Stolen Sight (AIR Book 3)

by Amanda Booloodian

  "What did you find?" I asked.

  "Your scent changed," Rider said.

  "My scent?" I asked, trying to follow. I could tell I was going to need more coffee.

  Logan finished up one arm and I shifted so he could help me with the next.

  "You were not you," Rider said.

  "I guess that makes sense. Sort of. That happened before when a fragment got out, right?" I didn't wait for an answer. Being reminded how far from normality my life had traveled didn’t make for good morning conversation. "Nothing about Einar?"

  Rider shook his head and went back to his deficient typing skills, hunting and pecking as slowly as ever.

  "Vincent and I are researching through the office. Rider is online, and we thought you'd go through MyTH," Logan said as he finished my other arm.

  "Thank you, Logan, and yeah, I can go through MyTH." I went to get the laptop Neil gave me.

  I had been using it to email Quin, another Reader that I had contacted. We had been swapping information for half a year now. It was nice to have another Reader to talk to, even if I didn't have any idea who she actually was. I knew I could track her down, but I wasn't comfortable with that. She'd let me know who she was when she was ready. It wasn't like I had to let her know my real name either.

  When I came back to the kitchen, Logan was on the phone.

  "Yeah, we'll mosey on down," Logan said before hanging up.

  "Where are we heading?" I asked.

  "Local police found a body. Hank called and he wants us to check it out to see if it's related," Logan said.

  "Any details?" I asked.

  Logan shook his head. "Too soon to tell. I thought you'd be sticking around the house today."

  I rolled my eyes. "It's my arms. I'll be fine."

  "Maybe we should drive separately, in case someone needs to leave early," Logan said.

  "And by someone you mean me?" I crossed my arms.

  Logan shrugged. "It can be a bit uncomfortable in the truck with four."

  It was a blatant lie. The truck had two rows of seating up front.

  Rider looked like he was going to say something and Vincent kicked him under the table. Rider’s eyes widened, giving Vincent a hurt look.

  "Subtle," I told Vincent.

  His expression was wooden.

  I could feel my cheeks flushing and looked away. "I'm not supposed to drive on the pain pills until I know how I'll react. I took one this morning."

  "I'll drive," Vincent said.

  "Sure," I said, feeling defeated. Being hurt and not being able to do my job effectively sucked.

  I stowed the laptop and grabbed my stuff before leaving the house. Vincent needed to stop at his apartment before catching up with the others. We rode in silence. I couldn't help but wonder what Vincent's apartment might be like. He'd moved in a few weeks ago, and housewarming parties definitely weren’t his style.

  His complex was one of the newer models that were popping up all over town. There were eight buildings and some sort of clubhouse at the entrance. More buildings were still under construction.

  There was a passing thought that I should wait until he invited me in instead of assuming that I could walk in with him. Then I decided that I could grow old and die before ever getting that type of invite from Vincent, so I followed him in. Since he didn't object, I figured it was as close to an invite as I would be likely to receive.

  Vincent lived on the ground floor, for which I was grateful today. My legs might not have been mummy wrapped, but the muscles still ached and the bruises had firmly settled in. He unlocked the door, and I sensed a moment of hesitation before we entered.

  I'm not sure what I had been expecting, but I'm certain this wasn't it. The walls were a soft white, the carpet had that just-installed look, and every piece of furniture was new. More surprising, it all matched.

  "You missed breakfast. There should be some fruit in the kitchen if you’d like. It's...well, help yourself to anything." Vincent crossed the living room and disappeared down a hall.

  The blinds were mostly open, and bright, morning sunlight filtered in. It was an open floor plan, but it was hard to find anything that could be considered personal. I went to the kitchen to get something to eat. I wasn't hungry, but it was an excuse to be nosy and get a bit more insight into Vincent's life. The fridge was mostly empty save for a few pieces of fruit, some vegetables that looked like they all belonged together in a salad, condiments, and bottled water. The six pack of beer off to the side looked out of place.

  I closed the door. The kitchen was in perfect condition. No dishes in the sink, no crumbs on the counter, no mail stacked up anywhere, and a bowl of fruit looking almost decorative. Wandering into the living room, I saw artwork on the walls. On closer examination, I discovered two of the pieces matched the furniture a little too well. I'd be willing to bet money that it was part of the set.

  The third piece drew me in. It was different. At first glance, it looked like the sun setting in a forest. When you looked closer, though, the shadows in the woods had shape. Some of the trees had sharp thorns. There was a dirt path twisting through that darkness. The shadows seemed to line the trail, trying to crowd it out. If you stared at a shadow for too long, another one, one that you hadn't seen before, captured your attention, when you looked back, though, the first shadow seemed to meld into the scenery and only the new one you noticed remained.

  It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. There was no person on the trail, but I sensed it had been painted from the perspective of someone walking the path.

  "An old friend of mine painted it," Vincent said. His voice was quiet.

  "It's amazing," I said, still trying to pinpoint a shadow for any period of time, trying to discover what it might be. Then I caught sight of a shadow much larger than the others. It seemed to loom over the entire picture. It was unnerving the way it suddenly appear. I took a step back before I caught myself, realizing I had let a picture startle me.

  I glanced at Vincent, who had moved up beside me, then back at the painting. The looming figure was difficult to pick out again.

  "Your friend is an amazing artist," I said.

  "Was," Vincent corrected. “He was going to marry my sister.”

  I felt the sorrow in his voice. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” Mentally, I was kicking myself. How did I not know he had a sister?

  Vincent said nothing, but it looked as though he regretted saying anything. . I wanted to know more, but this was definitely not the time.

  "I’m sorry about your friend." I put my hand on his arm as a comfort. A feeling of warmth and charged energy started to radiate up from where I touched him.

  Vincent didn't say anything, but he didn't move away and he looked more at ease than he had a moment ago. I wanted the force that rose between us to permeate through me, but I knew it couldn't, so I stepped away. It wouldn't have been fair to him or me. Vincent had made it clear that he didn't want to get too close. Besides, who knew if it was real?

  "Um, thank you for coming over last night." I moved to the next piece of art and took a cursory glance.

  "It was no problem." He kept his voice even and looked at his painting.

  "I guess we should go to the site?"

  "Did you get something to eat?"

  "No, I'm good."

  "Do you mind getting us some water?" Vincent asked.

  "Sure."

  I gathered the water, Vincent took his bag, and we left.

  Vincent put the bag in my trunk and we drove to the site.

  "I thought your gear was in the truck," I said.

  "It's an overnight bag. I didn't have one last night."

  "Are you staying over again tonight? Not that I mind," I added quickly, "you can stay whenever you'd like."

  "It’s possible at least one person is targeting you. Possibly another if Einar isn't the one that magicked your house."

  "If that's the reason you're staying, you might as well move back in." I wa
s trying really hard to avoid being aggravated by the thought. "If you had planned on staying last night, why didn't you bring a bag?"

  Vincent gripped his steering wheel hard. Was that a pink flush on his face?

  "What?" I asked.

  He cleared his throat. "I didn't...I mean..." He stopped talking and gripped the wheel harder.

  "What?"

  "We thought someone else would be around last night."

  I could feel the blush come over my own face now. "We?"

  "Cass, how many times have you been almost killed in the past few days?"

  "Never mind that. You said, 'we thought.' Which 'we' were discussing who might be staying over at my house?"

  Chapter 16

  "It wasn't like that," Vincent said. "Rider thought we should stop by on the way home to check on you last night. I thought that it might be better if we waited. Rider didn't really understand why I said we shouldn’t. He wasn't going to take no for an answer."

  Picturing Rider not understanding why Vincent didn't want to stop by was an easy task. It would have been an interesting conversation, especially with Vincent doing the explaining. I turned to face the window and bit my lip to hide my amusement.

  "It's not like we were standing around discussing it. He was adamant that we stop by."

  Swallowing hard, trying to keep the laughter out of my voice, I asked. "And when you told him?"

  Vincent frowned. "He was still adamant. It was a long conversation. And since he called you after I left, not an effective one."

  Trying to hold the laughter back only caused me to snort. Then all the laughter came pouring out.

  The corners of Vincent's mouth turned up, and his eyes appeared to lighten.

  "Poor Rider," I said when the laughter started to die away.

  "He was going to call Margaret to double check."

  "I guess werewolves do things differently. I wonder what types of social interactions the government goes over during the integration process."

  "We might want to find out. With some of the questions he's asked lately, I think he might want to ask someone out."

  "That's a good point. I wonder how werewolves differentiate between dating and friends. I know things didn't go well with Jonathan and Paula." Elves usually have one mate for life. When Jonathan and Paula got engaged, I don't think he really realized how often couples split up. I'm not sure if Paula was his one true love or not. I was almost afraid to ask.

  "I never thought of that," Vincent said, stopping behind the AIR SWAT-style truck. "Let me know how that conversation goes."

  "Wait, what?"

  There was a hint of mirth under his blank face. "I'm his partner, we haven't hit friend status yet."

  "Oh. That's fair, I guess." Werewolves were hard to make friends with, but once you were friends, you were friends for life.

  We got out of the car and looked up the street where the police had set up obstructions to keep people away from an alley.

  "I don't know if our world meshes well with the normal world.” I tried to keep my voice light, but it was true.

  Vincent came up beside me and followed my gaze to where Ethan stood. He was inside the barrier, talking to an officer on the other side of the ugly yellow and orange sawhorses that blocked the sidewalk.

  "Hey," Vincent said, putting a hand on my arm. I looked up at him while soaking in the current running through us. "Sometimes the worlds can mix. Try to give it some time."

  When I looked back up, Ethan was watching us.

  I nodded. Vincent's lips had moved up infinitesimally into a half grin, but there was a sad look in his eyes. Then he dropped his hand, and we went to the police tape.

  Several reporters had set up across the street.

  "Are those types of microphones legal?" I asked as we approached the crime scene. "They look like they could pick up voices from the International Space Station."

  "I'm not sure," Vincent admitted, "but I doubt they'll get too much over the street noise."

  My stomach was starting to churn before we reached Ethan. It was bad enough having to face him hours after he walked out, but the idea of reporters listening to what we might be saying left me uneasy.

  "Let them through," Ethan said, nodding towards us. The officer waved us through, and he followed my gaze to across the street.

  "They've been here for an hour already," the officer said.

  "Yeah," Ethan agreed, "they set up there to get a better view of the crime scene."

  I watched the reporters point in our direction. Microphones were raised and aimed our way. The last thing I wanted was AIR business caught on microphone. The thought of them picking up any conversation with Ethan and I wasn't sitting well either. I turned to face the alley, glanced at Vincent, and scratched my head. His look of unease turned into a smirk, although I could have been the only one to see it.

  Closing my eyes, I reached for the Path. There was a bit of a struggle, but not as bad as it had been the past few days. Half turning to the reporters, I read their Path. My nose curled at what I saw. Any remorse that they may have felt was being overwhelmed by eager jumbles of emotions as they worked.

  "If you all want to step this way," Ethan said.

  I ignored him, but Vincent replied. "We need a moment."

  It was petty, but my concerns were real. I sifted through the Paths for the duller and almost unnoticeable traces of equipment. I'd never done anything like this before with electronics, but energy is energy, and their battery packs were live. At least they were for about a minute. Twisting the Path around each little energy source allowed their power to drain away into the atmosphere.

  "Well, I feel a bit better anyway," I said to Vincent. I glanced across the street and saw people replacing batteries, only to find the replacements dead.

  "It's a shame it won't stop them for long."

  I watched someone dash to a van down the street. Cocking my head, I twisted the Path again and felt satisfied that by the time he reached the others, their new power source would be dead as well.

  I shrugged, "I just wanted a little privacy."

  Ethan was watching an argument break out across the street. He glanced at me and back to the reporters. I couldn't read his expression and the little pieces of Path of his that I couldn't avoid didn't look promising. I was willing to bet I had made things worse.

  My heart sank, but work called. I made my way into the alley watching patterns in the Path. Logan was crouched and looking under a white cloth on the ground. Rider was pacing around, looking up the sides of buildings and into windows. I could see the issue immediately. It was the same black trail as the job site, but sliding up the building.

  "Those news crews aren't anything compared to what's going to come down on this town if we don't find who's doing this," Ethan said.

  Logan stood and came over to talk to Ethan. "Think this is going to go national?"

  "We've had four bodies in three days, and the day isn't over yet. Yeah, I think it could get bad. What can we do to help you?" Ethan asked.

  I wandered down the alley towards Rider. "What are you finding?" I asked.

  "It is what I am not finding that is bothering me," Rider said.

  "You know where the victim entered, right?" I asked.

  "From the street. His head left at the other end of the alley."

  My hand clutched my stomach as I stared into the smoky black Path. "Head?" I asked.

  "That is the only part of the body that is not here."

  Shimming threads of bright color rolled through the blackness, curving out, and then folding back under the dense Path. "Whoever did this was here and then moved out this way."

  "But no one came here and took the head." His frustration rolled out from him in waves of amber.

  "Do you smell what you did at the job site?"

  "I smelled only objects there, except where the bones left."

  "Do you smell the same object here?"

  "There are some similar smells. But they
are smells that are all over the city."

  "What about from last night?"

  Rider shifted and looked up the side of the building again. "There was a strong smell of clay, dirt, trees, and plants last night. Less so here. There was very little clay at the job site, but many more smells of dirt and trees."

  "But that links all three," I said.

  Rider shook his head. "There is clay everywhere. In the brick, on the street, even at our homes."

  "I'm going to see where this leads," I said, following the black cloud through the alley and out the other end.

  Rider kept pace with me. "I smell only the exit of the head."

  "I see the person leaving. It's the same Path that was at the construction site."

  We were on a less populated street once we left the alley. A few times I reached out as though to touch the Path, but my skin prickled and I dropped back. The black cloud didn't feel evil or vile. I had seen that type of darkness before and the emotion radiates. This was different. Almost dull and condensed, but with some emotion or power trying to break away.

  We were a block away and well outside the police barrier when my phone rang. Caught up in the Path, I answered it without looking at the caller ID.

  "This is Cassie."

  "Cassie, this is Felicity. You have to come." Felicity's voice radiated fear.

  I reversed directions and moved quickly back the way I came. To keep my concentration all on the call, I dropped the Path.

  "What's wrong?"

  "There's someone here…" Felicity started crying, "…here in the house. I'm with the girls hiding upstairs, but there's someone downstairs tearing things up."

  I started running. I dodged under the police tape and sprinted down the ally. "Tell me what’s happening."

  Logan and Vincent saw me running.

  "It is Felicity," Rider called out to Logan and Vincent.

  I put my finger over the phone so Felicity couldn't hear what the others were saying.

  "We need help," Felicity said.

  "We're only a few blocks away, and we're already moving your way. We'll be there in a few minutes."

  There was relief in the sob that Felicity let out.

  "Vincent and Rider, wrap up here, quick. I'll call this in," Logan said.