Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(74)
“Maybe she’ll turn up,” Hooper said, ignorant to the details about Raven’s disappearance. He didn’t know Gem’s true profession outside of language translation. “Do you want to dance?”
Gem sighed. “I’m not in the mood. Maybe we can just sit here and talk.”
Hooper’s light dimmed. He was undoubtedly annoyed that Gem wasn’t showering him with her usual adoration. “Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” he asked. “Maybe fix you a love spell? You like those.”
“I think we’re good on drinks,” Niko cut in. “Gem, would you lead me to the facilities while Shepherd and Hooper catch up?”
“Oh, sure. Be right back.”
“Hey, can I have a kiss?” Hooper asked.
Niko stood up and branched away from the table. Gem finally joined his side and hooked her arm in his. While they walked through the crowd, she rested her head against his arm.
“There’s a table on your right,” she said, her voice sullen. “I thought coming here would be good for us. Hooper always cheers me up, but I just don’t feel like my usual self.”
“You’re missing your friend. We all are. Raven isn’t the most social creature, but I’ve noticed how you two bonded. She likes you.”
“Do you think we’ll ever find her?”
“I don’t know, Gem. Only the fates decide.”
She nuzzled against his arm and then tilted her head upward. “I liked that story you told me once. About the bird caught in a thunderstorm.”
He followed her lead, moving left. “What brought that up?”
“I think about it sometimes when I’m feeling blue. It always makes me smile. Will you tell it to me again sometime?”
The energy around him faded away to nothing, all except for the brilliant color next to him that radiated hues of deep amethyst and silver. Gem was about eight inches shorter than him, but with her tall shoes, she reached his shoulder.
He dipped his head down and caught the sweet scent of her shampoo. “As you wish.”
Chapter 22
Christian parked his beat-up Ducati Scrambler in front of the double-wide mobile home. He had no aversion to riding in winter—nothing like a little frosty air on his face. Because of the increased temperatures, the last wave of snow had melted off the streets, making it easier to steer. There were also fewer people out at night. He loved the ride. Wind in his hair, moonlight frosting the treetops and glazing the roads, rabbits scurrying for cover at the sound of his engine. Occasionally in the summer, he’d go off-road, following the trails he’d made on previous excursions. His Vampire eyes soaked in the night, seeing everything in detail without the pain that sunlight brought, which hindered his enjoyment of the outdoors.
He hiked up the steps of the porch, making a racket as he kicked the wood to knock the sludge off his boots.
The door jerked open, and a man whose picture was next to the word biker in the dictionary stared daggers at him. “Why don’t you wake up the dead while you’re at it?” he said in a gritty voice that rivaled any motorbike.
A month ago, Christian had forcibly moved Raven’s father to a safe place. This wasn’t as tiny as Crush’s trailer; no sense in insulting the man with shabby accommodations. As long as Raven was missing, her father’s life was in potential danger. If she wasn’t cooperating, Fletcher might use her father as motivation. Christian couldn’t be certain if her Creator knew about her father, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Aside from that, Crush still had his memory intact, and it would have only been a matter of time before he realized his baby girl was missing.
Christian shouldered past him into the warm trailer.
“This place is too fucking big,” Crush complained as he kicked the door shut.
“I’m afraid they were all out of mud huts.”
“Keep it up, peckerhead.” Crush walked with a mean strut through the living room, in which the only furnishings were his tacky brown recliner and a TV.
Christian followed him to the kitchen just ahead and sat on a stool by the island while Crush grabbed two bottles of orange soda from the fridge. “I could bring over the rest of your furniture,” he offered.
Crush mumbled a few profanities as he popped the lid off one bottle and handed Christian the other.
It had taken Christian every ounce of willpower not to hog-tie the man and drag him to his temporary residence. When he’d threatened to charm the man, Crush put on a pair of dark shades and told him to fuck off. Undeterred, Christian hefted his favorite chair and threw it into the back of Crush’s truck, right along with his mattress. After a long negotiation and a lot of swearing, they finally struck an agreement.
Crush stood across from him. “I’m only staying here for Raven. It’s been a month. You better have news.” He gulped down three large swallows, his blue eyes boring a hole into Christian.
“I can’t stay. I just wanted to make sure you were keeping out of trouble. I can’t have you wandering around the city.”
Crush pulled the lining of his pants pocket out. “Would you look at that? I’m all out of fucks to give. I spent years thinking my baby was dead. So finding out she chose another path was all right by me. I’m not about to go through this again. I should be out there looking for her.”