different threat.
But he wasn’t there for that. Thank you, God.
She glanced around to make sure no one had come in; she was engrossed enough to have missed it. Then she turned back to the screen. As her fear and anger had heightened, a smoky aura formed around her. But . . . there was something around him , too; not smoky, but a blurry form.
What the heck?
She paused the frame. Even studying him she couldn’t make it out. That nothing else had the same blur meant it was attached to him. Either he also had Darkness, or he was some other kind of weird. No matter, he was bad news.
Her abilities had taken the man off-guard. If he, or Magnus, were working with Russell, they would have been prepared. She would be dead. The supposed brother claimed he’d had a vision of her killing Magnus. That was all he seemed concerned about, wanting to know why.
When she continued the video, it hit her: she would see her Darkness for the first time. She steeled herself as she watched the black mass that threw him across the room. Me, but not me. It just took over; I had no control over it. She shivered and closed the program. What if the whole seeing-a-vision thing was true? Darkness could kill. Could she?
She picked up her cell phone and called Magnus. Please let me go to voice mail.
Relief when his deep voice said, “ ’Lo, this is Magnus’s phone. I hate that I missed your call. Don’t make me hunt through the call log. Leave a message.” Both men had a Scottish brogue to their voices. Magnus had told her he was born in the U.S. but got the brogue from his Scottish mother.
“Hi, it’s Jessie,” she said. “You’re off the hook for tonight. I don’t need any help with the carnival, and . . . I can’t see you socially anymore. My life is too complicated in ways I can’t explain. Take care of yourself.”
Her mouth stretched into a frown. It wasn’t like they’d done more than chat at the store, have a cup of coffee, and meet for lunch once. He’d kissed her cheek when he walked her back to the music store and said goodbye. She’d had the sense that he wanted to kiss her on the mouth, though, as his lips had lingered against her skin for a few moments. He probably would have, if the sensible part of her hadn’t made her turn at the last second. She’d wanted the kiss, because she wanted to feel like the women in the romance novels she devoured, just for a little while . . .
You knew better. Why bother starting a flirtation when you’re going to have to back away if it goes any further? Russell’s going to find you eventually. You’re either going to die or run again. No place for a man in that mess of a life.
Yeah . . . complicated. With a sigh, she deleted Magnus’s number from her contacts list.
Chapter 3
L achlan could hear the drums through the front door, which meant there was no point in knocking. So he turned the doorknob and walked into the small flat. He’d only been here once, when Magnus insisted he come check out his new digs. Lachlan followed the racket to the back bedroom where Magnus sat behind his kit in his skivvies, headphones on and eyes closed, lost in the music. He suspected Magnus escaped into his drumming the way he had escaped into astral projection back when they were bored and isolated.
Magnus was good, sounding every bit like the original version of Jet’s “Are You Gonna Be My Girl.” His singing was not quite as good as his drumming, but not bad, either.
Lachlan walked up and pinched the cymbal so that when his brother struck it, it went flat. He opened his eyes, blinking in surprise. He flipped his sticks, snapped them up in one hand, and set them on the top of his drum. The headphones, he hooked on the back of his chair.
He rubbed his eyes and stared at him. “Am I imagining things? My brother Locky, here in my flat?” The levity dimmed, though. “What’d you see now? My kit blow up?”
“Yeah, and all they found were your bloodied skivvies hanging on your
But he wasn’t there for that. Thank you, God.
She glanced around to make sure no one had come in; she was engrossed enough to have missed it. Then she turned back to the screen. As her fear and anger had heightened, a smoky aura formed around her. But . . . there was something around him , too; not smoky, but a blurry form.
What the heck?
She paused the frame. Even studying him she couldn’t make it out. That nothing else had the same blur meant it was attached to him. Either he also had Darkness, or he was some other kind of weird. No matter, he was bad news.
Her abilities had taken the man off-guard. If he, or Magnus, were working with Russell, they would have been prepared. She would be dead. The supposed brother claimed he’d had a vision of her killing Magnus. That was all he seemed concerned about, wanting to know why.
When she continued the video, it hit her: she would see her Darkness for the first time. She steeled herself as she watched the black mass that threw him across the room. Me, but not me. It just took over; I had no control over it. She shivered and closed the program. What if the whole seeing-a-vision thing was true? Darkness could kill. Could she?
She picked up her cell phone and called Magnus. Please let me go to voice mail.
Relief when his deep voice said, “ ’Lo, this is Magnus’s phone. I hate that I missed your call. Don’t make me hunt through the call log. Leave a message.” Both men had a Scottish brogue to their voices. Magnus had told her he was born in the U.S. but got the brogue from his Scottish mother.
“Hi, it’s Jessie,” she said. “You’re off the hook for tonight. I don’t need any help with the carnival, and . . . I can’t see you socially anymore. My life is too complicated in ways I can’t explain. Take care of yourself.”
Her mouth stretched into a frown. It wasn’t like they’d done more than chat at the store, have a cup of coffee, and meet for lunch once. He’d kissed her cheek when he walked her back to the music store and said goodbye. She’d had the sense that he wanted to kiss her on the mouth, though, as his lips had lingered against her skin for a few moments. He probably would have, if the sensible part of her hadn’t made her turn at the last second. She’d wanted the kiss, because she wanted to feel like the women in the romance novels she devoured, just for a little while . . .
You knew better. Why bother starting a flirtation when you’re going to have to back away if it goes any further? Russell’s going to find you eventually. You’re either going to die or run again. No place for a man in that mess of a life.
Yeah . . . complicated. With a sigh, she deleted Magnus’s number from her contacts list.
Chapter 3
L achlan could hear the drums through the front door, which meant there was no point in knocking. So he turned the doorknob and walked into the small flat. He’d only been here once, when Magnus insisted he come check out his new digs. Lachlan followed the racket to the back bedroom where Magnus sat behind his kit in his skivvies, headphones on and eyes closed, lost in the music. He suspected Magnus escaped into his drumming the way he had escaped into astral projection back when they were bored and isolated.
Magnus was good, sounding every bit like the original version of Jet’s “Are You Gonna Be My Girl.” His singing was not quite as good as his drumming, but not bad, either.
Lachlan walked up and pinched the cymbal so that when his brother struck it, it went flat. He opened his eyes, blinking in surprise. He flipped his sticks, snapped them up in one hand, and set them on the top of his drum. The headphones, he hooked on the back of his chair.
He rubbed his eyes and stared at him. “Am I imagining things? My brother Locky, here in my flat?” The levity dimmed, though. “What’d you see now? My kit blow up?”
“Yeah, and all they found were your bloodied skivvies hanging on your
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