Chapter Twenty-Five
Astrid
“As.”
Her name floats down like a cloud, miles away and completely out of reach.
“How long has this been going on?” a familiar voice asks. A normally kind voice, but now it’s laced with anger.
“A few weeks,” Quinn replies. Two heartbeats echo in her ears. “It was under control.”
Thumpthump
Thumpthump
Both pound with tension that vibrates across her skin. The fire didn’t dull her senses. If anything, it’s made them stronger. The only time it fades away is when the nurse brings her medication and she slips back into unconsciousness.
“She nearly died, Quinn. I wouldn’t call that under control.”
That voice comes from Jensen. No wonder it sounds so pissed.
“I’m sorry. That last one. It was a trap of some kind. I thought Astrid was in the clear.”
“You thought wrong!” Jensen shouts. Astrid tries her hardest to open her eyes. She wants to tell him it’s okay. She’s okay, but that there are bad guys out there they need to find. “This little game you’re playing. This foolish idea of Atticus’s! It has to stop. It’s too dangerous.”
Her head weighs a million pounds.
“The doctor says she’s okay. She’s just sleeping to heal herself.”
“You better hope she does,” he says, followed by a loud bang that filters through the fog.
Her hand is lifted. Held. Her forehead kissed.
She sleeps.
*
The sharp scent of antiseptic and bleach wake her from a long, deep sleep. She stretches, achy from lack of movement. It’s dark outside. A figure slumps in the chair at the end of the bed and she fumbles with the switch for the light.
Owen shifts in his seat, rubbing his eyes at the sudden brightness.
“Hey,” he says, jumping up. He’s at her side, holding her hand in an instant.
“Where are we?” She swallows at the pain in her raw, smoke-damaged throat. He hands her a cup with a straw.
“Crescent General.” He brushes her cheek with the back of his hand. “Things went sideways at the school. Thought we lost you for a minute.”
“How long have I been here?” She thinks back to the faint conversations she overheard while sleeping. Quinn and Jensen had been here.
“Three days. The smoke damage was bad. The doctors wanted you to sleep it off.” He strokes her hair, and after a lifetime of little touch, it means more than she could’ve imagined. “Do you remember what happened?”
Devin’s face has been with her every second. The way he looked throwing those fireballs at her. The evil things he said. It’s too much to process right now but she says, “The guy who did it goes by the name Blaze. He works for Kincade.” She clutches Owen’s hand. “He’s one of us.”
His forehead furrows. “What do you mean?”
“He’s a Super—one of the twelve. I had a suspicion from the echo I read off the kid I chased. As a last-ditch effort to distract him, I called him on it. He knew my name.” She swallows. “And he tried to kill me.”
He lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses her gently. “This job keeps getting harder and harder.”
“I know.” She notices a huge vase of purple and pink flowers. Beneath it, a green bottle of soda and a pink bakery box. She doesn’t have to ask about the flowers, but she does anyway, “Demetria?”
“Yeah,” he says with a shake of his head. “How did you get out of there? By the time Casper radioed me and Quinn, the whole place was engulfed.”
She stops. “I’m not sure. I remember the fireballs Blaze threw at me and I remember the com melting.” She holds up her hands, still bandaged from the burns. “Somehow I got out.”
“Someone dragged you out. You were left on the grass by the road. Footprints say it wasn’t just you. Jensen’s been working the case twenty-four-seven.”
She searches her memory. She does recall the fear of death and knowing someone had come for her. But beyond that, everything is hazy.
“There was so much smoke. Maybe Blaze changed his mind and got me out of there?” Even as she says it, she knows it’s doubtful. She couldn’t sense anything good about him.
“Yeah, I doubt that. But someone got you to safety. Guess you have a guardian angel.”
She laughs, darkly. “Poor bastard. They’re going to have their work cut out for them.”
“Bastard?” Owen raises an eyebrow. “You think it was a man.”
Astrid knows it was. It’s just a feeling. She nods.
“Great, just what we need is another male pissing around you.” He looks at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to get out of here—still dodging Jensen. He said he’d be back before his morning shift.”
“Thanks for being here, Owen. It means a lot.”
He touches her chin. “We’re a team, As. You’re stuck with me and Quinn and Casper for good.”
He kisses her, soft and sweet, and when he leaves she burrows down under the covers, feeling less alone than ever before.