Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  Hotel walls were not built to last these days, and at their alarming rate of decimation, decisions were going to need to be made fast. Covering her nose and mouth to keep her from inhaling the rubbish, which was pouring through the air in thick waves, he didn’t try to decipher her cryptic comments. There would be time enough for that later. His complete focus was on what move to make next. Going out through the door was not an option so he was back to trying the original plan. He could only hope that she’d jump or that he could compel her to jump, but the success rate of that little number looked weaker with each second that passed.

  The next option was pretty darn risky, but he reckoned there was a seventy thirty chance that he could pull it off. It involved throwing Lainey out of the window, and then diving out of the window himself so it wasn’t exactly ideal. If he did so, he’d need to catch her, and preferably not drop her, before they landed. He’d also have to hope there were no pedestrians about because landing on one after flying through forty metres of air was going to be a messy experience.

  The double bed chose that moment to crash back down to earth as the wall began to disintegrate. There was no time left. Grabbing the aluminium case, he threw it through the gap in the window. Taking a deep breath he didn’t actually need, he placed his hands on Lainey’s underarms and tempering his strength a little, flung her body out the window, head first. On the plus side, his aim was good and he made sure she didn’t get any scratches on her way down to meet the sidewalk.

  When the wall behind him fell, he took a good look at the nasty little army, which had been sent after the human. Their eyes widened when they saw him, and they began to aim their pistols in unison. Giving them a wink, he dived backwards, twisting in flight, trusting that his one-hundred and eighty pound frame would travel much faster than Lainey’s, whose slight frame couldn’t have weighed any more than one-hundred and ten. Giving himself an almighty shove with the balls of his feet, cracking what was left of the window-frame in the process, he pinned his arms to his body and accelerated down to meet the pavement. This idea was probably one of the stupidest things he had done in his life, and not akin to Titanic-like disaster proportions. Still, he had never done things by half. If they were going to die, this way was as good as any.

  Impact

  It was touch and go for a few microseconds. Even though he’d made sure his body was as aerodynamic as possible, the fall was going to be five seconds tops. That didn’t give him a lot of time to manoeuvre. Flattening his arms to his sides, he directed his body down feet first. He could see Lainey floundering about in mid-air, flapping her arms and legs around as if she thought she might fly. He had news for her…she wasn’t going to win any awards for her attempt. She was also screaming as if she was a semi-finalist in Thailand’s World Screaming Competition and to be fair, she had a chance at winning that one. His eardrums were about to explode.

  When there was two seconds left to impact, he began to panic because he still hadn’t caught her. The concrete pavement was rushing up to meet them and the cracks between each paving slab were now visible. The early hour had kept most of the pedestrians at bay, but he could see the odd one or two scurrying on their way to work…none close enough to be mashed to a pulp, thankfully. There were far too many variables in this ridiculously stupid idea.

  One second to impact and her head was level with his eyes. He grabbed for her neck, missed, and ended up with a fistful of hair. Fuck. It would have to do. Flinging his arm upwards with a good degree of force, he catapulted her upwards and felt several strands of hair tear away in his hands. He could only imagine how that might smart, but she had much more important things to worry about than an appointment with a hairdresser. Managing to get a hold of her backside as she came back down again, he felt his feet touch solid ground and crumpled his legs on impact. The kindness wasn’t for him. He could take the bone-shattering collision on straightened legs without any discernible damage, but she would snap right in two. In an attempt to soften the effect, his legs folded to the ground whilst he bounced her up again gently, and then cradled her body back down.

  There was a shocked moment of silence, and it was almost pleasant. Then the screaming began again in earnest, which was understandable when he considered she’d just had a near death experience but if she didn’t stop, they’d probably have another one to contend with shortly. Giving her right cheek a good smack, he took a firm grip of her chin and held her face in front of his making sure he had her attention.

  “Breathe. Just breathe. Lainey, you’re okay. I can probably wipe that moment from your memory as soon as we get somewhere safe but right now, those lovely people that wanted to meet you back in the hotel room are now racing down the elevator and preparing to annihilate you on the streets, so we need to go. So one question…do you want to stay alive?”

  There was a soft little gasp of air, a strangled sound and then finally, a nod.

  “Good. Hold this.” He passed her the case full of guns and quickly surveyed the long row of vehicles parked along the quayside. “Let’s find ourselves a fast car.”

  Mercer didn’t give her time to respond, just grabbed her wrist and began to run. He adopted a slow pace, even for humans, but she struggled to keep up. They needed to find a car quickly. Spying a silver BMW saloon, he picked her up and powered his way down. He estimated they had no more than two minutes to get the hell out of Paris.

  “Focus, princess…we’re not out of trouble yet.”

  When he reached the car, he dropped Lainey to her feet and pulled a little black gadget from his pocket. Pressing a single button on its front, the BMW’s lights flashed and the central locking system released. Opening the passenger door, he dumped her into the leather seat and quickly fastened her seatbelt. Before she had a chance to blink, they were roaring down the busy streets of Paris, and he was driving like a local.

  “Can you slow down?”

  Flicking his eyes over her, he saw that Lainey’s hands were shaking and she was gripping the armrest in order to try to stop the tremors. He also noticed that her face had lost its colour and her eyes had glazed over and grown dark. She was going to pop.

  “No. We have three cars on our tail and we might have to crack open the guns in a minute.”

  “Oh God,” said Lainey and her face which had already gone white, turned a ghastly shade of grey. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

  Mercer put one hand behind her shoulder blades and pushed her downwards until her head was resting between her legs. “Deep breaths, Lainey, in through your mouth and out through your nose.”

  He couldn’t spare much more than a glance for her as the guys behind were gaining on him, and there was no way he could avoid them in the congested roads of central Paris. As long as they didn’t get directly behind their car, they had a chance. Swerving violently to the right just missing a motorcyclist who was pulling out, he swore.

  “Oh God.” There were gurgling noises erupting from the floor of the passenger seat.

  “What now?” He sighed, truly not wanting to know.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she moaned.

  Mercer grabbed her hair and shoved her back upright in her seat. “No, you are not.”

  To reiterate the fact, he smothered her mouth with his hand. “My acute sense of smell won’t allow it so swallow it back down, and start paying attention. This whole mess is your fault so the least you can do is stop feeling sorry for yourself, and help me out here.” Her chest heaved a couple of times but thankfully, nothing came as a result. He did not move his hand away though, just in case.

  Finally, she pulled his hand from her face. “I’m good. What do you want me to do?”

  “That’s a matter of opinion. I’d say you were especially bad for my health, and coming from a vampire that’s pretty impressive.”

  “You’re not funny,” she said giving him a withering look, and he relaxed a little. Perhaps she wouldn’t faint on him after all.

  “So? What do you want me
to do?”

  He debated the wisdom of letting her loose with the guns in the back, and then decided that if she wanted to shoot him she’d had ample chance in the hotel room. It wasn’t as if she could really kill him anyway. “Open the case on the backseat. Pull out something you think you’ll be able to handle.”

  “A gun?” Lainey’s expression was so shocked, he almost laughed but it wasn’t exactly the time or place.

  “No, the foam fluff inside there. Of course, I mean a fucking gun. What do you think we’re doing here…baking cupcakes?”

  “I’m not very good at baking.”

  Mercer resisted the urge to punch his fist through the roof of his car, satisfying though it might have been. “Can we get back to guns? Pick a small one, and don’t press the trigger just yet. Think you can do that much?”

  She frowned at him, but obediently reached behind her and flicked the lid of the case open. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he watched as she pulled out the smallest one. She held the thing as if it might explode, but that was probably a good thing.

  “A Beretta…nice choice…elegant Italian styling.”

  Flipping it over in her hand to examine it, Mercer knew that Lainey wasn’t as taken by its sleek design as he was. When she began waving it around, he pushed the dangerous end firmly towards her door.

  “I’ve been shot at enough today, thank you, so don’t point it at anything you don’t intend to shoot.” Looking in his mirror, he saw that two black Lexus sedans were only three cars behind them. He frowned. “Can you shoot?”

  “Yes.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. She might be of some use, after all.

  “Netballs, basketballs…and I’m pretty good on a hockey pitch. If we’re talking bullets, I’m afraid I’ve never held a gun before.”

  He slammed his head back against the headrest, and then swore. He’d forgotten the goons had used his back as target practise. There was a sticky sound as he’d pulled away. Yuck. “You’re not funny.”

  “You think you have the monopoly on humour round these parts?” She smiled at him sweetly. “So, what do you want me to do with this thing?”

  “What I’m trying to ask is—do you know how to use the sights on a gun? Have you ever played video games, arcade games… that sort of thing?”

  She shook her head. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the gold Citroen behind him turn off to the right and swore again. “Well, here’s the super-quick guide. This is the safety but you won’t need it for the time being.” He slid the switch across. “This is the trigger, and you only pull it if you want to put a bullet in someone or something. You put one in me and we’ll be having a serious talk later.” He gave her a dark look.

  “Sounds tempting. What else?”

  “This is the rear sight,” he pointed to a little bump on the back of the gun, “and this is the front sight.” He moved his finger to another even smaller bump on the end of the barrel. “You need to align them together when you take aim, and if there’s a rather large interplanetary miracle, there may be a small chance you might hit something.” He gave her a look that said he thought the possibility was unlikely. It was probably overkill after the sentence but he was in a good degree of pain, and he needed to vent.

  “I’m not going to kill anyone.” She closed one eye and began to line up the sights as he’d instructed. The gun began wobbling about all over the place.

  “I also think that would be too much to hope for.” His eyes watched as the blue Peugeot 308 behind them politely signalled using its indicator and moved out to cross the bridge over the river Seine. How very odd. Generally, the French thought their signals were for decoration purposes only. Focusing once more, he noted the black Lexus behind them swing out impatiently, and then it was immediately on their tail. By way of the rear-view mirror, he observed two black-suited thugs loading up various assault rifles. If they put any more holes in him, he was shortly going to resemble a cheese grater and the thought was not a pleasant one.

  “No, I mean it. I’m not killing anyone.” She’d set her mouth in a tight line and was shaking her head.

  “Open your window,” he instructed tersely.

  “Why?” Though she questioned his order, she obediently depressed the button on her armrest and the window slowly lowered.

  “So you can shoot out of it.” His voice may have sounded bored, but he was most interested in what was going on behind them. If he wasn’t mistaken, the guys in the Lexus had something akin to a grenade launcher in there. They’d come prepared, he’d give them that.

  “I thought I just said…” He cut her words off mid-sentence.

  “You don’t have to shoot them if you don’t want to—shoot the car, the engine, or the tires. The guns in their hands which are about to start blowing our heads off would also be an especially good choice but whatever the hell you want to start shooting, please do so now.” He swerved the car violently to the left and swore viciously as a volley of bullets took out their rear windscreen.

  “Shit,” Lainey screamed, and fumbled for the gun she’d just dropped into her lap.

  Rolling his eyes in disgust, Mercer did a squealing handbrake turn, and headed off down a little Parisian side alley that was just about big enough to fit a car. One Lexus shot straight past but the other managed to squeeze in after them, and they both set about terrorising the neighbourhood. Well, just a baker or two, for a few crates of pastries and French baguettes went flying up into the air and for a moment, it was raining breakfast.

  “Shoot something…anything, woman!”

  The guy in the passenger seat of the Lexus was just perfecting his aim again and this time, with a perfectly straight road ahead for a half a mile at least, things were going to get messy.

  When he heard no resulting shot, Mercer yelled, “For crying out loud woman, you take the wheel and I’ll obliterate the bastards myself.”

  Turning around to grab the biggest gun he could find, he nearly jumped out of his skin when two shots fired off in quick succession. Spinning around to take the wheel once more, and wondering what the hell had happened, it was a surprise to find the Lexus smacking into the glass frontage of a chic bridal boutique with both tires on the left hand side shot out.

  His mouth opened into a large O of amazement as the whole window went white before splintering and cracking under the impact. Both airbags had inflated, which unfortunately meant that the guys inside were probably still alive, but it also meant that the car was out of use. With any luck, they were on their own for the next hour or two.

  “What the hell just happened?” He turned to Lainey and nearly growled the sentence at her.

  She gave him a scared look and flattened herself into her seat. “Exactly what you told me to do, I think.” Her body was shaking all over.

  “If they were the first shots you’ve ever taken, I’m Joan of Arc.”

  “Well, you’re both dead so it is possible, but I believe there are gender discrepancies.”

  Mercer stared at her, really stared, and for a very long time, awaiting a real answer. Hopefully, she’d realise his eyes weren’t on the road sooner rather than later.

  “I just got lucky—okay? My vision is twenty-twenty. It isn’t hard.”

  His jaw snapped shut. “If the car wasn’t moving, that would be one thing but we were travelling at eighty kilometres an hour. You figured in the trajectory of the bullets?”

  “Uh huh,” said Lainey’s voice, although her eyes were asking, what the hell does trajectory mean?

  Mercer sucked in a long breath and decided not to explode. There would be time for all that later. Right now, he needed to focus, get them somewhere safe, and find a volunteer who was handy with a pair of tweezers. He would then need to feed—urgently. If little miss sharpshooter wasn’t lucky, she stood a good chance of being take-out. Disgusting takeout with that vamp blood inside her but in an emergency, any food was better than no food.

  “Close your eyes and pretend to be asleep because
I haven’t the enthusiasm or energy to compel you to do so.” He gave her a truly ferocious grin, so she knew he meant business. Her eyes immediately fluttered closed and she curled into the car door.

  Snatching the gun away from her lap, he threw it in the back and yanked up the volume on the radio. When Pharrell Williams singing HAPPY came blaring through the speakers, he turned it off just as quickly. I’m having a bad, bad day would have been far more appropriate.

  After a few kilometres passed by on the trip meter, he began to relax…well, as much as he could relax with twenty or so bullets in his back. Still, he planned to deal with them soon enough. He’d been more concerned with his passenger at the beginning of the ride but soon her heart rate had returned to normal, and gradually the stiffness in her body began to subside until she’d fallen asleep. The regular snores beside him had been going on for a while now, and they were strangely soothing.

  Switching on the auto-cruise, Mercer sat back and began to appreciate the beautiful French countryside and the uncluttered motorways. He was also thankful they didn’t encounter any more luxury Japanese sedans. Switching cars to a more discreet Renault Mégane in the small commune of Fosses to the north east of Paris was a simple enough matter with his little gadget, although he bemoaned the loss of the faster wheels. Unfortunately, he had to replace the BMW because the goons would have their plate number and would be actively searching for them. Besides, having no rear windscreen was more air-conditioning than he could handle in December.

  Chapter 7

  Lainey didn’t make a sound the entire time. All Mercer had needed to do on the switchover was unfasten her seatbelt, apply a little light compulsion and move her from one car to the other. There were no hiccups. She remained oblivious to everything and for now, that suited him just fine. His back was on fire, he was shaking from heavy blood loss, and the beating pulse beside him was beginning to echo in his head. Trying to focus on driving, he knew that this was going to be a close run thing. His nearest safe house was a chateau around one hundred and thirty kilometres east of Reims and the drive would take approximately three more hours. By the time they got there, he’d be light-headed, sweating, and fighting to regain control. If things got to the point where he was ravenously thirsty, she could pretty much kiss her life goodbye because although he’d honed his restraint with several hundred years’ worth of practise, once a vampire reached his starvation point the beast took over and there were no exceptions to the rule. He knew if his situation got that bad, and he found a warm body with a beating pulse he would not be able to stop until he had drained it dry.