My pursuer skin swept his greasy, black hair off of his face, turned his head up, and flared his nostrils. Someone in the back caught sight of this almost skeletal face and yelped, then others wised up to what was going on too, and the crowd stared parting, moving away from him, thinning. Not wanting to get caught, I slipped deeper into the gathered audience, making my way a little more quickly now through the press of people, toward the darkness, toward the trees. My heart was still hitting the inside of my chest like a jackhammer trying to tear up a sidewalk, causing my vision to tremble, my head to rattle, but slowly, surely, I was able to reach the opposite edge of the crowd and dash into the trees, taking cover behind the thickest of them.
When my pursuer’s presence drew not only the attention, but the ire, of some of the people trying to listen to the smoky sounds the band was putting off, he retreated, scoffing and moving away from the area almost as quickly as he’d entered it. He knew I was there somewhere, hiding from him, but continuing the hunt had become impossible.
I exhaled deeply, then let myself sink against the tree and collapse to the grass. My legs were aching, my lungs were on fire, and the pain was starting to return to my chest. Worse, tears were starting to come now too, silent, stinging, and wet. I felt a tickle in my throat, then the tickle grew into what felt like a lump. I started swallowing rapidly, repeatedly. When I lost the ability to breathe, I began panicking, scrambling, reaching for my throat with my hands. I stood, sliding along the tree again, and hacked something up; something small, dark, slimy, and alive.
The thing, this worm-like creature, wriggled around on the grass, trying to escape. All I had to do was step on it, but I couldn’t even do that; I could only stare at this thing and keep spitting to get rid of the taste it had left in my mouth. Then a massive boot fell upon it, and I yelped, surprised not only at the suddenness of what had happened, but also at hearing the sound of my own voice.
I turned my eyes up at the person attached to the boot, and it was Logan.
He reached for my shoulder and squeezed it. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“I…” I said, struggling to speak, “I think so.”
“I found her,” he called out, his voice echoing.
“What the fuck was that thing?”
“A curse.”
“Curse?”
Footsteps, rushing at us from behind. I turned, dreading to see the skeletal face of that jaundiced, bony man, but it wasn’t him—it was Damon who was running, with Eli beside him, both men hurrying to the place where I was hiding.
“Did you see who attacked you?” Logan asked.
“I did, but I don’t know them,” I said, “And they have Lucia!”
“Which way did he go?”
I thought about the question, then pointed to the blue bridge across the way. “Back to North Rampart.”
Logan didn’t think twice. As soon as Damon and Eli were close enough to me he broke into a run, moving much faster than I thought possible. Then again, after the things I had seen tonight, the line between what was possible and impossible, or insane, was blurry indeed, if it had ever really been there to begin with.
“Did they hurt you?” Damon asked. He hadn’t touched me like Logan had, but the worry in his eyes was enough. Eli, next to him, was scanning the area for signs of either of my pursuers, but I knew he wouldn’t find them. They were gone.
“A little,” I said, “But I’m okay. They have Lucia, we have to call the police.”
“No, not the police.”
“What? My friend was kidnapped!”
“Maybe, but we can’t call the police. That’s not how this works.”
“And what the hell is this? Because I’m clearly missing something.”
“We’re going to explain everything, but we can’t stay here—we have to leave.”
“What about Lucia? We can’t just leave her.”
“We aren’t going to,” Eli put in, “I promise, we’re going to find her, but it isn’t safe out here anymore, and we need to make sure whatever those people did to you isn’t lingering inside of you.”
Lingering. The thought hit me like the sudden urge to vomit. I stared at the smashed remains of the thing I had coughed up, and that didn’t help my gag reflex at all, but I held myself. Not in front of the guys.
“C’mon,” Damon said, taking my hand in his, “Let’s get out of here. If you still feel like going to the cops after we tell you what we’ve got to tell you, you can go to them.”
His touch, unlike the touch of the man who had grabbed my ankle, was warm, and welcoming. I felt that buzzing again, only this time it seemed to be coming from his hand instead of from me. As the seconds passed, my heartrate slowed, and my right mind returned, but that didn’t help the situation one bit because my right mind couldn’t make any sense of what had just happened. In fact, the more I tried to think about what had happened, the more it all started to seem like a dream, memories fading fast. The more I tried to hold onto them, the quicker they would slip.
But Damon and Eli were offering something I didn’t think the police would be able to offer—answers. They at least seemed to have some kind of idea of what was going on, and while they weren’t rushing to find Lucia, they were my only hope at trying to figure this whole mess out; so much for having a quiet drink after work.
Logan was nowhere to be seen as we made our way out of the park and onto the street. From there, Eli connected us with an Uber that drove us, in silence, out of the French Quarter and into downtown. I wasn’t entirely sure where we going at first, I wasn’t really paying attention, but when we turned off Saint Charles Avenue and into Sixth Street, I knew, we were headed for the Garden District.
The French Quarter was the beating heart of the city’s nightlife and tourism, but the Garden District was where the money was, a fact proudly displayed by the sheer number of mansions you could find by simply strolling around. It was the kind of place you want to live in, but just can’t because you’d need to be making millions and millions of dollars in order to afford to. There wasn’t a single street you could go down where you weren’t flanked on both sides by some of the most beautiful 19th century mansions you’d ever seen.
It was a great place to go if you wanted to dream, or if you wanted to feel sorry about your financial situation; so, what the hell was I doing here now?
The Uber drove down Sixth Street, passing Lafayette Cemetery Number One. Above us, all you could see were trees reaching for each other from the sidewalks on either side of the road, breaking the light from the moon above them. All was quiet in this part of town; there were no kids, there was no music, only sleeping families, and the occasional old person walking a dog.
This was the place to live, away from the hustle and bustle of a busy downtown metropolis; just you, your TV, and your pets.
When the Uber stopped in front of a thin, but incredibly long white house on the corner. Eli stepped out of the car, then Damon did. Following their lead, I stepped out into the warm, humid night too, and I watched the Uber drive off. Eli then walked up to the fence in front of the house, opened it, and stepped through the small stone pathway behind it.
“Is this…?” I asked.
“His place?” Damon said, stepping before me, “Yes.”
“Holy… shit.”
From the front, the house looked tiny. Well, tiny probably wasn’t the right word. It had two floors, white columns that went up from the ground to the roof, and a double-gallery. Surrounding the property line on the street was a wrought-iron fence. On the dividing line between Eli’s house and the other was a hedge dotted with palm-trees. A dog bowl sat on the grass to the side of the house, next to it a big, red chew toy in the shape of a bone, looking like something that might belong to a big dog.
Eli unlocked the front door and waited for Damon and me to step into the house before following us. The air smelled vaguely of cinnamon, like a bakery after hours; hardwood flooring, tastefully decorated with a warm and inviting inte
rior to match the cinnamon scent, and a high ceiling to make the house feel bigger. It didn’t look like much from the front, but when you got inside, you got a sense of just how large it truly was; not in its height or width, but its length.
A single hallway ran along the length of the house like a tunnel, with a door on either end, a square of moonlight slipping into the house and shining on the floor. From the foyer, which doubled as a lounge, I spotted a set of stairs at around the midpoint of the house leading to the next floor up, but that wasn’t where I was being ushered toward. Eli moved into the lounge, flicked the lights on, and sat down on one of the sofas there. Damon moved past me and into the lounge as I awed about the place, but I didn’t wait by the entryway for long. I pushed through and found a place to sit, no matter how uncomfortable, small, or unworthy I felt to be in a place as beautiful as this.
“Any word from Logan?” Damon asked.
Eli checked his phone and shook his head. “No, but that could be a good thing.”
“Good thing?” I asked, “Do you think he’s found Lucia?”
“I’m not sure,” Damon said, “But if anyone has the nose to find her, it’s him. If he doesn’t find her, then whoever took her is taking way too many precautions for this to be a standard kidnapping.”
“I don’t know what’s so standard about a kidnapping.”
“New Orleans has the highest missing person’s rate per capita in the entire United States. You knew that, though, right? You are a local.”
“Yeah, fine, I am, but that’s not the kind of statistic I usually look for.”
“And what stats do you look for?”
I shook my head quickly. “Look, I could sit here and answer bullshit questions all night, but there are more important things to deal with, like Lucia, and like what the fuck happened to me tonight.”
“Everything in due time.”
“No, not in due time—you promised me answers, and I think I deserve some after everything that’s just gone on. I don’t want to have to wait until you’re ready to talk; I’m ready now.”
Damon’s eyebrows met in the middle. “I would ask you if you’re the kind of person who is used to getting what she wants, but I know that’s not true, so I’m having a hard time placing the root of this demanding attitude.”
My heart started pounding again; quick, heavy beats that made my chest shake—and ache. There was still plenty of pain there. It wasn’t what he was saying that was hitting the nerves, it was the way he was saying it, with such a calmness, such confidence to his voice. Only, there was a fine line between confidence and arrogance, and I was starting to get a clear image in my mind on which side of that line he lived.
“I just watched my friend get kidnapped, two men chased me into a park, and I almost got hit by a car. You’ll excuse me if my patience is running a little thin tonight.”
“We’re gonna find your friend, okay?” Eli said, nodding at me from where he sat, “I promised we would, and we’re going to. We just need to figure out where she’s been taken to first.”
“I would also like to know exactly what happened,” Damon said, “We were in the bar when all of this happened, then Eli… he alerted us to the commotion and we were able to find you in the park. Care to run us through the chain of events from when you first left the bar?”
“And by me telling you this, not the police, we’re gonna find her?”
“We’re gonna try,” Eli said. “Start from the beginning.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“So, you watched her get in to the car?” Damon asked.
A brief pause had hung in the air once I was finished recanting my story; every moment from the second I left the bar, to the instant Logan squished the worm thing I had coughed up like a hairball. Both men had listened intently, each clearly picking out the pieces of my story that stood out to them the most. Damon’s question was a good one, because… well, it changed the narrative I’d had in my mind.
“I… yeah, I did,” I said.
“She wasn’t grabbed and thrown into the back of the car?”
I shook my head. “No. I… called out to her and she… I don’t know, I guess she couldn’t hear me.”
“Maybe you were too far away,” Eli said.
“I don’t know, I was pretty loud. I’m surprised none of you heard from inside.”
“There was music playing, people talking,” Damon said, his eyes narrow, and pensive. He had one knee over the other, both hands holding each armrest of the armchair he was sitting on. In his button-down shirt, combined with the blazer and slacks he had on, he looked almost like some kind of high lord considering words spoken by his kingly council.
This isn’t Game of Thrones, Andi.
“I find it interesting that she willingly got into the car,” Damon said, “Did at any point you figure out exactly why the men had jumped out of the car and started chasing you?”
“No. All I’d done was run after the car, yelling at Luce. Then it just stopped, and the two guys came out. Or, well, one of them at first. The guy that… that zapped me.” I almost didn’t want to use the word. It felt weird.
“Yes…”
“You should have been knocked out cold,” Eli said, after a moment.
“What?” I asked.
“The thing that hit you, it was meant to knock you out.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because it’s a common curse; common to people like that guy, anyway.”
I shook my head like I was shooing a nonsensical thought. “Wait a minute, this is the second time one of you has said the word curse. What exactly are you talking about? And remember that I don’t speak the same language as you.”
Eli and Damon looked at each other in unison, then Damon nodded, as if in approval of what they were about to do next. “What happened to you tonight was real,” Damon said.
“What do you mean?” I asked, frustration and shock now mounting within me.
“That man from the car, the one who zapped you, as you say, he’s what’s known as a Hexer.”
Damon paused, as if waiting for my reaction to what he’d just said. “Okay?” I said.
“A Hexer is a type of… Wizard.”
“A wizard… like, an honest to God Wizard?”
“Wizard is simply the term I decided to use because I thought you might understand it, thought it might save us all a lot of explanation. The term we’ve all adopted to use when referring to our kind as a whole is Mage, and it means the same thing.”
I looked at Eli, then back at Damon. “Which is?”
“We… do magic,” Eli said. “It sounds crazy, I know, but you’ve seen plenty crazy tonight. I know part of you believes what we’re saying.”
“Are you kidding? This is all bullshit. It has to be. Magic? Curses? This isn’t the Lord of the fucking Rings!”
“It’s all true, Andi,” Damon said, his voice smoky, smooth, but also full of authority, “That man was a Hexer, someone who has the ability to perform invasive, often negative magic on other people. Eli is a Spirimancer, Logan is a Primal, I am a Warlock.”
My heart was running again, thumping hard inside of my chest. I could feel the cold hands of panic trying to grab the back of my throat, threatening to squeeze all the air out of me. These guys were clearly insane, and I had allowed myself to be brought back to their house in the middle of the Garden District, where I knew no one. For all I knew, they had something to do with Lucia’s disappearance, too. Oh God, Andi… what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?
“Even now I can sense how uncomfortable you are,” Damon said.
“You needed magic to figure that out?” I asked.
“No, you’re shuffling around in your seat, and you’ve glanced at the front door twice in the last minute. Do you think we’re going to hurt you?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“How about you think we’re trying to help you?” Eli asked, “Because that’s what we’re doing here. We just
wanna help. Neither of us know where your friend is, but we’re trying to fill in some of the blanks for you while we wait for Logan to get back.”
I stared at him, eyes narrowing to slits, eyebrow furrowing. “Why?” I asked, suspecting I knew the answer. “Why tell me?”
“Because…” Damon started, but he paused.
“Because what?” I asked, my heart really pounding now, smashing against my temples two, three times a second.
“You must feel it…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’d been able to sense it from the moment we started talking tonight. The spark, the vibration in your… aura. I knew, from the minute I saw you, you were special. One of us.”
“One of… you? A Warlock?”
“Maybe not a Warlock,” Eli said, “There are different types of Mages, different bloodlines. The gifts are all passed down from parent to child. All bloodlines are different, some use subtle magic, others use the in your face kind, some are rare, some are common.”
“And you’re saying… you’re actually saying, that I… I’m one too?”
Damon never took his eyes off me. “What do you think, Andi?” he asked. “Think back to tonight. What happened tonight? What did you do that was, perhaps, remarkable?”
A couple of things came to mind, but I wasn’t about to start saying them out loud. Why? To satisfy his ego? Yes, the memory of how I had leapt over that Dodge Challenger like I was some kind of athlete was fresh in my head, but doing that wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility for someone who used to run track in high school? And when the guy had tried to grab my collar, he had tripped just at the last second, fallen flat on his face, and for some reason I thought I’d had something to do with that—as if I had somehow wrapped myself up in good luck. Then there was the thing with the strange symbols appearing under my skin; had that been real?
Twisted Fate: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (The Harlequin's Harem Book 1) Page 4