Daniel nodded. “Maybe try to talk to him?”
Not that it would do much good, but she nodded. “I can sense him on this plane. I’ll find him and see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” Daniel smiled at her, a nice smile, warm and inviting. “Oh, and congratulations on your part. You’re going to be wonderful.”
Sophia found Shade in a crappy motel room with a bottle of cheap whisky tucked under his arm. He looked terrible with dark smudges under his bloodshot eyes. Actually, he didn’t look terrible at all. He looked desperate and dangerous, and it was all alarmingly sexy.
“Sophia.” He sensed her before she spoke. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” She examined the bedspread for vermin before perching gingerly beside him. She needed to tell him about his seal, but her heart ached for him. Even though he was in this state over a female who was not her. “No luck?”
“The hounds are closing in on her,” he said and swigged his whisky. He grimaced before swallowing. “They sensed her before I last called Dee. But just when we think we’ve got a lock on her, it goes dark again.” He turned tortured gray eyes on her. “They’re torturing her, Sophia, and with all my powers I can do nothing.”
She pried the bottle from his fingers. Going full human in a crisis wasn’t going to help the situation. “You don’t know they’re torturing her.”
“Yes, I do.” He watched her put the bottle on the nightstand with a dull gaze. “She can visit me in her dreams.”
“Oh, Shade.” Her heart constricted in her chest. She hated seeing him like this. It would have been easier if he didn’t know how much trouble his Eddie was in. “Can I help?”
“Not unless you have some heaven magic that can find her.”
The next words she spoke smarted, but she said them anyway, “You love her.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “She is my everything.”
She dearly wished she could do something for him, but she had no heavenly tricks up her sleeve. “I have more bad news.”
“The seals?” He reached for the bottle, then dropped his hand before making contact.
“They’re worse than ever.”
He nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. “I know. I can feel them.”
“Then you know you’re a danger to the humans who encounter you.” She didn’t want to kick him when he was down, but they both dealt in harsh realities.
“I know.” He scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “I am doing my best to stay as far away from humans as I can, but it’s not perfect. We both know that.”
“Yes.” They did know that, and their job was to protect humans from the emotions the seals guarded, not rampantly spread them.
He made eye contact with her, his gaze harsh and angry. “And you’re here to insist I go back to hell.”
“That’s what I’m supposed to be doing here.” She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t add to his anguish. “Instead, I’m going to stay with you. Mitigate the effect as much as I can and help you find your Eddie.”
He blinked at her. “You’d do that for me?”
“Yes.” And she’d catch all kinds of backlash for it, but they’d been partners of a sort for longer than the earth realm had been in existence.
Cocking his head, he studied her. “Even with the way you feel?”
That he knew startled her, and heat climbed her cheeks. It shouldn’t surprise her. He was lust, and any romantic feelings toward him would be clear as day for him to see. “Even with that.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. “And if it hadn’t been for Eddie, maybe…”
“Asmodeus.” Her laugh felt like splinters through her heart. “We’ve never lied to each other before. Let’s not start now.” She stood. “Now get in the shower, because you stink, and let’s get going. I have to be at rehearsal on Wednesday night.”
Eddie held back her tears as the door shut behind Ashe and Calix. They’d come to drain her powers again, and they’d left her wrung out and sick. She wanted to puke but couldn’t even find the energy to turn her head.
Shade told her he was coming to find her, but night after night she left her dream to wake up in this metal box again.
She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. The locks clicked into place on the door. First the one near the bottom, one close to the center, and then the bolt slid into place. Being in this silent, sterile space had honed her hearing. She waited for the deep pitched clank of the final lock.
They’d left the water bottle in her hand, and Eddie raised it to her mouth and took a careful sip. Any faster, and she would throw it up again. Ask her how she knew that. Sitting in her damp, vomit-stained sweatshirt until they brought her food and she could demand a change of clothing provided enough incentive to control her raging thirst and drink slowly.
She didn’t know what time they brought her meals, but her body had grown accustomed, and her belly would remind her before Ashe appeared with her next meal. She only ever saw Ashe, Calix, and Casper. More often Ashe. Maybe she had early Stockholm syndrome because she was even starting to look forward to her chats with Ashe. Sometimes he stayed while she finished her meal. It was probably more a relief from the terrifying monotony of her days as she waited for them to come and drain her powers.
Something whispered at the back of her mind. A thing that was not the same as the endless sameness since she’d been here.
And she’d read that Stockholm syndrome wasn’t even a thing. Not a syndrome so much as an emotional response of a captive to a capturer. She risked another small sip of water. As the water eased into her stomach, she catalogued her pain. She passed the hours after they’d drained her power by watching her pain recede. Initially, it felt like her entire body had been run over by a truck. Then the feeling receded first from her extremities and then traveled to her larger muscle groups. The pounding in her head was always the last to release its grip on her.
They didn’t use the gas anymore before they came to drain her. She would like to believe it was a kindness, but deep down she knew it was because she was losing the will to keep fighting, and each time they drained her, they left her weaker than before.
That wrong thing pinged through her mind again. She stared at the solid metal walls, the sink and plain faucet, the toilet. Everything was much as it had been. Not a speck of dust marred the shining surfaces. The faucet didn’t drip.
And yet, still, there was something. Something different. Something amiss. Something missing.
