Second Sight by Maria Rachel Hooley Read Free Book Online Page A

thing.
    “ I promise,” he drawls.
“Now tell me what’s going on.” We walk to the kitchen table, and I
point for him to sit while I go to the fridge to get us both cans
of soda. Although he takes one, I can tell by his determined frown
he’s not interested in beverages.
    Not a good sign. If I believed in portents,
I’d clam up right here. But there aren’t such things, are
there?
    “ Do you believe in the
supernatural?” I ask softly, sinking into the hardwood chair and
popping open the can.
    “ In theory.” He slides his
long legs to the side of the table. “But what does that have to do
with anything? ” He takes a sip of soda.
    “ I was looking for
Lev.”
    Soda spews from his mouth, and he almost
chokes. His fingers clasp the can tightly so he won’t drop it. I’m
tempted to pat him on the back, but that’s not going to dislodge
the problem.
    “ You were what?” he
croaks.
    “ You heard me.” I take a
drink, trying to appear calmer than I am.
    Closing his eyes, he draws a calming breath
and slowly sets down the can before he gently takes my hand—a
sympathy gesture, I’m sure. I don’t want or need his sympathy.
    “ Lev is dead, Lizzie. You
can’t find him—not alive, anyway.” His voice is flat, and I see the
struggle on his face to maintain his rapidly crumbling composure.
He flounders in his desire to save me from
self-destructing.
    My hand stiffens beneath his, smothered as it
is by kindness. “Lev wasn’t—isn’t—what you think.” I sit back in
the chair and drink my soda, waiting for the next exchange. I guess
this is as good of a way to test Griffin’s loyalty as any. I mean,
if he figures I’m going off the deep end and tells Jimmie, that’ll
definitely answer a few questions.
    “ He’s definitely not
bulletproof, Lizzie. We both know that.” He gently pulls his hand
from mine. “Jimmie warned me about this,” he mutters, his face
pasty. I’d say he looks like someone suffering from a stomach flu,
but that would definitely make me the stomach flu. Not
good.
    I stare at him as my left shoe nervously taps
linoleum that definitely needs to go. In fact, this whole room
needs to go—and me with it. It’s so 1970’s, just like the house in
Massachusetts.
    “ What if he wasn’t
human?”
    That does it. Griffin shoots out of the
chair. The pasty color is worse, if that’s possible, and his eyes
dart back and forth as though he’s looking for answers he’s not
going to find.
    “ You’ll wear out the
floor.” I lean back in the chair and focus on breathing, trying to
stay calm in the wake of the hurricane I sense coming.
    “ Lizzie.” I know there
should be something after my name, but the words won’t come, like
he’s forgotten how to speak.
    “ Lev isn’t what you
thought, Griffin. He’s an angel. And I don’t believe his spirit
died from that bullet six months ago—just his body.”
    He whirls, his lips parted in a horrified
grimace. He raises both hands and thrusts his palms forward. “Stop
it, Lizzie.”
    “ You asked!” I stand and
try to figure out how to diffuse the panic I see threading through
his taut shoulders and back. He’s barely breathing, and I’m sure if
I checked his pulse, it would be interesting.
    “ I don’t…know where this is
coming from, and I don’t know where it’s going. But imagining Lev
as still alive is just torturing yourself.” He reaches out and
takes my shoulders. “You have to stop before something happens you
can’t take back.”
    I don’t think he realizes just how deeply his
fingers are digging into my shoulders. I don’t think he’s aware of
much at all, considering the wild expression on his face—a mixture
of horror and fear. He thinks I’m losing my mind.
    “ Like?”
    “ A bullet.” His voice
cracks, and his hands press harder—less horror, more panic. And
he’s bruising me without realizing it. Now I see how fast he really
is breathing and how little he’s holding it together. So I