Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Shay?” Matt asked again. His voice had a husky flirting note to it, and I knew that he was their leader again. He was the same guy who had thrown me against the locker two weeks ago. He’d always pushed too far, edging too close to Gus and me, rebelling against Kellan’s rule.
I ignored him and walked away. He didn’t call after me, and no one said a word. They parted for me, and I kept walking. When I got to the art room, Mrs. Ullen perked up in surprise. “Shay! Are you here to paint?”
“Where can I find the guy who painted those canvases of Kellan?”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. What paintings are those? I don’t seem to recall any of your brother.”
“They were here two weeks ago. Someone painted them of Kellan, but he looked like a demon. I got upset. You said you’d take them down… Any of this sound familiar?”
“I’m so sorry, dear. I’m drawing a blank. I’ve only kept your paintings in the back.”
“They weren’t in the back. You hung them up on the wall. Right there!”
She looked where I pointed, but still shook her head with a hand now resting on her nape, looking nervous. “Shay, honey, I never hung any paintings up unless they were yours or a student’s. I only hang student paintings up in the studio. Yours either stay in the back or go in the studio downtown. That was our agreement. Are you feeling okay, dear?”
I threw my hands up in frustration. “They were there. Where did they go? How did you meet that guy?”
She kept shaking her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”
“I need to check the back room.”
Hesitant, she handed over the keys, but after I opened the door and looked through all the paintings, I didn’t find the ones I wanted. They were gone, as if they didn’t exist. How could all of this have happened? Did Kellan know about the paintings, too? Did he wipe her memory?
Then I cursed and headed back to my car. Of course, Kellan knew. He’d known the whole time that I had been painting. He knew what I had painted. He knew the painter, whomever he was. Kellan cleaned up everything and what perfect timing. The messengers would get there and find nothing. There weren’t even any traces or lingering trails where magic usually remained after a spell had been done. I’d felt them before, but somehow Kellan had obliterated them, too.
How?
He’d have to have phenomenal powers to do that. Vespar and Giuseppa could only have done one or two memory wipes, but they still left traces behind.
I got in my car, ready to drive home and demand answers when I stopped. Two weeks ago, I quaked in fear of Kellan, too. There’d always been something more between us, like he was my protector, but I had still known how dangerous he was. Now I was ready to ask him anything, ready to tell him anything.
“He’s good, isn’t he? He’s the best I’ve known.”
I jerked my head up and around. The painter sat in my backseat, at ease, dressed in a white polo and khaki shorts. His hair looked shorter, and his eyes were so blue, so bright, they seemed to look through me. I felt like they, alone, were trying to give me a message that I couldn’t receive.
“Did you take your paintings, or did he?”
He flashed a smile. His teeth were perfectly white, blinding. “I did.” Then he laughed softly. “You thought he did, didn’t you? I will admit that I only took them because I knew eventually he would. Then he’d interrogate your teacher and find out more than I would want him to know.”
“Like what?” My lips were so dry.
“How long I’ve been here. How long I’ve known what he’s doing. Your brother knew it was only a matter of time before I stepped forward. He knew it was coming. You are, after all, part of me, too.”
“Part of you? What do you mean?”
“You come from a messenger, Shay. I know he already told you. Did he tell you which one?”
“Why would it matter? Aren’t they the same?”
“A demon is a demon. The same as messengers—I can see why you’d assume, but messengers are special. They have special gifts that run through their blood. Your father is important.”
“Is?” My father was alive? I kept forgetting about the parentage…about the parents I never saw at home. “Do I share the same mother as the rest?”
“The rest of your siblings?”
I nodded.
He frowned for a second and then nodded. “You have the same mother… It’s the only reason why you were born to them.”
I could sense he wasn’t saying everything. He chose his words carefully, too carefully. I frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?”