by A. J. Menden
“Stop it, Fantazia!” Wesley snapped, on his feet. Her goons stood to attention.
She raised a hand to stop them. “Easy, boys. He’s not going to hurt me. He won’t lay a finger on me, will you…I’m sorry, what’s your name now?”
“Wesley,” he said through gritted teeth.
She waited, a sweet but fake smile on her face.
“Charles,” he finished. “And if the fishing expedition is finished, let’s get down to business. You’ve got information for us; now tell me what you know and quit wasting my time.” The light above us flickered. He could still do the scary power-surge thing. Maybe he wasn’t as depleted in the magic area as he thought.
She dismissed her goons with a wave of her hand. “After everything, you can’t believe that I would play you, Old One.”
“I believe you’ve become selfish over the years and would do anything to further your own interests.”
“That wounds me.” She put a hand to her chest in mock pain. “Alright. We’ll talk business, then. I’ve heard you’ve been playing with the Cult of the Dragon.”
Wesley steepled his fingers in front of him. “Go on. Who is the leader?”
“The Dragon, of course.”
“And what do they want?”
“What the Dragon wants.”
“And what does the Dragon want?” Wesley looked like he wanted to reach over and smack her.
“To bring about the prophecy of Likghardt.”
I blinked. “What the heck is that?”
She gave me a condescending smile. “He’ll figure it out.”
“What are the ingredients to the prophecy?” Wesley was leaned forward in his seat.
“Interesting choice of words. All are parts to the big puzzle. Each part must be assembled at the right moment. It builds, can’t you feel it?” She held her arms out and smiled. “The magic is growing. Chaos and blood and death and rebirth, all joined together to bring out something wonderful. Or terrible. Depends on how you look at it.” She smiled and got to her feet. “I have another appointment, so you will have to excuse me, Old One.”
Wesley stood. “And what will I owe you?”
“If I can’t do a favor for you, who can I do one for? And if the prophecy comes to pass, you’ll have a whole new set of problems to worry about.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Take care, il mio creatore.” Her goons appeared and ushered us out.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“Nothing.” Wesley took my arm again and led me past the room full of guests and back to the real world. “I’d forgotten how infuriating she can be. She can’t just come out with it; no, she has to be vague on purpose.”
I sensed there was something going on other than just annoyance with her riddles, but I didn’t want to bring up the obvious fact they had a past. Who knew if he’d remember it, anyway? “We got some information though—if you understood what it meant; because I’m lost. At least it confirmed our suspicions.”
“It’s just another piece to the puzzle. Now we have to start putting the pieces together.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“So glad to see you’ve mastered the art of transporting without puking, Wes.”
“You are so funny, you should go into stand-up comedy,” he replied, holding on to the wall as if it were a lifeline.
“I’m just trying to lighten up the situation. Make you laugh—instead of hurl.” I touched his arm in sympathy. “You would think that after almost a month you’d have adjusted.”
“You would think,” he said, and bent over again. I rubbed his back and looked away, like I used to do for Selena when she would come home after a night of partying. He didn’t throw up, but instead took deep breaths.
“We could start taking a car, you know,” I suggested, running a hand up his spine and then ruffling his hair in a soothing gesture. “So you wouldn’t have to go through this every time we patrol.”
“I have to get used to it,” he said, straightening and grabbing me by the waist.
I didn’t react in surprise, but instead leaned in, bracing him with my arms, since he was sick and probably about to pass out, but I also pressed all of my curves against his body. It felt very right to be against him like that. My mouth went dry as our gazes met and I saw the look of desire in his eyes. My rational mind reminded me we had to keep this professional.
But I didn’t move away.
His hands slid down from my waist to rest on my hips. When I didn’t push him away, his hand strayed toward my butt. My breath caught and unconsciously I wet my lips, turning my face up, expecting a kiss…
He let me go. “I’m sorry, I got dizzy for a moment.”
“It’s okay.” I turned so he couldn’t see my flushed cheeks. “Maybe we should just call it a night.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“You almost passed out on me.”
“No, I didn’t.” His eyes darkened and I shivered, having the uncanny feeling of Robert looking at me through him. Or maybe it was more he was looking at me like Robert used to when he thought I wasn’t watching. Only, Wesley had never made an attempt to hide it.
“Wh-what’s that about? Quit being such a man, Wes, and just admit you’re sick.”
“I didn’t grab you because I was sick,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I did it because I wanted to.”
Oh, God. And I wanted him to as well. Worse yet, I wanted him to kiss me, and I didn’t want it to stop there. When had that happened?
“Wh-why?” I tried to sound curious, like we were discussing politics or something equally boring, and not like I was having very vivid images of kissing him, of him pressing me against the dingy alley wall and having his way with me right there.
Wow. Where had that come from?
“I was testing a theory. Looking for a reaction. I’m a scientist and an investigator. It’s what I do.”
“I don’t think scientists are supposed to grab someone’s ass to test a theory.”
He didn’t get a chance to reply, because what sounded like thunder and lightning crashed into a trash can next to us, and it exploded. We both jumped.
I swore. “What was that?”
A dark figure flew down to land in front of us. He was massive, muscles on top of muscles, with a military crew cut adding to the tough-guy appearance. He wore a black cloak with no shirt underneath. Black tattoos swirled on his chest. Literally. They moved and changed shape as I stared in recognition.
“Talon,” I breathed.
Wesley grabbed my arm. “Schermo.” Another concussive blast struck, but the magic shield he had put up protected us. We were pushed back by the force of it.
“It won’t hold forever, Reincarnist,” Talon said. “You’re too weak.”
“I’m still more powerful than any little poseur that comes crawling out of the gutter,” Wesley retorted.
Far be it from me to agree with a villain trying to kill us, but I could tell Wesley was already straining to keep the shield up. It was time to take action. “Can he fly?” I asked Wesley.
“You know more about him than I do.”
“Let’s find out,” I said, grabbing him and bolting up into the sky. Talon shot a blast of magic at us, but I swerved and it missed.
“You needed to mind your own business and stay out of this, Old One!” Talon yelled after us. “You can’t stop the Divine One from coming.”
I flew around a building, putting space between us. “Do you think Fantazia told him about us?” I asked.
“She said she wouldn’t.”
“And you believe that tramp?”
“Hey, she’s not a tramp!”
“Just because she’s—”
I screamed as Talon appeared right in front of us. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, shooting a blast of energy right at me. Lucky for us, Wesley’s shield was still up. I still took some of the blow and plummeted, but at the last moment glided around the corner of a buildin
g, crash-landing in front of an abandoned ware house. Instinct had led me to take the fight somewhere with fewer civilians.
“It’s not fair that he can teleport, too,” I grumbled.
“If he can, then where is he?”
“For God’s sake, don’t wish him on us, Wes. Maybe he gave up.”
“I need a power boost,” Wesley panted. “He’s right, I can’t hold on to the shield and do any sort of offensive spell with the levels I’m at now.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do? I still can’t teleport long distances, and I don’t think we want to chance him following us home and killing us there.”
“I…I need to take the power from you.”
“Huh?”
His face hardened and he stared at me. “You have part of my soul; you have part of my power. It came from me, so I can tap into it. I need to take some of it back.”
“Permanently?”
“Well, it’s like a blood transfusion. You’ll replace it in time.”
“Is it going to hurt?”
“Probably not as much as dying will if you don’t stop questioning me and just let me do it!” he blasted.
I glared at him. “Fine. Take it.” I held out an arm.
“I didn’t mean the blood thing literally,” he groused, looking heavenward as if asking God why I was stupid and annoying. He put his hands on either side of my head and spouted off something in rapid-fire Italian, of which I only picked up bits. The last Italian word was barely spoken before what felt like an electric current ran through me. And I had been electrocuted before, so I had a basis for comparison. It didn’t hurt as bad as Syn’s attack on me, but it was damn close.
He let go of me and I collapsed onto my hands and knees, curling up for a moment, concentrating on moving my sore body. Tears were streaming down my face.
“I’m sorry, Lainey,” he said.
“Don’t talk to me,” I growled, closing my eyes. I wasn’t really mad at him, just still in terrible pain. “That freaking hurt.”
“Not as much as this is going to,” I heard. That psycho Talon had appeared out of nowhere and proceeded to blast me with some sort of spell. I flew backward, slamming into a car, my already sore limbs going numb.
“Just stay down!” Talon ordered me, as if I could move of my own accord. “I’ll take care of you later. You and I have dealings, Old One. You were not meant to be involved.”
“But I am now.” I heard the glass in the windows of the ware house rattle and my skin started to tingle. Wesley was preparing to fight.
“Your theatrics don’t scare me, or your reputation. I have gazed upon real power and yours is nothing,” the villain bragged.
“And you shouldn’t waste time gloating.” There was a loud explosion, and I managed to drag myself behind the safety of the car door as glass shards rained down on us.
I shuddered, trying to stay conscious, but the sides of my vision kept going dark and all my eyes wanted to do was close. I heard the sounds of a battle, and knew it was Talon fighting Wesley. Praying he hadn’t taken all of what little magic I had, I whispered the Italian words to a healing spell and felt it take effect. I could move again, though I felt like a walking bruise. Wesley had depleted me with his power transfer, but I had a feeling some bones would have been broken had the magic not worked.
I got to my unsteady feet to see Talon shooting some sort of fireball at Wesley. But his back was to me. Seizing the advantage, I flew over, wound up, and punched the psycho as hard as I could in the back of the head, not caring if I killed him.
He must have had a shield up, because my fist would have gone straight through his skull otherwise. As it was, he flew through the concrete wall several feet behind him.
I turned back to Wesley, who looked exhausted and had several bleeding cuts and burn marks on his skin. I probably didn’t look too much better.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“What?”
That was all the warning I got before he did it again: grabbed me by the head and zapped me with his draining spell. This time, my throat burned with my screams and tears streamed down my face. I fell to the ground boneless and whimpering as he released me.
I heard Talon laughing, and he stood up amidst the wreckage. “The Master will be pleased when I bring back your skull, Old One. You’re too weak to fight me for long.”
“Alle terre scure con voi,” Wesley spoke. I recognized the Italian—it was a banishment spell—and then the entire ground shook.
“Sending me to the Darklands won’t help, Reincarnist. Our time nears!” Talon screamed. But then his words cut off. A harsh silence followed. I lay still on the ground, unable to move and crying to myself.
“Lainey, oh Lainey, I’m so, so sorry,” Wesley said, and I heard the gravel under him shift as he bent over; then I felt his hands hovering over me. “I couldn’t do the banishing spell without a little more power, I’m sorry. I had to get him out of here before he killed the both of us!”
“Did you want to kill me yourself?” I spat as he tried to make me more comfortable. “Don’t touch me!”
“I could do a healing spell…”
“You do another spell on me and I will take your damn head off!” I got on my hands and knees, swearing like a trucker had inhabited my body. I rested there for a moment, willing my body to work. Right now, I had to be tough, not show any weakness. I had to show him I could handle anything this job threw at me and not that I was stinging from betrayal at how he had used me.
“I didn’t want to hurt you…”
“Then I’d hate to see what you’re like when you set out to hurt somebody.” I was able to get to my feet.
He backed off. “I had to, cara, I’m sorry.”
My head snapped to attention. “What did you just call me?”
He looked astonished. “I don’t know; it just came to me.”
I slapped him on the arm—a girly thing to do, I know, but it was the only violent gesture I could manage in my current state of mind without hurting him. He looked just as shocked as if I’d punched him. “You can’t call me that. Especially after what you just did.” I smacked him again.
He caught my hand in his. “I don’t understand. Didn’t I used to call you that?”
I wrenched my hand away and he moved back, but not before I managed to smack him again. “Robert did. But you’re not him!” I emphasized each word with a smack.
He looked exhausted. “Lainey…”
Turning away, I wrapped my arms around myself, as if that would ward off the pain, and whispered the words to the healing spell again. Nothing this time; I was tapped out. That only angered me further, and I lashed out with a nasty glare over my shoulder. “He never hurt me, and that’s all you ever do.”
Wesley’s face hardened. “Stop it.”
But I couldn’t. I had to get it out. I turned to face him, my mouth a thin line of barely concealed hurt. “All you do is bring me pain.”
“Stop it, Lainey.”
“Over and over again.”
“God damn it, stop it!” He grabbed me with brute force, one hand on my back, crushing me against him, and one on the back of my head, pulling my hair slightly, and he kissed me roughly. His mouth forced mine open. I made a bare effort to resist that we both knew was for show, and then gave in. I had to: it was one of those kisses where you had to give back as much as you were getting or risk being devoured. My hands slid up his back, pulling him close against me with a small whimper of pleasure. He gave a soft groan into my mouth as my tongue danced with his and the tension went out of his body. He was so familiar and yet so different, the same scent of soap and male, but he tasted more like that heavily scented tea he drank. I let my hands explore his body, still strong, but in a different way. Just like the way he was holding me was different: still with care, but with a bit more aggressiveness. He wasn’t holding anything back.
Why do we always seem to go at it after a fig
ht? I wondered, before he released me, breathing heavy and looking dazed.
“Are you calm now?” he gasped.
I stared, lightly touching my face. I had beard-burn from him, his taste was still on my lips, and he was asking me if I was calm? I was in a tailspin. No matter who he was, he still knew how to kiss. But the kiss illustrated what I had been beginning to realize about the differences between him and the man he used to be.
Elements I had liked about Robert were still in Wesley, but I was starting to fall in love with Wesley for himself.
How bizarre was that?
It felt like I was betraying Robert, but yet not. Wesley was still him, just in new packaging and with little differences throughout, ones I was really starting to prefer. No matter how much I had loved Robert and how much I knew that he loved me, he had always been reserved. Wesley was more open than Robert ever was, even in our closest moments. He didn’t hold back.
“Lainey? Are you okay?”
I realized I had been staring off into space ever since he kissed me. “No. I still hate you.” My tone conveyed the opposite sentiment, though.
He flashed me a grin. “I could tell.”
“Yeah, that was an interesting way of snapping me out of it,” I said.
“It was better than slapping you,” he retorted, holding out a hand. “If you’re okay now, let’s teleport home. I want to get out of here—just in case.”
I took his hand. “Okay.” He wasn’t going to say anything else? Like, let’s go home and pick up where we left off?
In a flash, we were back home. He didn’t get sick this time, though. I guess my power had helped. My stomach rolled a bit, but my dinner stayed where it was. And I had just been getting used to being able to teleport without feeling queasy.
He kept hold of my hand, like always, and reached up to brush back a strand of my hair, an intimate gesture. “You alright?”