Page 71 of Blood Bound

I start looking around for some clue that could help me – or help Darick find me.

Moving surreptitiously, I run my hands along the rough surface, feeling for any irregularities. As I’m searching, I hear that strange mechanical sound yet again. Except this time, I pay more attention.

My heart races as suddenly something falls into place. I know that sound. I’ve heard it before…recently. I strain to listen, growing more certain by the second.

“Hey,” I whisper hoarsely, hoping to catch the attention of my cellmate. “Are you awake?”

“For what it’s worth, yes,” she grumbles back.

“That noise,” I ask. “Do you hear it often?”

“Pretty regularly,” she concedes.

“And you’ve never found out what it is?” I ask, still half-convinced that it’s some sort of torture chamber.

“Nope,” she says. “Just hear that clattering a couple of times an hour.”

And it dawns on me, my suspicions confirmed as the sound continues, then fades off into the distance.

“It’s a freaking train!” I burst out. And I know exactly where I might hear a sound like that. There’s a station barely a few blocks from the Moonshadow family home.

Heath, you fucking idiot!

I almost laugh aloud. He’s keeping us locked up in some sort of hidey-hole near the subway close to his own damned home. Talk about keeping things convenient. And it’s exposed him.

A plan begins to form in my mind. I may not have my magic, but I have knowledge. And now, I have hope. Whatever Heath and his allies are planning, they’ve made one crucial mistake: they’ve underestimated me.

I settle back against the wall. For the first time since I woke up in this cell, I allow myself a small smile. Let them think I’m defeated. I’ll be ready when the time comes. And as I think these thoughts, that voice floats through my head yet again.

“Hold on, Rowan. I’m coming.”

22

Chapter 22

Darick

Istand in Evelyn Blackwood’s living room, weighing up her words about sacrifices and ancient curses…and none of it bothers me as much as the crushing hollowness I’m feeling right now. I look down at the pendant in my palm, rubbing the pad of my thumb over its surface. It sends that strange sensation through my skin again, that feeling of connection I’ve come to long for.

This is it…the answer…

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and focus on the pendant, willing it to strengthen our bond. At first, there’s nothing but silence, and I’m convinced it’s not going to work. Then, like a spark in the darkness, I feel her presence.

“Rowan,” I whisper, relief washing over me.

“Darick!” Her response is faint, barely a whisper in my mind, but it’s there. The thread is fragile, almost intangible, but I cling to it desperately. “Darick?” she repeats.

“Rowan! Thank God. Are you alright? Where are you?” I know it’s a long shot, but maybe she can share details.

“Okay…don’t know where…cell block…involved somehow.” Her words are fuzzy. Indistinct. I strain to strengthen the connection. I tighten my grip on the pendant, feeling it growing warmer, hot now.

I sense her confusion, her fear, but also her resilience. She’s trying to tell me something, but the words are jumbled, lost in the static of our tenuous link. I catch fragments – a sense of betrayal – but nothing solid.

“I can’t hear you clearly,” I tell her, frustration building. “I’m here with your grandmother. We’re going to find you.” As I say it, I pray it’s true, but I’ll move heaven and earth to make it so.

“…hear you…” her words come back. I get a sense of desperation, and it feels like a fist tightening around my heart.

Fuck’s sake!