Soulmates

by Nadine Nightingale

  Agents Marple and Brown, huh? My throat tightens. “That’s not all, is it?”

  “No,” he admits, an edge to his voice that scares me.

  I hate when people make me wait. Especially when my pulse throbs against my neck and my palms are dotted with sweat. “Spill it, Jess.”

  “Carter and his people raided Rick’s Cabaret. The demons were gone.”

  The light bulb on the wall flickers. Chills run down my spine. I scan the hallway. I’m alone but feel like I’m being watched. I blame it on lack of sleep. “That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But?”

  “They weren’t just gone, Manda. They were killed. All of them. Carter describes the scene as a demon Chainsaw Massacre.”

  “What?” I’m having a hard time processing the news. Tearing a bunch of demons apart is one thing. Slaughtering a whole club full of the nasty creatures something entirely else. “How is that even possible?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, sounding as miserable as I feel. “But two things. You need to be damn careful—there’s no way of knowing how many hunters are looking for you—and you can’t tell Alex any of it. He’d freak.”

  I press my back against the wall to steady my weak knees. The light flickers again, and I swear I hear a dog howling. “What the—”

  “What is it?”

  The lights go off, and I’m in the dark except for the exit sign at the end of the hall. My heart thunders in my ears as I hear it again. The howling of a dog.

  “Amanda!”

  “Gotta go, Jess.” I end the call and scan my surroundings. There’s a large shadow at the end of the hallway. It moves toward me.

  I could go back inside. It would just be one step. The shadow comes closer, floating down the long hallway. Hell, I really should move. The air is electrified. More howling echoes off the walls. What the—

  “Manda?”

  Alex?

  I spin and the lights go back on.

  Alex stands in the doorway, a towel around his waist. “Whatcha doing out there?”

  My jaw is clenched. “I…I—” My gaze drifts to the spot where the shadow was moments ago. There’s nothing. It’s gone.

  Alex cocks a brow. “You?”

  I write the incident off as a hallucination caused by sleep deprivation. “I was just looking for a vending machine,” I say.

  The trembling in my voice raises his suspicion. His eyes land on the phone in my hand. “Did you find one?”

  I compel a smile I don’t feel. “No.” I shove the phone in my pocket and walk toward him. “Let’s go inside. I need some sleep.”

  “Yeah, you do. You look like shit.”

  Feel like it, too.

  I take a quick shower. When I come back, the lights are dimmed, and Alex, still wearing nothing but his towel, is lying on the left bed. My bed. Arms crossed behind his head, he looks me over. “What, no towel today?” He refers to the scenario in Bakersfield where I may or may not have dropped my towel to piss him off.

  I pull the St. John’s wort and a couple of fresh gauze pads out of my bag. “I’m gonna take a look at your chest.”

  “You can look wherever you want. I ain’t got nothing to hide.” His voice is smoky.

  I sit down next to him and rub some of the sticky stuff onto his cuts, deliberately ignoring the blackish veins. “How long?” I ask, not meeting his eyes. I’m crazy, not suicidal.

  “How long what?”

  I tape the gauze pads to his chest. “How long since you got laid, Alex?”

  “By you?” He flashes me a sexy-as-hell smile. “Too. Damn. Long.”

  “I’m not going to fall for your shit, Alex.”

  The playfulness in his eyes flickers out of existence. “You sure you and Pony-Boy aren’t exclusive?”

  I untangle my hair tie and put it on the nightstand. “This DeLuca obsession of yours is getting real awkward. Want me to call him and see if he’s up for a date?”

  He leans against the headboard. “What a funny bunny we are today.”

  I turn and look him in the eye. “Cut it out, Alex. I don’t wanna fight.” Not after the news I just got. Not after the shadow I saw. Not five days before he goes to hell.

  He raises his brows. “Are you okay?”

  I climb under the sheets. “Yes, hunter-heroic. I am. Now move to your bed.”

  He turns on his side, resting his head on one elbow. “Are you really throwing me out of your bed when I only have five days to live? That would be plain cruelty.”

  I pull the blanket over my chest. “Do whatever the hell you want, but make no mistake, this ain’t no invitation for sex.”

  He smiles. “Damn shame.”

  I frown. Sure, it’s dumber than dumb to sleep next to a guy who drives my lady parts crazy, but he’s hurt and I don’t want to sleep alone. Maybe I did hallucinate, and there was no shadow. Maybe the bulb flickered because it was about to burst. But what if my mind hasn’t played tricks on me? What if there really was someone in the hallway? One of the hunters looking for me or worse, the demon from Rick’s Cabaret?

  I reach for the lamp. “You good to sleep?” He nods and I switch off the light, bathing the room in darkness.

  For a while, we’re both quiet, me trying to sleep, him watching me like a hawk. I literally feel Alex’s gaze roaming over me. It makes me all kinds of giddy and restless.

  His leg brushes against mine. “Manda?”

  “Hm?”

  “What’s with you and your family?”

  I dig my nails into the sheets and glare at the ceiling. What is it with him and his sudden interest in my personal life?

  “Manda?”

  Exasperation simmers under my cool façade. “My sister and I, we don’t get along. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re from two different planets.”

  “What about your mom?”

  Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated by Detective Bitcher? I mean, I don’t ask him about the mysterious sister Diana mentioned. “Haven’t seen her since she threw me out of the house four years ago. It’s very unlikely—as in demons-and-angels-make-out unlikely—I will see her anytime soon. Can’t ruin her picture-perfect family for her new rich husband.”

  He sighs loudly. “Wow, she really threw you out of the house?” He pauses, probably wrapping his head around the reality I call life. “What could possibly justify a mother treating her own flesh and blood like that?”

  I don’t want to talk about Mother Dearest or my past. Alex is a stubborn son of a bitch, though. He’ll never let me sleep until he gets what he craves—an answer. “Before I was born,” I explain, voice trembling. “My mom had a vision.”

  “She had the same gift as you?” Alex queries.

  “No.” I’m not sure why the hell I’m telling him any of this. “She only had visions when she was pregnant with me. Anyway, I was some sort of queen of the underworld, bringing upon the end of the world.” I turn, facing the bathroom door, and close my eyes. “Probably doesn’t surprise you, huh?”

  His hand travels from my shoulder down to my fingers. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his breath warm against the nape of my neck. “No kid deserves to grow up like that.”

  I swallow the desire to conquer his mouth. I ignore the heat rising in my belly. “Get some sleep, Alex.”

  He throws an arm across me, pulling me against his warm chest. I try to resist, but it’s been a while since I felt so good. “Night,” he whispers, his body melting with mine.

  I stare into the darkness and try to get a grip on my heartbeat. Why does he have to be so close? Why can’t he see having him in my bed, knowing I will never have him in my life, is fucking torture? I close my eyes.

  One sheep.

  Alex’s hand wanders over my ribs, down to my hips.

  Two sheep.

  His fingers brush my leg.

  Three sheep.

  He draws tiny circles on my inner thigh.

  Ah, fuck the sheep!

  I t
hrow the blanket to the side and sit up on the edge of the bed, my feet dangling over the gross carpet.

  “Move your ass back to bed,” he orders, patting the free spot next to him.

  “The mattress is too soft,” I lie. “I’ll try the other one.”

  He murmurs something about me being full of bullshit, but I ignore him because I can no longer ignore the need in my loins.

  Chapter 27

  Four days to hell

  Piles of snow cover the flat roof of Bobby’s Bar, located a few miles outside Winter Harbor. I’ve seen my fair share of shitholes, but the old cement chunk, painted dark red, looks like the devil’s favorite hunting ground.

  Icy wind blows through dead trees and beats against the bar. Hugging my coat closer, I glare at the neon sign above the door. Several letters are gone, but I think it says We Don’t Serve Women. You Must Bring Your Own.

  Close to the entrance, I stop moving. “Sure that JJ chick works here?” I ask, teeth chattering. December in Maine is a vicious little bitch.

  Alex grabs my arm and hauls me toward the entrance. “Absolutely. Now, come on, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Not as bad as it looks, huh? Agree to disagree. Ever since we crossed the state border, I’m plagued by this weird feeling I’m in deep shit. Like something terrible is about to happen. I only wish I knew what.

  “Wait,” I say, wrenching free of his grip. “How do you wanna play this?”

  He tilts his head and grins. “We’ll go with the truth this time.”

  I cross my arms, not liking the truth path he’s on. “You just going to walk in there and say, ‘Hi, JJ. Long time no see. Oh, by the way, I sold my soul and need you to do a soulmate ritual with me’?”

  Alex purses his lips. “Amanda.” His voice is so stern it sends chills down my frozen spine. “Don’t freak, okay?”

  I stumble backward. My brain connects the weird feeling and Alex’s strange reaction. “Oh no,” I bark, putting more distance between me and the bar. “Don’t tell me she’s—”

  “A hunter,” he finishes for me.

  “Hell to the no!” The lump in my throat is choking me. “I’m not going anywhere near another hunter.” I have a couple on my tail. That’s more than enough.

  He runs a hand over the healing cut on his face. “Manda, JJ isn’t a typical hunter. She’s cool, I promise.”

  Last time the Remingtons said that about one of their hunter pals, I almost got shot by Pulp Fiction Granny. “Hunters hunt,” I bark. “It’s as simple as that.”

  He grabs the sleeve of my jacket and pulls me closer. “Listen to me,” he says, his lips way too close to mine. “I won’t let her hurt you.” Our eyes lock. “Trust me?”

  It’s hard to tell him to go fuck himself when every cell in my body does a happy dance because he looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. “Whatever,” I grumble. “But if she does kill me, I’ll haunt your sorry ass, even if I have to infiltrate hell.”

  He flashes me a cocky grin. “Seeing Amanda Bishop in hell, making the devil fear for his throne? I’d sell my soul all over again for that.”

  I nudge him in the ribs. “Your jokes suck, Alex.”

  He throws an arm around my shoulders and guides me to the entrance. “Wasn’t a joke, Manda. I truly believe hell hath no fury like Amanda Bishop pissed off.”

  I lean in closer, soaking in the heat radiating from him. “Your compliments suck even more than your jokes.”

  He cups my cheeks, his expression dead serious. “I swear on the life of my brother, no one will touch a hair on your pretty little head.” He kicks the door open. “Now, come on. It’s freezing out here.”

  Whatever.

  I scan the bar like a lethal redheaded Russian spy, assessing possible dangers. There are two customers; one has his head on the counter and looks like he’s sleeping, the other gulps down a beer and stares at an old-fashioned TV hanging on the wall. It’s not even noon, and these guys look wasted. They ain’t no hunters. I relax a bit.

  We stroll to the counter. Unless JJ is a sixty-year-old barkeeper with hygiene issues, I don’t think she’s here.

  “Hey.” Alex addresses the grumpy dude behind the bar.

  He ignores him.

  Alex casts me a sidelong glance and shrugs. “Maybe he’s deaf?”

  The bartender’s brows shoot up. Nope, definitely not hearing-impaired.

  I shove Alex out of the way and smile at Mr. Grumpy. “Excuse me,” I say, leaning over the sticky counter. “Is JJ in?”

  The guy turns his back to me and reaches for a beer bottles. “Never heard of her.”

  I cock a brow and grin. “Interesting how you assume JJ is female. You know, since you’ve never heard of her and all.”

  I have his attention. He spins, looking me over. The edges of his lips turn down in disgust. Honestly, I’m a bit startled. Usually, men of all ages give me the I-want-to-screw-you-right-here look, not the get-out-of-my-bar-you-freak glance. “You got a problem with your ears, girl? Said, I don’t know her.”

  I ball my hands. The dude’s wife might be okay with him talking to her like that. I’m not. “What the fuck is your p—”

  Alex moves closer to the counter. “We’re not here to cause trouble,” he assures him. “But we need to talk to her.”

  Mr. Grumpy sniffs his snot back. “JJ ain’t working here anymore. Girl left town,” he says and spits on the floor.

  Reading auras or not, I’m still the best lie detector there is, and this douchebag is full of bullshit. “You are one of the worst liars I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

  Mr. Grumpy curls his hands into fists and draws closer. “Did you just call me a liar in my own bar?”

  I dare say his murderous expression is supposed to scare me. Wrong girl. A lopsided grin on my lips, I move closer. “You heard me.”

  He slams a fist on the counter, waking the I-take-a-nap-in-a-bar dude in the process. “Get out of here. Now.”

  Alex cups my elbow. “Let’s go, Manda.”

  He tries to pull me away, but I’ll be damned if I move. All the shit bugging me for days comes crashing down on me in this instant, igniting a firestorm in the pit of my stomach.

  “Manda.” Alex’s eyes plead with me, but when I see red, no one in this world can stop me.

  I yank my elbow out of Alex’s grip and bend over the counter, getting right in Mr. Grumpy’s face. “Ever heard of the Cosa Nostra?” My voice is so calm, it scares me a little. And Alex? Well, judging by the look on his face, I’d say it scares him a lot.

  Mr. Grumpy glares at me, totally confused. “The what?”

  “The Sicilian mafia. Their fashion sense is real classy.” I trace a button on his dirty shirt. “They’re experts when it comes to tying a tie. If you want, I can show you how it’s done. Won’t take long. All I need is your tongue.” I start to feel a little crazy. Psycho crazy to be exact.

  The old man tries to laugh my threat off, but I can tell I got to him. There’s a whole lot of uneasiness in his eyes. “Are you threatening me, missy?”

  I pull him half over the counter. “I don’t do threats.” His gray eyes go wide. “Only promises. So let’s try this again, shall we? Where’s JJ?”

  “You’re crazy as shit,” he barks, pulling away.

  Alex agrees. He yanks me back by my shoulders. “Are you nuts?” he asks once we’re eye to eye.

  “Just a little.”

  Alex is all set to give me a lecture on God knows what—pretty sure it involves respect thy elders and stop watching the Godfather—but a husky female voice delivers me from the pending evil. “Alexander Remington, that really you?”

  Alex and I both turn. A few feet away, next to a door I assume leads to the storeroom, stands the porn version of the poisoned-red-apple-eating, slumbering-till-prince-charming-kisses-me princess. Long black hair cascades down over her shoulders, tight leather pants accentuate endless legs, and full red lips scream “kiss me.” I hate to say it, but the
chick makes me want to change sides.

  “JJ.” Alex beams at her.

  “You know these freaks?” Mr. Grumpy grumbles.

  Murder on my face, I spin. “What did you just call us?” I really thought I had my temper issues under control. The word freak generally flips my bitch-switch, though.

  In my peripheral vision, I see JJ roll her eyes. “Relax, Dad.”

  Dad? I look from Mr. Grumpy to the porn-fairytale princess. How on earth could a guy like him produce something like her? Her mother being Miss Universe is the only explanation.

  JJ walks toward us and smiles at her dad. “He’s very protective of me.”

  “No shit,” I murmur.

  The girl doesn’t seem to mind my snarky comment. Perhaps because she’s too wrapped up in jumping her ex-lover. “Man,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s good to see you.” She points at the cut on his face. “Let me guess, your girl realized what a jackass you are?”

  “She’s not my girl,” he states, annoyed.

  “Yeah, I’m not his girl,” I agree, more annoyed.

  JJ throws her head back and laughs. “So you used to be his girl before you realized what a jerk he can be?”

  Hunter or not, I dig her spirit. “Nah,” I say, waving it off. “Was smart enough to see right through his nice-guy act before I made that mistake.”

  Alex’s face slips into a pissed frown. “I’m right here.”

  “We can see that.” JJ pulls herself onto the counter. “All right, Remington. What can I do for you?”

  Hunter-heroic stares at the floor. Gone is the tough guy who hunts evil witches and monsters. Arrived is a little boy who looks like he’s about to tell his mother he ruined her favorite dress.

  “That bad, huh?” JJ raises her brows. “Did he piss off a witch?”

  “He’s still pissing her off,” I say matter-of-factly. “But—”

  “Wait.” JJ stares at me. “Are you…” She waits for Alex’s verification. “Oh. My. Gosh. She is, isn’t she?”