Heartsong (Green Creek 3)

And it was connected to Rico.

We followed him down the road.

The house stood no different than when I’d left it.

I ached at the sight of it.

We came to a stop a few yards away.

Brodie and Tony stood on the porch, hands still joined. They watched as we approached, growling low in their throats, heads cocked.

“Okay,” Rico whispered, gun drawn. “Now what? They’re trapped, right? I mean, we probably are too, but still.”

I took a step toward the boys. “Tony.”

There was no recognition there.

“You know him,” Kelly said.

I nodded, never looking away from the boys.

“He doesn’t know you. Not anymore.”

“Tony,” I said again, and the boy bared his fangs. “It’s okay. It’s me, Robbie. I’m here. I’m—”

“Would you hear me, dear?”

I fell to my knees, clutching my head as a terrible wave of magic assaulted me. It rolled over me, obliterating every thought I had. I screamed at the ground, struggling to stay in control even as my mind filled with a dense, heavy fog. It was calming. Soothing. I wanted nothing more than to let it take me away.

And then Kelly said, “Robbie, Robbie, please,” and I gritted my teeth as his hand came down on my bare shoulder, covering the mark he’d put there with his fangs. The mark I didn’t remember receiving.

The mark that meant mate.

I raised my head, the fog pulling at me with long tendrils.

“No,” I managed to say in a guttural voice. “No. You can’t. You can’t.”

Livingstone stood on the porch behind the boys, his hands on the tops of their heads. “I think you’ll find I can. And I will.”

Rico and Kelly spun around me in a practiced move, guns raised. They opened fire at the house, and though their aim was spot-on, the bullets sparked against a barrier in front of Livingstone’s face and ricocheted off into the porch.

Livingstone slowly shook his head. “All this bloodshed. And for what?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if you’re in any position to talk about bloodshed,” Rico said as he reloaded. “You know, seeing everything you’ve done and all.”

Livingstone looked at me, and his expression turned pleading. “I am giving you a chance, Robbie. To give me what I want. All of this could be avoided. Everything.”

“You stole him,” Kelly snarled, pointing the gun at Livingstone again, though it was useless. “You’re never going to touch him again. Not while I still stand.”

“I see that,” Livingstone said. “Maybe you shouldn’t be standing anymore, then.”

I couldn’t stop him.

I wasn’t fast enough.

He raised his hand.

I reached for Kelly.