Soul Thing by Lana Pecherczyk

Author:Lana Pecherczyk [Pecherczyk, Lana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Prism Press
Published: 2018-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I WAS UP before dawn, fresh and rejuvenated from a dreamless sleep. My window had been boarded up, but wildlife noises filtered through the cracks. Magpies warbled and birds tweeted. At least I couldn’t feel the thrum of energy buzz through the alarm’s static electricity barrier.

Unable to sleep, my thoughts kept returning to Cash and what he’d said to me last night. He was drawn to me. The imprint of his touch still burned and, slowly, I realized I was becoming drawn to him, too. I wanted more, but after his confession about his soul, it felt wrong to go to him. He’d probably deny everything anyway and blame the alcohol for his rare moment of truth. If it was the truth.

Still in my shorty pajamas, I slipped out of my room eager to take advantage of the quiet house and explore. I had the run of the place with Cash and the car conspicuously absent. Tommy had passed out in his room from the previous night’s alcoholic endeavors and when I poked my head in to check on him, he barely moved. It was the best time for some reconnaissance on my new guardian and potential mentor.

I started in the dining area, rummaging through the papers that always seemed to cover the table. I didn’t know what I was looking for but read everything. In short, I was being a snoop. He’d poured his heart out to me in a drunken state, but somehow, I felt he had intentionally deferred my question. Hell, he’d had thousands of years to perfect his manipulation skills. The more information I had on Cash the better. Committing to a blood bond wasn’t something you did every day.

Some will want you on their side, others will want you dead.

That’s what he’d said last night. So if he didn’t want me dead, he wanted me on his side. That much was obvious, but I was still suspicious.

As well as paperwork, the table was littered with various witch enforcement paraphernalia. I recognized a collar clasp and a pair of glass cuffs and there was also a stun-gun-thing and another weapon-type-thing—a bit like a grenade but without a pin. I sifted through pages and pulled out one at random. It was a death certificate of a woman dated three years ago with a small photo clipped to the top. Something was scribbled at the bottom. “Last known host.” Could it be linked to Petra? I kept looking and found three more death certificates with photos and a similar note.

My fingers hovered over a tattered photograph—a young Cash and probably his father. They were smiling widely at the camera at a baseball game. If Cash had no feelings why would he carry around a photograph of his dead father?

The Jeep crunched into the driveway. I hastily tucked the photo under the papers and scampered into the kitchen. When Cash walked in with groceries, I pretended to rifle through the fridge. He wore a blue baseball cap and a Texas Rangers shirt, similar to the one in the photograph—gray with blue sleeves.

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