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and…”
Gabriel let Digger ramble, listening with half an ear, while he tried to pinpoint who the hell continued to watch him. He didn’t get the sense that he was in any danger. Just that she—it was definitely a she—was curious. And intent.
“…then I shot the guy in the head, ripped his heart out with my bare hands and rubbed his blood all over my naked body.”
Gabriel’s head shot around. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Digger wore a wry smile. “Huh. Guess you were listening. Amazing how you can hear exactly what I’m saying and still be a million miles away. I never learned to do that. Save me a world of hurt when my mother’s in town.”
Guilt knocked him upside the head but Gabriel didn’t have the time for it. Still, he couldn’t help feeling like an ass. “Yeah, sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”
“No luck this time?”
Beside Quinn, his brother in everything but blood, and Harry, Digger was the only other person who knew Gabriel hunted Dario. “Nothing.”
Digger clapped him on the shoulder once. “Sorry.”
And that was enough of that. Time to get the hell out of here. “You going to ritual tonight?”
Digger nodded. “Of course. You ready?”
“Might as well.”
As he turned for the exit, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. A woman alone, sitting on the risers behind the band. She was far enough away that he had trouble making out more than long dark hair and a small frame in the low light.
There was something about her…something that snagged his attention. Had she been the one staring at him? She wasn’t now. Her attention seemed to be fixed on the stage. Probably one of Caeles’ groupies, a shy one.
Just his luck.
* * *
And there he went. Out the door with another guy.
A really pretty guy, Shea thought. Maybe the grigorio was gay.
Which would be too freaking bad because the guy was hot.
Still, that didn’t explain why the voices wanted her to follow him. Their urgent buzzing as he disappeared left her with no doubt that she should go after him.
And yes, she knew how truly weird that would sound to anyone but… Well, probably to everyone else.
When the door closed behind their supposed savior, she returned her attention to the stage, where the band was playing a funky version of Suicidal Tendencies’ “Institutionalized.”
And, wow, how fitting was that? If she were an eteri , she’d probably be in a mental institution right now, eating vanilla pudding and weaving baskets.
She’d been almost eight before she’d realized the constant drone that’d always been present in her head were voices, voices she couldn’t understand. She’d lived with them for so long, she’d figured everyone had them. But the horrified look on her mom’s face when she’d finally grown old enough to explain had made it clear not everyone heard voices.
She’d tried to talk about it with her mom a few times but each time her mom had gotten tears in her eyes. What little girl wanted to make her mom cry? So for several years, she hadn’t asked.
Then, shortly after the hiker incident, she’d asked again.
“So, Mom. Are we ever gonna talk about these voices in my head? Or are they just something else you’re not going to tell me about?”
Jesus, she’d been such a smart ass, so righteously indignant. Such a jerk.
“Everything we’ve done has been in your best interest, Shea. Everything we do is for your protection. The voices…they’re your curse to bear, Shea. Great Goddess protect you, but I wish they weren’t.”
And that was all she’d said.
Thanks for that, Mom.
At least her mom had taught her how to set up the mental wall to dim the voices when they began to grow in intensity as she’d gotten older.
“Hey, Shea. You okay? You look a little pale.”
Dilby stood in front of her, holding Leo’s hand. The kid looked content but tired.
Damn, she’d zoned out for a few minutes. Dangerous. “I’m fine. Ready to hit the road, bud?”
Leo darted a quick