Wicked Heat

“Hello? Mars to Sephy?” Misty’s Southern drawl sliced through my thoughts, and I refocused on her.

“You’ve been sitting there for ages staring into space. Are you doing my reading or are you having an episode?” She chewed on gum, her exaggerated blinking accompanying her tapping fingernails on the table between us.

Maybe she was used to seeing people high on drugs or having so-called “episodes.” My life was shitty enough to know everyone had skeletons in their closet. So, I simply smiled at Misty. You’d be surprised how often such gestures calmed people. She’d hired me after one of my regulars had spoken highly of my services. This was the first time I’d been booked to tell her future. But the least she could have done was open a window or switch on the fan. I was sweating up a storm sitting in her trailer and the lack of ventilation made it damn hard to concentrate.

She smacked her lips with gum, and I wiped away the perspiration rolling down my neck. My attention drifted to the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink and the browning curtain. I oughtn’t to have judged since I still had a stack of unwashed bowls back home too. Part of me wished my roomie would get sick of seeing them and wash them. Instead, she added to the pile.

The microwave sitting on the fridge flickered 1:06 p.m., reminding me I had to pay my landlord by the end of the day when I got home too.

My grip tightened around the handful of tiny chicken bones, and I pushed aside all thoughts and took a deep inhale.

With my free hand, I grabbed the bottle and poured a shot of clear rum into a glass. A libation for our ancestors to help me see the future. I then ran my fingers over the spiritual necklace I wore everywhere, the onyx beads always cold under my touch. Powerful protection stones, they absorbed negative energy, and I wore them so spirits could tap into the power to take form if needed for communicating with me.

Cupping the bones in both hands, I lifted them to my mouth and blew over them, blanketing them in my energy.

A shiver zipped up and over my head as if someone had breathed over my nape. That happened sometimes, so I wasn’t freaking out. I rolled my shoulders and looked back to find an empty hallway leading to a bedroom. Shaking it off, I dropped the bones into the wicker tray. The finger-length bones tumbled across the flat surface. Each sported writings and runes, and interpretation came down to where they landed. I spun the plate so the directional rock in the tray faced north.

Misty leaned closer, her eyes bulging. “What do them bones say? Am I pregnant with a werewolf baby? And where’d the bastard run off to? I used them store-bought tests, but I heard shifter pregnancies don’t show up on them. I’d go to the hospital, but I don’t wanna lose my home, you know.”

Of course, if Misty carried a shifter baby, she’d gain no help at the hospital, as their kind were regarded as a lower class. Shifters were prohibited from owning property in cities or towns near humans, so if she carried one’s baby, she’d lose everything. Yeah, we lived in a shithole world, and most who weren’t humans stayed in rural areas.

An exhale floated across my left ear and with it came a faint voice. But there was still no one behind me, and I ruffled my hair, covering my ear.

Misty blew another bubble, grabbing my attention. Maybe it was the heat but concentrating seemed a chore.

Okay, focus. Most bones lay scattered around the edges, but one had landed dead center. A circle was carved into its side. “This one”—I pointed to the culprit—“is the moon. A fertility issue, and because it’s sitting at the middle, this represents the main problem in your life. Sorry, Misty.” I softened my voice, hating to deliver bad news, but she’d asked this specific question. “You’re not pregnant,” I finally said.

With the way she slouched back in her chair, a smile splitting her mouth, I guessed she’d gotten the result she’d wanted.

“You sure ’bout this?” She scratched her head, messing up her tight ponytail.

“The bones are pretty accurate.”

There was a mumbled whisper in my other ear, and I turned around. Nothing.

“You all right?” Misty gawked at me like she’d seen a ghost.

“Yeah, just sensing something else.”

Her mouth dropped open. “God, there’s a ghost in my home?” Misty pressed her stomach against the table, studying me as if I were a bug under a microscope. I hated when people looked at me that way.

The grumbles grew louder, clearer.

Persephone, a female voice whispered.

I stiffened. Last time I’d been called that, I’d been thirteen and gotten booted out of my foster home after I’d admitted to speaking to spirits and suggested they check the local sheriff’s cellar. No one had listened, so I’d done it myself and found two shifters he’d chained up and beaten for hell knows what reason. No one had wanted to admit the truth, so a week later, my foster family had had me moved to another home and town. They loathed what they didn’t understand. I’d changed my name to “Sephy” and moved to Evangel, a new city in Mississippi.

Twisting in my seat, I studied the space between me and the window, the air rippling and quivering like a scorching summer’s day. I perched on the edge of my seat. Seeing a new spirit always excited me because I had no idea what to expect. The majority of the time, ghosts that came through simply offered messages to their loved ones.

Now, a figure formed before my eyes. Translucent, yet clear as day, a woman wearing a cape, the fabric cinched in at the waist with a red sash. Beneath, a green floral skirt sashayed outward with each step she took as she paced across the small trailer.

“Umm, Misty, has your mom passed?” I asked without taking my attention off the spirit. Usually when they appeared, they hovered in one spot, lingering near the client. But this one reminded me of a trapped lion. Traipsing back and forth, eager for escape.

“That cow?” Misty blurted out, and I flinched at her sudden outburst. “Hell, wish she was dead, but she’s too busy peddling smack to kids downtown and making a fortune. Saw her this morning and the redheaded devil begged me to join her. Can you believe?”

I nodded, still concentrating on the woman with long, flowing chestnut hair. She had no shoes and blood dripped from her hands, leaving a trail of splattered drops in her wake.

“Who are you?” I turned in my chair to face the newcomer more directly.

“What?” Misty asked.

I lifted my palm for her to hold that thought.

In a flash, the spirit swished closer, and a flutter of wind brushed through my hair.

“Shit! What was that?” Misty was out of her seat and backing into the corner, her eyes flicking left and right.

I climbed to my feet. Always stand up to the supernatural—don’t feed them fear. “What do you want?” I raised my voice. Already a fiery surge danced across my palms.

My dear, you don’t know me, but you are part of me.

I stared into familiar green eyes with golden flecks. They seemed familiar because I looked into them every day in the mirror. I swallowed hard. My parents had dumped me on the side of a road on my third birthday like they would have done to an unwanted pet. A family had found me only wearing a dress. Or so I was told. Someone had scribbled my name across my chest in a marker and cigarette burn marks riddled down my arms. I’d long covered them with ink, concealing my ugly past. And that was how it would remain. A distant memory I had no intention of resurrecting now or ever.

I studied the woman who looked too much like me with her high cheekbones, her porcelain skin—even the slight gap between her two front teeth matched mine. A bubbling emotion coiled tight in my chest and could have sworn someone had punched me in the heart.

“Mom?” The word shook on the way out because I’d hosted dozens of séances to connect with my parents, thinking if they were dead, I’d call them, but they never came. I craved revenge and yearned to make them cry, and mostly, I had to find out why I could manifest fire.

Misty’s yelling in the background faded as my pulse increased, thumping like tribal drums in my ears.

The spirit nodded, and my mouth parched as question after question shoved to the front of my mind. I’d run through this scenario hundreds of times, thinking of the exact grilling I’d give her, but now standing near my mom—a stranger, really—my mind went blank, barren. I felt like a child again.

“Why?” was all that came out, but she hushed me with a finger across her mouth, and I silenced. But no one had power over me, and definitely not my dead mother. Fuck, she’d lost that privilege long ago.

Spirits can’t cross over. They’re stuck.

I froze, trying to make sense of her words. “What are you talking about?”

Death is rising and coming for you, my child.

“I’m not your child. Wait! Death? Like getting hit by a bus and dying? But why should I believe anything you say? Why did you abandon me? That’s the real question here.”

My mother shook her head, her hoop earrings swinging about.

Misty patted my arm. “Sephy, are you seeing my death? Oh my God, please tell me how so I can stop it. I’m too young and still want to have kids.” She was crying in her hands.

Everything was happening too fast, and I couldn’t keep up. Dread sat on my chest, making breathing impossible. I turned to comfort Misty and explain this was about me. But Mom’s hand smacked down on my shoulder, and I shuddered from the iciness of her touch.

She wrenched me forward with such strength, I stumbled. The momentum hurled me into the kitchen, and I slammed against the fridge, face-first. My vision blurred as sharpness struck across the bridge of my nose. I gasped for each breath, and fear contorted in my gut. The coppery tang of blood sat at the back of my throat.

Fingers gripped the back of my neck with such force, I cried out from the sheer agony. Spirits sometimes took solid form, but it was rare, as they needed energy for magic from a human. It had to be the power in my necklace.

I clenched my fists and swung them over my shoulders, but they hit nothing. Slowly, my brain caught up with reality. My mom was trying to kill me. I felt hopeless. Just as I must have been as a child. But I promised myself to never let anyone abuse me again. Fire sparked across my hands, burning across my flesh.

“Sephy!” Misty screamed my name over and over. “What’s happening?”

Lifted off the ground, my feet dangled over the linoleum. I writhed for leverage, but I couldn’t move or lift my arms. I was stuck midair inside an invisible straitjacket. My pulse skyrocketed, and I pictured myself dying this way. Found by the police as a disfigured corpse with my mouth in an angled O-shape and my eyes wide open.

Mom floated beside me, inches from in my face, her brows knitted.

Listen, child. A growl followed each word. Magic makes you vulnerable; stop using it. He’s coming for you.

And in a puff of electrical energy zapping across my skin, the grip on my neck eased. Mom sparked into a dusty cloud and vanished all in the time I’d taken to hit the ground. My fiery hands fizzled.

But my knees gave way, and I landed on my ass, my legs sprawled out in front of me. Goddamn son of a bitch.

I gasped for air, shaken, uncertain of what had just happened.

Misty was at my side, prodding my arm, her words a buzzing gnat.

But the only message reaching my brain was my mom’s warning of death, and if there was one thing I knew without a shadow of a doubt, it was that human spirits couldn’t lie.

“So, you sure you’re okay?” I stepped out of the trailer, still reeling from my experience, and turned to Misty.

She blew a puff of cigarette smoke into the air and said, “You bet. I ain’t pregnant and not dying. Best news I heard in ages. All I know is that I never want to see a spirit. Don’t wish to be you.”

The only reason I forced a smile was because of the one hundred and fifty bucks in my pocket from Misty, so she could say whatever she wanted. I blotted my nose with a tissue in my hand. The bleeding had stopped, though not before a few spots had splattered my T-shirt. I waved her a final farewell before she shut the door. Well, I doubted she’d become a repeat client. I slid my arms through my backpack straps.

So my mom, the woman I hadn’t seen since I’d been three, was dead. Not an ounce of guilt passed through me. To me, she’d died the moment she’d dumped me out on the curb as a child. I hightailed it out of trailer town.

Her warning repeated on me like the worst case of reflux. But I couldn’t connect the dots between spirits not crossing over and death coming for me. I hadn’t seen an unusual number of hauntings or spirit activity.

Then again, the heaviness in the air for the past few weeks had intensified. But shit went down in Evangel city twenty-four seven. Murders. Rapes. Shifter trafficking. Nothing new… except this was on a different realm. The supernatural world.

I emerged from the park crammed with trailers and caravans and headed right along a grassy path, flanked by a highway and a high metal fence. Cars zoomed past. Twenty minutes later, I’d decided the answer was simple. Hold a séance and call my mother back. Trap her in a holding circle and make her tell me everything.

Why had she abandoned me or allowed me to get burned with cigarettes?

Had Mommy Dearest called spirits, heard their whispers in the night, or shot fire from her hands? Because in a town with crime at an all-time high, shifters being mistreated, and gangs ruling the government, I was still considered a freak by clients. Which was fine because people had called me worse. Maybe I was a simple human with medium powers, but I had yet to cross paths with anyone else possessing my ability.

Kicking a pebble in my way, I hopped over a broken stone wall from an old warehouse demolished years ago and took a shortcut toward the heart of the city. Crumbled cement littered the demolished site, and voices floated from the alleys up ahead. Garbage littered the street, and it reeked.

Despair District was what some called this area. Tall buildings threw shadows over the narrow roads, and the paint on the streetlamps was chipping away. Where there were once trees along the sidewalk, now holes existed, filled with trash. Buildings towered over me, packed with squatters, druggies, and shifters in hiding. And if I didn’t get myself new clients to pay the bills, I might join them soon. I already owed my roomie for the months she’d covered my rent.

Goose bumps covered me as I remembered the attack at Misty’s. I still couldn’t bring myself to believe her words, even though I kept reminding myself human spirits couldn’t lie. The verdict was still out on me being human, so what if my mom had the same abilities? Perhaps that was why she’d abandoned me? After all, I freakin’ manifested fire with a single thought. Not many humans did that without the use of hocus pocus.

What if I’d burned down the family home as a child and Mom couldn’t cope? Had she been a single parent raising a gifted child?

The knot in my stomach contorted. I hurried along the cracked sidewalk.

Someone screamed from inside a building I passed, and seconds later, a woman wearing only a mini skirt and heels stumbled out, wiping her lips. She seemed to have no care in the world that her breasts were on full display. She lowered her head and strolled in the opposite direction, her striped tiger tail swinging left and right, but I caught the busted lip. Young shifters were commodities in high demand in Despair District. I pushed onward, inhaling the foul stink in the air and avoiding the dejected stares from the two men at the street corner.

“Hey, bitch. Told ya not to show your face here again,” the one with a crooked nose called out.

“I’m passing through. No law against that.” Saved me half an hour getting home. The fault was mine for snapping two ribs on the pimp with the crooked nose a month ago. But he’d been beating up on a woman. A bunch of his friends had attacked me, and while we’d all ended up bloody, I hadn’t been at the bottom of the pile. So hooray for me.

Sensing no one on my heels, I made haste and left behind the gritty back streets and entered a bustling city. Cars zipped past, people in suits and dresses wandered the sidewalks. Overhead the storm clouds gathered. A sprinkle hit my cheek, and I ran the rest of the way home.

“That’s only half of what you owe me.” Don belched the accusation as if he vomited the words. Didn’t stop him from snatching the money out of my hand. The man was a beanpole, always in Hawaiian shirts and no pants. Just his tighty-whities. Disgusting sight, but a landlord wore what he pleased, I guessed.

“My rent is covered for the next two weeks. I’ll get you the rest soon.”

He rolled his eyes, his flared nostrils dusted in white powder, and I glanced into his room, where bags of chips and empty beer bottles scattered the floor. He drew the door toward him to block my view.

“Look, this ain’t a charity, and I don’t do installments. Pay me at week’s end, or you and your roommate are out. You think I don’t see all the men who visit your place all hours of the night?” His gaze trailed down my white T-shirt and stopped on the words Spit Happens.

Problem was my roommate, Raven, had once paid her share of rent by flashing him her tits and letting him grope them while he jerked himself off. Now he thought he had free reign over us both. Not in this lifetime.

“You really want me to touch you?” I smirked and concentrated, digging deep inside, and called to my fire. Flames flicked across my palm, and I stretched my arm toward him.

The corner of his upper lip peeled over a golden tooth, his wry expression gnarling into a scowl as he stepped back into his apartment. “Piss off. Fucking freaks everywhere in this city. Bring me my rent or you’re out.” He slammed the door in my face.

“Dickwad.” My fire couldn’t hurt anyone unless they had a demonic spirit inside them. But most people weren’t aware of that small detail, and I had no reason to tell them.

By the time I reached the third floor, Raven emerged from our apartment. Five-foot-two, outspoken, and an exhibitionist at heart. She had a line of words inked from the tip of her index finger, up her arm, down her back in a U-shape and sailing along the other arm. I’d once spent the time it took to read the letter she’d written to herself about loving herself despite being assaulted as a child, sold in human trafficking, and only surviving because the day she’d been getting shipped off, a police raid had saved her. She wore her abuse on her sleeve and was proud to show she was a survivor, and I loved her for such strength.

“Geez, what happened to you?” She eyed the stains on my top. “You know blood’s a pain in the ass to get out. Soak it right away.” Her blue dress fell to her thighs, above her black knee-high boots, and she had a small duffle bag in hand.

“It’s nothing. You off to work?” I asked. She was the best erotic masseuse in Evangel city, according to the claim on her website. It was a glorified way of saying you’d get the massage of your dreams with a guaranteed happy ending. She’d gotten me into the industry, and I’d tried it twice. The first man hadn’t understood boundaries, and the second guy had thought it funny to bring a Taser so he could electrocute me before he began his fun. Joke was on him, because I carried a pepper spray and he’d cried like a baby afterward. Douchebag.

“Yeah, a regular client booked me for a threesome and those always end with more fun.” She wiggled her bag. “Don’t wait up for me. I’m bringing home the cash tonight.” She stepped closer and gave me a quick hug, her clementine perfume bathing me, and she was off.

“Take care, and you got the pepper spray I gave you?” I reached into my pocket for the door key.

“You bet. Later I wanna hear all about your reading since it resulted in blood.” She winked and skipped down the steps, her blonde curls bouncing across her shoulders, until she vanished down the circular staircase.

Once inside, I dumped my bag near the couch and took off my top. Today was my twenty-first birthday, something I never told anyone because I hated big deals being made over me, so perfect time to break out the new whiskey bottle and soak in a hot bath.

The rain splashed the carpet through the open window, so I rushed over and shut the window just as the doorbell rang.

Raven always forgot her keys. I marched to let her in when the knocks came. “Hold your horses.”

I flung the door open and found my friend instead of my roomie. I smirked and draped myself against the doorframe in just my shorts and a purple bra.

“Knox, what brings you to my home?”

His dark Mohawk had long grown out and now reached his jawline, draped over his shaved undercuts. Tats sprawled across his neck, and he wore black pants, a buttoned-up shirt, and jacket. He towered over most people at his six-foot-two height. Plus, he spent nights at the gym, pumping iron when he wasn’t down at the kids’ community centers helping out homeless teens. During the day, he was at the seminarian stage of his theology study at the local church. All in training toward becoming a priest.

Knox’s hooded eyes were lowered as he marched inside and paced to the window.

“Not a social visit then?” I shut the door and reached for the clean clothes basket on the sofa, plucking out a black T-shirt and pulling it over my head. Put a Pin in It was scribbled above an image of a Voodoo doll, and I gained myself an arched brow from Knox. Mr. Grumpy had never been a fan of my shirts.

His background was as colorful and tainted as mine. We’d both ended up in the same foster home for a while. We ran away and found ourselves in a house for homeless teenagers. We’d bounced around, but eventually gotten split up to different families. His dad had been an alcoholic who’d beat him most nights with a whip while his stepmom did nothing. So he’d run away at the age of ten and never looked back. We were both unwanted, but we’d had each other for years. Until he’d made friends with a drug lord and almost died. Then he found God, while I’d lost myself trying to accept who the hell I was. But we’d crossed paths a few years ago, and he was someone I relied on now, and vice versa.

Knox refused to stand still and stalked into the kitchen, straight for the liquor cabinet.

“You okay?” Last time I’d seen him this shaky, the local church he worked at had gotten held up by a gang looking for a squealer. Knox had gotten beat up and put into the hospital for a month.

Not a word as he filled two glasses with ice and split the last remains of my bourbon whiskey. At least he hadn’t opened the new one I’d bought. He handed me a glass and gulped down half of his. As a priest in training, his old life had everything to do with why he’d ended up where he was today. So yeah, he still swore like a sailor and drank like one too, but at the core, he was the purest and most caring man I’d ever met.

“Drink,” he insisted. “You’ll need it.”

“You’re scaring me.” I took a gulp, the sweetness washing down my throat. With his drink finished, he set it down and leaned back against the window, staring my way. Rain pebbled against the glass, filling the silence between us.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you freaked out?” Another sip and I placed the glass on the table next to his.

“Son of a bastard.” Knox pushed up the sleeve of his coat to his elbow, revealing fresh scratch marks that riddled his flesh.

“What the hell did that? Hold on.” I darted into the bathroom and snatched a towel and disinfectant cream, along with bandages.

“An eleven-year-old girl.”

I halted and met the terror in his eyes. The man was gorgeous, model material, but very little scared him. And he never backed away from a fight.

“She’s possessed?” I asked.

He grabbed my drink and downed it. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, Sephy.” His hand on mine trembled. “I’ve been exorcising her for hours, yet she’s barely weakened. She’s stronger than anyone claimed before.”

“And you need my help?” It wasn’t the first time he’d called for my assistance on a possession case he worked on. Of course, they weren’t approved by the church because they took too long to process such cases, but he’d dealt with demonic spirits most of his life, so nothing stopped him from eliminating the scum.

I collected the empty glasses and placed them in the sink before returning to his side and disinfecting his bites.

“You know I hate getting you involved in my mess, but this one is fucked up. Maybe I’m facing Satan himself.” He shrugged. “And you’ve got your fire touch. I’ve never seen a demonic bastard live to see another day after he faced you.”

Sure, praise me and I’d cave in. Okay, I’d mentally already said “yes” the moment he’d walked into my apartment. We had this unspoken agreement where we looked out for each other, never doubt each other’s words. Like the time he’d beat up two guys trying to rape me at fourteen. Or when I’d lied and said I’d stolen the jewelry he took so he wouldn’t end up in prison, as he was on his last warning. Being underage, I’d gotten slapped with a fine and gained myself a criminal record. But for Knox, I’d do anything.

“So where’d you leave this girl?” I plastered the bandages across the gashes on his forearm.

“Tied up and with her brother and a detective at their place.”

“Crap, is that safe?” The possessed were unpredictable. “And why are the authorities there?” I moved with haste into my bedroom and collected the possession powder I’d created to help calm spirits. I used it to stop the beasts from harming their hosts or me until I got close enough to make a connection to their spirit side.

Footsteps echoed behind me, and Knox’s breath danced on the back of my neck. A light shiver of anticipation lifted the hairs on my arms.

“The girl’s brother called the cops when his sister attacked him.”

I turned with the packet in hand. Knox stood inches away, his hands in his pockets. Fear etched across his face, and my initial instinct had me wanting to embrace him, to hold him tight, but I stopped myself short. After his rehab from his addiction to ice, he got put through a program at the church to integrate back into society. So, about a year ago, he decided to train with those priests who helped him and join the priesthood. He figured if he could succeed, he’d never be tempted by drug addiction again. Though I didn’t see how going without sex until his balls turned blue helped.

Part of me wondered if his decision was his way to push me away because what I did terrified him. He always told me he accepted it, but I’d see the way he stared at me when I battled possessed people or shifters. The wrinkle of his nose, the distance he kept between us. And that was why I believed our relationship never evolved beyond friends. No denying, sometimes I hated him for not seeing how much I cared for him beyond friendship.

It fucking stung, but you got used to people fearing you after a while. I kind of expected it now.

“Okay, let’s do this. I have a date tonight with my bathtub.” I pushed past him, but he seized my wrist and a light buzz jolted up my arm. He always had the same effect on me, sending my body into a frenzy of excitement in his company.

I lifted my chin to face him. Everything about him made him handsome, in particular those pale-green eyes. Intensity lay behind them—honesty, protectiveness. Strong arched brows made his eyes stand out, and then there were the distinct cheekbones, and a nose broken too many times. Now it angled just off-center, adding to his rugged appearance. The opposite of what you’d expect from a priest in training. But he was one of a kind.

“Sephy, listen. If you change your mind, I won’t judge. Seriously. Leave. I don’t want you harmed. Deal?”

All I concentrated on was the point of contact where his thumb caressed the sensitive skin on my inner wrist, along the inked vine swirling across my flesh. And he had no right to captivate me with such a small gesture when he pushed me away at the same time. I lowered my gaze.

“I got this. Let’s go.” Before I did something stupid like kissed him and distracted myself further.

Outside, the rain continued. I turned to Knox and clicked open my umbrella. “How far is it?”

“A ten-minute walk. The studio apartments by the docks.”

I nodded. “Yep, I know the place.” So we headed down the sloped street. If the situation was as grave as Knox said, then I had to keep focused. Demons got into your head, rummaged about for baggage to use against you. The best strategy for survival was not falling for their tricks.

When the silence got to be too much, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Guess who I saw today? Or more like got attacked by?”

Knox’s brow furrowed, and he gave a slight shake of his head.

“My mother.”

He stopped and grasped my arm, squeezing a bit too tight. “What the fuck? How did she find you?”

“She visited me during a reading.”

His face twisted into a wry expression and ebbed into the realization she was dead. “You sure it was her?”

I drew him into a fast walk by the hand. Was he slowing down on purpose to avoid returning to the scene? “Damn right. She tried to choke me, so it was her.”

“Hell! Why is she coming to you now? Maybe she died recently?” Knox swung left at the end of the road and we crossed a park, putting distance between us and my apartment.

“To alert me about some impending doom,” I said. “You know, the usual stuff spirits say. I never understand why they don’t deliver good news. Like today you’ll win a year’s supply of ice cream.” I laughed and nudged Knox, but he didn’t find it funny and frowned.

“It’s a warning.” His tone darkened, and it worried me how much this situation scared him because it meant lives were at risk. And he loved to joke as much as the next guy, but today he was stoic and serious.

My mouth opened with a response, but a different voice came from behind us, stealing my words.

“Sephy, wait up!” a male called me.

Knox and I turned to find Ryder, my douche of an ex, marching toward us. What did he want? I hadn’t seen him for the past two months for a goddamn good reason. As a lion shifter, he had way too many hang-ups. Hating anyone finding out what he was, judging me for my abilities, and insisting normality was where happiness lived. Well, I had news for him. In this crap-hole world, there was no such thing as normal.

My relationship with Ryder had always been turbulent, aggressive, and insatiable. But when I’d caught him with a blonde naked at his place, that had been it for me. I’d tapped out.

Now determination filled his expression, and he strode closer in a hoodie and jeans. And even with his casual clothes, you couldn’t miss his muscles, the width of his shoulders, the overabundant package in his jeans. He’d trimmed his hair and his beard was gone since I’d last seen him, and yet he still looked gorgeous. Except I didn’t have the energy for an ass who’d shredded my heart.

“What do you want?” I greeted him.

“Nice to see you too.” He tilted his head forward as if in respect. “Father.”

Knox grumbled under his breath because Ryder knew Knox and I had a past, and he called him that on purpose.

“Can we chat? This is urgent.” Ryder reached for my hand, but I stepped back.

“Nope. Don’t have time, just like you never had time for me.”

He sighed. “Come on, Sephy. Not this again. I told you I don’t even remember the night or the girl at my place. Someone must have spiked my drink as I’d popped in at the bar before I went to pick up a bottle of whiskey for you. Why would I bring someone over when I knew you were coming to visit?”

“Bullshit.” My response came out too loud, and I hated revisiting the past.

Ryder’s eyes pleaded with me, yet all I kept thinking was he’d betrayed me.

“Hmh, seems like the rain’s stopped.” Knox peeled the umbrella from my grip, probably thinking I’d use it as a weapon against my ex.

What was up with today? Was everyone in insane mode?

“Please, I need your help with something.” Ryder stood there, slouching on one leg, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. “I stayed away for months like you asked, and I’m only coming to you because this is fucking bad.”

“So what you’re saying”—I sprinkled extra snark into my voice—“is that I’m good enough to ask for help when you’re in trouble, but otherwise, I’m a freak. Your words, not mine.”

Ryder’s shoulders slouched. “You’re taking it out of context.”

“You called her a freak?” Knox hissed. “Not cool, bro.”

“Fuck off, Father.” Ryder stepped toward me, his chin lifted with bravado, but Knox shoved a hand into his chest, sending him backward a few steps.

“The lady said she’s not interested. Leave.”

I appreciated the macho show. I mean, who wouldn’t? Of course, I could handle it myself, but still, that warm fuzzy sensation flooded me.

Ryder’s lips warped, and his body trembled with the knowing sign of his transformation. The problem with lion shifters was that they were alphas to the core and detonated the moment anyone challenged their masculinity. Knox had no problems holding his own, but this wasn’t the time or place to fight.

“We need to leave.” I took hold of Knox’s elbow and drew him away.

“Ryder, come see me next week. I’ll see if I have time to fit you in.” The decision might bite him in the ass, but it was a problem to deal with when I had time to think straight.

He gave one nod and seemed to settle down. Without waiting, I turned with Knox, and we hurried across the park. I took a quick scan behind us. Ryder didn’t follow.

“Have you ever wondered if he was telling the truth?” Knox asked.

“Shit, of course, but he’s a flirt with everyone, so what if he’s lying because he got busted?” I smirked, but he replied with a cocked brow. “Hell, I don’t want to dredge up the past.”

Ahead stood a long warehouse lining the shore. Out front stretched a pier and beyond that lay the river. We stopped near the third metal door in the building.

“Didn’t even know they’d opened this up for sale yet.” I stared down the dock, figuring the prices would be for pockets deeper than mine.

“Asher and his sister are the first to move in so far.”

Knox entered without a knock. Inside was a barren hallway with stairs up to my right and the rest of the hallway to the left. No personal artifacts or photos.

A sudden, piercing shriek ricocheted through the home, reminding me of twisting metal, and I froze, recognizing the pure terror that sounded wrong coming from anyone.

Anticipation curled in my gut like it did before every possession I faced. Yep, shit just got real. All the problems with Knox and my ex disappeared, replaced with my mom’s words: Death is coming for you.