Page 4 of Beautiful Madness

I remembered that one day soonafter my birthday, I’d taken the bear from under my bed, marched to the kitchenfor a big knife, and stabbed the stuffing out of him while mommy roared withpleased laughter. It was the only time I could remember her giving me a hug.The murdering of my bear had made her happy, and I had liked that very much.

Then there was nothing. Amemory tried to come through but couldn’t. It was the most terrifying memory ofall, and I absolutely did not want to remember it. I tore myself out of thepast and when I was in the training room once again, I was on my knees,wailing.

Ti knelt in front of me andpulled me into her arms. “Hush, now, darling. The only way you can heal andmove forward is to remember. But it can’t hurt you now. You’re safe.”

“What happened to her?” Iwhispered, when I’d finally calmed. I moved away from Ti and pressed my palmsto my chest, which hurt so violently that I wasn’t sure I would survive it. “Whathappened to my birth mother?”

Because the face of “mommy” wasnot Susan’s face. Susan might have raised me, but she hadn’t given birth to me.

“Talk with Susan,” she said.“She will tell you the truth if you ask.”

“When you return here,” thewolf elder told me, walking away with Ti, “you will be prepared to learn. Theblocks inside you will be gone, and you will no longer hide from yourself.”

I didn’t know how long I stayedin the training room, exhausted and mentally spent, but when I finally got tomy feet and stumbled outside, Aaron was waiting for me.

“I’m to drive you,” he told me.“Someone will follow with your car.”

I was fine with that. I was inno shape to get behind the wheel. “What time is it?” I asked, as I huddled inthe back seat and shook with cold.

“It’s three in the morning,” hesaid. “I will take you to your mother.”

“My mother,” I murmured. Wasshe dead? Had she handed me over to my father and Susan and taken off? Was itpossible she was still alive? “Which mother?”

“Susan Silver,” he said, andthere was no emotion in his tone.

In the darkness, I studied theglow of my magic-colored fingertips and wondered if I could figure out a way toencase my heart with magic so I wouldn’t have to care about anything.

I wouldn’t have believed Icould feel worse, but before I reached Huntersburg and my mother, DetectiveMoreno called me.

And then I understood why thecouncil wasn’t concerned about Sam.

They’d known I wasn’t done withhim yet.

Chapter Three

“Kait,” Rick said. “Where areyou?”

His familiar cop’s voice mademe straighten my spine, push my personal life to a back burner, and clutchgreedily and gratefully at something besides my own pain.

“Heading to Huntersburg,” Isaid. “I have to speak with…with my mother.” She was staying there while shewas overseeing the renovations to the house—Lucy and Ash were there as well,helping sort things I’d rather not have to deal with.

“And it couldn’t wait untilmorning?”

“What’s wrong, Rick? Why areyou calling?”

“Sam murdered three womentonight, Kait. Three women. In one fucking night. And only two of themtormented children.”

Son of a bitch. “He’s losingcontrol,” I said, a familiar knot of worry growing in my stomach.

“No,” he said flatly. “He’s notlosing control—whatever control he might have had is long gone. He’s a serialkiller, Kait. It’s what they do.”

“Son of abitch,” Iwhispered, and took a few seconds to deep breathe before I spoke again. “Sameas before?”

“They were all blonde,” he toldme. “It appears as though two of them were abusive to their sons. One of themhas a dead child but it was never proven that his mother killed him. The thirdwoman wasn’t an abuser, but she’d been in the emergency department twice in thelast month. She had a restraining order against her husband. She had nochildren. She’d been living in hell for a long time, Kait, and was just nowmanaging to free herself. And Sam kills her. Not fast, either. He made hersuffer first. She was simply…blonde. She had two little girls, a stable home,nothing at all that would have attracted Sam other than the color of her hair.”

“My God,” I whispered. “Fuck,Rick.” But I’d known, hadn’t I? I’d known he might escalate, that he was mad,that killing his pain, his past, and his mother could only end in the blood ofinnocents. Shapeshifters were born twisted freaks of nature, and I’d releasedone upon Jakeston.

And no matter how I felt abouthim saving my life, living through a horrific childhood, or “taking out thetrash,” there were no excuses for me. I should not have let him go. Because I’dknown. He was a serial killer. He had a type of victim, and in the end,sane Sam had lost to insane Sam. He was just going to kill all the blondes hecame across.