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Thames' eyes widened in shock when he opened Father Jason's door and found Claire like that. He swallowed his questions and preceded her to the bathroom, to take care of her bleeding nose and her bruises. She managed to tell him what had just happened.

"Did you call Alex?" he asked, guiding her hand to press some cotton to her nose.

"Lost my phone," she replied. "But I don't know if I want her to see me like this."

Thames nodded, smiling. "I know. Just when she was about to admit you don't need a sitter around the clock, right? But we need to call her anyway."

"And Graham. To take them away."

"I got it. You go rest on the couch, and keep your head back."

"Yessir," she said, heading to the living room while Thames went to the kitchen.

He came back in time to help her lie down and gave her ice cubes wrapped in a kitchen cloth.

"Funny. Thought you'd wave your hand, say a prayer and I'd be healed."

"Should I pull a rabbit out of my hat too?"

Claire tried to giggle and suffocated a groan, because pursing her face hurt.

Alex's line was busy, so Thames checked the little notebook Father Jason kept by the line phone and found Graham's number. After talking to him, Thames tried calling Alex again. But her line was still busy.

Because at that exact moment, Alex was on the phone. With Ian Blake. Her knuckles were white as she pressed it to her ear, and she forced herself to breathe deep to keep from passing out as she listened to him.

Somehow she found her voice to ask without stuttering, "And how can I tell if what you say is true? Honestly isn't exactly a trademark among demons."

"Oh, that, of course," he replied, light and casual. "Here you go. See yourself."

Her phone beeped and she saw that Blake had just sent her a picture. Her knees faltered when she opened the file. It was a photograph of Claire, beaten and bleeding, struggling to cut herself free from a man pressing an arm across her throat from behind and pulling her hair.

"Miss Corban?"

Blake's voice made her take the phone back to her ear. She grabbed the back of the chair for support, because everything was spinning around her. She felt so sick she was about to throw up out of sheer horror.

"So, dear, if you don't want your lovely niece to be our late snack tonight, you're coming to Markus' house. Now."

"One late snack isn't enough?"

Her sarcasm wouldn't make much of an effect with her shaky voice.

"What? Oh, no, not at all. It's you I'm interested in, dear Miss Corban. I'm letting her go as soon as you get here."

"And you expect me to believe you're keeping your word."

"Well, that's the catch, right? You can come by your own free will, alone, without tipping off any of your friends. That's the way to keep your niece alive. Or you can call on your funny gang and try to rescue her. And fail. Your call, Miss Corban."

Air didn't seem to reach Alex's lungs and things were turning blurry.

"You have twenty minutes to knock on our door. In twenty-one, her blood will start dripping into my favorite wine glass."

Blake disconnected and Alex crumbled down on her chair, gasping and panting, a hand on her burning chest. She dialed Claire and it skipped straight to voice mail. Shit! She saw Thames' missed calls, but she had no time to talk to him—and Blake had warned her about it.

It was choking, the feeling of Claire's life tictacking away. There was no time, not even to swing by her house and grab at least a dagger—like it'd be of any use anyway. At least she still had the medal with the pentagram Thames had given her a couple of days ago. Maybe she'd be able to channel near Blake, and weaken him enough for Claire and her to get away.

Whatever. No time for battle planning. Claire was about to be murdered slow and bloody, and maybe she had a chance to save her. But only if she moved her numb ass. She got up and hurried out, almost forgetting to lock the bookstore door on her way to the Hilux.

.

.

Keep reading on the next episode: Broken, GoM 2x06

Keep reading on the next episode: Broken, GoM 2x06

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