The second I close the door behind the paramedics, I dive for the phone. But Declan’s cell just rings and rings. Where is he? Why isn’t he answering? I try not to panic, but it’s hard—especially when everything just feels off. Even my skin feels too tight.
Sitting here worrying isn’t doing me any good, though, so I might as well make myself useful. Lily is cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and I get up to give her a hand. I am the one who caused it, after all.
I’ve only taken two steps toward the kitchen when it hits me. I stumble into the wall, grab onto the door frame to keep from falling as my whole body starts to shake.
“Oh shit!” Lily yells, dropping the broom and rushing over to me. “Not again!”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you look fine.” She reaches for her purse. “That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
I shake my head as fear wells up inside me. “I can’t go.”
“Bullshit. You’re going.”
“It’s too late.”
I stumble back to my bedroom, every step a battle against the energy raging inside me. Please don’t let it be Declan, I pray. Please, Isis, I beg of you, not Declan.
I reach for a pair of jeans, yank them on. Then slip my feet into the first shoes I find—the pair of purple cowboy boots my mother foisted on me the last time I was home. Then I’m grabbing a jacket from the coat rack in the hall and tearing down the hallway to the front door.
“Where are you going?” Lily demands, standing in the middle of the living room, her hands on her hips and an exasperated expression on her face.
“It’s happening,” I tell her.
“What’s happening?” Then her eyes grow wide. “Oh shit. No way!” She dashes down the hall to her room. “You’re not going out there alone. Let me get dressed and I’ll go with you.”
“Hurry,” I tell her, knowing it’s useless to argue. Besides, I don’t really want to do this on my own. If it is Declan’s body I find . . . If it is him, I don’t know how I’ll survive.
The sick feeling inside me is growing with every second that passes. It’s an itchiness, a low-grade vibration running through my veins. It’s not bad yet, but I know from experience that this is only the beginning. But if Lily doesn’t move it, I’m going to be in a world of hurt before I even step out of the house.
Seconds later, the electricity starts. Small, painful sparks that travel along my nerve endings—pop, pop, pop—one after the other. I can’t take it anymore. I throw the front door open and head down the steps to the driveway. Once there, I bend over, brace my hands on my knees and concentrate on pulling deep breaths into my lungs.
The nighttime air makes it a little bit better, but with every second that passes, the compulsion is getting worse. The need to move, to search, to find, is taking me over a little more with each electric jolt that sweeps through me.
Turning to the left, I start to walk. Even as I tell myself to wait for Lily—even as my brain orders me to stop—my body keeps moving. I’ve waited too long. I’m firmly in the grip of the compulsion now and nothing can stop it, stop me, short of finding the body that caused all this.
I hear Lily slam the front door behind me. A string of inventive curses rings through the night air as she realizes I’ve taken off without her. Again I try to stop, or to at least turn, but it’s no use. My body’s been hijacked and I won’t get it back until I’ve done what I need to do.
Seconds later, Lily’s car engine starts up. Seconds after that, she’s in the street, driving along beside me. “Damn it, Xandra, get in,” she tells me, her voice hoarse with the same fear that’s ricocheting inside me.
I don’t argue with her, just jog around the car and hop into the passenger seat. “Thank you.”
She just shakes her head. “I swear to the goddess, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Turn right at the corner.”
She follows my directions all the way through downtown Austin. I don’t know where we’re going, only where the compulsion tells me to turn—at least until we make the last turn. Then, suddenly, I know.
How could I be here again?
How could this be happening again?
Last time I’d had to charm the hell out of a cop to get on the grounds, and frankly, after how that turned out, I don’t think I have a chance in hell of ever doing it again—even if I wasn’t sporting enough bruises to qualify as an MMA fighter.
“Pull over,” I tell Lily, who parallel parks in the first available spot.
“So, where are we going?” she asks.
I just point before climbing out of the car and heading toward the end of the street. The compulsion has me now and it’s not letting go. The electricity has gotten wilder, hotter, until every breath I take is pure agony. I waited too long, took too long to get here. I pick up the pace, start to jog down the deserted street. I want, need, the pain to stop.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Lily demands as she runs to keep up. She’s about five inches shorter than I am, so the pace I’m setting is brutal for her shorter legs. I know it, even feel bad about it, but there’s no way I can stop. The compulsion is pulling so hard that I’m afraid that any second it will yank me right off my feet.
“How many damn people die at the Capitol grounds anyway?”
“Too many, obviously.” But seconds before we get to the driveway in front of the huge Austin Capitol, I veer to the left. Head down the sidewalk to the small parking lot for employees on the side of the grounds.
“Someone’s dead back here?” Lily whispers loudly.
“I don’t know. I guess.” Please, I repeat for what has to be the millionth time, don’t let it be Declan. Don’t let it be Declan.
We reach a small patch of grass and flowers that stand outside the gate. There’s a historical sign marking it as something—I don’t bother to look at it—and a bunch of other signs that give directions to various places on the Capitol grounds. At first I think I’m meant to follow the signs to somewhere, but every time I take more than a step away from the center of the garden, the pain intensifies.
“This is it,” I tell Lily. “It has to be.”
“Right here?” she demands.
“I think so.” I glance around, reach into my pocket for my cell phone and turn on the flashlight app. “Do you see anything?”
“Not unless you count that group of very drunk, and very much alive college students who must have wandered off Sixth Street.” She points to the group of guys in question.
“I definitely don’t mean them,” I tell her, lowering my voice so we don’t attract their attention. It’s not that I think they’ll try to hurt us—they look harmless enough. Besides, I’m pretty sure Lily and I can handle a few drunk twenty-year-olds. But if they come over to investigate, it’s that much longer before I can figure out what the hell is going on. That much longer before I know if Declan is okay.
“Then I got nothing.”
“Neither do I.”
Just then, my phone pings. I glance at it, and nearly melt into a puddle of relief when I realize that Declan is the one texting me.
Sorry. Had something to take care of. On your front porch. Come let me in.
Something to take care of? Could he get a little more vague? Suddenly, I’m beyond annoyed. I’ve been to hell and back tonight worrying that something has happened to him and all he’s got to say for himself is “Had something to take care of?”