Page 195 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

The job is done. We could leave now. But as I turn around, my gaze lingers on the desk—the papers and folders piled in the stacked desk trays off to one side, the laptop closed on the thin mat in the middle.

There’s no hope in hell of me hacking this guy’s computer password, but the documents he’s been dealing with might give us more of a clue of his recent activities. Activities that could have prompted Balthazar’s hostility.

I’ve got to take my chances when I can.

Zian says nothing while I guide some of the papers out of the top rack. I shuffle through them carefully, making sure to keep them in their original order.

None of it tells me anything enlightening. They’re reports full of numbers and abbreviations I don’t know, followed by a few memos that sound like mundane business-speak, not anything controversial.

Gritting my teeth, I set those back and grasp the stack from the next tray down. Come on, there’s got to be some little tidbit…

I flip open a folder and find that tidbit—but not at all the way I expected it.

The page on top is a color printout of an article about innovations in clean energy. And right below the headline is a graphic I recognize.

It’s the stylized wave and cloud symbol I saw in one of the photos in the scrapbook I assumed his wife put together. The metal fixture that Balthazar looked so proud of, attached to the front of a building.

My eyes dart over the page, squinting against the dimness. It’s a business logo— StreamCycle Enterprises, the tech giant that’s long been the forerunner in the energy revolution…

Does Balthazar work for that company— own it? He’s got to be making the money to maintain that villa and all his vehicles and staff somehow.

I lean closer, wanting to absorb every scrap of information I can out of the article—and Zian grabs my arm.

In the instant as I freeze, the noise his sharp ears must have picked up reaches mine too. A distant but steady hiss of footsteps over carpet.

It’s getting louder even in the few seconds I’m listening to it. And it’s heading this way.

My heart lurches. I duck down by the desk, feeling Zian move with me.

The footsteps thump closer. Is it a security guard? Or an employee?

What if it’s Rodney Milner himself, come to do some urgent late-night work?

He won’t be able to see us—but I left the papers out on the top of the desk. If anyone comes in, they could realize we were here.

Another flare of panic races through me, twanging in the base of my throat. I adjust my position to dart upright and shove the papers back into place, but in the same moment, the floor creaks just outside the office door.

My body tenses, a quiver of power shivers up my spine—and a choked yelp breaks through the door.

A shard of agony wafts into me in the same moment.

Oh, shit. I hurt him—I used my power with my mind without even realizing it.

Drowning under a deluge of icy horror, I lock down my hunger for pain with all the will I can bring to bear.

What did I do to him? I was too startled by my panicked reaction to get a clear sense of the injury before I absorbed its impact.

We weren’t supposed to leave any mark.

I didn’t mean to—my power just flared out of me in my panic?—

The figure outside curses under his breath in obvious distress. But he’s well enough to hustle away, even if his footsteps sound uneven now.

I run my tongue over the back of my teeth, tasting the flavor of the brief agony I drank in. I think I might have snapped a bone or two in his feet.

Will he assume it was just random chance? That he somehow stepped wrong?

It’s not like he’s going to imagine that some monstrous girl was lurking around and psychically attacked him… right?

As I muddle through my inner turmoil, Zian’s shoulder brushes mine with a shudder. He grips my hand abruptly.

“I closed my eyes as soon as I realized—I didn’t mean to do it.”

I glance around. On the floor beneath the desk, a small scorch mark has blackened the wood.

Zee’s powers slipped away from him too. We were both so nervous.

And we have so much more power than we used to, thanks to Balthazar and Matteo’s work. We’re filled up to the brim.

Which makes it much too easy for those powers to overflow. Like Jacob’s telekinetic ability whipping random objects when he gets upset.

I close my eyes for a second, gathering my scattered emotions.

We both caught ourselves in time. We didn’t ruin the job; we didn’t get caught.

“It’ll be okay,” I murmur to Zian. “No one will be looking under there anyway… If they do, they’ll have no idea it happened tonight.”

I sense his nod. My nerves keep rattling—and the urge to shriek is still lodged in the base of my throat, where I can’t necessarily suppress it anymore.

When no footsteps return, I scramble up and reassemble the papers into their previous order. Then we hurry to the window as quickly as we can in our stealth.

We climb out and heft the glass into place. Zian melts the edges he carved out to fuse the pane back together.

If anyone looked particularly closely at the area where the glass meets the frame, it might look strange to them. But not like anything they’d expect a human being could do.

As we descend to the street with none of the exhilaration I enjoyed on the way up, my pulse thuds in a heavy rhythm.

I thought I’d finally come to terms with my powers. I believed I could control how I used them.

Has Balthazar stolen even that peace away from us?