Intangible by J. Meyers Page A

locked on his. He had her attention now. “It changed her.”
    Sera went completely still. This. Wasn’t. Possible. She shook her head. He couldn’t know that. She wracked her brain for an explanation. For some good reason he was saying this to her. Maybe he was just a lunatic with a lucky guess. No normal person would believe that she could heal.
    “Sera?” Fey poked her towel-wrapped head out the open window. A quick glance at Jonas and she was out the window and planted firmly between them in one seamless move. Sera blinked in surprise, looking from Fey back to the window several yards away.
    “What’s going on?” Fey faced Jonas, fierce. “What are you doing here?”
    “You know why I’m here, Feyth.”
    Fey seemed to get taller as she stood glaring at him.
    “This is between you and me, Jonas,” Fey said. “Leave Sera out of it. She doesn’t know.”
    Sera wasn’t sure if she was relieved or offended by that. She certainly didn’t relish talking with Jonas anymore tonight, but she was insulted by Fey’s tone. One that suggested she was a mere child who couldn’t possibly understand what was going on.
    So what if she didn’t actually know what was going on.
    Still. It pissed her off.
    Fey turned to Sera, her damp hair glinting in the light spilling out of the bedroom window, her eyes glowing. Eyes that pleaded with her to go back inside. Sera straightened up to her full height, lifted her chin, and stalked over to stand beneath her open window. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the house, watching them and feeling her bare feet begin to go numb at the edges. There was no way she was going to leave Fey outside by herself—not even if her feet fell off from cold—but she would, at the very least, give them privacy.
    And then grill Fey about it later.

    J onas stood glaring at Sera a moment longer. “You are warned,” he said. “Do not change any more of us.” He could swear she rolled her eyes at him as he turned and paced over to the edge of the yard where Fey waited for him under the oak tree.
    The lack of moonlight wasn’t a problem for him. He could see perfectly well. In fact, his eyes were better suited to night than they were to daylight. He could easily make out every detail of the yard—the tree roots fanning out from the base of the trees that fenced the yard, the flowers planted along the perimeter inside the line of trees, the oranges and reds of the flower petals on those still in bloom, the individual bright green blades of grass glistening with evening dew. He kicked a small stone buried in the grass through the wall of trees and into the neighbor’s yard, and heard the slight thup when it landed.
    “You knew.” His voice was low, quiet. “You should have told me. Warned me that they were here.”
    “And you would have done what? How would it have changed anything?”
    “I would have been prepared. My people would have been prepared.”
    “To do what, Jonas? Kill them?” Fey said. “That’s what your people will want to do when they learn about them, and you know that. So explain to me why exactly I should have tipped you off seventeen years ago. They would have been found sooner and someone would have tried to kill them again.”
    “They’ve been found now.”
    “Not yet, they haven’t.”
    He glared at Fey for a moment before his eyes flicked back to Sera standing against the house, watching them. It was strange, he thought, that she hadn’t gone back inside to where she’d think she was safe. He knew he’d scared her, he could tell by the frantic beat of her heart, how her face had gone pale when he’d talked of healing and changing. Though she was odd. She hadn’t been the least bit afraid when he’d spoken of vampires, but as soon as he’d mentioned healing she’d been terrified. And yet, there she stood scowling at him from afar, looking ready to leap in if Fey needed help.
    But Fey needed no help. She came from the most powerful