Shattered Souls by Delilah Devlin Page B

been partners awhile, but they rarely talked about things unrelated to the cases they worked. Come to think about it, it was just a little weird, the things he let slide. Who dragged their partner out of bed when they were too hung over? Other than Sam—who’d have read her the riot act? Jason, on the other hand, never seemed to judge. Why did he put up with her crap?
    Jason pulled off his mud-coated shoe and dropped it beside him, his face screwing up in disgust. “You haven’t heard wraiths for years, right? Maybe the magic wasn’t all in that bag, but something you did.”
    Cait froze. What? Something didn’t feel right about what he’d said. He displayed no surprise, no hesitation when she’d talked about the mojo bag and what it did. How long had he known about the frightful voices she used to hear? She stared, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Now wasn’t the time for that conversation. “I don’t have the kind of skill needed to make a spell like that work. Wraiths scared the shit out of me when I was a kid. When my mother gave me an out, I took it.”
    His face lifted. “Maybe you’re still afraid to hear them. Did she cast the spell? Or did you?”
    She and her mother had chanted together. Her breath stilled. A chill rippled down her spine. They’d both put their own desires into the spell as her mother filled the bag with flowers.
    “Of course I’m still afraid,” she said more to herself than to answer his question. “A wraith killed Henry. Picked him up like he weighed nothing and dragged him through a fucking mirror.”
    “But you had the sense to run when things went south out there,” he said, pointing his chin toward the door still buffeting her back. “You’re not a kid anymore. And you have something of your mother’s talent, don’t you?”
    All this time he’d hidden things from her. Someone from that world had talked to him. But who? Celeste and Morin were the only people alive who’d known about her magical past. Betrayal left a bitter taste in her mouth. “What do you know about my mother? About me?”
    “Enough. It’s why I took you on. Why I haven’t been on your ass when you drank too much. I knew you had your reasons. That you weren’t ready.”
    “Ready for what?” she spat out, narrowing her gaze. “Do I know you at all?”
    Jason grinned. “Sure you do. I’m a fuckup. Just like you. Birds of a feather…”
    “And do you have skills ?” she asked snidely.
    “None. Other than the fact the kid I killed in that alley wasn’t a kid. Not something I could tell anyone on the force about.” He hung his head for a moment and then glanced her way. “I’ll tell you about it—after you get us the hell out of here.”
    His face blurred. She’d thought they were becoming friends, learning to rely on each other, but he’d lied to her. Tears she hadn’t known were gathering threatened to spill. She blinked them away. “I don’t know enough. Years ago I stopped walking in that world.”
    “You never really shake it though, do you?” he asked, his expression scarily intent. “It’s part of you. You just have to be ready to embrace it. I sought answers for a long time. I know a little. But there’s nothing special inside me. Not like there is in you.”
    “There’s nothing special in me either. I walked away. I drank myself stupid.”
    “That’s a crock of shit, and you know it. Everyone knows your instincts are good. Your gut isn’t calling the shots.” His hand jerked in the air. “Whatever’s inside you—magic, psychic talent—that’s what’s kept your ass alive and helped you close cases no one else could. Time to own up to what it really is and what you are.”
    She snorted. “And what’s that, Jason? All I am is a fuckup. A fuckup whose mother was a witch—a really bad one because she killed herself with her own damn spell.”
    He scraped a hand through his hair and glared again. “Well, you’d better figure out what else you might be, and