Call Down the Hawk (Dreamer, #1)(112)

He peered around at the driveway as if it troubled him. His hand unconsciously rubbed his chest. Finally, he asked, “Are you okay to get in yourself?”

“Yeah, bruv,” she said with a smile. “I left my coffee in your attic. I forgot it.”

“I’ll get it,” he said.

If it was anyone else, she thought she might have gone in for a kiss. But something about the way his face had changed when he realized she was a dream had sort of cut the legs out from beneath her game. He’d known what she was, and it hadn’t surprised him. It had disappointed him. She had been Jordan Hennessy to him and now she was something else. Less. She would feel something about it later. Right now everything just felt weird. So she just put out her knuckles for a fist bump. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Oh,” he said, and she didn’t know what that meant, either. But he bumped knuckles. He got in the car and sat there. He was still sitting there when she got to the door.

She let herself in.

Inside, the feeling was stranger. The downstairs lights weren’t turned on, which wasn’t unusual at this time of night if Hennessy wasn’t here—the other girls would be flung in other wings of the house. But she couldn’t find the light switches right away.

She didn’t know why she was so disoriented. Her dreaminess? Was that it? She ran her fingers along the wall for the switches.

There was music playing from farther in the house. The kitchen, or the living area. It thudded. Whoever it was had it cranked up.

She kept feeling for the switches.

An electric shock made her jerk her fingers away.

No.

Not a shock.

She thought about what she had felt a little harder. Not pain. Not electricity. Just the strange ping that comes when you feel dampness unexpectedly.

Dampness?

Jordan pulled her fingers close to her in the dark. The dreaminess broke through: trees, wings, fire, blackness. Was there something dark on her fingers?

No, she was confused.

The music was so loud. Why was the music so loud?

She ran her fingers across the wall as she headed down the hall and then stumbled. Someone had left their bag in the middle of the floor. It was heavy, warm.

It reached up and held her leg.

Jordan sucked in a breath of air, and then the bag resolved into not a bag, but Trinity.

She was twisted in the hall, a dark splatter the shape of one of Declan’s abstract paintings up her front. She released Jordan’s leg and instead put one finger against her lips. Shhhh. Her hand slipped limply to the ground beside her.

Jordan’s heart sped.

Now she looked behind her and saw that the dampness on the wall was another black abstract shape that smeared down to where Trinity lay.

Jordan crouched beside Trinity, but she was gone.

Just like that, she was gone.

Keep it together, Jordan.

She crept farther down the hall and into the great room. Although the lights weren’t on in here, either, it was a little easier to see because the large windows let in the ambient light from outside. The enormous easel that had held Madame X was knocked over, legs akimbo like a downed giraffe. The music was louder in here, thumping bass going strong.

Oh God, oh God.

Here was Brooklyn. Fallen back over the sofa, bullet hole dark between her eyes and another in her throat.

Sickness and dreaminess washed over Jordan. She swayed, her hands reaching for balance and finding nothing.

Get

It

Together

She leaned against the couch until she felt steadier, and then she walked through the great room to the hall, past a study, and through the big, empty foyer.

She nearly walked past the door to the back staircase up to the bedrooms, but then she saw that the doorknob had been completely ripped out of it. Softly pushing the door open, she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Madox. It had to be Madox because she had natural hair, but her face was missing.

Jordan had to crouch then, stuffing her knuckles against her teeth to gasp silently against them, biting down until the pain focused her. She could tell she was getting light-headed, hyperventilating.

She made herself think about how Trinity had still been alive, and so maybe June still was, too. She made herself stand up. She made herself head down the hallway to the music, moving ever more cautiously.

It was coming from the kitchen, where lights were blazing. The entire house was fitted with a sound system and it could be adjusted by room. The kitchen had been adjusted to max.

So Jordan only barely heard June shout, “Get down!”

She rolled without question as a gunshot rang out. She just had time to glimpse an unfamiliar man as she scrambled behind the kitchen island.

The music blared. Every possible light was on; the shadows were confusing and didn’t give away if someone was coming around the island.

Jordan shuffled to the end of the island—no point being quiet, nothing was audible over the railing music—and risked a peek.

A gun blast.

Nowhere near, went wide.

Jordan risked another look over the top. A man was reloading right next to her. She hurled herself over the counter, sliding down on top of him. She could see June fighting with another attacker.

She was in over her head. The man didn’t need the gun to be a good fighter. He slickly flipped her onto her back and didn’t even flinch when she kicked him in the nuts.