Free A Soul So Wicked (Moon Chasers) by Sharie Kohler Page A

close to anyone.
    Well, she’d just fake it. Pretend she was someone else. Bottom line, she would do whatever was necessary to get the information she needed to stop Balthazar’s witch.
    A flash of the last dead girl filled her vision, her eyes glassy with pain and fear.
    Tresa blinked and concentrated on the tail-lights in front of her. To stop that from happening again, she had to do whatever it took—even if it meant inviting Balthazar back into her life again. Even if it meant losing herself.
    * * *
    D ARIUS STEPPED OUT INTO the warm afternoon. It was pushing eighty degrees in San Vista.
    He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over his shoulder with a frown. It didn’t make sense for her to be here, of all places. It wasn’t her pattern. And if what she said was true, she was in avoidance of her demon. Consideringthat this was a prime climate for demons, what was she doing here?
    He stuffed his hand in his pocket and brushed paper. On it he’d written down all the information he could remember from browsing the history on her computer. The Rose Petal Killer. San Vista University. It wasn’t much to go on, but he was betting this was where she’d gone.
    He flagged a cab, stepping back as it nearly rolled up on the curb to reach him. After opening the door, he settled inside and gave instructions for the driver to take him to a hotel.
    Leaning back in the seat, he mulled over the witch he’d hunted halfway around the world. She was a mystery. Why she was here, what she was doing, why she had bothered to save him… it all bewildered him.
    She couldn’t be trusted. That much hadn’t changed.
    Next time when he found her, he wouldn’t lose her again.
    * * *
    T RESA FELL BACK ON the bed and rubbed her aching eyes, exhausted from her meeting with Shannan’s family. It had been hard sitting in that tiny living room with the girl’sgrandmother, whose too-wise eyes reminded Tresa so much of her own grandmother.
    Tresa still remembered Grandmère… all these years later. The steel gray of her hair, the pale blue of her eyes that could reach inside you and see everything.
    Fortunately, Mary Guzak’s eyes hadn’t been as discerning as they’d looked to Tresa. They’d hardly stared at her, looking somewhere else, beyond Tresa’s shoulder, seeing something else in excruciating detail. Every once in a while that gaze drifted to the photos lining the paneled wall—to a little girl, a bright-eyed Shannan posing with a soccer ball. There were several of these—all the way up until recently, and Tresa guessed that even in college she’d been quite the soccer player.
    Tresa rubbed the bridge of her nose. She still didn’t have much to go on. She’d pretended to be a college friend of Shannan’s. The grandmother had let her in… served her iced tea, but Shannan’s uncle soon arrived, his gaze suspicious. He’d hovered close to his mother throughout their conversation.
    “You went to school with Shannan?” he’d asked.
    “Yes. We took an English class together.” As Shannan had been a sophomore at San Vista,Tresa thought it was safe to assume she’d taken an English class sometime during the last few semesters.
    Her grandmother hadn’t disputed that, merely nodded vacantly.
    Tresa wet her lips. “I’m so sorry. Shannan…” She shook her head, all words that came to mind so empty, so meaningless. “She didn’t deserve this.”
    Mrs. Guzak nodded, absently running her hands up and down her thighs. Her son, standing several feet away, crossed his arms, watching like a hawk.
    Throat dry, Tresa added, “Do the police have any leads?”
    Mrs. Guzak shook her head, as if the question confused her. “They don’t know… they wanted to know if anyone had been bothering Shannan, following her, hanging around her… giving her problems…”
    “Had anyone? Done that?”
    “You don’t know?” Shannan’s uncle replied, his tone seeming to say: Shouldn’t you know? You’re her