Page 88 of Tracking Snow

The sound of a cat hissing draws my attention, and I turn my head to see Lucifer with his hackles up even as he slinks into the shadows.

The sound of a van door sliding shut before the peeling of tires screeches through the air.

Still, I watch the shadows where Lucifer disappeared. That’s weird. We’re closer to Poison Apple than my apartment building, but the little asshole does get around.

One yanks me to a halt, causing me to nearly trip and eat pavement.

"What are you⁠—"

The words die off. Half a block ahead, underneath the flickering neon sign of the Poison Apple, there is a distinctly female figure splayed on the ground.

A van speeds by with alarming speed, causing sandy pebbles to flick up, hitting my arm in a hot blast.

My heart rockets into my throat as adrenaline explodes like Pop Rocks through my veins. Because even from here, I see lying there, unmoving, is a woman’s form.

Chapter 27

One Friend Down

SNOW

"Snow," One calls after me, but I’ve already shaken loose of his grip to stumble forward.

Please don’t be Goldie.

Please don’t be Cinder.

Oh fae lords, what if it’s Dame Kiki?

My vision swims, eyes hot with building tears, even as I struggle to suck in a breath. The air won’t come.

I cover the distance between me and the prone woman.

An invisible force slams into my chest, as I recognize the wide sightless eyes that stare at nothing. Cold and heat sweep through my body in painful waves, causing my hands to tremble.

"She’s dead." The words come out hoarse and are strange to my own ears.

I stumble back, colliding into a hard force.

One’s hands come to either shoulder. "Oh fae lords," he whispers in shock.

"It’s Carolee." Hot tears run down my cheeks. "She’s one of our regulars."

Go to her, something in me screams. Try and help her.

But I can’t. I can’t go any closer. Suddenly, it’s as if I’m in the room with Rosie’s body all over again. There’s nothing I can do except rip apart inside and bleed.

One gathers me to his chest and I go willingly, muffling my first sob into his hoodie.

"How could this happen?" he whispers.

Hours later, I’m still sitting on the Poison Apple stoop. The bar had to be shut down. Rap and Ryder are talking to the cops.

I have one of those weird foil blankets around my shoulders. It’s supposed to help but I don’t know how. A paramedic forces a cup of hot chocolate into my hand. The powdered stuff. I don’t want to drink it, but she assures me that the hot sugar is going to help.

Funny. For a hot muggy night, I actually appreciate the hot drink.

My eyes hurt from crying, and I feel like my ribcage might cave in.