Darker Days (The Darker Agency #1)(16)

“Suggestions?”

“On where to start.”

“It shouldn’t be hard to track them. They’ll need to feed often.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Wrath does.”

“Oh…” I’d kind of walked right into that one.

“Any ideas about what to do when we find them? One better, what to do with them when we find them? We can’t put them back in the box one by one, right? It has to be a package deal? Not that we even have the box…”

“We can, actually.”

“Can?”

“They can be put individually back into the box. It won’t lock without all seven, but we can store them inside.”

“Well, score! Now we just need to find the box.”

“That will prove harder than tracking the Sins.”

“What’s it look like?”

“How should I know?” he said with a bit of a bite.

“Um, because you were inside it?”

“Please explain to me how being inside the box would tell me what the outside looked like.”

“You’re on the snarky side, you know that?”

“I don’t know what that means, but I get the feeling it’s an insult,” he said. I could tell he was trying hard not to smile, which made him look even more amazing.

I shrugged. “Actually, it depends. Me? I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Definitely an insult, then,” he muttered, turning away.

I could’ve kept it going. Pushing his buttons could easily become my new favorite pastime, but I had bigger fish to flay. Sinful, demon fish. “What about starting with the witch? I’m better at digging this stuff up than Mom. I usually take the missing person cases. Got a natural knack for it, I guess. Maybe we should start our own search. Are you sure it has to be someone from the same bloodline? I know a few pretty badass witches. I bet I could find—”

He shook his head, jaw tight. “It has to be the same bloodline.”

“What happens if the family died off and there’s no one left?”

“The family didn’t die off.”

“How do you know?”

His tone got sharper and he took an almost menacing step forward. “I just know.”

“You can’t possibly—”

With a growl, his fist shot out, crashing into the locker behind me. I froze. The sound echoed through the empty hall and bounced off the walls like a rogue ping-pong ball. For a second, I didn’t dare breathe. Lukas’ face contorted in anger, his hand splayed over the shiny new dent. His breathing was shallow.

Neither of us said a word. The only sound I heard was the subtle whoosh the air made as it passed in and out of his nose. His jaw was tense and shoulders taut, and in that moment, he looked truly frightening. More like a demon than an actual boy. And deep down, a sick part of me liked it.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, hand slipping from the door. He took several steps back and closed his eyes. “The witch is a sore spot. Talking about her makes me angry.”

Angry.

OhMyGod.

Idiot. It hadn’t occurred to me until now. What the heck was wrong with me? How had I not seen it? “It wasn’t random,” I said, horrified.

He didn’t respond. Only turned and started down the hall.

“The witch who fused you with Wrath—that Meredith Wells chick… You knew her.”





Chapter Seven




I caught up to him as he reached the main door. “Wait!”

He stopped but didn’t turn around. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

“That’s fine,” I said, reaching for his hand. “We don’t have to—”

He jerked away and whirled to face me, eyes radiating a mixture of anger and surprise. “What are you doing?”

I stared down at my hand, horrified. What was I doing? “I—”

“I’m dangerous, Jessie. Don’t ever forget that.” Without waiting for me to respond, he crashed through the doors and stalked down the front steps in a blur.

I hurried after him.

“I don’t think so,” I called, almost tripping on my open shoelace. He could be dangerous, I didn’t doubt that, but I also believed he had a genuinely good soul despite the thing living inside him. It wasn’t fair to pass judgment based on something that had been done to him. He was right. Wrath lived inside him, but Lukas had free will. Each moment he chose to fight it. I would bet my iPod and a year’s supply of chocolate that he would never intentionally harm someone.

“You’d be wrong,” he snapped.

“Nope,” I said, resolved. “I’m wrong about a lot of things, but I’m an awesome people reader. And you, pal, are good people.”

For a second, I thought he might hit me. His eyes locked on mine, and I could have sworn there was a spark of red in them—but it was over as fast as it started, and I couldn’t be sure.

He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Like magic, the tension seemed to drain away, leaving him a bit pale and tired looking. “It’s a struggle to control it. Again, I apologize for the outburst.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the annoying one, remember?”