Page 27 of Into Darkness (Night Prowler 6)
She was pure evil.
Magnus caught her as she stumbled back, sagging against the wall as if her knees wouldn’t support her. Her eyes were still open, half-lidded and blank, so he knew she hadn’t fainted, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. She’d simply stopped. Stopped breathing, stopped responding, stopped looking at him as if he was holding a life preserver and she was in the middle of the ocean, drowning.
He’d just taken that life preserver and flung it off the other side of the boat, right into the hungry maw of a shark.
“Hope! Hope, talk to me!”
The pulse in her neck fluttered wildly. Her face had blanched ghostly white. She blinked once, then put her hands over her face and moaned. It was a low, wretched sound he recognized as one of a creature whose soul was in cinders.
He’d made that sound himself, too often to count.
His hands were gripped around her arms before he could think, and he eased her to the floor. “Just breathe. Just sit here a minute and breathe, heleti.”
She’d begun to tremble violently. She put her head on her knees, hiding. She said to herself, “The Romanian word for light,” then laughed a low, ugly laugh, a sound utterly devoid of humor. It might have been the most hopeless noise he’d ever heard. She lifted her head and stared at him with eyes that were huge and dark, still wearing those brown contacts that to his keen vision were so obviously fake.
“My name isn’t Hope. It’s Lumina. Which is the Romanian word for light. Because I caused the Flash.” That ugly laugh made another appearance, now accompanied by a manic glint in her eyes. “My parents had a really depraved sense of humor.”
“No,” he said softly, kneeling in front of her and still holding her arms, fighting the rise of panic and the urge to flee that always accompanied being too close. He pushed both emotions away and concentrated on her. On what she needed from him right now.
“No,” he said again. “Your name isn’t Lumina. You aren’t in the human world anymore; you don’t have to keep your human name. You’ll never again have to hide who you are, or what you can do. You’ll never again have to pretend. And you’ll never again be alone, do you understand? We’re your family here—”
“I had a family,” she said vehemently, her trembling growing worse. “They’re dead.”
“They weren’t your Blood—”
“It’s not about blood!” she cried, stiffening. “Family is who takes care of you, who sacrifices for you, who would take a bullet to keep you safe!” Her face contorted; she was trying not to cry. “There’re more powerful things than blood!”
Magnus gazed at her, feeling all her rage and pain and confusion, wishing he had the right words to help her. Wishing he wasn’t so broken, so he could simply take her in his arms and comfort her, one lost soul to another, no questions asked. But he knew from hard experience that wishful thinking was nothing but a waste of time. He was broken, and had little to offer except the truth. So he simply spoke it.
“There is nothing in this world more powerful than your Blood. Not a single thing.”
She just stared at him, lips pinched to a don’t-cry grimace, eyes fierce with unshed tears. Even like this, in dirty clothes with uncombed hair, with an unwashed face and her features twisted in anguish, he thought she was the most painfully exquisite thing he’d ever seen. Honor had the same face, the same body, but it was Hope’s spirit that elevated her from merely pretty to perfect. That—literal—fire she possessed lit her up from the inside so she glowed.
“Tell me.”
Her voice was ragged, the emotion behind it raw. Magnus inhaled a slow breath, debating. He quickly decided that not only did she deserve to know, but in her shoes, he’d demand it, too.
“You are Hope Catherine Moore McLoughlin. Your grandfather, Charles, known to humans as the Earl of Normanton, was, in his time, the most powerful our kind had ever seen. He was called the Skinwalker, able to Shift into any form, any element, any thing or even idea. I understand he particularly enjoyed being a crow, a butterfly, and a cold wind.” His voice turned wry. “Maybe that’s where Honor gets it.”
Hope’s eyes widened. Her lips parted. She stared at him, rapt.
“Your mother inherited her father’s abilities. Though her own mother was human, Jenna—”
“My mother’s name was Jenna?” Hope said, her voice small. “And she was . . . half-human?”
He nodded. “She was even more powerful than her father. And you and Honor are even more powerful than her.”
She processed that a moment. “Is her grave here, in Wales? Is she buried nearby?”
She leaned forward. The scent of her hair and skin filled his nose, and his mouth went dry. His heart contracted with a horrible, acute ache, and he had to resist the urge to jump up and run or smash his mouth against hers and kiss her.
For God’s
sake, keep it together, Magnus!
He dropped his hands from her arms, tucked them under his armpits, and rocked back onto his heels. He said gruffly, “No. She’s not buried nearby.”
Her face fell. She sagged back. “Oh.”
