Soulmates

by Nadine Nightingale

  Six days to hell

  I limp to the antique couch in Bonnie’s family’s apartment, wearing nothing but bra, panties, and Alex’s leather jacket. The cut on my neck is still bleeding, and my knees hurt like hell, but I’m too wrapped up in what just happened to care. Demons doing business in a strip club is odd. A thing possessing my best friend, scaring the shit out of demons, and saving my ass is…I don’t even know what that is. Oh yeah, and then there was the news Melissa is no more. All in all, this has turned into a nightmare on Bourbon Street.

  “You got something to clean her neck?” hunter-heroic asks Bonnie.

  She hasn’t said a word since the thing left her body. Even now, she just nods and rushes to the bathroom. Jesse watches her like a hawk. He, too, lost the ability to speak. Part of me wonders if he’s scared of Bonnie now that he knows what she’s capable of. Then I see the worry in his eyes and consider the possibility he’s not scared of her, but for her.

  Alex examines my neck. “You going to tell me what happened?”

  “I already told you.” Twice. Okay, I might have left out some parts. Crucial parts, but Alex doesn’t need to worry about FBI slash hunters looking for me, the fact the demons were terrified when they saw my birthmark, or that Melissa could be dead. Neither do I want him to know the thing came to save me.

  He reaches for the first-aid kit, which my mute best friend put on the table. “Tell me again,” he orders, reaching for gauze pads to clean my injury.

  I frown. “I was talking to DeLuca when these assholes attacked me. Bonnie came running.” I give her an apologetic look. “Next thing I know, her eyes are white, the thing inside her kills the demons, and the two of you come running. Oh yeah, and then you made me walk down Bourbon Street in panties and bra. End of the story.”

  Alex sprays antiseptic on the wound and wipes it gently. “That’s all, huh?” He’s not buying it. It’s written all over his handsome face.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He raises his brows. “What do demons do in a strip club, and why did one of them kill the others?”

  I pull back and rest my head against the comfy couch. “I don’t know, Alex.” I really don’t. “And we don’t have time to think about it.” A Black Forest clock stands across from me. “It’s past midnight, which means you’ve got six days, and there are still four names on that list.”

  “She’s right.” Looks like Little Remington finally found his voice. “I’ll call Carter. He’ll take care of Rick’s demon Cabaret. We”—he tilts his chin at his brother—“need to move on.”

  Alex’s squints. “What about Melissa?”

  She’s dead.

  “Carter can look for her,” Jesse suggests.

  Alex’s lips part, and my witchy-senses tell me there’s an argument in the air. But I’ve had about enough for one night. “B?” She looks at me. “Can I take a shower?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Why do you even ask?” I’m glad to hear her vocal cords are still intact. “I’ll get a towel.”

  “Thanks,” I say, heading to the bathroom.

  I get rid of my underwear and turn to start the shower. Bonnie walks in with the towel. She looks wretched. “Need anything else?” she croaks, not looking at me.

  I’ve known the girl most of my life. The only other time I’ve ever seen her so broken was when Gabriel was arrested. “B?”

  “Hm?”

  “Are you mad at me?” It’s a selfish question, but I need to know.

  “Mad at you?” She sounds confused. “Why would I be mad at you, Amanda?”

  I reach for the towel and wrap it around myself. “That thing,” I say, sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub. “It’s my fault it possessed you.”

  She eyeballs me as if I’m completely nuts. “It’s not your fault,” she murmurs, joining me on the edge of the tub. “I’m a mambo. Spirits and demons don’t need an invitation to ride me, remember?”

  I’m aware of that. It’s one of the reasons she doesn’t use her gifts. She dwells in the illusion that magic won’t touch her if she doesn’t touch it. We both know it’s not true, though. At the end of the day, we are what we are—witches. And what defines us is who we are. In Bonnie’s case, it’s the sweetest soul and best friend one could wish for.

  “I’m worried,” she says after a long period of silence.

  I slowly let out the breath I’m holding. “Don’t be, B. We’ll find Alex’s soulmate, and I’m pretty sure the thing won’t come back.” Okay, truth be told I’m not really sure about the thing not coming back, but I am 100 percent certain we’ll get Alex out of this mess. At least it’s what I’m telling myself.

  Bonnie shakes her head. “I’m not worried about Alex or me.” She’s more serious than ever. “I’m fucking worried about you, Amanda.”

  “Me?” I tighten the towel around my chest. “Why would you be worried about me?” She’s the one who was possessed, and Alex is going to hell. I don’t see why she’s concerned about me.

  Her eyes are red and glazed. “That demon…” She stares at me and shudders. “It wants you, Amanda. It wants you bad. I felt it when it was inside me. It felt like starving while someone holds a beef steak under your nose.”

  I try to smile it off. Problem is, she’s right. I, too, felt the desire of the thing. “Hey.” I rest my hand on her leg. “One drama at a time. Let’s save Alex first and worry about demon dude later, okay?”

  She shakes her head. “What if all of this is connected?”

  I squint. “Connected how, B?”

  She rises to her feet and starts pacing the bathroom. “I don’t know. But think about it. The nightmares, Madame Josephine claiming you’re Eliot Ness, Alex showing up at the apartment half-dead because he sold his soul, and now that demon saving you? Does that sound like a coincidence to you?”

  It doesn’t. And there’s more. The two FBI hoaxers interrogating DeLuca, Jules, the Men in Black, but I’d be insane to mention any of it. “Guess it’s just a shitty month.”

  She stops in front of me. “What if this isn’t about Alex, Amanda? What if all of this is about you?”

  She’s losing me. “How is Alex selling his soul about me, B?”

  She drops her shoulders and sighs. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t add up.”

  I get on my feet, paying no attention to the pain in my knees. “I know you love me,” I say, folding my hands over her shoulders. “But you need to stop worrying. I’m like a cat. Always land on my feet.”

  She studies me closely. Then after what feels like forever, she says, “Yeah, but cats only have nine lives.”

  I force a half-hearted smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Promise?”

  I cross my heart. “Scout’s honor.”

  “All right.” She strolls to the door. “I’m gonna kill my mom’s bourbon stock.”

  “Leave some for me,” I order.

  Hand on the doorknob, she looks over her shoulder. “Amanda?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You think he’s scared of me?”

  He, as in Jesse. God, I’m not sure I like that she cares about his opinion. Who am I to judge, though? “Nah. He’s seen worse.” He’s been worse.

  “Good,” she mumbles before she moves her butt out of the bathroom.

  ****

  Canary rays slice through the massive window front, flooding the living room with bright light. Too fucking bright for a girl who’s been up all night. Sleep doesn’t come easily when your head reels with information you can’t process. Feeling like a vampire, I squint and stagger to the ebony table. “Careful,” I say, handing Jesse his eighth cup of coffee. “It’s hot.”

  He traces the gray circles under his eyes. “Thanks.”

  “You look like shit. Why don’t you get some rest?” Between informing Carter about the demon activities at Rick’s Cabaret, making sure Bonnie wouldn’t end up in the ER with bourbon poisoning, and calculating the most efficient routes to the rest of Alex’s maybe-soulmates, he scratched
sleeping from his to-do list.

  “It’s almost seven,” he grumbles. “No time for sleep.” We’d agreed to spend the night in NOLA and hit the road early in the morning.

  I sip my coffee and take a seat next to him. “How is it going?”

  He shoves the iPad away. “It’s fucking hopeless. I’ve calculated every route at least a dozen times. There’s no way we’ll make it to all of these girls in time.”

  I cut my eyes to Alex. He’s snoring on the couch. The prospect of an eternity in hell obviously doesn’t bug him as much as it bugs his brother.

  Jesse lifts his cup. “What are we even doing, Manda? Diana was a dead end, Melissa is missing, and the other girls are scattered all over the country. You really think we can save him?”

  I put my hand over Little Remington’s. “We still have six days.”

  “Exactly,” he mutters. “Six days. No way we’ll find his soulmate in time.”

  I grab the list Alex wrote. Jesse had approached the issue with math. Let’s see what my witch sense says. I skim through the remaining names.

  Sarina, Poulsbo, Washington.

  Viktoria, Miami, Florida.

  Anna, Westminster, Vermont.

  JJ, Winter Harbor, Maine.

  Anna. She’s the chick I saw on my vision quest when trying to locate Jesse back in Bakersfield. The girl definitely had feelings for Alex, but I doubted she was Alex’s soulmate. He liked her, but when Anna asked him if he loved her, jerk-face had thought of me. The witch that ruined him—his word, not mine.

  “That Anna chick,” I say, pointing to her name. “Is our last option.”

  Jesse raises his brows. “Why?”

  I shrug. “Because your badass witch friend says so.”

  He ogles me suspiciously, but I won’t share with him what I’d seen. There’s a little thing called privacy, and I happen to respect that.

  “Even if she’s our last option”—he pushes the iPad under my nose—“it’s still a twelve-hour drive to Miami, forty-eight hours from Miami to Poulsbo, another fifty hours to Winter Harbor, and six hours to Westminster.”

  One doesn’t need to be a math genius to know we’re screwed. Rubbing my temples, I try to think of a solution. Easier said than done after a sleepless night.

  Jesse rubs his jaw. “Any bright witch ideas?”

  “We split up.” Bonnie stands in the doorway. Her curls are soaking wet from a shower, and she changed into skinny jeans and a shirt with My Attitude Depends On You printed on it.

  Jesse’s jaw drops at the sight of her tight jeans. My best friend’s cheeks flush a bright red, and I literally smell sex in the air. It’s pathetic really.

  “Hey.” I snap my fingers. “Can you guys undress each other later?”

  Bonnie strolls toward us and grins. “Someone’s in a mood.”

  Jesse clears his throat and averts his eyes. “You were saying?”

  Bonnie reaches for my coffee. “My best friend has spent too much time with your grumpy brother. That’s what I’m saying.”

  Jesse smiles. “No, about splitting up.”

  She downs my coffee. “Efficiency: produce a specific outcome with a minimum amount of waste, expense, or unnecessary effort.”

  Jesse’s gaze flickers up. He looks at Queen B as if she’s the answer to all his prayers—totally impressed. Great. Now he’s not just mesmerized by her beauty but awed by her brain.

  I frown. “Unlike you, I haven’t slept, B. So why don’t you cut the I-major-in-computer-science-and-economics crap and get to the point.”

  Bonnie flings herself on the table. “We’re two witches capable of doing the spell and two hunters.” She meets my annoyed gaze. “Do the math, Amanda.”

  I think I’m having stroke-induced hallucinations. No way Bonnie, the girl who hates being a mambo, just suggested she’d do the spell. “You don’t do magic, remember?”

  She tosses her hair to one side and massages the nape of her neck. “It’s not really magic. Just one lousy spell.”

  One lousy spell, huh? “Still magic,” I snarl through gritted teeth. “Besides, splitting up? That’s fuckin’ crazy.” I look at Jesse for support. “Right?”

  “Don’t know, Manda.” He stares at the list. “We could cover more ground if we each do half.” He draws a deep breath and finally dares to look me in the eye. “We’d double the chances of saving him.”

  “Save who?” Alex asks, voice thick with sleep. I’m glad he’s awake. He’ll never agree to Bonnie’s stupid plan.

  Bonnie rolls her eyes. “You, you moron. Ain’t nobody else in this room who sold his soul.”

  “They want to split up,” I blurt out. “Told ’em it’s a stupid idea, but they won’t listen.

  Alex digs his elbows into the couch and pushes himself up. “One hunter, one witch?” His expression is unreadable.

  Jesse nods. “It’s our only shot, bro.”

  Alex staggers toward us. I wait for an explosive argument in which he tells his brother how ridiculous it would be for us to go separate ways and he’d never allow him to ride with a witch. I’m getting something completely else. “Sounds legit,” he says, eyes on me.

  “What?” I shout, jumping up. “Are you crazy? It would be one witch, one hunter. Meaning: Jesse would be alone with one of us. He’d be alone with”—I pause for dramatic effect—“a witch, Alex.”

  Something passes through his eyes. God, I wish I could read his aura. Maybe then I’d understand why he’s talking crazy.

  Alex squeezes my shoulder. “Relax, Manda. Jesse can take care of himself.” Our eyes lock. “Besides, I trust you.” He smiles at Bonnie. “Both of you.”

  I cross my arms. “Dude, are you on meth?” It’s either that, or he was abducted by aliens last night, and I’m talking to his clone.

  He raises his brows. “You asked me to trust you in Bakersfield.” He shrugs. “Congratulations. Now I do.”

  My mouth snaps open. “But—”

  “Then it’s settled,” Bonnie cuts in. She faces Jesse. “Find us a cheap rental.”

  Us? “Sounds like you already picked your teammate,” I grumble, murder on my face.

  She smiles innocently. “You really think I’ll voluntarily sit in a car with Alexander Asshat Remington?” She tilts her head to Alex. “No offense.”

  He holds up his hands. “None taken.”

  “Plus,” Bonnie goes on, “what if he’s attacked again? Between the two of us, you’re much more capable of protecting him.”

  Is this some sort of sick joke? I’d ask, but my jaw is lying on the hardwood floor.

  “Bonnie’s right,” Alex says.

  I shoot daggers at him. “Dude, did hellfire fry your brain cells?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  Jesse abandons his web search for car rental companies. “Look,” he says, a hint of sorry in his voice. “It’s three against one. Absolute majority.”

  Democracy sucks.

  Chapter 25

  A warm breeze wafts through the rolled down windows of the Mustang. I try to keep the inferno inside my soul under control. Not an easy task, taking into account how angry I am. Every now and then, when I push the gas pedal a little harder, Alex casts me a worried glance. I’m too fucking mad to acknowledge it. Splitting up must be the stupidest idea of the year. Why can’t he see that?

  Does it matter? It’s too fucking late anyway. Jesse and Bonnie are en route to Poulsbo, Washington, in their fancy rental car, and I’m driving to Miami with hunter-heroic, who looks like crap. His forehead is covered with sweat, and it’s obvious he’s in pain. He’s been like this since we walked out of the car rental company in New Orleans, where Queen B and Little Remington got a car, which is why, despite my tiredness, I insisted on driving.

  The silence must trouble him because he shoves a cassette in the player. Who listens to cassettes anymore? I swallow the snarky comment on the tip of my tongue and focus on the road.

  He presses the play button. Styx’s “Renegade” blares th
rough the speakers, and I can’t help but smile. I love this song. And he knows it.

  ****

  The distant lights of the dive bar floated through the car. I couldn’t believe I sat here waiting for Little Remington to screw the brunette bartender he’d flirted with all night. It was wrong for more reasons than one. I hadn’t had much of a choice, though. They’d offered me a ride, and I’d accepted. None of them claimed they’d change their ways while I was with them.

  Alex fiddled with the radio, changing station after station, on the hunt for a good song. There were none. “You cold?” he asked, searching through a stack of old cassettes.

  “No,” I said, teeth chattering. “I’m shaking because you’re so damn hot, I can’t keep my libido in check.”

  His smile was smug. “Good. Almost thought I’d have to get my old football jacket from the trunk.”

  I made a face and hugged the fabric of my thin jacket closer. “You insinuating I’m some dumb cheerleader?” Crazy how strong my voice sounded, bearing in mind I was freezing to death here.

  He pulled a cassette out of the stack and bit his lower lip. “I would never do such a thing.” He met my eyes. “I happen to like cheerleaders,” he said, shoving the ancient relic into the player.

  I gazed out the window. “Shocker. A guy like you digs cheerleaders. What a surprise.”

  Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” echoed through the car, and Alex shifted in his seat to face me. “A guy like me?” Curiosity blossomed in his eyes. “Care to elaborate?”

  I let out a long breath. “You know, the type who thinks every girl needs a savior, wears worn-out leather jackets to come across as the ultimate alpha-male, and listens to Zeppelin because that’s what damsel-in-distress-saving, leather-jacket-wearing, alpha jerks do, right?”

  His eyes went wide. “All right.” He held up a warning finger. “You can insult me all you want, but don’t you dare defame Led Zeppelin. They are gods, and I won’t have blasphemy in my car.”

  I choked back laughter and cocked a brow. “Says every guy who never listened to a real rock band.”

  He drew closer. His warm breath beat against my cold cheek. “That’s rich, coming from a chick who listens to Justin Bieber and One Direction.”