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Authors: deba schrott
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unpredictable elements. We have absolutely no control over them.”
The patterns of their speech seemed off-kilter to me. More formal than the cops I dealt with. Then again, they were feds.
“Which may be what it takes to bring the Fury down.” GQ Number Two nodded toward the exit. “Now then, gentlemen, we must be on our way to Salem. Our erstwhile quarry may well be holed up there.”
My heart thudded painfully as fingers dug into cold metal. I wanted to leap upon all three men and rip their throats out right then and there, but I didn’t. We needed more answers if we were to have any hope of figuring out just who these assholes worked for.
I waited several agonizing minutes after the door slammed shut to begin retracing my path through the complex warren of hallways peppering the morgue. What I wanted to do was drop the camo. and run like hell, but! didn’t dare. “Did you catch that, Scott?”
His voice sounded unusually serious when he responded. “Yeah, Riss. Your brother and his family?”
My eyes snapped shut as I admitted what I would rather have denied. “Still live in Salem.”
For once, Elliana’s voice didn’t burn my ears. “Then get a move on, Fury.”
And, as much as I could manage without losing control over the magic, I did.
THE OLD FAMILY HOMESTEAD LOOKED JUST the way I remembered, perched high on a hilltop several hundred feet from the ocean. It towered three stories, its imposing mass overpowering the landscape and driveway surrounding it. The perfect picture of New England architecture, from weathered white clapboard to pseudo-Victorian towers at both ends. I inhaled the tang of salty air, taken by surprise when a pang of homesickness welled up in my throat. I absolutely loved living in the heart of Harvard Square in Boston, and had never regretted making the move there during my college years. Still, I couldn’t deny the inexorable tug of my childhood home on my heartstrings. Even despite the frustration that my repeated phone calls from the prepaid cell phone Scott gave me had been answered and then abruptly ended when my voice was recognized. Gods-bedamned sister-in-law. I was going to kill her myself if the feds hadn’t gotten to her first.
“No place like home, right?” Scott prompted after several silent moments.
I glanced at Scott, forcing myself to release the tension clenching my body in its grasp, and caught him dropping his hand as if he’d been reaching out to touch me. I pretended not to notice, though my pulse picked up speed. “Yeah. The more things change, yada yada yada.” I drew in a breath. “Let’s get this family reunion over with.”
We strode along the driveway, he still in mortal guise while I pulled my Fury form around me like the well-wrought armor it was. I’d need every inch of it to deal with my not-so-charming sister-in-law. Since of course Jessica was the one to answer the buzzing doorbell. Her eyes washed over Scott without recognition (probably all that wavy red hair that had once been completely buzzed) but zeroed in on my face in milliseconds flat. She slammed the door shut on it. Or tried to, anyway.
I pounced, shoving her back several steps. Scott slammed ‘the door and twisted the half dozen locking mechanisms into use. Paranoia, thy name is Jessica Holloway.
Her mouth opened and closed, producing no sound until shock faded enough for her brain to kick into gear. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? We said all that needed saying when your stupidity got my sister kidnapped. Now, get out!”
She was never going to forgive me for “letting” Vanessa take off on her first and last solo mission.
Never mind that I’d cried more tears and spent far more of the intervening years searching for Nessa than she had. Nope, as usual, Jessica’s grief took front and center over everything else. Like just because she’d been more mother to Nessa than sister after their mother, Olivia, had died, that made her grief more valid than
The patterns of their speech seemed off-kilter to me. More formal than the cops I dealt with. Then again, they were feds.
“Which may be what it takes to bring the Fury down.” GQ Number Two nodded toward the exit. “Now then, gentlemen, we must be on our way to Salem. Our erstwhile quarry may well be holed up there.”
My heart thudded painfully as fingers dug into cold metal. I wanted to leap upon all three men and rip their throats out right then and there, but I didn’t. We needed more answers if we were to have any hope of figuring out just who these assholes worked for.
I waited several agonizing minutes after the door slammed shut to begin retracing my path through the complex warren of hallways peppering the morgue. What I wanted to do was drop the camo. and run like hell, but! didn’t dare. “Did you catch that, Scott?”
His voice sounded unusually serious when he responded. “Yeah, Riss. Your brother and his family?”
My eyes snapped shut as I admitted what I would rather have denied. “Still live in Salem.”
For once, Elliana’s voice didn’t burn my ears. “Then get a move on, Fury.”
And, as much as I could manage without losing control over the magic, I did.
THE OLD FAMILY HOMESTEAD LOOKED JUST the way I remembered, perched high on a hilltop several hundred feet from the ocean. It towered three stories, its imposing mass overpowering the landscape and driveway surrounding it. The perfect picture of New England architecture, from weathered white clapboard to pseudo-Victorian towers at both ends. I inhaled the tang of salty air, taken by surprise when a pang of homesickness welled up in my throat. I absolutely loved living in the heart of Harvard Square in Boston, and had never regretted making the move there during my college years. Still, I couldn’t deny the inexorable tug of my childhood home on my heartstrings. Even despite the frustration that my repeated phone calls from the prepaid cell phone Scott gave me had been answered and then abruptly ended when my voice was recognized. Gods-bedamned sister-in-law. I was going to kill her myself if the feds hadn’t gotten to her first.
“No place like home, right?” Scott prompted after several silent moments.
I glanced at Scott, forcing myself to release the tension clenching my body in its grasp, and caught him dropping his hand as if he’d been reaching out to touch me. I pretended not to notice, though my pulse picked up speed. “Yeah. The more things change, yada yada yada.” I drew in a breath. “Let’s get this family reunion over with.”
We strode along the driveway, he still in mortal guise while I pulled my Fury form around me like the well-wrought armor it was. I’d need every inch of it to deal with my not-so-charming sister-in-law. Since of course Jessica was the one to answer the buzzing doorbell. Her eyes washed over Scott without recognition (probably all that wavy red hair that had once been completely buzzed) but zeroed in on my face in milliseconds flat. She slammed the door shut on it. Or tried to, anyway.
I pounced, shoving her back several steps. Scott slammed ‘the door and twisted the half dozen locking mechanisms into use. Paranoia, thy name is Jessica Holloway.
Her mouth opened and closed, producing no sound until shock faded enough for her brain to kick into gear. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? We said all that needed saying when your stupidity got my sister kidnapped. Now, get out!”
She was never going to forgive me for “letting” Vanessa take off on her first and last solo mission.
Never mind that I’d cried more tears and spent far more of the intervening years searching for Nessa than she had. Nope, as usual, Jessica’s grief took front and center over everything else. Like just because she’d been more mother to Nessa than sister after their mother, Olivia, had died, that made her grief more valid than
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