The girl shouted from an upper bedroom. Vaulting the stairs in two strides, Ruby grabbed a chunk of the collapsed ceiling. Her hands burned. She dropped the piece and sucked in apained breath. The rush was instant, the itch under her skin retreating into the corners of her being. Power coursed through her body, warmth but not painful, soothing yet invigorating.
She made quick work of the sunken roof, tossing it to the side and making her way to the child inside. She lifted her easily, ignoring her screams of protest, her pleas to find her mother too.
Her mother was dead. She had just unintentionally consumed her. Dropping the kid into the grass, she fell on her knees and dry-heaved. When the fire trucks arrived, she sprinted away, leaving the screaming child behind.
She spent the next few months wandering around, aimless yet riddled with guilt, searching for something to dull the pain. She found it. Marijuana or herbal cigarettes to feed. Opium to make her forget. She had failed Andy, never once catching a glimpse of the man. Her old home, which she eventually found, had been torn down, turned into a series of apartments. With nothing left, no clues, no home, no will to exist, she lost herself in the drugs.
In her mind, Andy’s face screamed in the flames, cursed her, mocked her. Unable to face it any longer, she retreated to an abandoned church, deciding she was too dangerous, not human enough, to be around others. She found an iron stove in the basement and buried herself within. If she couldn’t feed, she couldn’t become the monster Edward wanted her to be. She would protect the world from herself.
That’s where the TCA eventually found her, curled in the stove, surrounded by ashes, not weakened in physical strength but incomprehensible. She screamed as they pried her from her iron cage, begging them to let her remain.
They took her anyway.
CHAPTER NINE
LUCAS TOLD HER, gently as he could, that it had all been in her head. That there was no way Edward would risk attending such a large event. That all she needed was a new mission, something to distract her. There was a lead he wanted her to follow: a thermy in Kentucky, a few hours east of Denver. She agreed, thinking she would be going alone.
Instead, she found herself in another awkward car ride. The landscape blurred into shades of green and gold under the September sun as she and Jonah alternated between blaring classic rock and exchanging uncomfortable glances.
The file contained a weathered photo of an older man and an address: an antique store in the heart of a small town.
“I love places like this,” Ruby said, grinning as she pulled open the door. A brass bell jingled overhead, announcing their arrival.
Jonah frowned down at her. “We’re here to work,” he muttered, scrunching his nose. The scent of aged wood, musty fabric, and a faint trace of lemon polish hit them all at once, making the air feel thick.
“This place is full of history,” Ruby quieted, as if they had entered a sacred space. The dim lighting cast a warm, golden glow over the worn wooden floors, and dust particles floated in the sunlight streaming through the old windows. She walked slowly, fingers brushing over porcelain trinkets,tarnished silverware, and faded leather-bound books, eyes wide with wonder. “Have a little respect.”
A flash of pink caught her attention. She stooped and pulled a cardboard box from a lower shelf. Malibu Barbie stared back at her from behind the scratched plastic. Her impossibly blonde hair, glowing tan, and garish sky-blue swimsuit stood out against the muted surroundings. The box was covered in a fine layer of dust, its corners torn and peeling, as though it had been passed through countless hands before being abandoned here. Ruby ran her finger along the cardboard, the rough texture sending a pang through her chest. Her heart clenched so fiercely it took her breath away. She fought to keep her knees steady, to keep her tears at bay.
“You have one of those growing up?” Jonah teased from somewhere behind her.
“Something like that,” she managed to choke out, her throat tight, each word scraping against the lump lodged there.
Jonah’s expression shifted, concern flashing in his eyes before he forced his features to fall slack. He moved quickly to her side, placing his hand on her shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “Hey,” he scowled, spinning her around to face him. “You alright?”
She crouched to return the doll to its place on the cabinet. “Yeah, just… caught me off guard.”
When she stood, Jonah hesitated before holding his arms out wide.
She raised an eyebrow and shook her head.
He stepped closer.
“What are you doing?” she asked, backing up and bumping into the shelf behind her.
Another step. His arms remained in the air. “Comforting you.”
“No, thank you.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
Ruby grimaced. “It’s already weird.”
“My mom would never forgive me if I let a girl cry without trying to comfort her.”
She leaped forward, sticking her finger into his chest. “I did not cry. I don’t cry, period.”
“It seemed like you were about to. Last chance. Want a hug from your nemesis?” He wiggled his fingers, and it disgusted her how tempted she was.
