Soulbound: A Lone Star Witch Novel (27 page)

And also one of the most heavily guarded.

Because the Capitol is closed to tours tonight, the heavy, decorative gates that block the driveway up to it are also closed. There’s a police car in front of the gates and I know from experience—I tried to take a tour of the Capitol last year, just for fun—that there are a lot more security measures inside the fence.

Which is a problem, because I need to be in there.

Each second I’m standing here, the electricity is getting worse, the compulsion inside of me growing until I feel like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces if I can’t get past this gate. If I can’t get to where I need to go.

“You’re there. Good girl,” he croons from the other end of my phone.

How does he know? Is he watching me? I whirl around, scan the almost empty streets. I don’t see anyone staring at me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here, sitting in one of the restaurants or other buildings, looking down on me. Or he could be skulking in the dusky shadows between the streetlights. Anything is possible.

I need to get out of here. I can feel it. Every brain cell I have is screaming at me to flee. It’s not good that this maniac—this monster—knows where I am. It puts me in danger.

From him.

From the cop slowly climbing out of his car and heading toward me.

And maybe, most urgently, from the pressure building inside of me until I feel like I’m going to explode.

I try to leave, but the second I take a couple of steps away from the fence, sharp jolts of lightning rip through me. For long seconds, I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t
do anything but feel the excruciating agony as it sizzles along my nerve endings. I force myself to take one more step, though all I can really manage is to slide my right foot two inches forward along the ground. It’s enough to cause another shock to tear through me and this time, I can’t take it. My body wigs out, my legs going out from under me so that I slam into the ground, knees and hands first.

As I fall, I lose my grip on my phone and it hits with a clatter. I sit there for long moments, trying to absorb the agony from the shocks. In the background I can hear the faint sounds of him laughing at me through the phone line.

“You don’t actually think you’ll be able to walk away, do you?”

I scramble for the phone as night closes in around me. “Are you doing this to me? Are you making me feel this?”

“I’m not doing anything, except enjoying the show. It’s a good one.”

The police officer chooses that moment to approach. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

Pain is still ricocheting inside of me, so severe that I’m afraid I’ll vomit at any second. Still, I force myself to turn my head, to look at him. His body posture is aggressive, his hand on his gun, but his voice is concerned—like he can’t quite decide if he’s dealing with a drugged-out weirdo or a woman in the middle of a seizure.

Over the phone, I can hear him laughing again and I hit
END CALL
. Maybe I should have kept him on longer, tried to give my brother and Nate something to work with, but I have enough to deal with right now without keeping the bastard responsible for all of this in the mix.

“Ma’am?” The officer’s voice is more insistent. “The Capitol building is closed. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

I nod, force myself to my feet though every movement
is an agony. I breathe through my mouth as I do it, long gulps of air that help combat the nausea from the pain. “I’m sorry. My heel bent and I fell.” I force my left foot out, show him the high, skinny heels I’ve been running on.

He nods, relaxes a little. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” I brush my hands against my jeans, ignoring the sting on my palms. It’s nothing compared to the pain that just whipped through me. “A little banged up, but okay.”

“You can’t be here. It’s after hours. I’m not allowed to let anyone linger near the gates.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I was just hoping to get a picture of it all lit up at night. It’s so beautiful.” I hold up my camera phone. “I was here yesterday and did the tour, but it’s so much prettier at night. I just want a photograph of it for my trip to Austin scrapbook.”

He looks at me for a minute, duty warring with his need to give in to a request from an attractive woman. He’s pretty young himself, probably midtwenties, and I’m sure he’s bored sitting out here all night, especially since it’s New Year’s Eve. I force myself to smile flirtatiously and he responds with a slight grin of his own.

“I guess one or two pictures won’t hurt.”

“Thanks so much.” I turn around, make a big deal of getting the perfect photo as I inch nearer to the entrance. The closer I get, the more the pain eases, until all that’s left is the burning compulsion to get inside these gates.

“Will you take one of me?” I ask, plastering myself against the wrought iron and pasting on a smile I am far from feeling.

“Yeah, sure.” He reaches for the phone and tells me, “Say ‘cheese.’”

I do, and then pose and preen a little, cracking jokes so he’ll take a few more pictures, which he does. I’m not sure what I’m doing, except buying myself more time—and
trying to get him to like me, so he won’t shoot me when he finds me hopping the fence in a little while. Which I have absolutely no doubt that I’m going to do.

Because while I don’t know much when it comes to the magic that surrounds this mess I’m involved in, I do know that I’m not going to be able to leave this place anytime soon—no matter how much I want to.

Part of me wants to just sit down in the middle of this driveway and cry because I know what’s waiting for me when I finally make my way onto the Capital grounds. There’s a body somewhere on the other side of this fence, a woman brutally murdered by the same psychopath who killed the other two. The same psychopath I was just talking to on the phone? I wonder. I think so, but I can’t prove it. I can’t prove anything, including the fact that some poor girl is inside here, just waiting to be discovered.

I think about calling Nate, telling him what I suspect. But what am I supposed to say to convince him? That I got a call from the killer telling me the girl was here? But I’m the one who called him. And I don’t have any guarantee that there is a body in there, except for the pain I can’t escape from.

I probably know just enough to indict me as an accomplice and nowhere near enough to convince Nate of my innocence. And if I tell him about the compulsions—about this weird magic unfurling inside of me—I can only imagine what will happen. I’ll get stuck in a mental institution for violent offenders and this monster, whoever he is, will end up getting away with his agenda. Whatever it is.

The cop hands me back my camera and I thank him, before turning to take a couple more pictures. I can tell the excuse is wearing thin, though, and I have no idea what I’m going to do when the officer has had enough. Dive for the fence and pray to God he doesn’t shoot me?

Surreptitiously, I dial Donovan’s number as I continue to take pictures of the Capitol. It goes straight to voice mail. Damn it, what’s the point of having all these people hassling me all the time, if none of them is around when I need them?

Because I’m out of time and choices, I take a few steps back from the gate and just as I suspected, the pain hits immediately. This time I’m prepared for it and it doesn’t take me to my knees, though it does scramble my brain for a good thirty seconds.

When I can breathe again, I try out another smile on the officer. Of course, with the pain I’m in, it’s probably more of a grimace. He smiles back a little uncertainly, and I figure the curve of my lips must be more frightening than seductive. Terrific. He probably thinks I’m deranged. Why the hell didn’t Salima’s book open to any seduction spells when I was flipping through it last night? Or mind-wiping spells, for that matter? I could use one of those right about now. Of course, with the way my luck’s been going, I’d probably end up setting him on fire. Just the thought makes me shudder.

So no magic, then. No Donovan. No Declan. No Nate. I’m on my own. And considering I can’t leave without literally frying every nerve ending in my body, the best bet I’ve got is for this guy to discover the body himself. Too bad I don’t have a clue how to get that to happen, especially since I have no idea where the body is. She could be anywhere, including inside the Capitol building itself.

“Did you get enough photos?” the policeman asks.

“Oh, yes.” I take a couple more steps back, refusing to acknowledge the pain and confusion that comes with overriding the compulsion.

I hold my hand out to him and pray he won’t notice the way it’s trembling. “I’m Xandra, by the way.”

He takes my hand, shakes it. “I’m Brett.”

“Thanks so much for helping me out with the pictures. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” There’s a noise in the bushes and he steps back, hand once again on his gun. I tense, too, brace myself for goddess only knows what. Seconds later, a squirrel runs out of the bushes, a nut clutched between his little paws.

It breaks the ice between us and we both laugh, Brett harder than I, simply because he doesn’t sense the danger lurking all around us.

“So, where are you from, Xandra?” he asks. He begins walking back toward the sidewalk, escorting me away from the gates, and I have no choice but to follow.

Each step is excruciating, but sheer will has me placing one foot in front of the other—while I formulate a believable lie at the same time. “I’m from New Mexico. Santa Fe.”

“Wow, Santa Fe is beautiful.”

“It really is. But Austin’s got its own charm.”

“That it does. Are you just here for vacation?”

“Kind of. My best friend from college just got a job at Dell. She starts on the second, so I took a couple of weeks off and came down to help her move in.” I’m kind of shocked at the lies spewing forth from my lips. Who knew I had a talent for this sort of thing?

“That’s nice of you.”

I drop my phone a second time, use the “accident” to stop our forward momentum. I can’t go any farther. My brain feels like it’s being crushed inside my skull and every inch of my skin is stinging. Deep inside me, every nerve ending I have is aflame. Something wet seeps from my ear, and when I touch it, my fingers come away bloody.

I’m in trouble.

While Brett bends to get my phone, I wipe the blood away and then rub my fingers on my jeans to clean them.
He stands, hands the phone back to me with a frown. “The glass broke. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault I’m so clumsy,” I tell him. My voice is huskier than usual, my eyesight going dim. More physiological changes that I can’t control. I look away, pretend shyness. “I guess talking to you makes me nervous.”

He laughs, then reaches a hand out to pat my shoulder. “How long are you going to be in town?”

I shift my weight, inch myself a little bit up the driveway. The vise loosens just a smidge. “Just through tomorrow.”

“That’s a shame. I was kind of hoping to ask you out.”

“I would have liked that.” I glance back at the Capitol. “Are you working all night?”

He nods. “My shift just started.”

“That’s a bummer. Maybe I’ll come find you next time I’m in town.” I peek at him through my lashes, bat my eyes a little. “I guess I should let you get back to work.”

I step away, not even having to feign my reluctance. After all, it’s hard to be anything but concerned when I’m afraid my head is actually going to implode.

He glances over at his police car, and I watch, breathless, as he wages an internal debate. I’m beginning to believe that whether I live or die depends on his decision.

“I have to do my patrol of the grounds soon,” he finally says. “You can come with me, if you’d like. It’s not very exciting, but you could take some more pictures. And we could talk a little longer.”

He sounds a little surprised, and uneasy, even as he makes the offer, but I’m not about to let him change his mind now that I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted all along.

“I would love to.” I inject extra enthusiasm into my voice, even reach out and brush his shoulder with mine as I link our elbows. “Do you patrol the whole Capitol?”

He shakes his head. “Just the grounds. There’s another officer stationed inside.”

It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. At the very least, it should make the pain stop for a while. And right now, that’s enough for me to follow him anywhere.

“I just have to get my flashlight out of the car,” he says, guiding me back up the driveway. Thank God. When he stops at his car, I take my first deep breath in what feels like hours and just revel in the fact that the pain is almost completely gone. The compulsion—the throbbing pull deep inside my gut—is still there, but after the agony of the past ten minutes, it doesn’t feel so bad.

Still, as Brett is getting his flashlight out of the trunk of his car, new thoughts creep into my head. Scary ones. Like could this all be a setup on Brett’s part? Making me think I’m the one pulling the strings, when in actuality he’s been doing it since the beginning? I think back on my fear from earlier, that the killer was watching me. Could it have been Brett all along? Has he been messing with me this whole time, laughing while I played right into his hands?

He hadn’t been on the phone when he was walking toward me, and I don’t remember his mouth moving, like he was talking on his Bluetooth. But at the same time, I’m the first to admit that I wasn’t paying close attention to him. I was too busy dealing with everything else going on.

As he slams down the trunk, I’m struck with the crushing realization that I should have thought this out better. I should have made sure—somehow—that I wasn’t about to jump from the frying pan into the fire.

Pasting on a smile I’m far from feeling—I’m getting really good at that, by the way—I say, “Do you mind if I text Lily real fast? Tell her I’m going to be a little late?”

His face falls. “If you need to go—”

“No. I want to stay. I just don’t want her to worry.” I roll my eyes, pretend indulgence. “She’s one of those, you know?”

“I do. And that’s fine. You should always let someone know where you are anyway. It’s safer, especially if you’re with some guy you don’t know.”