Burned

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Authors: P.C. Cast
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shoved the Bug into gear and drove out of the parking lot and off the school grounds. Taking a quick right on Utica Street, she headed downtown and to the northeast, toward the rolling land on the outskirts of Tulsa that held the Gilcrease Museum.
    Kalona’s soul was missing, too.
    Stevie Rae didn’t for an instant believe that he’d been so wracked with grief that the immortal’s soul had ripped apart.
    “Not likely,” she muttered to herself as she navigated the dark, silent streets of Tulsa. “He’s after her.” As soon as Stevie Rae said the words aloud, she knew she was right.
    So what could she do about it?
    She didn’t have a clue. She didn’t know anything about immortals or shattered souls or the spirit world. Sure, she’d died, but she’d also un-died. And she didn’t remember her soul going anywhere.
Trapped . . . It’d been black and cold and soundless, and I’d wanted to scream and scream and . . .
Stevie Rae shuddered, clamping down on her thoughts. She didn’t remember much of that terrible, dead time—she didn’t want to. But she did know someone who understood a lot about immortals, especially Kalona, and the spirit world. According to Z’s grandma, Rephaim hadn’t been anything but a spirit until Neferet had set loose his gross daddy.
    “Rephaim will know somethin’. And what he knows, I’m gonna know,” she said resolutely, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel.
    If she had to, Stevie Rae would use the power of their Imprint, the power of her element, and every bit of power inside her body to get information from him. Ignoring the sick, terrible,
guilty
way it made her feel to think of fighting Rephaim, she gave the Bug more gas and turned down Gilcrease Road.
    Stevie Rae
    She didn’t have to wonder where she’d find him. Stevie Rae just knew. The front door to the old mansion had already been forced open, and she slipped inside the dark, cold house, following his invisibletrail up and up. She didn’t need to see the balcony door ajar to know he was outside. She
knew
he was there.
I’ll always know where he is,
she thought gloomily.
    He didn’t turn to face her right away, and she was glad. Stevie Rae needed the time to try to get used to the sight of him again.
    “So, you came,” he said, still without facing her.
    That voice—that human voice.
It struck her again, as it had the first night she’d heard it.
    “You called me,” she said, trying to keep her voice cool—trying to hold on to the anger she felt at what his horrible daddy had caused.
    He turned to face her, and their eyes met.
    He looks exhausted,
was her first thought.
His arm’s bleeding again.
    She is still in pain,
was his first thought.
And she is filled with anger.
They stared at each other silently, neither willing to speak their thoughts aloud.
    “What has happened?” he finally asked.
    “How do you know something’s happened?” she snapped back at him.
    He hesitated before speaking, obviously choosing his words carefully. “I know from you.”
    “You’re not makin’ any sense, Rephaim.” The sound of her voice speaking his name seemed to echo in the air around them, and the night was suddenly tinted with the memory of the glistening red mist that had been sent by the son of an immortal to caress Stevie Rae’s skin and call her to him.
    “That is because it does not make sense to me,” he said, his voice deep and soft and hesitant. “I know nothing about how an Imprint works; you will have to teach me.”
    Stevie Rae felt her cheeks get warm.
He’s telling the truth,
she realized.
Our Imprint lets him know things about me! And how could he understand it? I barely do.
    She cleared her throat. “So, are you sayin’ you know something’s happened because you can sense it from me?”
    “Feel, not sense,” he corrected her. “I felt your pain. Not like before, right after you drank from me. Then your body was in pain. Your pain tonight was emotional, not physical.”
    She

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