Steal the Light (Thieves #1)(50)

“Normally I would, but I find I have different appetites tonight.” He looked directly at me. “I’m afraid nothing will satisfy me but you, my dear.”

I was revolted at the suggestion and couldn’t hide my distaste. He laughed at the thought.

“Nothing like that, dearie.” He walked dangerously close to the edge of the circle. “I have something different in mind.”

He held his hand out, and I found myself in Hell.





Chapter Fourteen





In an instant, I was younger and older, the story of my life playing out in flashes of time. Hell, I discovered, wasn’t fire and brimstone. Hell was a personal journey.




I run in the door to our house in Corpus Christi. I am six years old and so excited. I just made a new friend. Her name is Holly, and her dad runs a marina. He has a boat and everything. I run into the house giddy with excitement, bursting to tell my mother about what happened at school. She is my everything and nothing is really real until Momma knows about it. I love my dad, too, but it is in a vague, ill-defined way. I love my father because I’m supposed to. He’s gone a lot, and I’m not allowed in his office where he spends the bulk of his time when he’s home. So I want to see Momma. I run in and stop because Daddy is home, and he’s yelling.

“For chrissake, woman, what do ya mean? What the hell are ya trying to say?”

I stop at the sound. My father rarely raises his voice. I listen closely, and Momma sounds so hard and cold.

“My plane leaves at 6:00, so I’ll make this short and sweet. I’m leaving. I hate this life. I hate these creatures you deal with. I hate having to worry about what happens to you. I’ve been having an affair with our accountant, and we’re leaving tonight.”

“Then good riddance to ya,” my father says. “But don’t think I’ll be sending you a cent. I’ll send money for the girl, but I better not find out yer spending a cent of it on yerself.”

My mother laughs, but it is not the sound I am used to. “Don’t bother, Harry. I’m so done with the mommy thing. That child clings and clings. It makes me sick. Let’s see how you handle it.”

I feel something inside me break. It is a real, physical pain.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with her?” Daddy asks.

I fall down on the linoleum floor when I realize no one wants me.

Then I’m standing in a colder place. I shiver because it’s freezing here. I wish I had a sweater, but it’s late spring and the days are starting to get hot. I didn’t think I would be here. I thought I would be watching a little television and then studying for a biology test after dinner. I didn’t think I would stand here in front of this small, utilitarian window with its gray curtain.

It isn’t him. I would know if he was dead. I would know the second he was gone. I wouldn’t just sit in front of the f*cking television while he bled out and died on the street. He’s the other half of me. I wouldn’t have sat there and complained that he was taking too long. I would have known.

“Are you ready, miss?” an attendant in blue scrubs asks.

My heart beats erratically, and I can barely breathe. Am I ready?

Then I’m running. I have the package. It’s some old book, a grimoire, I think. I don’t ask questions. I need the work too much. I need the work because I need to forget that he’s gone. The client is a witch, so it’s probably full of spells. It’s just me and Morty tonight. I like him. He’s not like the other contractors my father works with. He’s kind and has grandchildren. He also turns into an old gray wolf. He likes being a wolf, and he’s running behind me. We pass the gates of the house and hit the woods. The car is parked half a mile away, but it’s a beautiful night, and I laugh as the wolf runs circles around me and then takes off.

He runs so much faster than me, but I pick up the pace. I hear the snap of metal, but it doesn’t register that anything has gone wrong until I hear that howl.

I am standing beside Morty. He’s in human form, his skin leathery and wrinkled and covered in blood. The trap is a shark’s mouth with a firm hold on its prey.

“Go,” he whispers.

I try to pull the trap off, but in the distance, I hear the sound of dogs. The alarm must have been silent.

“Go. Too much silver. Too old,” he says.

I will try to save him.

I will fail.

The curtain opens, and I see the body.

You loved butterscotch pie, but I was always too tired to make one. It was too much trouble to make a damn pie. If you’re just not on that f*cking table…if it’s someone else and you’re at home wondering where the hell I am, then I promise to make a pie every day for the rest of my life…

He starts to pull the sheet back, and I realize I am not ready.

I watch them take Daniel from me. They pull him right out of our bed. They lock him in chains that leave welts wherever they touch and nothing I do can change it. I fight and plead and cry and they say nothing. Their will is implacable.

It is only when Daniel is gone that the last one turns his silver eyes on me.

“Pity,” he says. “You are quite lovely but rules are rules.”

I don’t know what he means.

“There’s no place in my life for a child,” my father says.