The Burning Shadow (Origin 2)

The touch was barely there, not exactly unwanted but definitely eliciting a riot of responses throughout me. I drew in a shallow breath, and then felt it. Warmth radiated from his fingertips, and I jerked back, bumping into Zoe. He was healing me, and it wasn’t necessary. I was okay, but he was thinking of me, always thinking of me, and I leaned over, placing my fingers along his jaw. A moment passed, and then his fingers were gone from my cheek. I pulled back, scanning his face. Shadows crept across Luc’s features as he withdrew, staring out the window once more, and there was nothing but quiet for miles and miles.* * *It was Kent who broke the silence, first by attempting to play a game of I Spy with Grayson, which was impossible for two reasons. One, it was pitch-black outside and we couldn’t see anything, and two, Grayson was not interested. Not even remotely. I was pretty sure I heard Grayson threaten to punch Kent in an area that would ensure Kent would have some difficulty going to the bathroom.

Then Kent turned on the radio.

Much to everyone’s dismay, he settled on a station that played country music.

Huh. Never would’ve guessed that.

An argument ensued, ending when Grayson threatened to zap him, and so the radio went off, and it was silent again while I tried not to focus on four things:

My mom.

Luc’s abnormal, stony silence.

Heidi and Emery’s whereabouts.

The nearly overwhelming need to visit a bathroom.

I looked over at Luc, wishing we were somewhere private where we could talk. Something was wrong with him, and I knew it had to do with what had happened back in the house and in his club. He’d killed those men. He’d had to, but I could tell it was bothering him, as was the loss he’d suffered tonight. He’d told me that some deaths didn’t get to him, but others did, and I knew which way these were falling.

Unease warred with the need to find a potty. They had been living, breathing people.

People who probably had families. People, I imagined, who got up every morning, maybe drank coffee and checked out the news. People who probably liked chocolate cake and steak. People who wanted to end my life.

People who had ended my mom’s life before I had a chance to really know her, because as I sat in the Yukon, wedged between Zoe and Luc, I realized I never knew her.

Not really.

I only ever knew what Mom had shown me.

And it was far past the time to admit that most of what Mom had shown me was a lie, just like April. What had April called the woman I’d thought had been her mom? Her handler. Was that what my mom was, too? A handler?

Thickness crept into my throat and made the next breath I took hard as I stared at Luc’s profile, pushing aside my own problems. These deaths were cutting into him, and those people … they hadn’t been good. I believed that in my heart.

Clearing my throat, I rubbed my hands on my knees. “So … um, where are we going? I mean, I know you said Houston, but how long will that take?”

“Driving nonstop would take a little over twenty hours.” Zoe drew one leg up, resting it against the door. She yawned, and I guessed catching a flight was totally out of the question. “Give or take a few hours, depending on traffic.”

“We’ll be hitting rush hour in a few of the big cities,” Kent chimed in from the steering wheel.

“We’re not going straight through,” Luc said, and it was probably the first time he’d spoken in well over an hour. “We can’t.”

I peeked over at him. “Are you going to elaborate?”

He didn’t look over, and I thought his eyes were closed. “We can’t just roll up to Zone 3 and knock on a door.”

Kent chuckled. “Is there even a door to knock on?”

“You’ve been there?” I asked.

“I come from there.”

So many questions rose to the surface, but Luc jumped back in. “We need to make a few … calls. Make sure our arrival is known. We’re going to have to lie low for a couple of days.”

“We’re going to the ATL.” Kent’s Mohawk bobbed and weaved. “To Hot-lanta, which rhymes with Mylanta. And Santa. Oh, and Fanta.” He paused. “God, I’d do dirty, nasty things for some Fanta right now. What about you, Evie? I’ve never asked. Do you like Fanta?”

I stared at him. “I haven’t had it.”

“What? That’s the first thing we’re going to do when we get to the Peachtree City. Gonna get you some Fanta. It’s like carbonated fruit orgasming in your mouth.”

My eyes widened. The imagery that painted …

“God,” Zoe muttered under her breath. “We aren’t actually going to Atlanta, but one of the suburbs.”