Chapter 50
Chapter
Fifty
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Donovan glares at his laptop, which is doing its best impersonation of the world’s most expensive paperweight. “How—why?—”
He inspects the laptop, muttering about the battery and the fan and God knows what else. I watch him, not saying a word. Because I have a sinking suspicion that what just went wrong has nothing to do with technical difficulties and everything to do with the Blood Witches.
Somehow, they’ve found out that we hacked into the database. That we’re on to them. And I’m sure there’s going to be hell to pay.
“Grab your stuff,” I tell Donovan. “We need to get out of here.”
“Yeah? And go where?” He sets the laptop down on the desk. “We need to get our phones back, in case you’ve forgotten. And no matter what we suspect Ethan might be involved in, we’re still on company time.”
I throw my hands in the air, narrowly avoiding one of the flaming brands. “Listen to yourself! On company time —really? Have you forgotten every single damn thing that’s happened since we got here this morning? Or the fact that Ethan’s tracking all of us using information that he’s probably obtained in a way that’s illegal as hell?” Stabbing an accusatory finger at his laptop, I say, “Whatever happened to ‘ Twice is a coincidence. This many times is a data set worthy of analysis’ ? You think it’s coincidental that your computer died? Or do you think it’s more likely that Ethan knows what we just did?”
Donovan pales. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles. “Okay, fine. We’ll go back to your cabin and get your stuff. Then we can leave. We’ll, I don’t know, go to the cops. Or talk to Charlotte. Whatever. We can figure it out when we get back to Sapphire Springs.”
“I can’t get my stuff,” I say. “My keys are in my purse. Which are in the retreat center with my phone.” All of which is pretty damn convenient. Too convenient. After everything that’s happened, how could I be so trusting?
“I have my keys.” He stands, grabbing his laptop and stuffing it into his messenger bag. “I agree with you, things here are getting way too fishy for comfort. Why don’t I drive you up to the retreat center, and you can run in and get your purse. Then I’ll take you back to your cabin, you’ll get your car, and we’ll get the hell out of Dodge.”
It makes me a little anxious to think about spending even that much extra time here. But I hate the idea of leaving my wallet and phone behind. “Okay,” I say, giving him a weak smile. “Maybe I’ll even change.”
Donovan winks at me. “Unnecessary, Chaos,” he says. “I like you just like this.”
My mouth falls open. But before I can respond, he crosses to the bedside table and snags a few items, sliding them back into his duffel. “Luckily, I didn’t actually unpack. Who would believe this fucking bullshit? I’m telling you, whatever explanation there is for this whole mess better be a damn good one, because…”
He’s still talking when the premonition hits me in the chest with the force of a punch. I fall to my knees on the hardwood, gasping for breath. It feels like the lake all over again, like drowning. But this time, what fills my lungs isn’t water.
It’s blood.
There’s no door. No undertow. I’m thigh-deep in a crimson ocean, the waves smacking into me with concussive force, threatening to drag me under. Our day has come echoes in my head over and over again, ringing in my ears. Our time is now.
And oh God, it’s Ethan’s voice.
“Rune!” Through the red haze that consumes my vision, I can see Donovan kneeling in front of me. He grips my upper arms, holding tight. “What’s happening? Are you hurt?”
I suck in air, wanting to tell him not to touch me. Because every time he does, the world breaks a little more. But I can’t manage to form a word.
Does that mean Ethan was the one…that he…
Ethan’s voice rises, until it’s all I can hear. But on its heels comes another one, even louder. Fight it, Rune, the second voice pleads. Fight him.
Cooper.
Get out of my head, I shriek, as the red tide rises higher. It’s up to my chest. My throat. My chin. It’s drowning me. I know it isn’t real, isn’t here, but oh God I can’t breathe ? —
Donovan shakes me, his fingers biting into my arms. He’s talking, his voice frantic, but I can only make out every other word: scaring and what and help and go. Ethan is laughing inside my head and Cooper is telling me to fight and all I can do is struggle for breath, pulling in one iron-tasting lungful of air after another.
What the hell does Cooper mean? Fight who? Does he mean Donovan, who’s only trying to help me? Or Ethan? But Cooper and Ethan are on the same side. They have to be. Otherwise, why would Cooper be in my premonition? Why would he obey Ethan’s command to kill Donovan?
In this moment, though, none of that matters. I’m of little use to anyone if, while Ethan and the Blood Witches plot to take even more from me—another one of the few people I care for—I’m stuck kneeling on the floor, trapped inside my own mind. And so, no matter whose side Cooper is on, I decide to listen to him. To fight.
Before, I’d always accepted that once I was truly in the grip of a premonition, there was nothing I could do but ride it out. But this time, I have the remnants of the ley line’s energy bubbling inside me. Even though we’ve left the escape room’s chamber behind, I can still feel a hint of that blue light, calling to whatever makes me able to see the future. It’s not enough to make me lose control, the way I did when I confronted Cooper. But it’s enough for me to stand against the darkness in my mind.
Inside my premonition, I close my eyes and reach down, down, down into the depths of myself. I picture the blue light as a pool at the very center of my being, a well from which I can draw. And then I imagine reaching into that well and scooping up a handful of light, cupping it in my hands and letting it sink into my skin. Its enticing warmth penetrates my bloodstream, heating me from the inside out. It creeps upward, from my palms to my wrists, and then further, up my arms. Everywhere it goes, it leaves behind an undeniable sensation of heat. Of power. My blood feels like it’s bubbling in my veins, fizzing like it’s been infused with carbonation.
The power isn’t mine, not really. I’m just borrowing it. But it’s enough to do what must be done.
The blood tide closes over my head. This time, though, I’m not afraid. I don’t kick for the surface or thrash in terror. Instead, gritting my teeth against that strange bubbling sensation, just this side of pain, I plunge my hands deeper into the murk. And I open my eyes.
Everywhere that the warmth of the light penetrates is encased in a blue glow. It emanates from me, spreading out and out, illuminating the crimson depths. Obliterating them.
I can still hear Ethan’s voice, but it’s growing fainter. And then, with a sucking sound that shakes me to my bones, the tide retreats, pulling back all at once until it dumps me, shaking, onto the shore.
I blink, then blink again. The red tide is gone. I’m kneeling on the hardwood of Donovan’s cabin, his hands still on my upper arms, his face inches from mine.
“Rune!” he says again, sounding desperate this time.
“I-I’m here.” I clear my throat, then try again. “I’m fine.”
“What the fuck was that?” His gorgeous eyes, containing all the hues of that incredible blue light, search my face. “You—I could swear you started to?—”
I wish I could explain it to him. That I could tell him how amazing it felt to be able to feel that power flood through me, to be able to chase my terrible premonition away. But he wouldn’t believe me. The weight of my predicament settles onto my shoulders as the warmth of the light fades, leaving only icy certainty in its wake. “Come on,” I say, shrugging his grip off and getting to my feet. “We don’t have time to talk about this now. We have to go.”
Muttering under his breath, Donovan grabs his duffel and his messenger bag. I shove my wet shoes back on—luckily I didn’t have to unknot their laces — dump my soaked, ruined clothes in the trash, and follow.
Under normal circumstances, I’d feel embarrassed about being outside, at a work event, wearing Donovan’s oversized sweats. But these circumstances are so far from normal, it’s laughable. I’m paranoid that people are looking at me, all right, but not because I’m afraid I’m going to become fodder for the gossip mill. Because I’m terrified that Cooper or Ethan or God knows who will come barreling out of the trees and drag me away by the hair.
I spare a glance for Donovan, who is bending down to?—
“Holy shit. Did you just lock the door and stick the key under the doormat? Seriously?” I snap at him. “What is wrong with you? Are you afraid you’re not going to get your deposit back or something?” I spin on my heel, heading for his Prius, peering left and right to make sure we’re not being followed. “Oh, that’s right,” I toss over my shoulder. “We didn’t pay one. Because this is a goddamn corporate retreat where we’ve almost gotten murdered three times over on our boss’s dime! And then we?—”
“Shhhh,” Donovan hisses, cutting me off.
“Did you just ‘shhh’ me? I swear to Christ, Donovan Frost?—”
He ignores me, slipping past me to open his car door and toss the duffel into the back. The front end damage has been repaired, and even through the fog of my anxiety, I spare a moment to think that he must have a hell of a mechanic. Apparently, not even Sapphire Springs’ lone body shop is immune to the Ice Man’s obsessive need to restore order.
Giving our surroundings one last glance, I storm around to the passenger side and climb in, slamming my door behind me. I expect Donovan to at least wince, but he just sits there, his brows knitting.
“What is wrong with you now? ” I tug on the strings of my—okay, his—hoodie in aggravation. “Did you forget to tip the maid?”
Mutely, Donovan shakes his head.
“Then what? Can we please get going, so we can grab my stuff and get out of here?”
“The car won’t start.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me .
“What do you mean?” I say, staring at his smart key, which he’s dropped into the cup holder. “Is your key’s battery dead or something?”
“The key is fine. The car is fine. It just had its thirty-thousand-mile tune-up. Look at it!” He gestures around his perfectly maintained vehicle, which doesn’t have so much as an abandoned coffee cup or granola bar wrapper. “My Prius is in perfect condition. It just won’t start. Watch.” Scooping up the smart key, he brings it closer to the Power button, then presses the button again. “If the key’s battery was on the fritz, this would help. But see? Jack shit. This makes no logical sense, but it’s like whatever fried my computer…also fried my car.”
“Or,” I say, my heart sinking, “like whoever fried your computer and your car…has no intention of letting us leave.”