“Take the phone to the computer, rock star,” Coda says, voice distant through the phone speakers and the panicked buzzing in my ears.
Bolan hesitates, throwing a manual lock on the door behind us before gently tugging the phone from my hand and hustling out of my line of sight.
I just let Kitty hold me.
She doesn’t cry again, though. She sniffs, then says quietly, “I knew you’d come.”
I hear it then. The shift in the essence surrounding us. That isn’t, wasn’t, simply some childish wish to be rescued by the most powerful person she knew.
KittyknewI was coming for her.
Though there still isn’t any hint of purple in her eyes, she is awry. A seer of some sort.
“Where’s Tommy?” I ask, still holding Kitty tightly.
“They took him,” she sobs, then presses her face into my shoulder to stifle herself. “They … took us.”
“Who, Kitty?” I ask. “Did you recognize them?”
She steps back from my hold, pressing her lips together and avoiding my gaze now. She shakes her head.
Unable to lie to me out loud.
My heart pinches. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find Tommy, and we’ll go somewhere safe.” I tune in to the murmur of conversation between Bolan and Coda. The tech is talking the wolf through hardwiring my phone to the desktop computer.
“Here, Mirth,” Kitty says, pointing toward the lower half of a built-in bookshelf. “Your friend on the phone needs some of the things in here. And they stole my phone …” Her voice wobbles. “That you gave me.”
I don’t correct her on the original ownership of the phone, having no doubt that Tommy handed it over to his sister at first demand. A dark wooden panel has been partially pried off the bottom section of the bookshelf, revealing an inset safe.
A fireplace poker lies on the ground next to it, though a quick glance at the fireplace in the seating area confirms that the tool is just decorative. It’s been retrofitted, of course. No open fires in central London. A criminal enterprise that kidnaps children isn’t going to get exposed by willfully violating building codes.
“I’m in!” Coda cries gleefully through my phone speakers. “Finally, fuck.”
“We’re going,” Bolan says. “We’ve got Kitty. That’s enough to get the police involved.”
“But Tommy!” Kitty cries, clutching at my arm. “We have to go get him first.”
Bolan steps around the huge wooden desk, trying to soften his expression. “We haven’t met —”
“I don’t wanna know you, wolf,” Kitty spits, surprisingly vicious.
Bolan snaps his mouth shut, then looks to me. More than a little chastised.
“That’s got to sting, rock star,” Coda muses, punctuated by a plethora of keyboard tapping. It’s possible the tech has more than ten fingers. “When was the last time someone didn’t want to know you. Plus … I just need a second …”
“And Kitty says we need to get into the safe,” I add.
Bolan huffs.
Kitty folds her arms across her chest and glowers at him. “You’re supposed to help me. And we’re supposed to help the others.”
Bolan frowns, narrowing his eyes at her. Then his nostrils flare, and his gaze snaps to me.
I nod just once. Yes, Kitty is awry. Not even partially manifested yet, but what threads of power she does have access to sleepily stir around her.
I want to ask her all the questions churning in my head, but I also get the sense that she’s been pushed way beyond her limits. I don’t want to force her to face more, not just yet.
“I’m here to help,” Bolan says.
