Shift (The Pandorma Adventures Book 1) (34 page)

Chapter 28

I race into the bedroom and shake Ryan awake.

“Get up!”

Ryan grunts and rolls over. “What? What is it?” he mumbles.

I bite my lip. “My dad he . . . he really is dead.”

Ryan springs into a sitting position, the comforter flying into the air before resting back down in lumpy hills.

“What?”

“I . . . I saw Dad on the T.V. He was—he is,” I stutter forcing tears back.

Ryan makes a hushing sound and attempts to pull me closer but I recoil from his grasp. “She killed him in the form of a big cat!” I cry.

“It’ll be alright,” Ryan says soothingly, again trying to pull me into his arms.

I take a step back. “No. No it won’t be alright. It will never be alright!               He’s always been a part of my life, how can I live without him? I never even got to say goodbye.”

“How about we go for a walk?” he asks gently. “A little fresh air will be soothing.”

“The air isn’t fresh here. It stinks. Its suffocating and smothering and . . . and I thought it wouldn’t be true,” I whisper.

“Come on.” He leads me outside and we walk until I stop crying.

* * * *

Ryan presses the button for our floor. He pulls me tight against his chest and I’m surprised when he rests his head on mine, a barely audible sigh escaping his lips.

The elevator comes to a halt and Ryan releases me. I’m looking down, so the first thing I see is a large splatter of blood. Frowning, I follow that spatter with my eyes to the next and all the way down the hall, stopping at the door to our room. Ryan and I tear down the hall, barely stopping to look at the large, bloody paw prints strewn across the door’s creamy white paint. I throw it open, expecting something horrible, but the room is fine. Except for the continuing trail of blood saturating the carpet. I follow the path to the dark bedroom.

Throwing open the door I stand in the archway. My eyes travel up the rest of the dark stain to a body. Ryan flicks on the light switch, but I don’t need it to distinguish the familiar blond hair, strong jaw, and chiseled body that I’ve seen countless times.

“Trevor . . .” I whisper.

Before I can take another step to check if he is alive, a figure moves from behind the elegant draperies that are partially hiding the balcony.

Medusa.