[COMPLETE]
Magic is all about the rules. You mess up, you fix it. Or pay the price.
Not that Jacklyn Morse has a choice. She's a new shape shifter paying the price for saving a notorious thief who is as hot as the supernatural loot he's stolen.
To J...
Matt followed small streets, turning often, checking the rearview mirror every ten seconds.
"I don't think we're being followed," he said after a while. "You sense anything?"
Jacklyn shook her head.
He turned left and picked up speed. They were heading somewhere. West, she guessed, toward the Pacific Ocean.
"I don't want to see a fortuneteller," she said. "What good would it do? They only deal in the past or the future. I want to know what I am."
Jacklyn tried to conceal it, but she bled dark, desperate feels. The weight of his heart still real as day in her hand.
Without looking at her, Matt found her hand. He placed it on his thigh like it belonged there.
"What's up?" he said. "You're pale. Your hand is cold."
Damn him and his fine-tuned intuition.
She told him about the cobweb strands. She told him she'd seen him die, alone in the cold darkness wearing the damn coat.
Matt wasn't surprised. He squeezed her hand.
"You're not worried?" she said.
"Yeah, I am. But it's a vision. We raided the Visionary's warehouse. You said the strands were floating around. They could be a trap. Wouldn't that be a great defense? Like a magic deterrent for trespassers? You break in and get plagued with dark visions so you can't enjoy the loot?"
"It felt real," she said.
He squeezed her hand again. "You're responsible for me. You wouldn't just let me go. You'd fight for me."
It was true. That part didn't scare her.
It was the risk.
Matt was a great guy, but he'd never met a risk he didn't love. Somewhere, in the depths of things, he'd always choose risk.
She'd sensed it twice. Yellow silk or dark cold cave, same thing: There was darkness in Matt's near future.
"Who would know about old legends and stuff? Things about me?" she asked to distract herself. "Who collects that kind of old scrolls and manuscripts?"
Matt glanced at her. "Jo-Jo could find out."
He looked forward, but she'd seen that expression on his face before.
"No," she said. "I need to talk to someone. Not break in somewhere to steal a bunch of random prophesies."
The Venetian flashed a wicked smile. "Nothing's saying we can't do both."
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