Fury’s Kiss

by Nicola R. White

  But still, the wistful, sappy side of me that was infatuated with him, even after the hurtful things he’d said back at the house, urged him to prove me wrong. Tell me you care, something small and vulnerable begged inside of me. Tell me it matters.

  That I matter.

  Finally, Jackson looked away too. “Just because I don’t see this attraction between us going anywhere, doesn’t mean I want to see you get hurt.”

  Be still, my beating heart.

  “Excuse me while I swoon,” I muttered as I shoved my feet into the platforms of doom, then sat down on the floor to do up the ankle straps. My trembling quads wouldn’t have supported me if I’d tried to do it standing, and my hands shook as I worked on the shoes. I was light-headed and a headache was starting to form behind my eyes.

  I managed one buckle on my own, but was shaking too much to do the other.

  Jackson cleared his throat and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Here, let me,” he said after a minute. He darted glances at me as he crouched down to help. As always, his hands on my skin sent an electric current racing up my body.

  “I’m fine,” I responded, but he pushed my hands away and took over.

  “Are you always this bad at letting someone help you?” He kept his eyes trained firmly on his task. “Or is it something about me in particular that pisses you off so much?”

  “It’s just you,” I answered, but my voice lacked conviction.

  His hands stilled on my ankle. “The way we left things, back at your house…”

  I bit my lip. “We don’t need to talk about it. It was a mistake.”

  “Right. A mistake.” He lowered his gaze, cleared his throat again. “I’ve been wanting to tell you…” He trailed off again.

  I wanted to shake him. What was he trying to say?

  “You wanted to tell me…” I prompted.

  He gave his head a slight shake and his fingers tightened around my ankle for a second before he let go. He stood up abruptly. “You were right. I shouldn’t have come.”

  Before I could respond, he stood up and headed for the exit, leaving me behind still sitting on the floor. After a few seconds of stunned silence, I grabbed the wall and hauled myself to my feet so I could follow. There was no way he was getting off so easily, just walking out on me like that.

  I clomped into the other room, far outpaced by Jackson, and strode past Alex and the snake keeper. The woman in khaki gave me a long, assessing look as I stumbled past. Sizing up the competition, maybe, though I doubted very much that I looked like a contender for Alex’s affection as I stormed after Jackson.

  Leaving Alex to say her good-byes, I concentrated on making it out of the reptile house upright, then headed for the parking lot. I was determined to confront Jackson and make him finish what he’d started to say.

  But he was long gone by the time I got there.

  Alex caught up to me as I sank into the passenger seat of her car.

  “Well?” She settled in on the driver’s side. “What happened? Did you get it?”

  “Just drive, and I may let you live.” I let my head fall back against the seat. “I can’t believe you invited him along.”

  “Oh, come on.” Alex put the car in gear. “He showed up when we needed him, didn’t he? I think he’s got a thing for you.”

  “Yeah. It’s called contempt.”

  “Hey, it’s my business to know what men want. And that one wants you bad. Trust me.”

  I ignored her and held up the bag full of venom-soaked sponge, studying it.

  In response, Alex grinned and held up a piece of paper with a name and phone number scribbled on it. “Mission accomplished.”

  When we got home, it was almost time to meet Nora at the high school, so we burst through the front door at a run, stripping off our disguises as we went. As I shoved my feet into still-damp sneakers, the soggy cross trainers reminded me again of Jackson. I hadn’t been able to put his judgmental, holier-than-thou remarks out of my head the whole way home, and the memory of what had happened in the backyard did little to improve my mood.

  I went into the kitchen to see if Rachel was ready to go and discovered that she had a pot of something nasty simmering on the stove. I recognized the nauseating aroma of ambrosia as she squeezed drops of venom from the sponge I’d given her into the mixture.

  “I gathered everything we should need for tonight while you guys were out.” She nodded toward the pile of supplies on the kitchen table. “I just need to set this to simmer and we can go.”

  I grabbed one of the canvas totes we used for groceries and started to shove the items inside. Flashlights, stopwatch, water bottle, note pad and pen. It looked like Rach had thought of everything.

  “I wish I had some ambrosia ready now,” she said, turning the heat down on the stove, “so we could compare the immediate effects of ingestion with your performance beforehand. But with Agent Graves on the scene, we can’t afford to put this off.”

  “Amen,” I agreed. We needed answers, and we needed them fast. If the FBI had any clue what I was capable of, they would be on me like white on rice.

  I slung the canvas bag of supplies over my shoulder and shot a doubtful glance at the potion bubbling on our stove. “Are you sure you got the recipe right? The stuff Mrs. Hadley gave me was purple.” The mess in our big soup pot was a sickly yellow.

  “Artistic license on Mrs. Hadley’s part.” Rachel grinned. “The purple was just grape juice, not necessary to the chemical composition of the stuff at all.”

  I shook my head. If you had asked me the week before, I would never in a million years have expected to learn that my next-door neighbor was a witch who cared about the aesthetic value of her potions. What next? A mummy who only used six hundred thread count bandages?

  Actually, scratch that. I didn’t even want to think about mummies, not after everything else that was happening to me. If the universe was listening, I was not about to give it ideas.

  When we got to the track, Nora, Ruby, and Jackson were there, waiting next to Nora’s old pickup. “It’s real late,” Ruby informed us, bounding over like an excited puppy, “but I get to stay up to help with Tara’s tests. Mama said I could.”

  “Glad to have you on the team,” Alex told the little girl, swinging the kid up to sit on her shoulders. Ruby squealed in delight.

  “How fast are you gonna go, Tara?” she asked me.

  I grinned at her and shrugged. Her enthusiasm was infectious, despite the damper Jackson’s presence put on things. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. Think Alex can beat me in a race?”

  Ruby grinned and wouldn’t say one way or the other, though she shook her head no so Alex couldn’t see.

  “I saw that, twerp,” Alex fake-growled up at her. Ruby laughed.

  “Uncle Jackson, you race, too!” she commanded from her perch as we all headed onto the rubberized surface of the track.

  “Not tonight, kiddo,” he said. “I’m not dressed for a race.”

  I glanced over and saw that he was wearing the jeans, boots, and jacket I thought of now as his uniform. I couldn’t read his expression, and I looked away first, bending down to fuss with a shoelace that didn’t need retying.

  Now that I was outside in the full dark—and undistracted by any black ooze attempting to devour me—my new and improved range of vision took my breath away. It was like getting glasses as a kid after needing them for months, but a hundred times better.

  Away from the incandescence of the suburbs, I gasped at the red-orange auras surrounding everyone. Ruby was a tiny, fiery sprite as she bounced around us, while Jackson burned big and hot, brighter than Nora, Rachel, or Alex. Was I seeing heat signatures? I remembered reading somewhere that men have naturally higher body temperatures than women.

  Ruby walked to my side and took my hand. “It’s because you’re a myth-o-bio-log-ical.” She carefully sounded out the long word Rachel had come up with, displaying her uncanny ability to know what I was thinking.

/>   Her aura blazed, spiking like a sun flare, and I gasped.

  “What is it?” Jackson was immediately alert. “Did you see something? Hear something?” He took a step toward Ruby, ready to protect her from unseen attackers.

  “No, nothing like that. Ruby just surprised me. I’m…I guess I’m seeing in infrared now, and Ruby’s heat signature just flared.”

  As soon as he realized Ruby wasn’t in any danger, Jackson walked away, distancing himself from me. “Wouldn’t hurt to be a little less dramatic,” he muttered. “Instead of making people worry over nothing.”

  Well, excuse me for my involuntary reaction.

  “I was surprised,” I snapped at him. “Sorry for making you feel something. I know how much you hate that.”

  “OK then!” Rachel broke in, stopwatch in hand. “Why don’t we get started?”

  “Remind me again what we’re doing here?” I asked. I could think of about a million things infinitely preferable to spending time with Jackson Byrne.

  “Discovering you can see heat signatures is a perfect example of why we’re out here. We need to find out what you’re capable of before some new ability catches you off guard at the worst possible moment. It will also be good to find out what your limitations are.”

  Rachel positioned herself at the side of the track. “Let’s try some sprints to see how fast you are, then we’ll move on to endurance. And let me know if you feel anything new or unusual.”

  I wanted to tell her my whole life had become unusual, but I shook my head and took off running, more than ready to escape Jackson’s contempt. The wind rushed past me as I circled the track, making my eyes tear up until I blinked my brille into place to shield them. My legs beat out a solid, steady tattoo on the track and I felt like I could run all night, faster than I’d ever run in my life. I lapped the track in what felt like seconds, so I kept going when I flashed past the others. Alecto writhed in serpentine glee inside my head and I felt her undulations all through my body, spurring me on even faster.

  I lost count of how many times I flew around the track, but finally my heated feelings started to burn themselves out. I glanced up as I came into the home stretch again and noticed a heat signature in the parking lot, picking its way slowly through the dark toward the track. The figure used no flashlight, clearly trying to sneak up on the group waiting for me at the edge of the rubber oval. Without breaking stride, I veered suddenly toward it and was on the intruder in just a few steps. I gathered my legs under me and pushed off into a full-body tackle, knocking the stranger to the ground.

  “Who are you?” I demanded, sprawled atop the man. “And who sent you?”

  I rolled him over to get a good look and my heart sank.

  “Special Agent Graves,” he answered when he’d caught his breath. “FBI.”

  Chapter 18

  I rolled off the agent and jumped to my feet, then extended a hand to help him up. My throat was tight with unease and anxiety. What did he want with me now? And why was he sneaking up on us in the dark?

  Graves waved me off and got up on his own. By now, the others were making their way over to us at a run, flashlights bobbing. He produced one of his own and shone it at me to confirm my identity. Then he ran it over the faces of the others, pausing for a few seconds longer on Jackson. No one spoke and I tried to think of something to say, but nothing appropriate came to mind.

  Finally, Graves broke the silence. “Mind telling me what’s going on out here?”

  “Just out for a run,” I answered. “No law against that, is there?”

  “Out for a run. In the middle of the night. With a bunch of other witnesses to a murder investigation.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, and then shut it again. No matter what I said, I doubted it would make this conversation any less awkward. Or potentially incriminating.

  There is something very unusual about this man, Alecto whispered. If we were not already mated, we might choose this Graves instead.

  Whoa. What? Mated? As in, to Jackson?

  Hell. No.

  You might be a snake, I told her, but I’m a person. And people do not mate. We date, we find someone with whom we are mutually compatible, and maybe someday we get married. There is no mating. As usual, she ignored me. Besides, I continued, you were there. Jackson is not our—my—mate. He’s not even interested.

  Alecto hissed to let me know what she thought of my defeatist attitude. Pheromones do not lie. The Fates brought him to us, just as they brought me to you.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for patience. This conversation was going nowhere. Sure, I’d felt a sexual pull toward Jackson from the first time I’d set eyes on him. But that didn’t mean we were meant to be. In fact, Alecto had just confirmed that Jackson had been right. The heat between us was just an involuntarily physical response, nothing more than pheromones all along. And if Jackson didn’t have feelings for me to back them up, I wasn’t going to keep making a fool of myself. Not when I had other things to worry about.

  Like why Special Agent Ethan Graves was spying on me.

  Even in casual clothes, he exuded that same by-the-book authority Rachel and I had seen when he’d questioned us back at the house. He’d been solid muscle when I tackled him, and I thanked the Fates and whoever else might be listening that Alecto hadn’t decided to unleash her pheromones on him as well as Jackson. My emotions were a big enough mess already with just one so-called mate to deal with.

  “Is there something we can help you with, Agent Graves?” Rachel asked coolly when the silence stretched on. “Or is it FBI policy to follow and harass innocent people?” She bared her teeth in a fake smile that was more poison than polite.

  Whoa, girl. Rachel getting confrontational with an authority figure? That was a total Alex move. The whole world really had gone crazy.

  Unperturbed by Rachel’s attitude, Graves put his hands in his pockets and looked up at the night sky, giving every appearance of a man out for a stroll. “Just doing my job. I saw lights out here on the field as I was driving by and thought I ought to check it out. You know, do my part to keep the peace and order while I’m in town.”

  “So why the sneaking?” I asked.

  “I figured you might be a bunch of kids out here getting drunk, maybe tearing up the field. Thought I’d scare a little sense into you, so I parked on the street and walked down.”

  His story seemed plausible and I breathed in, tasting the air to test its veracity. The night was filled with the scent and taste of summer, alive with the smell of lilacs growing wild along the roadside, with none of the bitterness I’d scented at the Stardust Motel.

  Graves was telling the truth. It really was a coincidence that he’d happened by.

  But now we had to get rid of him.

  “I’m not surprised to see you and Ms. Walker out here,” he said to Rachel, “since you’re such enthusiasts of alternative fitness.” He turned to Jackson. “But I’ll admit I’m surprised to see you out here. I would think a man of your…talents would have other interests.”

  “Alternative fitness?” Alex asked.

  “Naked yoga,” I supplied, hoping she’d shut up and play along.

  Thankfully, she got the hint. “Oh, yeah. Naked yoga. We love it. Can’t get enough.”

  Nora snorted with nervous, barely suppressed laughter.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jackson stepped closer to the agent with fists clenched.

  “Just surprised to find you out here with the ladies, like I said,” Graves replied. “A man with your background doesn’t usually go in for yoga and girls’ night. It’s been a couple years since you got out of the SEALs—maybe you’re getting a little restless, missing the action. Hawthorne must seem pretty slow compared to some places you’ve been.” He paused. “Things you’ve done.”

  “After the places I’ve been, I like slow.” Jackson’s voice grated, carrying a warning Graves didn’t take.

  “Some men find a quiet life hard to go back to. They star
t fights, get into trouble.” Graves shoved his hands into his pockets, faking a casual stance even as his aura spiked. “Is that what happened to Clinton Miller?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Graves laid his cards on the table now, done playing. “I think maybe Miller started something at the bar that night and you finished it. And I think Ms. Katsaros is covering for you.”

  For obvious reasons, I was less than thrilled Graves was on the case, but I hadn’t had a problem with him personally until now. After all, he was just doing his job. But implying that Jackson might have killed Clinton Miller because he couldn’t handle life in the real world? That, I had a problem with. Jackson might have been an insensitive, stubborn jerk, but he was also the toughest, most resilient person I’d ever met. He’d gone through one of the most grueling military training programs in the world, served on active duty, and come home only to find that his niece was in danger and he had to work with an actual, honest-to-God Fury to protect her. And he’d done it without flinching.

  Nora and I both opened our mouths to tell Graves exactly what we thought of his insinuations, but Rachel beat us to it.

  “Let me tell you something, Special Agent Graves.” She pronounced his name like she was describing a parasite. “You might get off on intimidating witnesses, but we don’t have to stand here and listen to you accuse innocent people of things they didn’t do. So if you don’t want a complaint made about you to the Bureau, I suggest you get back on your high horse and go back to the city.”

  She looked at him like he was something a stray cat had dug up out of Mrs. Hadley’s garden, and I was half afraid she would actually poke him in the chest like an angry schoolmarm.

  “Geez, Rach,” Alex muttered, “don’t go so easy on him next time.”

  Graves didn’t seem worried by Rachel’s threat, but I did take note of another spike in his heat signature. Very interesting. I couldn’t tell whether he was offended or impressed by Rachel’s assertiveness, but she definitely affected him.