Shattered Souls by Delilah Devlin Page A

strategized beyond finding shelter.
    Cait slid down the door, letting the wind ravage outside unchecked. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the ratty, red flannel bag. For a long moment, she stared. Then, drawing her courage around her like a cloak, she crushed it in her fist.
    It was just fabric, filled with desiccated flowers soaked in dragon tree oil. Not a precious gift her mother had given her. She had to try something.
    Setting her face in harsh lines, she aimed a glare their way. “Either one of you have a lighter?”

Chapter Nine
     
    The spell bag burst into flames the moment the caretaker’s lighter touched the fabric, singeing Cait’s fingers before she had a chance to drop it to the concrete floor. With a hiss and a puff of black smoke, the bag reduced to ashes in seconds.
    She stuck her burned fingertips in her mouth and stared at the little ashy mound, waiting for something to happen. She’d half expected the ground to shudder and a horrendous howling to begin the moment it burned. However, the wind continued buffeting the door behind her and rattling the glass in the small windows just as it had before, nothing more.
    Disappointed, she slumped. “Well, hell. What the fuck do we do now?” Cait hadn’t had a game plan. Burn the bag, then what? She’d hoped the same instinct that had her running for shelter inside a crypt and then reaching into her pocket for the mojo bag would somehow clue her in to the next step.
    Jason lowered his cell phone. “No signal. Figure that. Won’t even power up, and I know damn well it was fully charged.”
    Cait didn’t bother sliding hers out. Magic had a way of tampering with technology. Not something she’d ever understood. But she accepted they were truly stranded because whatever it was outside the crypt wanted it that way.
    “Cait, what’s going on out there?” Jason asked, crouching beneath a window to look outside. “How is any of this possible?”
    “I’m not sure,” she said, teeth chattering, more from fear than the dropping temperature. “I think that inscription you read woke something. Or maybe it was waiting for us. I don’t know.”
    The caretaker shook his head, pulling his knees against his chest as he rocked. “Not sure what I saw. Angels comin’ to life—that can’t be real. Bad storm comin’. That’s all.”
    Cait gave him a baleful stare. Was he in denial, too freaked out to accept what he’d seen?
    Jason sank to his knees. “So what’s this about Henry’s killer not being human?”
    Cait heard the faint whispers of the ghosts who’d been her life’s soundtrack. They were no longer joined in a single chant but whispered frantically, unintelligible voices overlapping, no message for her to glean.
    “Cait!” Jason gave her a blistering stare.
    She jerked back to him. “Sorry, it’s so noisy. Hard to think. Henry was murdered. But his body wasn’t in the room. I found it inside his dresser mirror. Sounds nuts, right? When forensics got the dresser back to the lab, it blew up along with his body. If you don’t believe me, ask Sam.”
    Jason studied her expression. “And what was with that mojo bag you just torched?”
    “You know what it was?”
    He shrugged. “I know lots of things, Cait. Tell me about it.”
    “My mother made the bag for me. To quiet the voices of wraiths. That’s what I thought was out there.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I thought if I burned it, I’d hear them.”
    “And that would help us how?”
    “Not sure.” She sighed, frustrated. “I was going with my gut. Thought maybe if I heard them, I’d know when it would be safe to leave.” She grimaced. “It’s kind of anticlimactic. Nothing happened.”
    “Maybe you’re not listening hard enough.”
    The door rattled against her back. Cool air seeped around the seams. She stared, wondering whether Jason was only humoring her. Or if maybe he knew more than he said. What did she know about the man anyway? Sure they’d