Chapter 38 #2
How could this have happened? Was it my fault? Did he think I was done with him? Did he not—
A light breath tickled my skin near the base of my neck. Bastian’s exhale. I sucked in a breath, looking for a pulse, then groaned. Alive—he was alive. His heartbeat was steady, eyes chaotically darting beneath his closed lids.
“Wake up, Bastian.” I gently smacked his cheeks.
“Wake up, baby. Come on. Wake up.” The roaring pulse in my ears grew louder.
I slid the plate with a half-eaten sandwich and chips aside, brushed his face clean, and leaned down, kissed his lips.
He didn’t kiss me back. His lips were warm, but they were unresponsive.
I kissed him harder, willing him to wake up.
His breath hitched, like somewhere deep inside, he recognized me. But that was it.
“Wake up, baby, please,” I whined.
Nothing.
“Fuck-fuck-fuck.” How was it possible? Had he turned into a sleeper? But… Luke was dead. Christian had confirmed it earlier. If Luke was dead…
My heart jumped in my chest, putting the pieces together. Luke didn’t have the harp when we’d found him. It was never him. We were wrong. Claws scraped against my insides. I caressed Bastian, petting him, trying to think as my fingers brushed the velvety hair on the shaved side of his head.
My eyes fell to his phone on the breakfast bar. Next to it, a slip of paper with something scrawled in Bastian’s handwriting. It had been torn from a notepad with Memorial Hospital’s logo on the bottom corner. I reached for it. An address in the city.
I frowned.
The address was on Sepula Industrial Boulevard, which housed distribution centers and manufacturing plants. Why would he have this?
I pulled out my phone and punched the address into my maps app. It popped up as a big warehouse, but didn’t have any kind of company name associated. The street photo made it look like an abandoned building.
My skin crawled. I thought back to what Christian had said. Bastian had gone to talk with Luke at the hospital yesterday. At some point last night, someone had killed Luke. Why? To silence him? Tie up loose ends?
If so, what did Luke know? Did it have something to do with the address on the paper? I rolled my lips between my teeth—thinking.
If I were Bastian, I’d have gone looking for the harp. Luke would have been my best lead. That’s the first question I would have asked. It was doubtful that Luke would simply tell Bastian the harp’s location. But maybe he’d convinced Luke to talk.
I touched him again, kissing his forehead.
“Did you leave this for me to find?” I wasn’t sure if Bastian could even hear me in his current state. But I hoped so. “I’ll figure it out, baby. I’ll fix whatever happened to you. I promise.”
If the harp had done this to him, if someone was still out there using it, this wouldn’t stop. More sleepers would succumb. I needed to act.
I glanced at my phone. Christian had asked me to call as soon as I heard from Bastian.
I almost dialed his number, then hesitated.
He wasn't a supernatural. If Bastian had gotten this address and didn't tell him, brought it home, sat here with it, was there a reason?
Maybe supernatural politics I didn't understand.
And if this was connected to magical artifacts, what could Christian actually do?
My cheeks puffed up, blowing out a breath.
Maybe I’d just pop over and give it a look.
Maybe it was some kind of storage facility and Luke had hidden the harp there, along with the other artifacts he’d stolen.
The idea of reclaiming all those items for the university made my pulse speed up.
It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d gone on an artifact hunting mission. I’d been on several.
I could pop over, have a look around the premises, then give Christian a call if anything looked suspicious. Or even if it didn’t. He should at least know that Bastian—in physical form—was home, alive and breathing.
I glanced around the kitchen. I wanted to make Bastian comfortable, but he was the size of a brute and there was no way I could move him. I gently eased him back onto the island, ran to the living room and grabbed a pillow, then came back and wedged it beneath his face.
Poor thing. I ran my hand down his back as a final goodbye. Thundering down the stairs into the basement, I went to the wall he’d shown me and found the hidden switch, revealing his massive weapons collection.
I looked it over. I couldn’t cover myself in weapons.
Actually, I couldn’t even use most of what was here.
I’d probably just end up injuring myself.
I spotted a couple of black backpacks. I grabbed one, unzipped it, and threw in several daggers, one of the cool smoke bombs he’d shown me, and a 9mm handgun.
I’d gone to the shooting range with my father but hadn’t shot anything in at least five years.
Still, I would be stupid not to take one, even if I only planned to scope this place out.
Zipping the bag closed, I returned to the main floor. Bastian was exactly where I’d left him, not that I was surprised. It just felt so…surreal. He was always full of life. Seeing him like this, lifeless, made my stomach churn.
I turned away, heading for the door. Entering the code on the inner security pad, I stepped outside and took a seat on the porch. Then I ordered a rideshare. While I waited, I texted Vivi, trying to control my trembling fingers.
I’m heading into the city. If you don’t hear from me in two hours, contact this number. His name is Christian. Give him this address. If you don’t hear back, or if he gives you any reason to be suspicious, contact the police.
I took a photo of the memo paper and sent it, then copied Christian’s cell and pasted that, sending it afterward. I crumbled the memo paper and stuffed it into my pocket.
Vivi
What the hell is going on, Elle? Did you find Bastian?
I sighed.
I found him but…it’s a long story. Just, promise you’ll do it, okay? Two hours. If I don’t text you in two hours…
Dots appeared and her message came through.
Vivi
Then I’ll send that photo to Christian and tell him…what?
My rideshare app binged, giving me a two minute warning.
Tell him that I’m in trouble and need him to come get me.
It took ten seconds before my phone started ringing with Vivi’s name. I didn’t answer. If I did, she’d talk me out of this. I ignored her call and texted.
Just do it, Vivs, please.
Vivi
Fine. Two hours. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll contact that number. But I can’t promise I won’t come looking for you myself.
Don’t you dare! Promise me you won’t.
Vivi
You’re fucking insane. If something happens to you I won’t forgive myself.
Nothing is going to happen! Just do it. Please.
Vivi
Fine.
Vivi
I love you.
I love you too.
My ride share pulled into the driveway—a four-door sedan—and I climbed in. My driver confirmed my name and address and then silence fell. I tried not to think about what had happened. My hands hadn’t stopped trembling. Instead, I scrolled through social media, trying to distract myself.
The industrial side of the city was opposite of Kentwood. Surprise, surprise. So, it took nearly thirty minutes to get to the address. The driver pulled up and parked, then turned back to look at me. “You sure you want me to drop you off here?” she said.
“Yep. Meeting a friend. Thanks.”
She hesitated, then nodded. I climbed out and tipped her on my phone, adjusting the backpack. The sun had nearly set, so I was running out of time. The air smelled of diesel fumes and something metallic, with an underlying staleness that made my nose wrinkle.
I listened as the sedan drove away, peering through the fence. It was chain link, but there wasn’t any barbed wire. I walked along it. The parking lot was empty. The occasional semi drove past, churning up the air along the road. Otherwise, everything was silent.
I found a delivery driver entry point with a gate arm. I walked over and slipped beneath. Goosebumps crawled across my skin and I glanced around the parking lot. The asphalt was cracked; weeds grew up between. There were small trees in the planters, but they looked neglected.
There weren’t any cameras on the outer walls of the building.
I breathed a relieved sigh and walked closer.
It was an industrial style, so I didn’t expect many windows.
Metal doors were spaced every hundred feet.
I walked around to the back side where I found the loading bays.
One of them was open, and several cars were parked nearby.
A scuffing shoe made me whirl around. I froze. A tall female walked toward me, perhaps twenty feet away, looking in my direction, coming straight for me. I went rigid. “Shit,” I breathed, glancing around. I could run. Instead, I opened my mouth to formulate an excuse—
She didn’t slow, didn’t even stop. In fact, she gave no sign that she even saw me. Instead, she walked right through me and continued on through the open bay door. And that’s when I knew I was in deep trouble.