Page 137 of Grave Beginnings

Another minute passed with him making little noises of acknowledgement, but not saying much.

“Do we know what sort of changeling it is?” He finally asked, then listened a while longer. “I’m not loving that idea,” he admitted after a long minute. I had a feeling I knew what he wasn’t loving.

“They want me to talk to the changeling?” I whispered.

He glanced my way.

I sat up. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he said. “You haven’t fully recovered.”

“But the changeling already spoke to me once, right? And I didn’t have to use my magic then, either.” The kid had been creepy and told me that something wanted me. Maybe the monster who had created the prison of otherworldly beings to suck dry? Was that this Erlik guy? I’d have to do some research.

“It’s three in the morning. It can wait,” Angel said.

But my mind was not going to let me rest again. I shuffled out of his touch and to my dresser to throw on clothes. Would Xavier send his goons to watch Ivan and Grandpa? I worried about leaving them alone at my place. What if something tore a hole in the Veil here because they were looking for me?

I tugged on jeans and sent a text to Xavier, not caring if I woke the guy. He’d promised to help me care for my brother, and I was going to use that. I was surprised when the text was returned a half second later. Did the guy never sleep?

Xavier: Sylas and Keanan are already watching your building. I’ll send them up.

Did those guys ever sleep? I sent back my thanks and turned to find Angel no longer on the phone but pulling on clothes, and realized that me leaving to talk to the kid meant him, too.

“Sorry,” I whispered, hating that I was keeping him from sleep he likely needed.

He stared at me a long minute before reaching up to touch my cheek, caressing it with his thumb before he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. “Thank you,” he said, breathing softly against my face, his forehead pressed to mine.

“For what?” I asked, confused.

“For not suggesting you go without me.”

“Oh…” I hadn’t even thought for a second that I’d be meeting this creepy supernatural kid without him. Would it still look like Jonah? “I sort of need you there,” I admitted. “Emotionally. If that makes sense.” No one grounded me like he did. And I’d never in my life met anyone who put themselves in my orbit and rotated around me like he did; ever aware and trying not to be suffocating, but hyper-vigilant—which took a lot of stress off my shoulders.

“It does make sense,” Angel said without needing an explanation. We finished dressing as quietly as we could, and I left a note on the fridge. If I hadn’t texted Xavier, opening my door to find the murder twins on my doorstep would have given me a heart attack. But the pair just gave me a nod and entered the apartment as we left. They’d make sure Ivan and Grandpa were safe, and that was important.

Angel and I arrived at headquarters in a lull of silence. That Wade met us at the door didn’t surprise me. He looked tired but resigned as we all made our way to the elevator and headed down to the holding cells. The shift through the Veil barely twinged my radar. Maybe because my magic was still recovering?

“None of the NHVs have had any luck at all?” Angel asked.

“No,” Wade said. “We were hoping to get him to shift to his natural form, but so far, he’s playing that he’s Jonah.”

“Do we know when the switch was made?” I asked. “Or if the parents knew?”

“They knew,” Wade said. “Something about being promised a cure.”

“It’s not a disease, it’s hereditary,” I said, mad for Jonah’s sake. “When the changeling spoke to me, it said the woman at the daycare had been murdered because she saw him. What about the bookstore guy? Related, or not?”

“Related,” Wade agreed. “Jonah’s therapist.”

“Did he see it too?” I wondered.

“We’re waiting on the subpoena for his notes,” Angel said. “It could take a while, since he was murdered, but it looks like one of the Thayersons planted the spell book, which may have drawn something across the Veil with some sort of mark on the therapist.”

“That’s brutal.”

Both of them nodded.

“Like, first degree murder brutal,” I said. “I hope the real Jonah is safe.”