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As I will it, so mote it be.

Reveal him now, as I decree.

My eyes snapped open and my hand shook, but my bleeding finger remained pressed against the glass. My blood had been smeared all over the mirror in circles that overlapped each other. The center of the mirror had remained untouched by my blood and a person began taking shape inside it.

"Fuck," Quinton whispered harshly underneath his breath. "It’s really him."

Romero Flynn came into view, just as I had left him. His long, red hair hung down past his shoulders and all the way down to his naked hips in a ratty mess. His beard dangled down his chest, scraggly and unkempt. He wore not a stitch of clothing, unless shackles counted as clothing. His head lolled back, resting against the brick wall he stood up against. His arms hung up above him, strung taut with manacles around both wrists. Chains were attached to the shackles and hooked to the wall, holding him in place. The same setup had been hooked up to his ankles, his feet stretched far apart and chained to the wall.

His face was completely blank and his eyes closed. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he could have looked dead. Thank goodness his chest moved or I might have had a panic attack.

Binx brushed up against my bare foot, nuzzling his furry little head against my skin. I flinched and my finger left the glass.

The image disappeared and I swayed on my feet.

When was the last time I'd eaten? I couldn't remember.

"Food," I muttered under my breath as my eyelids started to lower.

Strong arms wrapped around me, holding me up. Warm lips went to my forehead in a sweet, hesitant kiss.

"I got you, baby," Quinton muttered darkly in a voice that sent shivers down my spine. He wasn't angry this time, he was something else altogether. Something that scared the shit out of me. "I'll always take care of you. Just like you always take care of us."

Yeah, I’d been right. That had been Romero Flynn, Dash's father, chained up in some underground facility that belonged to the Council.

Our already dark world just got a whole lot darker.

And it would only get worse from here on out, I just knew it.

Chapter Seven

Secrets Didn’t Make Friends

Isat up on the couch with a start and looked around. I didn't remember falling asleep downstairs in the informal living room. I only hung out down here now when Trenton or Simon wanted to watch a movie with me or play video games on the giant flat screen in here.

My stomach let out an angry snarl and I looked down at it in surprise. I wasstarving. When was the last time I'd eaten anything? I couldn't remember.

I looked around in confusion. The sun was starting to rise, and for once I was grateful for the fact everyone around here seemed allergic to the use of curtains or blinds even.

They were all psycho.

"Here," Quinton murmured quietly, making me jump. He put down a steaming mug of what looked like soup on the coffee table in front of me. He sat a plate down beside the mug with thick chunks of what looked to be homemade bread slathered in butter.

"What, no coffee?" I groused, never one to miss an opportunity to give Quinton a hard time.

Don't you worry, he always deserved it. Maybe not at this very second, but give him enough time and he'd prove me right. We did this dance and we did it often.

He didn't take the bait.

Quinton leaned down and kissed me sweetly on the cheek. "You eat your soup and bread like a good girl and I'll make you some of your crack juice."

I could work with this compromise. I smiled up at him and murmured appreciatively, "Thank you."

His eyes roamed lazily over my face and they softened immediately. I liked to think he only used that look on me because that soft part of him he kept hidden away from the world belonged to me. Kind of like Quinton himself.

He left me to eat in peace while he went back to the kitchen. Hopefully to make my coffee. Wise man. It didn't simply caffeinate me, it made me a much nicer person and easier to deal with on all levels.

I fell on the soup—potato, as it turned out—like a starved animal. Between shoveling spoonfuls into my mouth, I stopped to rip off chunks of the bread, and I dunked them into the soup and shoved those babies right into my mouth as well. I didn't even care that it tasted absolutely delicious, which it did. I would have happily shoveled cardboard in there if it took the edge off my hunger.