She tugged up her sleeve, revealing the blue bracelet.
“Ryker gave me this. He said…” She swallowed, remembering the coldness in his voice on that day in the small bungalow. “He said there’s a tracker in this. Could you… Is it possible to flip it around? Find him through that?”
She didn’t know much about technology, but that seemed like something that should theoretically be possible.
Nikhail canted his head and glanced at Indira. “What do you think?”
The other woman drew her bottom lip through her teeth. “Can I see it?”
“Indira’s a witch, but she’s also a technical genius. If someone can make this happen, it’s her,” Nikhail explained.
“Okay.” Brynleigh extended her wrist, and Indira stepped forward.
Her touch was gentle but firm as she twisted the bracelet around Brynleigh’s wrist, studying it. “It’s enchanted, but I think I’ll be able to do it.”
“Great,” Nikhail said. “What do you need?”
Every single minutewithout Ryker felt like hours.
Even though only fifteen minutes had gone by since they left the warehouse, it seemed like an eternity had passed. Indira required a computer, so Brynleigh shadowed them back to Ryker’s apartment.
She refused to return to the safe house lest Jelisette was there, and she could only shadow to locations where she’d previously been.
Brynleigh’s heart hurt, and her body, mind, and soul ached. If someone had told her a few months ago she’d be desperate for Ryker’s presence, she would’ve called them a liar.
Now, all she wanted was to look him in the eyes and know he was okay.
When they first arrived at the apartment, Indira had worked on her magic on the bracelet and released the magical lock. The bracelet fell away, and the witch took it to the computer to get to work.
Ryker’s computer was password protected, but Indira bypassed it with a blue ribbon of magic and a few murmured spells.
A handy skill.
Brynleigh grabbed a few bags of blood from the fridge and downed them before chewing on her fingernails. Being here without Ryker and Marlowe didn’t feel right.
Thank Isvana, Nikhail had contacted Atlas, who confirmed Marlowe had arrived at his house, leash dragging on the ground behind him.
That problem aside, nothing else was going well tonight.
The TV was on, and reporters on the nightly news were talking about the Reunion—or, more specifically, the lack thereof. The live stream had never started, and they speculated that it was because of technical issues.
Brynleigh and Nikhail watched the report in grim silence for a few minutes before the air fae’s phone rang. He went into the hallway, where the faint, tense streams of his voice filtered through the crack in the door.
Brynleigh turned the sound off on the TV.
The steady clicking of keys filled the apartment as Indira typed away on the laptop. She cursed occasionally, but every time Brynleigh glanced over, the witch was hard at work.
So, Brynleigh resorted to what she always seemed to do in this apartment when she was nervous: she paced.
She’d never been good at waiting, even before her Making. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and she wished there was something for her to do. Being patient on a good day was hard, but it felt nearly impossible right now.
The door swung open.
Nikhail returned, scrubbing a hand over his face. His skin was paler than before, and when his gaze met Brynleigh’s, her knees buckled.
She grabbed the back of the couch, and blood drained from her face.
“Is Ryker… is he…”