Page 30 of Dead Wrong

A flash of green from beside me drew my attention, but when I looked over at Bastien, he was merely checking his watch.

“What did Mother tell you to do when you find Lynette?” I asked, needing to hear it plainly.

“My job is simply to inform her when I have a visual. Once that happens, my obligations have been filled, and whatever happens next isn’t my problem.”

“Would she really hurt Lynette?” Bastien asked, looking over to me.

Bastien had never met Mother. Never felt the pull of a power so great it threatened to smother you at any moment. To snuff the light from your eyes, if only to watch it go. I’d felt it. I’d been a victim of the overwhelming strength of Adoranda Greene’s magic. So, without hesitation, I replied, “Yes. Yes, she would.”

Bastien checked his watch again.

“Well, I’ve just about got this wrapped up,” announced Lorelei, turning around in her seat to peer back through the divider. “Tobias, I just need one more thing from you. We’re headed to the gravesite that you were found in, and I’m hoping that it’ll spark some more of your memory of that night. Your sister told you where she was going, of that I’m almost sure. All I need is for you to tell me what she said, and then we can get you back where you belong.”

“Forget it,” I said, folding my arms across my chest in a gesture of defiance. “I won’t help you if it means putting Lenny in danger.”

Lorelei made a pouty face, turning her attention instead to Bastien. “I guess it’s time for you to earn your keep, then. Come on, corpse whisperer. Work your little magic and make the puppet do what I want.”

Bastien’s fist clenched at his side, and he checked his watch once more.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I keeping you? Do you have a date?”

I watched Bastien, too, waiting for his answer to her demand. Could he really force me to do something against my will? How strange to face the very weapon I used to wield so thoughtlessly. Perhaps it was the universe balancing the scales before my (second) final breath.

But Bastien’s response never came. He merely held still, staring down at his watch, his lips moving silently as if he were counting down the seconds till—he moved in a blur of motion, sliding to close the distance between us on the bench seat and pulling one of the safety belts around him and myself. In a flash, the restraint clicked into place, and Bastien’s arm wrapped around my trunk just as the impact hit.

The car spun, and Lorelei was thrown from her seat into the driver’s side window, the glass splintering on contact. I clung to the bar above me as the vehicle lurched, the tires skidding across the pavement with a deafening squeal. With a second impact, the car tipped, rolling side over side and spraying the interior with shards of glass as we toppled. I shut my eyes, Bastien’s grip on me slipping at some point, but the restraints held me in place well enough.

As the deafening noise subsided and the momentum of the crash halted, it took me a split second to realize I was hanging upside down as shadows moved outside the splintered windows. Pain radiated from side, and I drew a hand away from my ribs, fresh blood covering my skin in a layer of crimson. A shard of glass protruded from my side, and I tried not to shift too much. My mouth tasted of blood, and my vision blurred. Voices filtered through the ringing in my ears, shouting coming from the exterior. Bastien wasn’t beside me any longer, and I frantically panned back and forth till I spotted him stirring beneath me, his body a heap of tangled limbs. Carefully, I tried to free myself from the belt holding me in place, but the release wouldn’t work. I nearly yelped when a hand wrapped around my wrist.

Bastien clung to me, pulling himself upright. A long cut ran across his forehead and leaked blood down the side of his face, but his eyes were wide and alert.

“Are you okay?” I asked, breathless.

Bastien didn’t answer, his free hand extending toward me as well. For the briefest moment, I thought he was going to embrace me, but then I felt the heat of his fingertips sink into the flesh of my chest. A string of words poured from his mouth as a green light filled the car.

Searing pain dulled my senses as an immense pressure squeezed my sternum. I couldn’t form words through the agony, but my eyes locked with Bastien’s, hoping he’d understand what I was asking. But then the pressure abated, a pleasant numbness seizing my limbs as Bastien pulled his hand away, clutching a blood-stained green gem.

“B-Bast?” I croaked as the edges of my vision darkened.

But Bastien was swallowed by the darkness, the sound of my straining heartbeat the last thing to ring in my ears before crushing silence overcame me.

The café bustled with life around me as I waited in line to place my order. Having visited the café every day for the last week, I’d grown accustomed to the traffic pattern of customers, so it was easy enough to navigate the hoard of locals clamoring for their mid-day pick-me-up. As I waited, my gaze drifted to the counter in search of the reason for my return. While others came for the lattes and scones the size of their heads, I sought out this place for a different reason.

I had not been able to get the barista out of my head since my “date” with Corinth. And now, much like the days prior, I found myself drawn back to this place, if only to lay eyes on the man once more.

The absurdity was not lost on me. I was behaving like some love-struck school whelp. And yet, there I stood. Waiting to spend a collective two minutes in the presence of this beguiling man.

“Getting the usual?” the woman behind the counter asked as I approached. I cringed at the realization I’d frequented the location enough times to be recognized, but I nodded curtly, handing over a bill for payment.

“It’ll be right out,” said the woman with a smile, offering me the change that I always declined before sliding it into the glass tip jar in front of the register.

I moved down the bar, still feeling self-conscious about my childish reasons for being here, but then I spotted him, and any hesitation melted away, a breath catching in my chest.

He was dressed in his usual fashion, a white button-up shirt with sleeves rolled past the elbow and a navy apron tied around his slim waist. I’d grown to appreciate the way the fabric hugged the man’s form, hinting at the toned physique underneath.

I wondered what it would feel like to sink my fingertips into that waist…

“Hello again,” the barista greeted me as he danced through the motions of his work. “You’re becoming a regular, aren’t you?”

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