a spurt of shattering glass. A few of the patrons shout as the tiny shards drift down on them like vicious snow.
Shit. I didn’t mean to do that.
Well, there’s no way any of these dorks could connect the little mishap to me. Still, I grasp at the shifting energy inside me, grappling for a better hold on it.
We veer to the left, making a circuit of the space. The music isn’t quite as ear-rattling near the bar.
The crimson lights help disguise Andreas’s talent as he flicks his attention from one head to another. I can tell from the brief, starker flares of red over his dark irises that he’s delving into the patrons’ memories, searching for anything that might identify a target.
Zian is carrying out his own inspection, using his X-ray sight to peer beneath layers of clothing for any monstrous appendages they might be hiding like Dominic does. There’s no outward sign of his talent other than the twitches of grimaces that cross his broad face.
All the flesh he glimpses must be human if not particularly enjoyable to look at, because he keeps stalking on without nudging me.
A guy who’s about my height, his short hair dyed like green leopard spots, bumps his shoulder against mine—hard. My head jerks toward him.
“What the fuck areyouidiots doing in here?” he demands over the rumble of bass guitar. “Get lost on the way to a kegger?”
I smile sharply at him, resisting the urge to bare my teeth like I’m as much a wolfman as Zian. “We’re right where we wanted to be.”
He opens his mouth again—and, oh what a tragedy, his mug of beer on the bar counter next to him suddenly topples over.
As he yelps and the bartender rushes to mop up the mess, the five of us merge deeper into the mass of bodies.
The others have been too focused on other things to notice the minor altercation. But when we get farther down the bar, a guy in a studded leather vest reaches out his hand and snaps his fingers at Riva like she’s a dog.
“Why’re you hanging out with these dipshits, beautiful?” he hollers. “Come over here and let a real man buy you a drink.”
Riva rolls her eyes, but my shoulders have already stiffened with a jolt of fury—and jealousy, as if some stupid part of me thinks she’d actually take this imbecile up on his offer.
Three bottles whip off the shelves behind the bar. One of them whacks the jerk in the back of his skull.
Oops.
Somehow I can’t summon any grief over that little slip-up.
But as the asshole whirls around to yell at the bewildered bartender, Riva’s gaze snaps to me. So do my friends’.
Riva gives a brusque motion for us to move away from the bar. The second the crowd filling the room has closed around us, she spins on me.
“What the hell was that?”
“He was being a prick,” I protest, and wince inwardly. I don’t want to argue with her.
And I really shouldn’t have let my power slip the reins again. What the helliswrong with me?
I already know the answer to that.
She’s glowering at me from just a foot away, and there’s nothing wrong aboutherat all, only how badly I screwed things up.
“We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her.
Andreas nods with an apologetic grimace. “We should keep any visible talents to a minimum, right? Don’t want to scare off any monstersorrisk the guardians catching wind somehow.”
