Pucker Up

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Pucker Up Page 16

by R. A. Gates


  popped him in the nose as quickly as a

  viper strikes its prey.

  “Bitch.” He said, using his

  forearm to wipe the blood from his face.

  “You say that like it's a bad

  thing.”

  He pulled his dagger from his

  belt, obviously done playing around. She

  gripped hers tighter.

  After endless minutes of evading

  his knife and trying to get close enough

  to cut him, she felt like she was fighting

  with logs instead of arms. Her breathing

  doubled. Could lungs shrink? She

  struggled to take in air as she bobbed

  and weaved. Her plan was backfiring.

  Each swing of his blade was

  faster, harder, sharper. Determination

  blazed in his eyes. Doubt whispered

  about in her head. When he sliced her

  arm, the whispers became shouts.

  Thankfully her sweatshirt took most of

  the damage, but not all.

  She gritted her teeth and ignored

  the sting.

  Stay focused.

  How long could she keep up this

  pace? Neglected muscles burned. Joints

  screamed in agony.

  Man, I need to work out. She

  could barely lift her lead foot above her

  waist in what was supposed to be an

  awesome front kick. Instead, she’d have

  to be satisfied with leaving a dirty

  footprint on his pant leg.

  He stopped and peered down to

  his pants. “And I thought fighting a Weed

  would be challenging.”

  A Weed. She cringed inward at

  the derogatory term. Using her magic to

  fight didn’t even occur to her. But it was

  too late now. She was exhausted from

  using the stone and from the humiliating

  beating she was taking.

  Before she could react, Red

  slammed into her and knocked her to the

  dirt. A scream echoed off the trees— her

  scream. Pain radiated through her back

  when

  she

  back-flopped

  on

  the

  unforgiving ground. She did the same

  move in a neighbor’s pool once and it

  felt just as excruciating.

  She raised her arms to block his

  attack. But when he lunged at her, his

  body stopped in mid-air and then flew

  backwards.

  Garren. Relief flooded her

  system. But he wasn’t there. Instead,

  Sparky flapped his wings and spat fire at

  the Eradicator now on the ground.

  Holy moly. She rolled off the

  ground— ignoring her body’s protests—

  to help subdue Red. He was shuffling on

  his back in an attempt to avoid the

  sparks. A couple times the dragon spit

  blue flames at the man, almost catching

  his pants on fire. But because she didn’t

  want to deal with roasted Eradicator,

  she grabbed a roll of tape from her pack

  and then tied his hands and feet together

  while Sparky kept guard.

  The red-head struggled to get

  free. “Don’t be a fool, Ivy. Rousseau

  will get you, one way or another. Come

  peacefully and your friends won’t be

  hurt.”

  “Oh, sure. Just wait while I

  gather my stuff.” She rolled her eyes as

  she checked out her little body guard.

  She squatted and reached her hand out,

  hoping that his heroics meant they were

  friends now.

  The dragon stretched out his neck

  and sniffed her fingers. She kept

  perfectly still as hope swelled in her

  chest. Just as she thought she might be

  able to actually touch him, the little

  dragon snapped back with a sneeze. She

  jumped back, flames torching the ground

  in front of her. He shook his head and

  sniffled.

  Great, he’s allergic to me. She

  regarded the creature with her hands on

  her hips. At least he was on her side.

  “I don’t know if you understand

  me or not, but watch him,” she said as

  she pointed to the tied-up Eradicator.

  Sparky shifted his gaze to the prisoner

  and growled like a proud junk yard dog.

  She crouched next to Red, her

  dagger pointed to his throat. “I don’t

  think you need these.” She removed the

  stakes and other weapons he had hidden

  on his body and then tossed them into her

  pack.

  A loud screamed bounced off the

  trees and pierced her heart. She froze.

  “That didn’t sound like Phil,” the

  Eradicator said, a smile pulling at his

  mouth. “Must be one of your Weeds.”

  She didn’t stick around to argue.

  She ran as fast as she could to where she

  last left the guys, dread fueling her feet

  faster as she leaped over logs and

  bushes.

  Please, don’t be dead. Please,

  don’t be dead. Both Garren and Thane’s

  faces popped up in her mind, although

  Garren’s lingered.

  Baldy loomed over someone on

  the ground with his knife raised in his

  hand. She couldn’t tell whom he was

  hovering over.

  His arm swung down.

  She pushed harder.

  Another scream rent the air just

  when Garren cut her off and then tackled

  the Eradicator to the ground, skidding

  across the forest floor. When they

  stopped, Garren had his knife against the

  man’s throat.

  “Ivy,” Thane said. He sat against

  a tree with his head down, blond hair

  sticking to his forehead. His chest rose

  and fell with each labored breath. A

  silver dagger stuck out of his thigh.

  Blood saturated his jeans.

  Oh, no.

  Chapter 11

  “Oh my gawd, are you all right?”

  Ivy ran to Thane and knelt next to him.

  She wasn't normally squeamish

  at the sight of blood, but seeing it pour

  out of his leg was another matter. She

  choked down the urge to cry, to panic.

  Taking in a lungful of air, she exhaled all

  her nervousness and worry. When she

  calmed down, her mind cleared. All the

  lessons from the community center first-

  aid class flipped to the front of her

  brain. She could do this.

  “Okay, you need to lie down.”

  She helped rest his head on some dead

  leaves and then bent his injured leg to

  keep the wound above his heart. The sun

  glinted off the part of the silver blade not

  embedded in his flesh.

  “Grab the duct tape,” Garren

  said as he struggled with the already

  beaten Eradicator. He pressed the tip of

  his knife further into the underside of the

  man’s jaw. Blood trickled down his

  throat from where it pierced the skin.

  “I’m a little busy here.” Now

  what was she supposed to do for a stab

  wound? Call for emergency help. It’s

  kind of hard to do that with
out a phone.

  “Ivy!” It was amazing how much

  impatience could be packed into one

  little word.

  Thane moaned as he shifted

  sideways off a rock that was digging into

  his lower back. “Go help him. I’ll be all

  right.”

  She knew B.S. when she heard it

  and didn’t want to leave him, but figured

  if she found the duct tape fast enough,

  she could give Thane her full attention.

  She surveyed the area but didn’t see one

  of the packs. She’d left hers behind with

  the other Eradicator.

  “Where’s the bag?”

  “Look up,” Thane said.

  Sitting on the same branch Thane

  had perched on was a black backpack.

  She held in a groan, not feeling strong

  enough to climb trees right then.

  As if he could read her mind, he

  whispered, “You’re a witch, Ivy. Start

  acting like one.”

  She ignored the unintended

  offense and raised her hand to summon

  the bag. Her whole body trembled with a

  fatigue that seeped into her bones. Her

  magic, which usually thrummed like the

  low register of a bass cello, now buzzed

  with all the power of an insignificant

  gnat. Focusing on that tiny piece of

  magic still alive, she pointed up to the

  bag.

  It wobbled a bit but didn't move.

  Talk about déjà vu.

  She

  concentrated harder, willing her magic

  to obey. A few leaves, some loose bark,

  and one disgusting, hairy spider flew

  towards her before the bag finally

  landed in her waiting hands. She

  plopped the bag down and searched for

  the tape. Garren managed to flip the guy

  over and she bound his wrists together,

  then his feet.

  The Eradicator jerked and tugged

  at the bindings. “Ivy, you're going to

  regret this. We found you once, we'll

  find you again. And next time, we won't

  be so nice.”

  “Huh. That’s exactly what the

  other guy said when I tied him up.” She

  tore another piece of tape and slapped it

  over his mouth. “Now shut the hell up

  before I hocus pocus some moose antlers

  on your head.”

  Thane grunted behind them.

  “Help me,” she said to Garren

  as she ran to her cousin's aid.

  Thane was a lot calmer than a

  person in his position should be. His

  eyes were shut as he inhaled strong,

  measured breaths. His face paled,

  making the freckles across his nose stand

  out more than usual.

  “In the bag, there's a first aid

  kit,” he said with effort.

  After a few seconds of sorting

  through a bunch of other crap, she found

  what she was searching for. She pulled

  out the gauze, bandages, and potion

  bottles and lined them up.

  Garren crouched down next to

  her, studying the supplies. “Do you know

  what you're doing?”

  “I think so.” She rubbed the hand

  sanitizer all over her hands and arms. “I

  sat through twelve hours of an ER

  marathon one weekend before I moved

  to Salmagundi.” She didn't miss his

  scowl, but chose to ignore it in light of

  the current situation. She made Garren

  sanitize his hands too, because he would

  need to help.

  Thane's jeans had to be cut away

  to give them better access to the injury.

  The metallic scent, like old coins,

  intensified. The weapon wasn't in too

  deep and the bleeding had slowed down.

  “Okay, Garren is going to pull

  the knife out and then I'm going to apply

  pressure to stop the bleeding.”

  “Garren's going to do what?”

  Garren asked, the color draining from

  his face.

  “You heard me. On the count of

  three. Ready?” She gathered up a pile of

  gauze and got in position.

  Garren's hand hovered around

  the handle, waiting for the signal. On

  three, he yanked the knife free. Thane

  grunted through gritted teeth as fresh

  blood leaked out of the open wound. She

  pressed the material down and held it.

  His body tensed at the pressure.

  At her side, Garren swayed back

  and forth before he fell down on his butt,

  but didn't pass out.

  “Don't you dare wuss out on me,

  Garren. Suck it up.”

  He shook his head and scooted

  away.

  She wrapped the wound up and

  cleaned the blood off the surrounding

  skin. The coppery scent made her

  nauseous, saliva pooled in her mouth,

  but she clenched her teeth and pushed

  on. Garren was useless, sprawled out on

  the ground.

  “Are you going to laze around all

  day or help me?” she asked Garren as

  she popped the cork off a small ceramic

  bottle of healing potion. A wisp of

  purple smoke rose from the bottle as she

  handed it to Thane.

  Thane brought the bottle to his

  lips but then stopped. His gaze fell on

  her arm, or rather the blood-soaked hole

  in her sleeve. “You’re hurt.”

  In all the excitement, she’d

  forgotten all about the cut on her arm.

  “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. Drink up,”

  she told Thane. She made sure he drank

  every drop before taking the empty

  bottle back.

  “Well?” she asked Garren, who

  hadn’t moved a muscle since he lay on

  the ground.

  “Too tired,” Garren mumbled.

  Thane gingerly sat up, wincing as

  he moved his leg. “He exhausted his

  magic fighting with his shields. He’ll

  need to rest up to regain his strength.”

  “Are you kidding me? Maybe if

  you weren’t showing off,” she said with

  a nudge to Garren’s hip, “You wouldn’t

  be so weak.”

  “I wasn’t… Whatever.”

  Thane grabbed a silver flask that

  sat among the other potion bottles. He

  took a swig and then passed it to Garren.

  “This should help.”

  Garren moaned as he pushed

  himself up to his elbows and reached for

  the bottle. Even Oscar winning actors

  weren’t as dramatic. He swallowed a

  mouthful of the potion and sighed.

  “Here, Ivy,” he said as he passed

  her the bottle. “You need some, too.”

  “What is it?” She took the flask

  and sniffed the open top. They didn’t

  seem like boozers, but she really didn’t

  know them very well yet. It reeked of

  peppermint.

  Garren stood and stretched his

  arms out wide. “It’s strengthening

  potion. Just drink it.”

  Judging by his sudden burst of

  energy, the stuff was potent. After

  wiping their germs off with the cu
ff of

  her sweatshirt, she took a mouthful. She

  resisted the urge to gargle and spit.

  Immediately upon swallowing, warm

  energy radiated throughout her body.

  Every cell woke with power, like getting

  fresh batteries; the hope that they could

  accomplish their quest was also

  renewed.

  Garren left to bring the red-head

  Eradicator to sit with his friend. They

  tied the two men up to a tree, one on

  each side with their wrists taped

  together. She wanted to ensure they had

  time to escape, but didn’t want to

  actually hurt the prisoners. So, she

  grabbed the scissors they used to cut

  Thane’s jeans off. Baldy’s eyes widened

  when she made the first snip to his shirt.

  “Now hold still,” she said as she

  inserted the scissors into the top of his

  jeans. “I won’t be responsible if other

  things get… snipped.” She kept her eyes

  averted from certain areas as she cut

  away. Soon, both men stood in their

  birthday suits, cursing her under their

  taped mouths.

  “I wouldn’t struggle against the

  bark too much. You’ll chafe.”

  “You’re evil,” Garren said with

  a smile as he took the scissors from her.

  “No, evil would be asking

  Sparky to light the tree on fire. I’m just a

  little wicked.”

  *****

  In no time at all, they had Thane

  up, in clean pants, and helped him walk

  across the street to the bus station. After

  saying goodbye to Sparky, again, they

  entered the depot. She and Thane sat in

  the uncomfortable plastic chairs littered

  throughout the waiting area, while

  Garren purchased the bus tickets to

  Sacramento. Soon, this would all be

  over and they could return home.

  Moments later Garren walked

  back, a frown on his face. “How much

  cash do you have?”

  “Why?”

  she

  asked.

  Thane

  assured her before they left that they had

  enough money to pay for this trip ten

  times over.

  “Because the credit card I

  swiped from my mom isn't working. So,

  if we want tickets, we need cash.”

  “What do you mean 'swiped'?

  Didn't you tell her what you guys were

  planning?” Uneasiness crept up her

  spine. Just when things were starting to

  go their way.

  Both of them stayed silent as they

  looked everywhere but at her.

  She inhaled deeply in an attempt

  to stamp down the urge to strangle their

  necks. “Does anyone back home know

  what we're doing?”

  Garren huffed. “Are you crazy?

  They think I'm camping with Keith for

 

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