Twisted. Gena Showalter

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Twisted - Gena Showalter


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for her waspishness. “Maybe, by the time this is over, I’ll have earned myself a spot right next to you. We can keep each other company while roasting.”

      He barked out a laugh, as she’d hoped, but that earned them another glare from Hush Girl. He flipped HG off and said to Mary Ann, “You wish I’d spend eternity with you. So, you got any leads?”

      “Before you interrupted me—” she paused, waiting for an apology, but of course he didn’t offer one “—I was reading a story about a mortician at the hospital. Dr. Daniel Smart. Apparently he was murdered there. Defense wounds on his arms and legs, as if he’d rolled into a ball to protect himself while someone—” or something “—bit and punched him.”

      “Great story. But what does that have to do with Aden’s souls?”

      “One of them can raise the dead. What if Dr. Smart raised a dead body in the morgue, and it killed him?”

      “But wouldn’t he have raised a dead body before? And if he had, why would he have continued to work there? He would have been in constant danger, and his secret would have gotten out. But it didn’t, which means he didn’t.”

      “Maybe he could control the ability.”

      “Maybe he couldn’t.”

      “I don’t care what you say,” she grumbled, hating that he was right. Again. “This is the best lead I’ve got.”

      “Our definition for the word best differs. Still,” Tucker went on blithely, “it’s worth checking out.”

      “I know.” How irritating! As if she needed his permission. “That’s next on my To Do list.”

      “What about his parents?”

      “Who, Smart’s?”

      Tucker rolled his eyes. “No, moron. Aden’s.”

      “What about them?” Their current address was burning a hole in her pocket. Finding them had been first on that To Do list she’d mentioned, in fact, and she’d already crossed it off with shocking ease. A search engine, a (stolen) credit card Tucker had given her, and boom. Results.

      They were still local; the shame of abandoning their son, when they might have been the only people in the world who could truly help him, hadn’t driven them away. Were they happy with their decision? Regretful?

      She’d debated: call Aden and tell him, or not call Aden? In the end, she’d opted for not. For the moment. He had a lot to deal with right now and if she met with the couple first—fine, spied on them—she could make a more informed decision.

      “Close up for today,” Tucker said, drawing her back into the conversation, “and let’s find a place to sleep. We’ll head out for …” He paused, waiting.

      “Smart’s wife is still here in Tulsa, close to St. Mary’s, the hospital where her husband used to work.” Tulsa, Oklahoma. Which was two hours away from Crossroads, Oklahoma. Two hours away from Riley.

      Not that she’d imagined him driving that stretch of highway a thousand times.

      “Good.” Tucker nodded. “Did you read the man’s obituary?”

      “Yes.”

      “Checked out his family?”

      “As best as I could.” He’d left the wife behind, but no one else had been mentioned.

      “And you have an exact address?”

      “No. I thought I’d drive around until a golden ray of sunlight shined down from the heavens and spotlighted the house.”

      “Sarcasm again. Not your best look.”

      “Then stop asking dumb questions.”

      He sighed, the last sane guy in existence. “We’ll drive there in the morning. Does that work for your timetable?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He stretched out his hand and waved at her. “Come on.”

      With a sigh of her own, she placed her hand in his. As he stood, he pulled her to her feet. He helped her into her jacket and tugged her out of the microfiche area. Just before they walked into the main library, someone screamed. A girl. Hush Girl, maybe. Fearing the worst, Mary Ann tried to turn around and see what was going on. Tucker threw his arm around her shoulders and forced her attention straight ahead.

      “Believe me. You don’t want to see.”

      No attacking witches or fairies, then. “What did you do?” she whispered fiercely. And she knew he’d done something, the turd.

      “Let’s just say the snake under her desk is trying to converse with her,” he replied with another wicked grin.

      Of course.

      They stepped outside, into the moonlight and cold. She tugged the lapels of her jacket closer and glared up at him. “I thought you couldn’t cast illusions when you were so close to me.”

      His grin widened, and all she could see was straight white teeth flashing down at her in the darkness. She looked away before she gave into the urge to slap him. Repeatedly. Cars whizzed along the street in a zoom, zoom rhythm. No one stood on the sidewalk, and there were no insidious shadows lurking nearby. Searching had become a habit.

      “Well?” she insisted.

      He leaned down, as if sharing a naughty secret. “Let’s just say my skills are going nuclear.”

      Or her ability to mute was fading, she thought suddenly, and her eyes widened. Oh, please, please, please, let her ability be fading. If she stopped muting powers, she might stop draining energy, too. And if she stopped, she could see Riley again. Could kiss him again. Could finally—please, finally—do more. Without worry.

      “Okay, why did that make you so happy?” Tucker asked, suspicious.

      What did he have to be suspicious about? “Nothing.”

      “Liar.”

      “Demon.”

      He cleared his throat as if fighting a laugh. “That’s not really an insult for me, you know.”

      “I know.” She practically skipped along the concrete. Even the thought of safely seeing Riley lightened her mood. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, okay?”

      Tucker had to quicken his step to remain beside her. “What moment?”

      “This moment.”

      “Why? There’s nothing special about it.”

      “There could be if you shut your mouth.” This time, he laughed outright. “Remind me why I dated you.”

      “No. I’d only throw up in my mouth.”

      “Nice, Mary Ann,” he said, but he was still grinning.

      “I try.”

      FIVE

      THE SCREAMS THAT HAD RAZED Aden’s mind for such a torturous eternity ceased abruptly, and he knew only silence. Yet, the silence was worse because, without the distraction, he became aware of a thick, gloomy fog surrounding him, writhing with malicious glee.

      Escape, he needed to escape. He would die if he stayed here. Surely the fog would suffocate him. Was even now trying to do so. Determined, he clawed his way through, climbing … climbing … his body broken, throbbing … climbing … climbing … higher and higher until—

      His eyelids sprang apart.

      First thing he noticed, the fog had dissipated. Still, the world around him was hazy, as though smeared with Vaseline. He sucked in a deep breath to center himself, then growled. There was something sweet in the air, and his mouth watered. His blood heated.

      Taste.

      Someone called


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