Lost Girl: Hidden Book One by Colleen Vanderlinden Page B

ripped, like a wild animal, some kind of vicious predator. Slowly but surely drove him insane, until there was nothing left, until he lost the will and ability to live. His shrieks died as he did, and he fell to the ground, twitching as the life left his body.
    My power snapped out. Too much. I closed my eyes. My head was pounding, and I could feel blood pouring from my nose. I knelt down and retched. I couldn’t move. There wasn’t an ounce of strength left in me, and all I could do was look over at Kayla’s father’s body.
    Murderer.
    I was a murderer.
    I drifted out of consciousness, only coming to when I heard footsteps crunching in the dry grass behind me. Felt worry, and a warm hand on my back. The imps were back, crouching in front of me.
    “Oh my God,” Brennan said behind me.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked weakly, my voice muffled by the tall grass. I didn’t have the strength to pick my head up.
    “I felt you. You were pulling enough power to level a small city. Jesus, Molly.” He sat down next to me. “The imps led me the rest of the way.”
    “She was just a baby,” I said, my face still buried in the grass.
    “I know,” he murmured, sadness from him, worry. He was still and steady beside me, and I appreciated the calm.
    “I was too late.” I felt my head spinning. I forced myself up and looked at Brennan. He put an arm around my back, helped me sit up the rest of the way. I closed my eyes, and his arm tightened around me. We sat that way for a while, in silence.
    “You’re in no shape to drive,” he finally said, his voice soft, seemingly aware of how my head pounded. “Let me drive you home.”
    I nodded, and Brennan held a hand out to me and pulled me up. The trip home was a blur, and the last thing I saw was Brennan closing my bedroom door behind him on the way out.
     
    When I woke up, I was somewhere soft. I opened my eyes slightly, then closed them again. It hurt too much to open them. I lay there for a few more minutes. Everything hurt. I took stock. My body ached as if I’d gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali and didn’t have the power to self-heal. My head pounded, and I felt like I had thrown up everything, including a few internal organs.
    I could feel power in my house. More than just me. Brennan’s pulsing energy. Ada’s steady hum. Stone. Ah, crap.
    Nain was there, too.
    I groaned and pulled the covers back over my head. Worked at maintaining my mental shield. It only made the headache worse, but I didn’t need Nain in my mind right now.
    Murderer.
    The thought came, unbidden and definitely unwanted. Me, the real me, the me that was more about saving people than destroying them….that “me” was sickened, depressed, horrified at what I’d done.
    But my demon, the part of me that I was having a really hard time claiming or accepting, was thrilled. Satisfied.
    How did Nain live like this?
    Remembering that he was there, I knew I had to get up. Nain would not leave until he’d made his point. Loudly. I grimaced and tossed the covers back and swung my legs off the side of the bed. I was still in the clothes I’d been wearing the night before, but someone had removed my shoes.
    I got up and made my way to the dresser to grab some clean clothes, then across the hall to the little bathroom.
    The overhead light made my head hurt so much the room spun. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, then opened them. I looked in the mirror. I was pale, even for me. And my eyes were dark, the normal gray more of a gunmetal. I frowned at my reflection. My face was clean. I distinctly remembered bleeding all over myself.
    I slowly washed and got dressed in a pair of jeans and a black top. I brushed my hair and clipped it loosely at the back of my head. Then I went into my office and clicked on the desk lamp. Looked at the bulletin boards.
    I gently removed Kayla’s photo from the “lost” board and tacked it up onto the third board. The one I hated. “I’m sorry,” I