He remembered Jack’s warning. And that Miranda had left her gun in his glove box—far out of reach.
She went on, oblivious to the danger she was in. “The longer you hold on, the greater the chance you’ll make it through this. And I need you to make it through this.”
He clamped down his muscles, forcing himself to stay in place. He wouldn’t let himself touch her. If it came to that, he would throw himself out a window to get away from her and keep her safe. But he still had to know where he stood with her.
She had been his anchor when he needed one most—the last thing connecting him to his humanity. He thought they were building a bridge to a new future together. A life beyond his wildest dreams. He tried to hold his words in, to make them gentler, but he was too raw.
“What, so you can use me as a pawn later? Send me out to die—again—if one of your visions calls for it?”
Her breath rushed out and her shoulders curled over her heart as if she’d been struck. Tears came from her eyes in a steady stream.
“It won’t come to that,” she said. “I’ve seen us in the future. I’ve seen us happy.”
“After this?”
“I…don’t know. Every action has consequences. Every choice. I may have changed things by telling you.”
His voice rose even further. “You were thinking of not telling me?”
How the hell could they have a relationship if she was willing to use him like this? She couldn’t keep something this important to herself if they were going to be together.
He wanted a partner. He wanted a…mate. He’d thought she wanted the same—not a tool she could use to shape the future as she saw fit.
“I’ve been doing everything I can to help you hold on to your humanity,” she said. “I thought we were connecting enough that it would be safe to tell you before we took things to the next level.”
“The level above selling me out, lying to me, stringing me along, and using me?”
“Stringing you along? I meant everything I said.”
“You can give it a rest,” he said. “I can control it now. You don’t have to pretend to be interested in me to keep yourself safe.”
He hoped.
“I’m not pretending. I never was. I may not have told you everything, but what I did tell you is the truth. You have to believe me.”
“I don’t have to believe anything you say.”
Her face was twisted in such pain, he could barely stand it.
“Darren, please… We’re friends.”
Friends. That was all he was to her? She was so much more to him. Already so much more.
He didn’t know what they were. ‘Friends’ had left the realm of possibility the first time they’d kissed.
“We are not friends,” he said.
“Oh.”
Her tears stopped. He might have thought that was a sign that his suspicions were right and she didn’t give a damn about him and was using him, except the light seemed to leave her eyes as well. He felt more than half-sick, his heart a leaden weight in his chest.
She sniffed, letting her hands drop to her sides. She looked around the room as someone who was shell-shocked might. Then she bent down to pick up her shirt and pulled it back on.
“Miranda—”
Before he could say more, his phone made a trilling sound. Scott’s ringtone.
It broke through the last of his rage, reminding him of his normal life outside of this madness and uncertainty. He still had Scott—and a case to work. But first, he needed to sort this out with Miranda. He needed to get his head out of his ass.
Darren pulled out his phone and hit the button to ignore the call.
She looked hollowed out. Their argument had done that to her. He had done that to her.
He’d managed not to hurt her physically, but emotionally…
If she doesn’t give a damn about me, why does she look gutted?
His phone beeped to let him know Scott had left voicemail.
“It’s okay.” Her voice was flat. Emotionless.
Maybe taking a minute to cool off would be good for both of them. Too bad Darren hadn’t thought of that before he unloaded on her.
He hit play on the voicemail and held the phone up to his ear.
At first, all he heard was Scott breathing. Then he spoke. With each word, Darren’s heart sank deeper.
“It was my mom,” Scott said. “She and Morrison are working with the blond guy. I can’t fucking believe they set you up.”
More heavy breaths. Scott had a temper he had never really tried to control, no matter how much Darren encouraged him to. If Scott had been the one who was bitten, Darren didn’t want to think of the carnage that would have ensued.
He couldn’t believe he was grateful for anything about what had happened to him. But yeah, that.
And maybe the fact that billions of lives might be saved because of it?
Yeah. That, too.
He had tried to hold that thought in mind while arguing with Miranda.
Not hard enough.
“Fuck it,” Scott said. “I’m dealing with this now.”
The message ended.
Chapter Fifteen
“Shit.”
Darren’s expletive pulled Miranda back to her senses a bit. She still felt disconnected from her body, from life, from reality. She had been on the cusp of being part of something, of having a family again, and it had been torn away.
She shouldn’t have told him. But she couldn’t not tell him.
Now he was staring at his phone, looking about as angry with it as he had been at her moments ago.
She had never been so frightened. Not for her life—she somehow knew that he would never hurt her. But for her future. For their future. A future she had probably destroyed.
Darren punched a number into his phone, the grim set of his lips pulling into a deeper frown as he held it back up to his ear. His eyebrows were furrowed, lowering like a storm cloud descending around them.
He could still lose himself. Now she had no way of helping him pull back from the edge.
She was having trouble caring. All she felt was…numb.
Eden was gone. After the mess Miranda had made of her relationship with Darren, she doubted either of them would end up being turned. That meant not only had she lost Eden as a friend, she had ruined the only chance Eden had at living.
One life shouldn’t matter so much. But Miranda was tired of making that choice. She didn’t want to feel anything anymore. Didn’t want to hurt.
One life for many is a fair deal. Her mother had drilled that into her. Always be thinking of the greater good. Always think of the endgame.
The endgame for Miranda was isolation. No wonder oracles secluded themselves. Forming attachments to people, letting herself care about them, only led to pain.
She needed to pull out of this. If she didn’t, she wasn’t sure what would happen the next time a major sacrifice came up. She wasn’t sure she’d even bother trying to save anyone.
She shook her head. Too many lives were at stake. She would rededicate herself to her visions, to her calling.
She could team up with Jack and his crew—keeping them at a safe emotional distance, since she’d undoubtedly have to send them to their deaths eventually. She could use her powers to make a difference until the universe mercifully let her off the hook.
“Come on, Scott. Pick up.” Darren covered his eyes with his hand. His skin had lost some of its color, but wasn’t the gray cast she had noticed when he seemed to be fighting a change.
Concern edged into the corners of her awareness. She tried to steel herself against it, but it was hard. She cared about Darren more than she could admit to herself.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
He lowered his hand and sighed. There was enough pain in his expression to pierce the coldness surrounding her heart. It was still reaching for him.
Idiot heart.
“Scott found out his mom was involv
ed in the theft,” Darren said. “He’s going to confront her.”
“Oh.”
“He’s not answering his phone. He must be with them right now.”
“What can I do?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
She wasn’t sorry.
Darren shook his head. “If Scott was only dealing with Mrs. Ford and Morrison, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But if Forester is there… Scott has no idea what he’s getting himself into. Hell, I barely understand it.”
“Fairies can’t be trusted,” Miranda said. “They make deals to see how badly they can screw people over. It’s a game to them.”
There was something in his expression—a softening, a look akin to regret—that made her feel hope, as stupid as that was. She wanted to believe that the future she had seen of them being together was still possible, even though she was terrified to believe it.
“Do you know where they are?” she asked.
“He didn’t say. Can you read my future again? It might let you see where I’m about to go.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Please. Can you try?” He held his hand out to her.
She didn’t want to read him. When she did, she’d know for sure if she had destroyed their chance for happiness.
Maybe that would be a blessing though. She could move on with her life on the new path that was before her.
Either way, they needed to help Scott. If this was the only way to do it, she wouldn’t balk. She reached out and clasped Darren’s hand.
The vision hit her immediately.
She saw a blond man standing with his back to her. It seemed like he could be Scott. He had the same build as the man she’d met after her accident.
But he was…wrong. She understood why when he turned around.
His skin was peeling in patches, part of an ear was gone, and there was a hole in his cheek big enough to show the teeth beneath. Scott reached out to her, opening his mouth to say something, but only a breathy groan escaped.
“Miranda. Miranda!”
Darren was holding her by her arms, crushing her against his chest. Her face was wet and her throat hurt.
She didn’t care about their fight or that she’d torpedoed their future. She did care that there was a freaking zombie apocalypse coming.
“Christ, are you okay?” Darren said. “You started screaming.”
“I didn’t stop it,” she said. “I didn’t stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“The apocalypse. The zombies.”
His eyes widened. Once upon a time—two days ago—he probably would have thought she was nuts. Now she saw her own fear reflected in his face.
“You’re kidding, right?” Darren said.
She pushed away from him. What was one ruined relationship next to this?
Eden would die, and Miranda would be devastated. But at least she could make sure Eden found peace. That all of the dead would find peace.
Miranda would make sure no one came back like Scott in her vision. She had to find a way to stop it. She had seen so many zombie movies…
The vision was the kick in the butt she needed. She couldn’t believe she had let herself get so worked up over one man. Her heart clenched at the thought, but she shut down the pain mercilessly.
If they weren’t going to fight this together, fine. But she wasn’t going to just give up and let the world fall into that darkness.
Normally, her visions of the future wouldn’t change unless she took some action herself. She’d thought letting Darren become a werewolf had somehow stopped the apocalypse. Or maybe it was them becoming a couple, since that was the only thing she thought her actions had changed.
That didn’t seem possible, though. How could them falling in love prevent something this big?
“Listen to the voicemail message again,” she said. “See if you can hear anything.”
“You were kidding about the zombies, right?”
“I wish I was. I’ll call Jack on the way. We need to get to Scott quickly.”
Darren stepped back and let her cross in front of him to exit the small room. She’d half-hoped he would stop her. Maybe pull her into an embrace and kiss her and apologize for the terrible things he’d said.
Forget about her heart. She was the idiot.
She crushed the hope, stiffening her shoulders as she headed toward the door. There were more important things to worry about.
Darren followed her into the living room, pressing his phone against his ear. He held his hand against the other, blocking out the ambient noise around them. Miranda stood still, even holding her breath. She didn’t want to distract him or accidentally cover any sounds that might give them a clue about where Scott was.
“I don’t hear anything,” Darren said. “Nothing that could tell me where he is.”
He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as his breath quickened. She took a step toward him, but stopped herself. That wasn’t going to work anymore.
Her stomach felt like it was twisting around on itself. She hadn’t moved toward him to stop him from changing. She had wanted to comfort him. She still did.
“Maybe the nothing is the clue,” she said.
His eyes snapped open. Glittering lights scattered across the pale gray of his irises. She tried to ignore it.
“At this time of day, would there be sounds at the office?” she said. “People walking around, shuffling papers, talking?”
“Yeah, there would.”
“So he’s not there. Where else might he be?”
“I don’t know,” he growled.
“Think, Darren. You said they’re probably all together. Where would your boss meet with Forester?”
His face lit up. “I know where they are.”
As he passed her, he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her along behind him. She wasn’t sure if he even realized what he’d done.
It wasn’t a forceful grip. There was nothing threatening about it. He had reached for her on instinct, his excitement probably making him forget how mad at her he was. He’d remember soon enough. She grabbed her purse as she passed the table near the door where it sat.
The hallway was blocked by the last person Miranda expected to see standing off against them. Her landlady.
“You let her go, you oaf!” Mrs. Elroy was holding a baseball bat as if she was about to take a swing at Darren.
He looked too startled to process what he was seeing.
Mrs. Elroy was even shorter than Miranda, with dyed red hair in short processed curls all over her head. Her green eyes were magnified to a huge degree by her thick glasses. She was wearing a bathrobe covered in a faded floral pattern, along with olive-green slippers.
Miranda almost laughed at the absurd picture before her. The teeny, ancient woman was trying to take on a werewolf. With a baseball bat.
“It’s okay.” Miranda tried to shrug off Darren’s grip and step in front of him, but he wouldn’t let her. Did he still feel protective of her? She thought that had ended with their fight.
“I’ve seen my fill of guys like you,” Mrs. Elroy said. “You let her go right now.”
Wow. Miranda had to admit, the woman sounded intimidating. She was touched that Mrs. Elroy was willing to go to bat for her. Literally.
Darren dropped Miranda’s arm and held his hands up. “I’m not a threat.”
That’s a bald-faced lie.
Miranda finally managed to get between the pair. “Darren is a friend.”
Another lie.
She fought back the tears that tried to fill her eyes. If Mrs. Elroy saw that Miranda was upset, it would be harder to defuse the situation.
Mrs. Elroy didn’t look convinced. “I heard you scream. If most of the tenants weren’t already at work, everyone would have heard it. And I can see you’ve been crying.”
She glared at Darren like she wanted to gut him. Miranda had no idea her landlady was so protective—or so fierce.
�
�I had a nightmare,” Miranda said.
That was close enough to the truth.
Darren rested his hands on her shoulders. Mrs. Elroy’s expression softened and she lowered her bat. Miranda wished she could see Darren’s face. The shift in her landlady’s demeanor was huge.
“Oh,” Mrs. Elroy said. “Must’ve been a doozy.”
“It was.” Another truth.
Mrs. Elroy grinned. “Well, I’m glad you’ve got your friend to take your mind off it. Go out and get some fresh air. Maybe come back and…” She let out a huge laugh and grinned. “Well…just remember, the walls are pretty thin here. Ceilings and floors, too.”
Miranda felt her eyebrows hike up her forehead. Darren’s grip on her shoulders tightened. She could feel the tension radiating off of him.
Mrs. Elroy turned around, still chuckling, and headed down the stairs. The moment she was out of sight, Darren brushed past Miranda.
“Come on,” he said. “We have to hurry.”
Whatever Mrs. Elroy had seen in Darren’s expression, it was gone, along with the moment. Miranda followed him out of the building.
Chapter Sixteen
The park in the Old River district was twenty minutes from Miranda’s apartment—if Darren had been bothering with the posted speed limits. He wasn’t.
He was terrified they wouldn’t get there in time. Scott was Darren’s closest friend. Honestly, he was Darren’s only friend, aside from Miranda.
Darren wasn’t sure if she’d call him that anymore. He wasn’t sure he deserved her to.
She was holding the grab bar above her door, her other hand clutching her purse to her lap. He could smell her anxiety, but she hadn’t said a word about his driving. She had gasped a few times, but that was it.
After what he had said to her, he was shocked she was still willing to help him. Maybe she was caught up in preventing the zombie apocalypse she had mentioned.
He couldn’t believe that was real. It had to be a metaphor or something.
Like his turning into a werewolf was a metaphor for letting his temper loose on her earlier.
If he did let himself believe her vision—and if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t in a position not to—he also had to face the fact that Miranda really was trying to stop an apocalypse. The billions of lives she was trying to protect suddenly became much more real. The lives she had chosen instead of his.
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