Page 41 of Poison Sun

“Damien,” I say, flashing back to everything that happened since I walked into that park. “He has the compass. He said he can help me get my?—”

I stop myself a second before telling him that Lucas said he can help me get my magic back.

Because Damien doesn’t know I’m losing my magic. And this right now—the two of us in Lucas’s lair as the fight continues somewhere far down the hall—is hardly the right place to tell him.

“He can help you what?” he asks, searching my eyes for answers.

“He can get the potion out of my system and into the compass.”

There’s a pause between us as Damien soaks in my words, and for a moment, I worry he’s going to question me further.

“We’ll figure it out.” His hand moves from my neck to cup my cheek, his thumb gently caressing my skin.

The warmth from his touch spreads through me, comforting and electrifying and needed after what just happened with Lucas, and I lean in, closing my eyes to savor it. The bond is still open, and I’m sure Damien can feel what his touch of his is doing to me, just as I can feel what touching me is doing to him.

When I open my eyes again, he’s closer, his face inches from mine. The air between us crackles with tension, questions hanging in the balance. It’s like the bond is buzzing between us, pulling us closer with a force neither of us can resist.

I don’t want to resist.

But just as the distance between us starts to close, a sound from the hallway snaps us back to reality, and a figure appears in the doorway.

Yannick.

“We need to move,” he says, his voice snapping Damien and I out of the bond’s trance. “Now.”

Damien pulls back, the spell broken, but the intensity in his gaze remains. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he promises, and with the bond closed and my blood replenishing itself, everything is sharper and clearer.

Lucas is gone.

We failed.

“How’s the rest of the group doing?” Damien asks Yannick.

“The Guardians are driving the vampires out—not killing them,” Yannick says, which is no surprise. The Guardians are here to kill Lucas. Not to break supernatural law by leaving as many casualties as possible in their wake.

“We’ll leave that way.” Damien motions toward the open window. “Out the fire escape.”

Damien goes first, and he helps me through, Yannick following us out. The building’s on a quiet street, so there aren’t many people nearby to watch as we head down the stairs of the fire escape in broad daylight.

Plus, it’s New York. Those who do see us stop for only a few seconds, and they don’t approach and question us. They simply keep walking and continue with their day.

But it’s not just because New Yorkers mind their own business. It’s also because humans instinctively know better than to get in the way of supernaturals.

As we make our way down the rickety iron stairs, Damien’s hand finds mine in a silent reassurance that no matter what lies ahead, we face it together.

And after what Lucas just did to me, I know with certainty that we’re going to find him and tear him apart until he’s begging us to end his life and put him out of his misery forever.

Morgan

It’s been two days since Blaze approached me with the book.

Now, we’re sitting at an old wooden picnic table—the type that’s faded and peeling after seeing too many winters. The Matterhorn looms over us, its peak piercing the bright afternoon sky, majestic and indifferent as we read as much as possible as quickly as possible.

A picnic basket sits nearby, full of cheese and bread, but we’ve barely touched it since getting here.

We’re too focused on devouring the book.

It’s slow going. The text is small and squished, full of spells, lore, and cryptic warnings. None of them directly point to the answer we need.

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