Last Chance (DarkWorld: SkinWalker Book 3) (23 page)

“Cass?” He frowned as he looked around at us, a question in his gaze.

“Larsson, this is Kailin, Anjelo, and Lily.” Cassandra made quick introductions “They’ll be returning with me. You up for the ride?”

“Of course,” he nodded, giving me a quick reassuring smile. He impressed me with his blond crew cut and muscles that looked like he’d do well lifting weights for the Olympics. Guns, those were called, and they put Anjelo’s newly acquired muscles to shame. Larsson was polite and when he smiled, his teeth glinted enough to match the single diamond earring in his left earlobe.

After a quick introduction, Larsson transported us one at a time back to Sentinel headquarters, starting with me and ending with Cassandra, who acted as lookout just in case. The transporter took my arm and I held on a little tighter than I’d expected to. But this was my first transport if you didn’t count Saleem’s jumps in the Greylands.

Larsson deposited me in the middle of a small, sparsely furnished room that made my stomach turn over with worry. It looked far too much like those interrogation rooms you saw on the cop shows on TV. It even had the gigantic mirror window on one wall and was complete with a small metal table and two standard issue metal chairs.

I smoothed down my wrinkled and still-damp clothes, held tightly onto the strap of my satchel, and moved to the far wall to await the arrival of my friends. Larsson brought them through fairly quickly, taking only twice the amount of time to bring Cassandra back.

I felt the heavy weight of the portal keys in my jacket pocket, as if they were blaming me for not using them, but I was smart enough to prefer to move quickly rather than demand to move on my own steam just because I wanted to. I was often accused of being stubborn, and I would be the first to agree. But the one thing I knew I wasn’t was stupid-stubborn.

So we had Larsson to thank for bringing us home. High Priestess Kira would probably not be impressed. My heart thumped a reminder of the blood promise I owed her, but I shoved the thought out of my mind and concentrated as Cassandra took shape out of the swirling pool of liquid air, her arm locked into the crook of Larsson’s elbow as if they were about to head off to a ball.

Once Cassandra and the transporter arrived, she gave us all a quick onceover as if to check we were all in one piece. Then she turned and headed to the door. Opening it, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Coming?”

I hesitated, then followed her out the door in silence, Anjelo and Lily slowing so I could go first. Cassandra led us out of the interrogation room, through a warren of passages marked by unlabeled, unnumbered closed doors, and finally to a set of glass double doors. She swiped a card and the door clicked open.

Outside was a bank of elevators, and Cassandra swiped her card again to call one up. She glanced at me, her head tilted a little as she studied my face. “Larson said Ivy was on a mission; otherwise, she would have met you.”

I smiled, grateful she was thoughtful enough to think of Grams. “Thanks for letting me know, Cassandra. Grams knows where to find me if she needs me.”

Cassandra nodded, and the sound of gears and metal grew louder as the elevator reached our floor. “Please call me Cassie. We have no need to stand on ceremony considering what we’ve just been through,” she said. She was turning to leave when she stopped and spun back to face me. “Oh, I almost forgot. Do you need a tracker? We are happy to supply one. Just say the word.”

“A tracker?” I answered, feigning ignorance. Seemed Cassandra was on the same wavelength. I’d been making a mental list of things to do when I left Sentinel HQ, and contacting a tracker was one of them.

“I would assume the best way to find your mother would be to use a tracker. I know of a reliable tracker if you wish me to give you a number.”

I raised my hand. “No thanks, that is totally fine. I do know the perfect person. She’s helped me before and I’m sure she’ll be happy to do so again.”

“Ah, yes. I almost forgot. You used Melisande Morgan on your search for your sister,” said Cassandra. Then she paled as she realized she’d probably said too much.

My jaw tightened. But it wasn’t as if I didn’t know how Sentinel and Omega worked. Omega wanted me on board and Sentinel probably did too, though Grams was being subtler about it. I wondered, though. Was Grams passing information on to Sentinel or was Sentinel just keeping tabs on me? I preferred the latter of the two options. At least until I spoke to Grams.

Ivy Odel had some explaining to do.

The arrival of the elevator saved Cassandra any further embarrassment, but I accepted I couldn’t blame her for doing her job. We filed into the lift, and I gave her a reassuring smile. “Thank you for everything, Cassie. I’m pretty sure words aren’t enough, so please, if you ever need my help, just call.”

The shape-changer smiled gratefully, then waved as the doors shut and the elevator sank toward the ground floor.

***

The elevator doors opened into the lobby of the building, all aluminum and glass with a security guard’s desk in the middle. Sofas and plants dotted the perimeter of the open space, along with a set of escalators leading to what looked like a coffee shop or cafeteria. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee drifted to us, and I could hear both Anjelo and Lily inhaling the smells.

Nice.

Sentinel’s HQ was certainly more than I expected. We walked warily through the lobby, the guard glancing up from his monitors to watch us as we passed. I tensed under his scrutiny, expecting to be hailed, but he let us walk on to exit through the automatic doors into the sunshine.

The three of us stood outside a moment and basked in the warmth. Suddenly, I was looking forward to going home, especially since my pants had never actually dried in the crotch seams and had continued to chafe my thighs raw all through our travels.

I hadn’t paid much attention until now, when the adrenaline had run its course and the attention was finally on the here and now. And now it stung to high heaven.

I winced and said, “I’m off home. I think you two need to head off as well. Get some rest and meet me later. I’ll give the tracker a call and arrange a meeting as soon as possible.”

We parted ways, and I reached into my pocket for my cell phone. My stomach tightened as I pressed the button to turn it on. It sang its little welcome ditty, and I swiped my thumb across the screen, mentally crossing my fingers and hoping it hadn’t been destroyed when I’d gone for a swim in the poisonous Black Lake.

The battery was low, but the phone was still working, which was a plus. The icky black water had seemed thicker than Earth water, so perhaps it had been too gloopy and thick to enter the mechanical parts of the mobile phone.

Small mercies.

A good thing too, as I didn’t have time to mess around looking for a replacement. I sent three texts in quick succession. One to Grams and one to Logan, because both had to be brought up to speed and at least be aware that I was back home. The rest of the family would be informed in due course. Besides, I really couldn’t wait to see Logan’s face again. A spike of longing stabbed my heart and suddenly I missed him terribly.

The last text was to the tracker, Mel Morgan. I hadn’t expected to need her help so soon, but I hoped she’d make a little time for me. All communications sent, I strolled home, every so often lifting my face to the sun. The day was warm and such a pleasure to return to, especially when coming from the arctic conditions of Wrythiin.

The sun was hot on my head, and I relished the feel of it. But more than that, I would relish the feel of a hot shower, not to mention some decent food.

I sighed as I pushed open the door to my building and climbed the stairs. As I reached my landing and my front door, I let my panther senses free to roam the apartment, searching for odors and heartbeats and anything that could be a threat. They came up empty.

Piping hot shower, here I come.

***

I’d probably stood under the stream of steaming hot water way too long, because when I finally forced myself to come out, the skin on my fingertips was all wrinkled and prune-like. I didn’t care that the water had stung the scar on my face. I’d turned up the heat as high as I could stand, despite already accepting it would do nothing to alleviate the ice that seemed to have settled in my bones.

Even when I turned off the water and dried off, I still felt cold. It called for PJs and thick bunny slippers and an oversized fluffy gown, but that wasn’t possible. I pulled on jeans, a turtleneck, and a thick wool sweater and eyed the disused fireplace in the lounge. I’d only ever lit the thing a few times, and I wasn’t so sure the weather called for a fire.

Still, I couldn’t shake this chill.

I puttered around, then decided maybe a cup of hot chocolate would help warm me up. I checked my phone while waiting for the kettle to boil. Nothing from Grams, but a message from Logan brightened my day a little.

He was on his way.

Still no response from Mel, but I hadn’t expected an immediate answer. The tracker probably had a busy enough schedule without me sticking my nose in and making it worse.

When the kettle switched off, I listened to the silence of the apartment. Everything was still. The wood of the floor smelled warm and comforting, heated by the sun streaming in through the kitchen and dining room windows. Somewhere in the apartment, a clock ticked away, signaling the steady passing of time.

Then the fridge kicked on and the beauty of the silence was gone.

Moments later, while I sat feet up and curled on the sofa, sipping my hot chocolate, I heard a key rattle in the lock. I stiffened and placed my cup on the coffee table. Standing, I approached the door, aware that the intruder could be any number of people welcome in my home.

On the other hand, past experience told me that wasn’t always the case.

Before I could call on my panther senses to check out the trespasser, the door opened.

Logan, bearing coffee and pastries.

The sight of Logan caught me off guard—navy Henley, low-slung jeans, sexy smile. And all I could do was swallow hard and try to maintain control over a sudden need to grab him by the shirt, shove him against the door, and kiss him senseless.

Rightly so, I decided against it, at least until he got the food and coffee out of his arms.

“You are a godsend,” I sang out, grabbing the bags and taking them to the coffee table in the lounge. I was still in the mood to relax and be comfy.

“Good to know where I stand,” he said, grinning that incredibly sexy smile of his. I narrowed my eyes at him and handed him a coffee, deciding right now it would be better to have his hands occupied with coffee and pastries than with me.

He glanced at my face, eyes darting to the thin scar that marked the side of my face. He didn’t ask any questions, just raised his cup to his lips, a touch of fury flickering in his eye.

He sipped, I sipped, and then I gobbled down pastries and swallowed the coffee as if I hadn’t eaten in days. It was on the heavenly side of enjoyment considering the quality of standard Wrythiin fare.

“Hey, slow down. You’re going to die choking.” Logan laughed as he set down his coffee and picked at the mangled remains of a cinnamon bun.

“Not a bad way to die considering what I had to eat these past few days,” I said as I sat back and sighed with pleasure. Pastries had never tasted that good in my life, and I hoped I wasn’t going to regret my gluttony.

“Which was…?” Logan asked as he put his arm around me.

I licked my fingers and settled against him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Wraith food. Icky, grey soup and gloppy, oatmealy gunk.” I made a face even though I knew he wouldn’t see it.

“Mmh. That doesn’t sound in the least appealing.” He was trying his best to sound serious, but I could tell he was near to bursting out with laughter.

“I shouldn’t knock it,” I said, trying to be objective. “The soup was edible and at least wasn’t disgusting, but they definitely need a cooking channel in Wrythiin.”

Logan chuckled and the sound rippled through his chest and against my cheek. I was reminded again how safe he made me feel. Then he pulled me closer. “So tell me what happened.”

I smiled and settled against him, launching into the quickest yet most informative roundup of our trip to Wrythiin.

I ended with our failure to find Mom, and suddenly I needed to be away from him. The proximity to his comforting body made me want to cry the pent-up tears that sat at the base of throat. I pushed away from Logan and walked stiffly to the kitchen as frustration and disappointment began to overwhelm me. The retelling was enough to bring back all my dissatisfaction and all the recognition of my failure.

Sofa springs twanged as he jumped off the couch and came after me. “Hey, hold on there a minute,” he called as I entered the kitchen, my socked feet sliding a little as I stalked to the counter. I refused to turn around as I struggled to blink back the hot tears that stung my eyes.

I filled the kettle, more for the need to do something with my hands than the desire for something to drink. Logan drew alongside me, placed a hand on my shoulder, and turned me to face him, uncaring that the tap was still running in a cool stream, straight into the kettle that was now full and overflowing. He glanced over to sink when the sound of rushing water penetrated his intensity.