Blood Kissed (Lizzie Grace 1)

Water—hot water—hit my face and the connection snapped. For several seconds, I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My heart raced, my stomach turned, and my body burned with the echo of the teenager’s desire. And the warm water that dribbled down my neck felt an awful lot like blood….

“Excuse me for a minute,” I muttered, and stood up so suddenly my chair crashed to the floor.

I dropped the locket onto the table, then, without looking at Marjorie, turned and bolted for the bathroom. Once there, I lost everything I’d eaten over day.

Belle followed me in. “How the hell did you form such an intimate connection? That’s never happened before.”

“Not to that extent, no.” I took a deep, shuddery breath, then flushed the toilet and walked over to the hand basin. My reflection was flushed with heat and my irises wide with a mix of fear and desire, but my skin was paler than usual, and it made the smattering of golden freckles across my nose and cheeks stand out sharply. Never, ever, had I expected anything like that.

I flicked on the cold tap, cupped my hands under the water, and splashed my face. And wished I could do the same to both my memories and the unwanted burn.

“Is she dead?” Belle asked softly.

I glanced past my reflection and met Belle’s silvery gaze. “You didn’t catch it?”

“No. But there’s nothing unusual in that.”

Because, as my familiar, it wasn’t her job to follow me down the rabbit hole, but rather to monitor me, ensuring my vital functions were not being so completely taxed by whatever I was seeing or doing that it could lead to my death. She was my security and my strength.

I reached for a towel and patted my face dry. “She’s currently alive, but I don’t think she’s going to remain that way for long.”

There’d been far too much blood running down her neck for life to continue on without swift intervention.

“You can’t tell Marjorie that.”

“No, but I can’t give her false hope, either.”

Belle grimaced. “It’s a bitch of a situation. Maybe we should have said we couldn’t help her.”

“More than likely.” But then a teenager would be out in there in that forest, all alone and without hope. At least if I tried to find her, there was the tiniest of chances that I could help her. Save her.

Even if that inner part of me was saying otherwise.

I took a deep, calming breath, then squeezed past Belle and headed back into the main café space.

Marjorie’s expression was a mix of anxiety and fear. “Did you find my daughter? Is she okay?”

I hesitated. “She’s in the woods somewhere. There was a campfire and a man.”

“Who? A friend?”

“I don’t know.”

“But she’s alive? She’s okay?”

Again I hesitated. I certainly couldn’t tell the truth, but I couldn’t risk an outright lie, either. Not when the warm pulse of blood down my neck was still so fresh in my memory.

“She was when I saw her. If you’ll lend me the locket, I’ll go out now and try to find her.”

“Please, hurry.” Marjorie swept the locket off the table and held it out to me. “Because something is very wrong.”

Yes, it was. I stared at the shining, dangling locket, and saw the shadows gathering around it. Those shadows were death. And for too many seconds, I simply couldn’t force my hand to grasp the damn thing.

The minute I did—the minute it touched my skin—the images surged: lethargy, the sensation of floating, light, bright light, light that wasn’t calling her but rather pushing her toward the growing darkness….

I clamped the leash on my abilities and ruthlessly shoved the images away. I didn’t have the time for the fear and questions they raised… and neither did Karen.

“I need to go now, Mrs. Banks. Give me your phone number, and then go home.”