by Jus Accardo
Another scream, this one from a girl. I knew that voice! “Crap,” I said, forcing my feet into motion. “That’s her.”
It didn’t take us long to find her. When we rounded the second corner into a room made up to look like a bedroom massacre scene, she was standing with her back against the far wall. In front of her, with his back to us, was what sort of looked like a tall man. Something about his shape and the way he held himself, though, gave me the impression that he wasn’t quite a man.
Another giveaway was the smell, similar to the carnivus in the alley, with an underlying tone of decay. He wore a black suit that had seen better days. The left sleeve was shredded, the ends tattered and frayed, as was the back hem. His feet were pale and bare, and it almost looked like there were several toes missing from the left one.
“Tracker,” Azi said with a growl as it came up beside me.
The man—who was, in fact, not a man—turned. Its face was long and thin with sharply protruding cheek bones and nearly translucent skin. Its super thin lips had a cobalt tint which almost complimented the strange crystalline blue of its eyes.
The thing’s mouth twitched. “Aziraaaak.”
“Be gone,” Azi said. It took a step closer, every muscle in Jax’s body tensing. “What you seek belongs to me. You are done here.”
The infamous Tracker’s lips twitched. “I aaaam here to do aaaa job. You will not staaaand in my waaaay.” It turned back to the girl. “If the humaaaan does not give the stone freely, I will teaaaar it aaaapaaaart.”
The girl’s expression changed. Instead of the tightly drawn brow, now there was an easy glare of confidence. The slight tremble I’d noticed when we walked in had become squared shoulders and a strong frame. Her lips hitched upward in the right hand corner, accentuating a small dimple, and as she cocked her head to the left, she snickered. “Wanna bet?”
A bright flash blinded me for a moment, and Azi screamed. I thought the Tracker had done something, but as my vision returned, I saw the demon racing forward, toward the Tracker. He reached it as the thing’s body hit the ground.
“I appreciate the help, but I had it under control,” the girl said. She stepped over the fallen monster, giving it a good, hard kick for solid measure.
Azi growled something I couldn’t quite hear and jumped up. “You foolish little girl. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Her lips twisted into a sly smile. “Nope,” she replied. “But I know exactly what I’m gonna do.”
She brought her hand up and waved it in a wide circle in front of us as her lips began to move. I couldn’t hear her, and I realized I didn’t care. Whatever it was she was whispering didn’t matter, because I was suddenly so damn tired.
The room in front of me grew hazy. I heard Jax’s voice grumble something, followed by a soft thud. Then, as they say in Hollywood, everything faded to black.
Chapter Eleven
Azirak/Jax
“What the hell just happened?” One minute I was standing next to Sam in the Haunted House, the next I was back in the white room.
“The girl is a witch,” Azi said, the demon’s smoky presence churning angrily on the other side of the room. “She cast a spell.”
“Sam?”
“I imagine she is as we are. Asleep on the floor of the Haunted House.”
“What about that thing?” How the fuck could the demon be so calm? We were both lying there, helpless.
“That thing is called a Tracker, and it is not a threat at the moment. But thanks to the witch, if we do not wake soon, it will be an issue.”
“So it’s not dead?” The thought of Sam lying unconscious while the Tracker was still out there with her made me feel even more useless than I had minutes ago.
“There is only one way to kill the Tracker—and that was not it. All the witch did was complicate things.”
“How?” Though if the concern I felt coming from the demon was any indication, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.
“When the heart of a Tracker is stilled, it will regenerate.”
“Okay…” That sucked, but it wasn’t as bad as what I’d been imagining.
“It also splits. Now, instead of one Tracker, there are two.”
And there was the shit storm I’d been expecting.
“How long do we have?”
“There is no way to tell. It depends on the extent of its injuries. I do not know what the witch did—only that she stopped its heart.”
I hated the demon for what it was doing to me—to Sam—but we had to work together. “How do we wake up?” While it pissed me off to refer to us as a we, the truth was we had to be a team right now. Sam was counting on it.
“When your body recovers from the spell, I will wake.”
“Not good enough.” I started pacing on my end of the room. “Focus. We need to wake up. Now. How do we do that?”
“There is a way for you to wake us up…”
I stopped and pinned it with a look of disdain. “Then why are we still discussing this? What do I have to do?”
“You must first consider something. It will burn a large portion of the remaining energy you have. The energy that ties you to this body. It will shorten your time here.”
There wasn’t anything to consider. If there was a way for my body to wake up and make sure that thing didn’t hurt Sam, then there was no other choice. “Whatever. We’re wasting time.”
“Agreed.” The smoky figure drifted to the middle of the small room. “Because I was the one in control when the spell was cast, I am the one affected. I believe that if I allow you to temporarily regain control, you will wake.”
Control. Even temporarily, it sounded like heaven. Even if it cost me a handful of the moments I had left. If I was going to die, if those moments needed to be sacrificed, at least it would be saving Sam.
“What are we waiting for? Tell me what to do,” I demanded.
“You will need to focus. Concentrate on your heart. Make it beat faster. Feel your limbs, the hardness of the floor. Move them. First a finger, then your hand. Slowly bring your body back to consciousness.”
“Oh,” I said with a snort. “Is that all?”
“I imagine there is little time. A simple witch spell would not cause the Tracker to be down for long.”
It was trying to motivate me as it had Sam. By using fear—and it worked. I closed my eyes and pictured my body lying unconscious on the floor next to Sam. But focusing on me, on moving my limbs and standing, wasn’t what did the trick. It was her. I pictured myself moving my hand, threading my fingers through hers. I imagined waking up and standing, gently lifting her off the ground, and getting her someplace safe.
My head swam with an underlying twinge, almost like a slight hangover, as I opened my eyes. One finger. Two. My right hand… With more effort than it should have taken, I pushed onto my knees and surveyed the room. Everything was a little watery around the edges, the spell still undoubtedly unwilling to release me completely, but I saw Sam a few feet away—and the Tracker.
It was still unmoving, but there was a horrible sound coming from its body, like tearing flesh and snapping bone. The Tracker’s head had split open, but instead of brains—or whatever the fuck it was these things had stored inside their heads—spilling out, the wound mended to form not one head, but two. Azi had been right. It was splitting.
With a determined grunt, I forced myself upright and bent over Sam. A small part of me wondered how I was still in control. Maybe my body was still too impaired—or maybe Azi was feeling generous. Whatever the reason, I used it to my advantage, scooped her off the floor, and stumbled from the room.
It took several tries—along with what would more than likely become a collection of bruises from crashing into walls—but I finally managed to get us outside. The park security was setting up a blockade around the perimeter, but they ignored me, probably assuming I was just another patron who’d been caught inside when the chaos erupted.
I sank onto
a quiet bench in the shade, around the corner from the attraction, and cradled Sam’s head in my lap. I couldn’t stop touching her. Her hair. Her face. Tracing the outline of her lips… And when she finally stirred and looked up at me with those amazing brown eyes, nothing else mattered.
“Sammy…” There was so much more I wanted to say, but that single word was the last thing I was able to push past my lips. The park spun, a violent swirl of colors and dizzying motion, and when it all cleared, I was back to the passenger’s seat and Azi was driving the bus.
Sam struggled upright and made a fist. She punched my arm hard and glowered. “I told you never to call me that.”
“My apologies,” the demon responded. It stood and took a step away from the bench.
Fucker…
It ignored me and focused on her. “Are you harmed?”
She rubbed her head and shrugged. “I feel like someone slipped me a roofie, but other than that, I’m good. What was that in there?”
“This girl is a witch.”
The disgust on Sam’s face was undisguisable. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. Another one?”
There was a slight flare of irritation, but the demon let it go. Azi dug into my pocket and produced the knife again. “We need to find—”
“Whoa!” Sam hopped off the bench and positioned herself in front of my body, standing way too close for my comfort. “You cannot whip out a knife in the middle of an amusement park!”
“Why?”
She blinked. “Well, first of all, do you remember the little Tracker debacle at the Haunted House? Security is gonna be going balls to the wall looking for threats.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back to me. “Plus, there are kids running around. You are not going to traumatize some child by hacking into my boyfriend’s skin.”
“And you intend to supply an alternative?”
“Yeah,” she said, hauling me off the bench. “A little subtlety goes a long, long way.”
…
By subtlety, Sam meant charm. And by charm, she meant trying to flirt the information out of the manager. We’d sought out the manager’s office, deep in the back of the park, and she’d gone to work.
“So let me get this straight,” the manager, whose name was Paul, said as he eyed her. “You want me to give you an employee’s home address?”
“I do,” Sam replied with a smile.
“And why would I do that?”
“Because I’m asking nicely?” She batted her eyes and flashed him a killer smile. If the guy didn’t melt right then and there, he wasn’t fucking human. She placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward. Not enough to give the bastard a bird’s eye view, but enough to catch the interest of any living, breathing heterosexual male. “Please? It’s really important that I find her.”
Interest sparked in Paul’s eyes. A burst of orange seeped from his shoulders. “Is that right? How important is it?”
“Very. You’d be doing me a huge favor.” I couldn’t see her face, but I could picture her expression—eyes hooded and smile wide, maybe even chewing on the corner of her lip. God. I fucking loved when she did that.
“So you’d owe me?” The orange cloud around him thickened with potent lust, and he shifted from foot to foot as he subtly adjusted himself. Fucking scum bag. Azi and I were in total agreement for once. If there weren’t other, more pressing matters on the plate now, this guy would get the beat down of his life. “Tell me…what would you be willing to do for that address?”
I couldn’t see her face, but I hoped Sam was able to disguise the disgust I felt rolling off her in waves. “Dunno. What’d ya have in mind? Maybe dinner? We could get to know each other.”
The lecherous grin he tossed her lit my insides on fire—and not in a good way.
Paul snorted. “Blow me.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and handed her his cell phone. “Record it.”
“You want me to suck your dick so you’ll give me an address?” The shock in her voice was overshadowed only by the rage of her colors.
Azi balled my fists and made a move to stalk forward.
Don’t. He’s not going to fucking touch her. She’d kill him first.
The demon stilled, but its rage didn’t subside. Sam took the phone. The thick red that bled into the air around her head and shoulders nearly blotted out everything else in the room. She turned and held the phone out to Azi.
“No,” Paul said. “You record. He blows.”
Sam straightened. If at all possible, the red grew thicker. “I don’t think you’re really his type.”
“Actually…” Azi said. If our positions had been reversed, it would have sent me a plethora of images—my fists brutally pummeling this asshole’s face until there was nothing left but pulp and bone. The demon inhaled deeply and took in Paul’s lust right along with Sam’s rage. The sensation was heady, and a blanket of contentment settled over both of us. The demon hadn’t fed on this powerful a bouquet of emotion in weeks. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. The demon wanted more. And this time, I had no intention of trying to stop it. We’d had an unspoken agreement to feed on only the scum of the earth. Paul fit the bill perfectly. “Paul is exactly my type.”
Azi dropped the cell phone on the chair and propelled my body over the desk. The demon had Paul by the throat before my feet even touched the ground. With a fluid move, Azi spun the bastard against the wall and squeezed until he was gasping and sputtering for air.
“You are the perfect example of why my race despises mankind. You are filthy and low, disguising your darkness while attempting to hide in the light.” The demon lifted Paul off the ground and took in his fear. It filled me, making every limb tingle and warm. “You are little more than cockroaches, scurrying through the muck, biding time until you expire.”
“Jesus,” Sam said in a whisper.
Azi turned to her. I’d assumed she was freaking because of Azi’s manhandling, but that wasn’t it. She was scrolling through the bastard’s cell.
“I know I’m generally against the whole violence thing, but this guy is something else.” She lifted her head and fixed her gaze on him, judging and furious. “His phone is full of pictures of him and employees. Men and women. And judging by the looks of most of their faces, they weren’t eager participants.”
Azi turned its attention back to the manager. “The girl’s address. Now.”
Paul sputtered and clawed at my hands. With a sigh, Azi set him down, but didn’t let go. “My cell—list of employee—”
Sam went back to the cell and started searching. After a minute, she let go of a growl. “What is her name? The girl who works in the Haunted House?”
“Sv—Sa—Savannah Ggg—”
“Got it!” Sam exclaimed a few moments later. “There’s only one Savannah in here. Assuming that’s the girl that works at the Haunted House?”
“Good.” Azi turned from Sam and fixed its gaze on Paul. The man was shaking, the fear pouring off him in potent, delectable waves. “You’ll wish to leave now, Samantha Merrick.”
“Leave—” I heard her gasp. “I can’t let you kill him. As much as he deserves it, this bastard is a human being. The lowest kind, but still human.”
“I will honor my arrangement with the—Jax. I will not kill him.”
“But you’re going to hurt him.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m going to hurt him,” Azi confirmed as it pulled my lips into a wicked grin.
It waited, but Sam didn’t say anything else. Instead, I heard the soft click of the door as she slipped from the office. And as Azi dug my fingers into the soft skin of Paul’s shoulders, I knew Sam could hear him scream.
Chapter Twelve
Sam
As we drove, the sounds of Paul’s screams echoed through my head. The demon assured me the man was alive, and while not necessarily well, he was better off than he deserved. What bothered me more than hearing every last whimper was that I hadn’t cared. I hadn’t moved a muscle or lifted a finger to he
lp. Maybe the demon was rubbing off on me.
I hung on to Paul’s cell phone just in case. Azi had technically attacked him, and on the off chance he thought about spilling to the cops, we had ammo. Azi informed him I’d send the pictures to the cops, along with posting his information all over the internet. I was betting the families of his models would love to get their hands on that.
Savannah—there’d been no last name on Paul’s list—lived about twenty minutes from the amusement park, in a complex called Ginger Pine Apartments. We didn’t know for sure that’s where she’d go, but it was as good a guess as any. When we pulled up in front of the place, I was a little shocked.
Ginger Pine was a rundown building at the center of town. There were bars on the windows and a broken sign that informed the public that there were heap roos lable. The missing letters made it seem like they were advertising gibberish. It wasn’t what I’d expected. I thought back to how Sadie lived—the only witch I’d had the misfortune to meet—and wondered why this Savannah girl didn’t just nose-twitch her way into some five-star apartment in the sky.
“Remember,” I said, closing the car door and stuffing the keys into my back pocket. “Let me do the talking.”
“You keep telling me that. I find it unnecessary. I am perfectly able to convey our needs.”
“Sure you are.” I sidestepped a huge piece of displaced sidewalk and stepped past a broken stair. “The problem lies with how you convey things.”
It grumbled something I couldn’t quite catch as I pulled open the front door and stepped inside. Savannah’s room was at the back of the first floor, the last door at the end of the hall. I sucked in a deep breath and knocked, then crossed my fingers and waited.
And waited. And waited…
“Maybe she didn’t come back here?”
“She’s inside,” Azi said. It tilted Jax’s head and leaned just a little closer to the door. “I can hear her heartbeat. It’s fast. She’s afraid.”
“Gee.” I stepped back from the door and glared at the demon. “I wonder why she’d be afraid. Y’know, it’s not like she was just attacked by some weird looking, freakishly tall corpse-man.”