Origin (Lux 4)

Still had the magic touch.

Not wasting any time, I got the hell out of Matthew’s driveway and headed for the highway. There was no way he’d be as understanding as Dawson, at least not at the moment.

My brother was set to take care of a few things for me. He’d move enough money to get Kat and me by for a couple of years to an account I’d meticulously kept off the radar just in case shit went downhill one day.

And shit definitely had gone downhill.

Dawson and Dee also had strategically hidden “oh-crap” accounts, just as the Thompsons did. Matthew had gotten us doing that. I used to think it was paranoia, but, damn, he’d been smart. There was no way I could come back, and neither could Kat. We’d have to find a way for her to see her mom, but neither of us could stay here when I got her out of there. It would be too dangerous.

But before I headed to Mount Weather, I had a little visit to make.

Blake couldn’t have been the only one to screw us.

There was a teen hybrid who had a lot of explaining to do.

A little bit after noon, I stashed Matthew’s car behind the rundown gas station on the same road as Luc’s club. Not that the potholed dirt pathway was really a road. The last thing I wanted was for them to know I was coming. Something about Luc was off, and in a big way. The fact that he was barely a teenager and running a club was a big clue. And he was out here, with other Luxen, and unprotected from the Arum?

Yeah, something was off about the kid.

Staying in my human form, I took off through the weeds and into the wooded area behind the gas station. Bright sunlight filtered through the branches, and warm May air rushed me as I flew over the uneven ground. Seconds later, I cleared the stand of trees and hit the overgrown field.

Last time I’d been here with Kat, the field was nothing more than a frozen patch of grass. Now the reeds whipped at my jeans and dandelions carpeted the grass. Kat had a thing for dandelions. She couldn’t keep her fingers off them when we’d been training with the onyx. From the moment those yellow weeds started poking through the ground, she’d snap them up and pop their heads off.

A wry grin tugged at my lips as I skidded to a stop in front of the windowless door. Demented Kitten.

I placed my hands on the steel door, sliding them down the center, feeling for gaps or locks to manipulate. There was no way this door was unlocking anytime soon.

Backing up, I scanned the front of the building. Squat and no windows, more like a warehouse than a club. I stalked around the side, knocking empty cardboard boxes out of the way. In the back was a loading dock.

Score.

Pressing my hands on the thin gap between the doors, I heard the wonderful sound of locks unclicking. I quickly eased the door open and stepped into a dark storage area. Slipping through the shadows, I hugged the wall, my gaze flitting over white containers and piles of papers. There was a distinct smell of alcohol in the air. Another door loomed ahead, and I opened it. The minute I stepped into the narrow corridor lined with dry erase boards with stick figures—what the hell?—drawn all over them, the hair on the back of my neck rose, and a cold shiver snaked its way down my spine.

Arum.

I barreled out of the corridor, seconds from flipping into my true form. Instead I ground to a halt, face-to-face with the business end of a sawed-off shotgun.

That would sting.

The proud owner of the redneck killer was Big Boy the Bouncer, still rocking overalls. “Hands up, and don’t even think about going Lite-Brite on my ass, pretty boy.”

Jaw clenched tightly, I raised my hands. “There’s an Arum here.”

“No shit,” the bouncer said.

I cocked a brow. “So Luc is working with Arum, too?”

“Luc ain’t workin’ for no one.” The bouncer stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “Where’s that girl who’s normally with ya? She be sneakin’ around here, too?”

He glanced behind me, and I took advantage of the momentary distraction. My hand shot out faster than he could react. I snatched the shotgun from his grip and flipped it around. “How does it feel to have this pointed at your head?” I asked.

Big Boy’s nostrils flared. “Ain’t feelin’ real good.”

“Didn’t think so.” My finger itched on the trigger. “I’d like to keep my pretty face intact.”

The bouncer chortled. “And you do have a pretty face.”

Banjos started playing in my head.

“Oh, look,” said a new voice. “A love connection is made.”

“Not quite,” I said, wrapping my free hand around the barrel.

“Did you think I didn’t know you were here?”

Without taking my eyes off Big Boy, I smirked. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, if you were trying to sneak up on me, I guess it does.” Luc ambled out of the shadows and into my line of sight. He was dressed in black running pants and a T-shirt that read, Zombies Need Love, Too. Nice. “You can put the gun down, Daemon.”

Smiling coldly, I let heat encompass my hand. Warmth flared, and the smell of burning metal wafted into the air. When the barrel was made useless, I handed it back to Big Boy.

The bouncer looked down at the gun and sighed. “I hate when this happens.”

I watched Luc hop up on the bar and swing his legs like a petulant child. Under the dim bar lighting, the ring around his oddly colored eyes seemed to be blurred. “You and I need to—”

Whipping around, I let out a roar as my human form faded. I shot across the empty dance floor, heading straight for the mass of shadows forming under the cage.