Page 32 of Watch Me Turn
My heart stutters. "How recently?"
Paloma's eyes fall to the desk. Her lips press together in a tight line.
"Paloma." My voice climbs an octave. "How fucking recently?"
"About a month ago," she mumbles, and I watch the realization spread across her face.
The air from my last breath sits like a stone in my lungs. When I speak again, the words come out strangled, airless. "Paloma, look at me."
She slowly raises her head, and when her tear-filled eyes meet mine, all I want to do is comfort her, but I can't. Not when my blood is boiling.
"Tell me what you know," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "And don't leave anything out."
She fiddles with the book pile, neatening the stack as she talks. "About a month ago, a couple of vamps came in here. The usual type. Leather jackets and bad attitudes. I didn't think anything of it because there's always some vampire sniffing around looking for some spell or hex or whatever."
"Go on."
"Well, one of them, a tall guy, asks if I can do a special order. Says they'll pay me five grand to procure a rare herb for them. Another five to bless it and prepare it."
I raise my eyebrow. "And you weren't suspicious?"
"Of course I was! I would never trust a bloodsuck..." She stops herself, but I dismiss the insult with a wave. "Sorry, Soph. Obviously I don't mean you. You're different."
Am I? "And so you did it?"
She nods. "I did. You have no idea what happens to people who tell them no. Mom's medical bills have skyrocketed. The insurers won't cover her new medication, and?—"
"Trust me. I know. So, how did you get it?"
"I have a connection in Peru. Another witch. At first she was cagey, but after some back and forth, she managed to find me a plant that was still blooming and shipped it over to me for a fee along with a book." She looks me dead in the eye, and I soften. "Forgive me, Sophia. I didn't realize it would lead to all this. It came by mail. I blessed it. The vamps picked it up, and that's all I know."
I pick up a random book with a pretty embossed cover. "I don't suppose there's a neat little undoing spell somewhere in here, is there? Some tonic I can make?"
She shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. But...there is something you can do."
"Oh?" I say, hope bubbling somewhere in the depths of my chest.
"Yes. It's just a very, very bad idea."
Angel's gotten worse.Much worse. I'm just thankful I caught a series of fast-moving magical currents on the way back, shaving nearly an hour off the return flight. Any longer and I'm certain I would've found a corpse propped up in this bed. I don't bother with clothes. The second I shift back, I'm crawling under the covers with him, gathering his limp body against mine.
His head lolls in my hands as I wipe the blood from his face—it's everywhere. Crusted around his eyes, dried in dark trails from his ears, smeared across his upper lip where it's leaked from his nose.
"I'm here," I whisper, even though I don't know if he can hear me. "I'm here. I've got you."
I pull the sheet up over both of us, cocooning us in darkness. If Julian's watching—if there are cameras hidden in the vents or the light fixtures or fuck knows where—let him see nothing but a lumpy outline under expensive Egyptian cotton.
Paloma's warning echoes in my head:You can never tell another soul.
Every instinct in me screams not to do this. I know it's wrong. I know what I'm doing could get me banished or killed, but I don't give a shit.
I need to save him.
I have to.
I want him to survive because the idea of him dying is too devastating.
I tilt Angel's face toward me. "This is going to help," I whisper, more to myself than to him. "We can trust Paloma."
