Amelia Atwater-Rhodes - Promises to Keep

Jay had meant the patient, yes, but now— “You don’t really think they’d hurt her, do you?”

“ What? No, I … Wait. Jay. I remember you now,” he said, thinking, Caryn was right. He is always this way . “One of my uncles had a bad run-in with a shapeshifter psychopath a long time ago, and now most of my family is of the opinion that not-human equals bad. When I first told them I was in SingleEarth and marrying a witch, a lot of them talked big and bad. Some of the worst of that still goes through my mind when I’m worried, but I would never bring her anywhere I thought she would be in danger.”

“Physical danger isn’t the only kind,” Jay pointed out.

“Right. But, see, this holiday is my mother’s big effort to show her support before the wedding. If we don’t go, we might as well write off my whole family, and I’m not willing to do that as long as they’re halfway trying. I already told my mom flat out that if anyone gets nasty with Caryn, we’re leaving.”

Jay knew he was a little late to take on the role of big brother. Time to change the subject.

“So, how is the patient?” he asked.

Jeremy’s frustration with his parents blended seamlessly with his frustration with this patient. “Physically, we can’t find anything wrong with her. Even magically, Caryn says she is stable now. I was about to hit the library, to see if I can identify her breed or where she might have come from. Want to help?”

“No, thanks,” Jay said automatically. He could read just fine, but given a choice, he preferred not to. Books were just words to him, flat and static and frustratingly slow to reveal themselves.

“Okay. I’ll let you know if I learn anything,” Jeremy said. “Mer—um, have a good day.”

“Thanks. Merry Christmas,” Jay answered, since Jeremy apparently celebrated that holiday. Most of Jay’s kind didn’t, though some had picked up some neo-pagan leanings and had started claiming holidays celebrated by human witches in the last few decades.

Once Jeremy had left, taking his anxiety and wedding obsessions with him, it was easier for Jay to focus on the other mind in the room. If the problem wasn’t medical or magical, then it was probably psychological. That meant Jay was better equipped to deal with it than the doctors. It was silly that they hadn’t asked him yet.

Skin-to-skin contact made mental contact stronger. Jay reached out to take her hand.

Yes, the shapeshifter slept, but not in any normal or healthy way. In sleep, people’s minds still worked. Even when they didn’t dream—even if they were medically brain-dead—they let off sparks from unformed thoughts and neurological impulses. A telepath might hear nothing unless the person were dreaming, but Jay could pick up on the basic static that was life .

This woman’s mind was as silent as a corpse’s. Either there was absolutely nothing happening in her mind, in which case her body systems should have stopped, or else something very powerful was keeping Jay out.

Normally, he would have taken that as a challenge to which he must rise, but this time he hesitated. Back in the woods, this had gone badly, and he couldn’t help but remember the presence that had stalked him in his dreams. Did he want to seek this woman’s mind?

“JAY, QUIT IT.”

The sharp words came from a familiar voice and mind just as Jay had steeled himself to reach for the shapeshifter’s hidden psyche.

He drew back carefully from the shapeshifter before standing with a long stretch of his spine and saying, “Hi, Vir. What are you doing here?”

Vireo didn’t bother to answer the question, or to continue addressing Jay in any way. SingleEarth had called him to check on their patient, since he was a practiced mental healer. He didn’t bother to say anything out loud, because he knew that as soon as Jay asked the question, the answers came to mind. Speaking was a waste of time.

After all, they were brothers.

“Careful,” Jay said. “There was another power in her when I first found her. I’m not sure if it was hers, or someone else’s, but it threw me out. Hard.”

Jay spoke out loud because Vireo, despite having worked most of his life to focus his empathic abilities, wasn’t always great at picking up all the details.

Vireo nodded and said, “Thanks,” though he had already focused his attention on his patient and was just waiting for Jay to go away and stop being a distraction.

As Jay turned to leave, he heard Vireo’s mental suggestion: You might want to change your clothes, too .

Oh, right . He was still wearing wrinkled, water-stained tuxedo pants and a dress shirt that had seen better days, and he had never bothered to put his shoes back on after his interrupted nap.

Jay kept a cache of clothes in his car for whenever he ended up somewhere unexpected—which was most of the time. Unless he was hunting, Jay tried not to plan anything more complicated than naps and breakfast, which meant he didn’t maintain an apartment. Even his car was registered in his father’s name. He was willing to rise to the occasion when he needed to do his job, but he refused to join the stable grind of so-called respectable life.

While he was retrieving his duffel bag from his car, he noticed his dead cell phone on the passenger seat. He brought it with him back to his room and plugged it in before he changed.

Once he was comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt under a heavy sweatshirt he wasn’t entirely sure was his, he turned on his phone and dialed into his voice mail.

The first two messages were from Nikolas.

“Marguerite told me she saw you at Kendra’s but that she lost track of you. I wanted to make sure you made it home all right.”

The second message still sounded calm, but the words suggested otherwise. “Jay, I know you well enough to guess that you are likely to forget about your phone, but do me a favor and confirm you’re alive before I need to tell your cousin that you went missing from an event I invited you to.”

The third message was from Sarah herself. “Hi, Jay. This is Sarah. Nikolas just told me you showed up at Kendra’s bash and apparently left with someone called … Xeke? Nikolas assures me this Xeke is as trustworthy as a vamp can be, but you know I want to hear your voice. Call me.”

Sarah had been a Vida witch, which meant she was a vampire hunter born and bred. Jay had never caught the whole story of how she had become a vampire, but it was obvious that her change hadn’t eliminated her natural distrust of most other vampires.

Jay called and left a message with a bloodbond, who informed him that it was just past noon and that Sarah—like any vampire changed barely two months before—was asleep.

Tag, Sarah. You’re it .

With that responsibility attended to, the mystery of the woods needled him like a porcupine quill. His failure to remember where he had found the shapeshifter wasn’t just a matter of his being absentminded. It suggested magic, which would best be investigated by a witch.

Of course, Jay was a witch, but for this he needed someone with a specific skill set.

As Jay crept back into the patient’s room, wishing he didn’t need to ask for his brother’s help, Vireo swore. His attempts weren’t working. Her mind was just too far away, or maybe too well shielded.

Aware that Vireo had a temper, Jay approached with some caution before saying, “Are you sure I can’t help?”

Vireo wanted to say no. He was sure his brother could reach the woman, but Jay had no training as a mental healer. It was kind of like sending a random person with a bullhorn to keep someone from jumping off a roof. Sure, they would be loud enough, but they were just as likely to push the person off the roof as counsel them to safety.