Free [Southern Arcana 3.0] Deadlock by Moira Rogers Page B

usual way will turn a halfbreed plumb crazy in about two minutes. Too much wolf .”
    Wolf. Yes, that felt right. Carmen moved her hands, just a little, and tried to concentrate on the conversation.
    “A council member would never use the regular way anyway. They can’t have dirty infected wolves in their family. Being a halfbreed may not be much, but it’s still better than that.”
    “Like I said, there are rumors of old ways, but it’s beyond me. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
    The witch. Carmen struggled to remember, but a terrifying blankness formed where her memories should have been.
    She snarled.
    Warmth surrounded her at once, a comforting pressure born of magic, almost tangible. “You’re okay, Carmen,” the darker man murmured, his voice a soft rumble. “We’re taking you somewhere safe.”
    She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t okay, but all that came was a low moan. If she could order her thoughts, she could talk to them, ask what the hell was going on.
    The other man cursed. “I can’t repeat the spell, Alec.”
    “Doesn’t matter. When we get to my place, I’ll let her run a bit. Burn off some energy.”
    “Will that work?”
    “Probably won’t hurt.”
    The dark man was driving, and the other turned to peer over the seat at her. He had kind blue eyes, filled with a calm, soft sympathy that scared the hell out of her. How many times had she looked at someone like that, someone with injuries or illnesses so severe they wouldn’t live to see another sunrise?
    He spoke. “Hey, don’t freak out. You’re all right. You’re going to be all right.”
    Carmen laughed. She couldn’t help it.
    A soft curse from the front, and the engine roared under them. “Leave her be, Jackson. We don’t need her coming over the seat at you if she gets spooked.”
    He sputtered something, but she didn’t listen. She clamped her hands over her ears again and rolled face down on the seat. Every instinct screamed for her to turn over, not to leave her back unprotected, but she ignored the urge. Instead, she began to meditate.
    She’d never been so strong that she couldn’t control her empathy, not even from her earliest memories. Unless under duress, she had always been able to close herself off, in a box if necessary, until she was ready to come out. It was only as she grew older and began training that she learned how to do it no matter what was going on around her—or in her head.
    Walls. Usually she preferred clean ones, but these she envisioned as a faded red. Plenty of buildings in the Quarter were made of rough bricks just that shade. In her mind, she traced every chalky white line of mortar, until she’d built up five walls—four all around her, and one to close the box.
    Nothing penetrated, not until a warm, gentle hand dropped on her shoulder.
    She stiffened, but managed not to jerk away as she sat up and looked around. The truck was parked in front of a white house with a large front porch, and a soft breeze carried the scents of grass, earth and water into the cab.
    The man stepped back, leaving her a clear path to the door.
    Outside, pine trees and live oaks rustled in the breeze. Suddenly, the thought of walking into another closed-off space was unthinkable. Unbearable.
    Carmen shoved past him and hit the ground at a run.
    It took a minute to recognize the light feeling singing through her as relief. She ran every day, but this was different. No mp3 players or cross trainers, and she didn’t run out of concern for her cardiovascular health. Running meant freedom .
    Trees flashed by—magnolia, cypress, more oaks heavy with Spanish moss. She only stumbled to a halt when she hit the edge of a marshy pond and almost fell into the water. Her legs shook, and she clutched one hand to the painful stitch in her side.
    “Better?”
    He wasn’t even winded, but the observation melted into a realization that he’d followed her. Logically, she knew he’d had to; she was out of her head,