I hooked my arm around Danni’s waist and we ran.
BALEN RACED THE CAR down the driveway toward the gates.
“Balen.” He wasn’t slowing. Shit. “Balen!”
His hand came down on the back of my head and pushed it between my legs, just as he crashed through them.
A loud clatter and bang as metal groaned and bent then scraped along the pavement. I turned in my seat and looked at the mangled gate then back at the dented hood.
“Holy Christ.” I took deep inhales and glanced over at him. He had a fierce, determined look on his face, rainforest eyes focused, jaw tight, and his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He looked like a different man than the one I’d slept with. Eyes hard and cold, scowl severe with a flicker of a murderous glint. It was still a hot scary, because really, I didn’t think Balen could ever not look hot.
“The woman in the blue gown is a Wraith, Wraith of Water. There are four of them and you don’t mess with them.” He looked at me, then back again at the road. “When any of us break a law, those are the ones who vote on our punishment, along with Waleron and a couple others. They voted to send me to Rest.” Before I could ask what that meant he continued. “Rest is being put into a . . . for humans, it would be comparable to a coma. No feelings, no movement, and in limbo between death and living. But with one anomaly—in Rest you relive your past, and not the good parts. Since Waleron didn’t put me in Rest, the Wraiths are retaliating.”
“But that woman came to warn you.”
The tires squealed as he took a corner fast. “Genevieve is different. She hates conflict.”
A bright white flash burst across the sky. Balen swore beneath his breath and the car lurched forward. “We’re in some serious shit here, little one.” He pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “Fuck, you shouldn’t be involved in this.”
I reached over and put my hand on his thigh. His eyes shot to me and what I saw was so familiar. I’d seen it every single day in my paintings. The haunted, tortured eyes, lips pressed together, the pain so deep it leaked into me. In an odd way, it comforted me because I knew it so well.
“Danni—”
I interrupted, “Don’t treat me like some fragile china doll. Give it to me straight. No bullshit. Anstice told me a little, but most of it is not making sense right about now and my brain is like a mess of wires all pushed in the wrong sockets.”
Balen chuckled.
I squeezed his thigh and his smile disappeared. “Baby, I love your hand on me. But my cock wants you bad right now and it isn’t a good time to pull over and fuck you from behind against the hood of the car.”
Oh, Jesus. That was hot. I swallowed, put my hand back on my lap and crossed my legs as my sex clenched. Yeah, better keep my hands to myself while we’re being hunted down by some crazy-ass Wraith things.
Balen shifted in his seat and the leather creaked. “I’m a Tracker and have the scenting ability like a . . . I’ve never had to explain this shit to anyone before.” He frowned then started up again. “I can track people really well.” He hesitated, taking a quick glance in my direction. “And speak telepathically—read thoughts.”
“What? For real? I mean, you guys are speaking with your minds without opening your mouths?” That would explain the weird connection Anstice and Keir had. They always seemed as if they knew what the other was thinking.
“It’s limited, of course. A few miles maybe. Some of us are stronger at it than others, and we’re able to block other Scars from reading our minds when we want to.”
“Yeah, that’s screwed up. So you guys are just parading around Toronto?”
“More like all over the world,” Balen corrected.
“Great. Just great.”
“Humans don’t know about us. So don’t think you’ve been ignorant all these years.”
“I should’ve noticed something. Anything. God, my best friend is one of you.” I’d thought I was a pretty observant person and now I discovered I’d been walking around in a haze. “So where do you, all of you, come from?”
“The short of it—we evolved from witches in 1610. You’ve heard of the Spanish Inquisition?” I nodded. “Well, in Zugarramurdi, Spain, a handful of women confessed to being witches to the Spanish Inquisition. Since they confessed to the crime, they were exonerated. Others were not so lucky. With their refusal to admit any guilt, they were burned at the stake.
“Afterward, the Goddess—” I raised my brows at that one. “Yeah, I know, difficult to grasp, but her name is Azzurra. She approached the pardoned witches and, in exchange for their sworn loyalty to protect civilization, gave them immortality and extraordinary abilities from the five senses—we became the Scars.” He paused and glanced at me as if to make certain I was either listening or hadn’t passed out from shock. “The witches burned at the stake were also given a reprieve by the Goddess. She saved their spirits and gave each of them one power from the four elements—water, earth, fire and air—the Wraiths. Together, the Wraiths and the Scars spoke the identical oath to the Goddess, swearing to protect humanity from any darkness that walked in the shadows.”
“Nice,” I mumbled. “Bring on the streamers and birthday hats. I’m living among burned witches who are now Wraiths and Scars.”
“However, we had one curse to deal with. In Zugarramurdi, there is a stream in a cave where the witches would gather outside of town. That is where they held all their meetings. The water from that stream takes away our abilities. We become as weak as humans.” He shrugged. “Never mattered much as no one knew about it—until Ryszard.”