Twelve

Dawn threatened the skyline with sparkling gray, another day on the way. Quinn hadn’t bothered trying to go back to sleep. Not even Zaire’s scary scowl had influenced her racing mind. She’d learned too much.

Wolfgang rolled on his back, exposing his tummy in silent demand, and she rubbed his thick fur, staring absently at the laptop screen. Dreamcaster. The title fit. Felt right. But there were still some holes. It didn’t explain away her delusions. There had to be a reason she dreamed in nightmares, a purpose for being born this way, and she wouldn’t believe it was only to fulfill the V’alkara’s need for dreams. There had to be more, details Zaire kept locked up. She’d drag everything out of him. After they found Braden.

“Still with me, Q?” On the computer screen, a hundred miles away, Stephanie tossed her glossy auburn hair, recapturing Quinn’s attention. Steph was always up with the dawn and ready for a consult, especially if it involved a man.

“Partly.” Quinn crossed her legs and settled against one gigantic floor pillow. “Distractions, doc. Lots of ‘em.”

“Understandable. The man of your dreams finally shows up on your doorstep, but unfortunately, I had nothing to do with it.” She leaned in closer to the camera, distorting her perfect nose. “That was my one idea for having a Carmichael owe me a favor for eternity. Every girl could use a get out of jail free card up her sleeve.”

Quinn laughed, and some of the tension in her shoulders drained. “I’ll bail you out anytime, but you know that.”

“You swore you’d never bring that up.” Stephanie’s beautiful face twisted into a grimace, but she was still prettier than anyone else Quinn knew. “It’s not my fault my shirt snagged and I flashed the CEO of Perfect Plastics.”

“Twice,” Quinn added innocently.

“What a douchebag, sending security after me.” Steph rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen boobs before.” She tapped her chin, looking thoughtful. “Or maybe it was their natural state that offended him. Whatever the reason, that disorderly conduct charge was unwarranted.”

“Might’ve had something to do with the rolling video camera you happened to stumble in front of during one of the unfortunate wardrobe malfunctions.” Quinn didn’t bother hiding her snicker. “Not that I’m judging.”

“I had a date every night for half of the year after that. Remember Antoine? He was worth every second of slammer time, tesoro.”

Quinn threw her head back and groaned. “He left so much hair in the shower I thought you were dating a bear.”

“Oh, he was most definitely an animal.” Steph let her supermodel smile free. “What about Zaire? Since you’re not into fur, is he fruit, fungus, or vegetable?”

“Ungh. None of the above.” Only Steph would compare Zaire to edible objects. Not that she didn’t want to nibble on him. The memory of his possessive kiss still thrummed hot, his big hands on her, his heat and urgency. It was better than any of her fantasies, and the only way he’d give her more was if both he and Braden were free.

It was great to finally have a concrete goal. She just wished it wasn’t critical.

“It’s as if I dreamed him to life, Steph.” She sighed like a schoolgirl crushing on the prom king. Zaire was taking a shower, out of hearing range, but she leaned closer to the computer microphone and spoke lower anyway. “He’s everything I imagined he’d be in person, dark, dangerous, and the way he looks at me when he’s not overthinking everything?” A thrill coursed through her. “It’s like I’m his dream come to life, too.”

While she talked, Stephanie’s expression had smoothed into her calm, professional look, the one that said she was analyzing every single word, whether she was asked to or not. She steepled her fingers beneath her chin, studying Quinn through the screen. “You realize he’s not actually from your dreams, right?” Even her voice had changed to soft and consoling. “Have a good time with him, but don’t get too invested too fast, Q.”

All her excitement at sharing the news of Zaire with her best friend deflated. When she told Steph about Zaire, spilled so many slivers of her dreams and secret wishes along the journey of their friendship, she hadn’t realized Steph had only been humoring her. She blinked away the sting of tears and managed a smile, glad to have a computer camera to hide behind. “It doesn’t matter where he came from. I was all in the second he showed up. Gotta go,” she said over whatever Stephanie was saying. “Talk soon.”

The screen went black, and she clicked the laptop shut before Stephanie could make her feel guilty for not accepting the inevitable message back. She flung herself backward into the overstuffed pillow and stared at the shadowed ceiling. Wolfgang climbed onto her chest and curled up, a solid, not-quite-suffocating weight. In any other circumstance with any other guy, she’d be one hundred percent on board with Steph. No other man had ever sparked anything in her gears to warrant a psychologist’s caution.

“Merde.” Quinn scrubbed at her watering eyes.

“Who shall I kill for troubling you?” Zaire’s musical voice flowed from the sanctuary entrance, all the more frightening in its softness. A black knife gleamed wickedly in his grip.

Quinn wouldn’t have thrown Stephanie under the bus anyway, but she wanted her best friend to meet Zaire one day and actually survive. She sat up, dislodging Wolfgang, and faced the doorway.

He pushed his damp hair from his face, his unblinking gaze on her. He’d exchanged Isaac’s sweats and sweater for the jeans and black thermal tee she’d bought along with other supplies on their way here. Somehow, he seemed to blend with the shadows behind him, even though morning light filtered through the stained glass, filling the old sanctuary with dancing color. She couldn’t decide whether she should run or let him drag her off to his dungeon to torture her however he wanted.

“No killing required.” She swallowed hard as he limped closer with only one crutch. “Besides, I can handle my own battles.”

He stopped at the edge of the pillows, loomed for a few seconds, and crouched beside her. Wolfgang pounced on the opportunity, butting Zaire’s free palm. The nimble fingers of his other hand flipped the dagger over and over. He clearly loved his weapons. “Unless it’s against a V’alkara.”

“About that.” She gave him her brightest smile, and his eyes narrowed. Insulting. He didn’t know what she was going to say. “The first step is to return to the crime scene.”

“Care to be more specific?” Even his tone was suspicious.

“Where did the Crows find Braden?”

His black eyes went flat. “Jenny’s house.”

“Which is where?”

“Salisbury.” He flipped the knife, the color from the stained-glass windows dancing on its dark edge.

“That’s only a couple of hours away.” Her words choked. All that time, he lived in the same state, only hours from the house she shared on campus with Steph. It made her want to rip something apart.

“End of discussion.” Tone hard, he leaned in, threatening.

“Wrong.” Quinn rose to her knees, closer to his eye level and even ground. “Nothing’s going to happen until we get Braden back.”

His jaw bunched. “How many times must I say this? There is no we.”

She flashed more teeth. “Keep telling yourself that, sunshine.”

With a growl, he straightened and wheeled away.

“I know you want to help me,” she said, standing. “Why can’t I help you, too?”

He stopped, his shoulders stiff. “There’s nothing you can do to help me.” His voice was rough, pained. “You have a small amount of time. I suggest you use it to learn how to survive against the V’alkara.”

“How about a compromise?” She was taking a risk, pushing him. For whatever reason, he’d protected her when they were young, wanted her to stay safe now. He believed the best way to do that was to leave—and soon. Once he recovered, there would be nothing to stop him, which meant they had to find Braden before that happened. She refused to lose him again.

Zaire glanced over his shoulder, his expression set on thundercloud.

Storms never shut her down. “Give me one shot at helping you find Braden.” She placed herself front and center, all the better to give him her most innocent expression, the one that always worked on Isaac. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be your dedicated student on all things V’alkara and dreamcaster survivalist until you go.” Which wouldn’t prevent her from tracking him down if he went, but he didn’t need to know that. She batted her eyelashes.

His upper lip curled in a snarl.

“Pretty please?” She used her special voice. This was war, and she’d use whatever weapons she had in her arsenal.

“Damnation.” His growl couldn’t hide the stars glittering in his dark eyes. “What do you propose to do?”

Quinn smiled. And she had a winner. “Have you been to your sister’s house since that day?”

“I haven’t dared. If I misstep, they punish Braden.” He dropped his chin, the shadows adding a sinister vibe to his features. “Most of the V’alkara have been taught the arts of pain and horror. It doesn’t matter that Braden is only twelve years old. He won’t be shown compassion or mercy. His sole existence rests on my obedience.”

A ribbon of rage tightened her muscles, chasing away her sense of victory. “What sort of person takes a kid who just lost his mother and uses him for blackmail?”

He gave her a contemptuous look. “A person like me.”

“We have to get him back.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, daring him to make his we argument again.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do since the moment they took him?” The knife tumbled end over end in his nimble fingers, matching the quick, harsh cadence of his words. “I can’t search for Braden openly. The very moment I’m suspected, Braden will be tortured, and while freedom may be what I wish for, I won’t sacrifice the vow I made to my sister, the first person who was kind to me, by endangering her son.”

“You may not be able to openly search for him,” she said carefully, “but I can.”

“No.” His voice snapped, and the knife went still.

She refused to break his gaze, refused to back down. This was her one chance to convince him. “No other V’alkara knows what I look like or that I have any connection to you, right?”

His lips curled like a wolf’s, showing teeth. She had the strangest impression that fangs should’ve been there instead.

“Who’s to say I’m not an ambitious realtor? Or your sister’s estate lawyer? A snoopy neighbor dropping by for a cup of sugar?” She lifted her necklace in front of his face. “You said as long as I’m wearing this, none of them would detect me, and if they don’t see you, they won’t detect you either.” She wriggled her eyebrows. “Just say I’m right.”

He exhaled noisily. “I’m beginning to believe life was much easier without a dreamcaster.”

Quinn lifted on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his chin, the only part of his face she could reach. “I like you, too.” She grabbed her coat and keys. “Come on. Let’s move while we still have some light.”

***

Three hours later, Zaire crouched in the woods surrounding Jenny’s sad, dark house as Quinn drove up the driveway and parked. He held tightly to Wolfgang’s ridiculous leash. Walking a cat in a pink harness was the most undignified act he’d committed yet, another indication of how far he fell under his dreamcaster’s diabolical spell.

He scanned the area, searching for any sign of lingering Crows. Focusing inward, he opened his senses to the vibrations of the surrounding area. The trees whispered to one another, the grass chimed quietly, and above it all, the twang of Wolfgang’s presence shuddered through the growing noise. Jenny’s house emitted a quiet thrum, and he quickly shut it out. If a Crow he had met before lurked near, he’d recognize their unique vibrations. It was the unfamiliar Crows, the ones he had yet to meet that made his neck tense.

The closest neighbor was across a field and they weren’t friendly. He’d studied them before buying this house, wanted to be sure they wouldn’t interfere or watch them too closely. These people traveled all the time, were gone more than they were at home. They weren’t part of a neighborhood watch and liked their privacy. They probably didn’t know Jenny had died. Or that Braden was missing.

Quinn slipped out of the rental car, found the key hidden in a crevice of the concrete foundation with only a few seconds of searching, and went inside. She didn’t look back once, nothing to indicate to anyone who might be watching that she didn’t belong or was worried about being observed.

Smart girl.

As much as he hated having her close to danger, he couldn’t regret this unexpected time spent with her. Or her passionate resolve to free Braden, almost like he was one of her own. And truth be told, it felt good to finally do something potentially productive in his efforts to retrieve Braden. Leads or not, he would’ve had to act soon, taken the risk. Two months was a long time for a boy to survive with the Crows.

He dug his fingers into the soil, needing something to ground himself. He’d revealed so much more than he ever wanted to Quinn, but never would he tell her he belonged to her. Already, he’d altered her life in an unchangeable way. She couldn’t go back to the life she knew. The Crows would eventually track down her family during their investigation, and so long as they found no connection between them, no trace of a dreamcaster or V’alkara, her family would be fine.

But she’d never be fine again. She just didn’t know it yet.

His heart twisted into something unrecognizable. This was useless. Searching Jenny’s house for clues to Braden’s whereabouts wouldn’t reveal anything. Hanging onto stolen moments with his dreamcaster wouldn’t change his situation, and each minute longer only made it more difficult to leave.

Tonight. He forced down the yearning, clung to his resolve. Tonight, he’d show her what she needed to survive. Then, while she slept, he’d return to the Crows.