Page 102 of Dead Wrong

“Kaine?”

The hum of the lights above my head was the only thing I could hear. Dread swelled in my gut, and I moved slowly toward the end of the hall.

I spotted Kaine first, sitting straight up on the end of the sofa, a scowl on his face as he stared in the opposite direction of me, his claws digging into his knees where he clutched them. Moving further in, I found the reason.

“Nice place you got here,” Lorelei said, standing at the opposite end of the sofa from Kaine, a long-barreled metal contraption in her hand, pointed at him.

Was that a gun? I had only read about them in novels set in times before the first Awakening. Magic had made most mortal weapons obsolete, so if it were real, it must have been a relic.

“Hands where I can see them,” Lorelei ordered.

I raised them slowly above my head, palms facing outward.

“My, my. You’ve been a busy little boy, Tobias. No sudden movements, now. I wouldn’t want your friend here to ruin this beautiful sofa. I must say, your taste in furniture is far better than your taste in company.”

Her escape from Chateau Greene seemed to have left Lorelei unscathed, her appearance just as immaculate as the first time we’d met. Not a curl out of place.

“What do you want?” I questioned, throwing a quick glance at Kaine, then back to her. “My mother can’t possibly be paying youthatmuch money. Why are you still?—”

“Quiet,” Lorelei snapped, her blood-red lips curling into a snarl. “My reasons are my own, and what I want is for you to come with me without any more lip, you brat.”

“Come where?” I questioned, hoping if I talked long enough, I’d draw her attention fully to me, leaving Kaine a window of opportunity. But right now, the barrel of the gun was still trained on him.

“To a little family reunion,” Lorelei answered, her focus uninterrupted. “It’s sure to be an evening to remember.”

This wasn’t working. I had to do something, or I’d be playing right into her hand.

Reaching for the magic in Bastien’s gem, I pressed my aura outward, hoping to catch her off guard. If I could just get a command through for her to drop the gun, that would be all the time Kaine would need?—

“Just like your mother,” Lorelei said with a sigh.

A deafeningbangsounds and Kaine exhales a wet breath. My eyes were drawn to him as the scarlet stain bloomed across his chest, and he slumped back against the sofa cushion.

“No!” I shouted, my legs propelling me forward, but Lorelei was there, standing between us with her sights on me now.

“Want to try that little move again?” she asked.

I gritted my teeth, my vision narrowing in on Kaine. He was still breathing. I could hear the ragged sounds from where I stood. If I could get him to a Hallowed soon enough, maybe I could save him. But how was I going to convince her to allow that?

Taking the risk, I moved slowly toward the sofa. Lorelei’s gun made a noise, like the next bullet loading into the chamber, but I didn’t let it stop me. I assumed she needed me alive for whatever awaited me. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t hobble me, so I did my best to seem non-threatening, still holding my hands above my head.

Kaine’s eyes were half-lidded when I got to him, his breaths coming in quick, shallow spurts. There was so much blood already. It oozed from the entry wound and pooled behind him in the cushions.

“You’re a terrible host,” he joked, his eyes half-focusing on me.

“I know,” I went along, my voice hollow. “I didn’t even ask if you wanted something to drink.”

“Do you think I’ll get to haunt your apartment now? Gotta say, I’m not looking forward to watching you wank on the daily.”

A broken laugh escaped alongside my tears. “Then don’t look.”

He tried to laugh, but then he was coughing, and his mouth was filled with blood. My mind raced, my hands going to the wound out of panic, applying pressure that was too little, too late.

I cursed under my breath. I was powerless. If only Bastien were here, or Cirian. They could fix him up in seconds with their magic.

But Bastien’s magicwashere. Or at least, in the Anima stone he gave me. Did that mean…?

I didn’t know the incantations. I didn’t speak the language typically required to draw on the magic that could mend flesh. I was Adored. Our magic was tied to emotion. Intention. Bastien had entrusted me with his magic, but did that mean it was truly mine? And if it were, did that mean I was limited to only feats the Adored could manage?

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