by J J Andrews
“What do you want?” she asked, silently checking the tools of her trade and again searching for an exit.
“Do you trust me?” Nidhogg asked.
“Do I have a choice?”
“There’s always a choice. Tell me what you want. That will happen, and nothing more.”
“You are not like any dragon I’ve ever seen.”
He laughed. His voice was far greater than his presence. It rolled across the vault of the chamber in which he had been resting. “Have you known many dragons?”
“Movies.”
“I can assure you, all dragons are such as I, though we are few.”
Ali mustered courage. She took a breath, and though her instincts continued to have her searching for an exit and knowing the exact position of her hand to her Glock…she asked the question. “If you bless the bullet in my hand, will it be effective in removing the curse from my partner, once and for all?”
“Well phrased.” He paused, still holding her. “The magic is inside you. It is in this place. If your intention to wield this projectile at the spellcaster and end the curse, then yes. It is all about intention. Everything is intention. If it is your desire, it shall come to pass.”
“I’ve been through so much with Tom—and I’m not ready for his end of watch. I will take it from here. I will end this.”
Nidhogg raised her open palm to his lips and kissed the single 9mm bullet.
“Is that it?” Ali asked.
“Go ye forth and do good works. And someday, bring your child to the runes. I will be here, waiting.”
“I can’t have children.”
“Who do you believe more? The old, angry witch or a millennia-old dragon who lives on the currents of the past, present, and future?”
Ali pulled her hand away and took a step back, trying not to appear rude—but definitely starting to feel a bit pressured to remain so close. “Thank you. I’ll decide what I believe when this is over.”
Her police training kicked in as she dashed to her exit. As happened every day on the job, every scenario she could consider ran through her brain.
Chapter Thirteen
Ali didn’t need secret squirrel to find her way out of the tunnel. Hurried by the incredible anxiety that she was about to fire a bullet into the heart of a citizen, she wasn’t sure if she simply wanted to get it over with or if she would freeze. Tom is suffering. People are dying. It shouldn’t come down to this, but hey…this is Old Town, the place where bad magic trickles to the bottom of the heap and festers.
The dragon-kissed bullet weighed her down. The actual weight of her Magtech Guardian Gold 9mm caliber bullet was 115 gr. It was a sweet ammo for penetration, expansion, and velocity. That was why she’d chosen it. Nidhogg’s bullet seemed much heavier. It isn’t being used to serve and protect. It’s going to do something far more off the chart, and personally far more important.
She could have run to Cora’s.
There was no need.
Cora was there. Right fucking there.
A bedraggled and gray-looking Tom, thin and weak from the weight of the curse, swayed behind her. He waved to Ali.
Cora pushed him to the curb, and yelled at Ali, “Get it over with, bitch. Shoot me. Shoot me and I swear he will die before your eyes.”
“I remember when you helped us with the OTAB problem. Broke them up. Took a few of them home for a spanking,” Ali replied.
“What of it?”
“You haven’t always acted with vile intention.”
“I enjoy walking the dark side. What can I say?”
Tom pulled himself up onto the curb. “Ladies…let’s not fight.”
In unison, they replied, “Shut up, Tom.”
“Remove the curse, reveal the murders to the investigators, and promise to get the hell out of town.” Ali paused, thoughtfully. Cautiously. “Corazon, you’re not yourself. It’s messing around with the Furies that has you acting like a sociopath. Please…just make things right.”
Cora laughed. “Is that all?”
Ali nodded. “For now.”
“Or what, Officer Najarah? You going to cuff me? Arrest me? Cite me for malicious mischief?”
Before she could lose her nerve, change her mind, come to her senses, Ali drew her weapon and then fired the one in the chamber. The only bullet. One shot.
She held her ground, arms outstretched, hands properly placed on the grip. Perfect stance. Her aim was true. She was the best shot in the department. Tom called her a crack shot, then laughed under his breath, a cracked shot. She could see the bullet moving. It behaved as though hitting ballistics gel. That which it penetrated was not the torso of a witch. It was everything surrounding the witch. A thick miasma of confusion and nightmares. And murder. She literally blew it away with a service weapon of intention. In the haze—like looking at the bottom of a swimming pool from above, she watched Cora react. The look on her face was priceless. I surprised her. I fucking surprised her.
The witch was struck dead center with a blessing so powerful it knocked her off her feet. No blood. No wound. No ricocheting bullet around her insides, tearing her apart. Worse. She wasn’t getting her way. She wasn’t dying. Her curse was.
Tom’s cell phone chirped. Ali ignored the alert on hers.
From out of the shadows, out of the fog and remnants of a nasty hex, Melinoë appeared, flanked by the Furies. She could see the red-eyed, buxom demonesses and knew the infernal goddesses; the punishers and seekers of vengeance against immoral crimes, murder, oath breaking. They moved like serpents toward Tom. Melinoë, in saffron robes and wearing an expressive look of displeasure raised a hand to stop them. They stopped. Had they been horses they would have been chomping at the bit, salivating and hoofing the ground. Nothing surprises me in Old Town. God, I wish for a boring day of police work without an inkling of magic in it.
Cora looked up at Melinoë. “I didn’t mean for it to go this way.”
“Of course not, madam witch. But this is how it has turned out. Get up and get out now, before I destroy you. And you,” Melinoë called to Tom. “Well-played, sir. The nightmares are lifted and forever shall you remain free of them. You have my word.” She paused, thoughtfully. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll live happily ever after. Does it, Najarah?”
Tom stood. “What does she mean, Ali?”
“Not here, Tom. We’ll talk later.” Ali had not re-holstered her weapon. It had no magazine nor one in the chamber, but somehow, she felt stronger in her blue armor with weapon at the ready. She loaded a magazine and then drew back the slide. “Thanks for lifting the curse. Now, you’re turn to take your furries and leave.”
Melinoë laughed. “Furies. I like you, Ali. Women strong of mind, body, and heart are my women. I salute you. And that’s a good thing.”
The dark goddess glanced toward Tom and tossed a destroyed paperback at his feet. “It’s over, officer. You are now the absolute image of your true self. Show it to any god you choose.” The beautiful creature and summoner of nightmares sauntered back into the shadows, the furies, following.
Ali stood down. She relaxed her hands and let her service weapon rotate downward. She holstered it. “Let’s get out of here.”
Tom checked the message on his cell. “Holy shit. They caught the killers.”
Ali checked her phone. “Dear God. It’s the medical examiner and an accomplice. They were making a profit shipping bodies overseas. And the book pages…were meant to be a wild goose chase.”
Tom picked up the book. “This is evidence.”
“I say we burn it. They were caught in the act and caved.”
“I can’t wait to get back on duty.”
“Let’s go home,” Ali said.
Tom pressed his hands against his stomach. “What did Melinoë mean about me not living happily ever after?”
“The deal I made to get the dragon-kissed bullet…kind of puts the kaibosh on my ever having children.”
“Why did you do that? I can’t believ
e you did that.”
“I needed you whole. It was the only way.”
“You gave up your ability to have children.”
“No. I said I would not continue the line of the hangman, which means I cannot have my children, but I could have the child of another woman’s egg through invitro, or adoption, of course.”
“I volunteer.” Tom raised his arm.
“For what?”
“To be the father of your children. I will fertilize as many ovum as you need. When the time comes.”
“Don’t you think I should have my husband do that?”
Tom smiled. “Good idea. I’d like that role.”
“Is that a proposal?” Ali asked.
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“I want to make captain.”
“Would you be opposed to a very long engagement?” He reached into the side pocket of his sweats and removed a black velvet ring box.
“Oh, Tom. I appreciate the thought…but I don’t believe in diamonds or…”
“Just open it.”
Ali took the box from him and breathed deeply as she popped the lid. Inside was a silicone thin blue line ring. “Does this mean we’re going steady?”
“Whatever you want it to mean. Just wear it, please.”
“Partners are supposed to watch your back, not have you on it.”
Tom laughed. “I have your back.”
“Do you think you can handle a passionate, perhaps sex-free romance with a driven woman who doesn’t have time for love?”
“I do.”
Ali slipped on the ring. Sparks flew. “I still have residual magic.”
Tom leaned in and kissed her lightly and got a shock. “We are going to make our own magic.”
Ali giggled. “We’ve never had sex unless it was under Corazon’s spell, have we?”
Tom shook his head.
“Well, we should give it a try. Once or twice. To see if we’re compatible.”
“I wonder what else we can make shimmer.” He quickly kissed Ali. “Let’s go make some sparks fly.”
Epilogue
They had not previously made love of their own will. Sharing a bed was both comical and titillating. The sex was satisfying. Romantic. There was true affection between them. They communicated their needs well—both on the job and off.
After, with Ali sleeping in his arms, Tom couldn’t sleep. As opposed to allowing thoughts to play over in his mind, over and over, he mulled over her nighttime rituals. She removed her cosmetics. Brushed her teeth. She left her uniforms in her locker at the station, but she set out everything she needed for the next morning. He was far more of a find-it-on-the-fly kind of guy. She kept a loaded gun in her nightstand drawer and a knife duct-taped behind the headboard. Her extra clips were lined up in a hanging shoe holder on the inside of her closet. He’d watched her tap cookie crumbs out of her magazine holders. That cracked him up. He ate in his armored vest all the time—and had never thought about cleaning out his cuff pouch or magazine holders. Tapping out the leavings of never having time to sit for a full meal; always on the go, answering calls. Ali kept snacks in their cruiser. He never remembered to add to their stash. I rely on her a lot. He lightly stroked her arm. She slept hot. Her breasts were exposed and both feet. She wasn’t a dainty woman. At five ten she carried her one hundred fifty pounds with grace. He watched her brown nipples grow hard as he ran his fingertips over her arm until the little hairs stood on edge.
“Something you want, Tommy?”
“Yeah.”
Ali didn’t open her eyes. “Beside a few more hours of sleep?”
“Oh yeah.”
She rolled over. “I need to be fully conscious before having multiple orgasms. Good night, Tom.”
He chuckled. “Good night, Ali.” He ignored his partial erection and fell asleep.
He dreamed.
The residual magic he and Ali carried messed with his mind. He had nightmares. And in those bad dreams he heard voices. And lately…the voices had been clearer.
Like being waterboarded, the incessant tap-tap-tap. An endless torture. A bad knock-knock joke. He’d finally had enough.
“What the fuck ever happened to sleeping soundly? What the hell do you want?” I’m listening.” Tom closed his eyes, and whispered, “I don’t want this contact.”
“Do you recognize me?”
“Yes. I know who you are.”
“No need to make it sound as though I’m the iceberg to your Titanic. I can help you. When the time comes.”
Tom frowned as he listened to the discorporate voice. “Yeah? With what?”
“Do you agree that we know each other well enough that I may speak plainly, yes? No godly metaphors or prose needed. Am I correct?
“Yes. Get on with it.”
“I can be your sperm. When it’s time for you and Ali to have a child.”
“What the fuck? Not that any part of my life was ever yours, but fuck, no.”
“You and Ali want a child. She has sworn to end the line of the hangman. Noble, that. However, let me enter you—quite dissimilar to how it was done before. You won’t be a prison—just a temporary receptacle. Gods can allow or disallow conception. Moreover, we can choose which genetic traits are born of us. The miniscule amount of DNA in her make-up—that which springs from the hangman’s noose, so to speak, can be filtered out. She would still be genealogically related to him, but the child would not carry that strand. Nor would its children. The line would end. The line would be dead. As dead as Estey wishes it to, thereby, leaving Ali a woman of honor.”
“She is a woman of honor.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Your mythos clearly states you are not one to be trusted.”
Loki laughed. “In most cases, no—I should not be trusted too dearly. But I pledge to help you.”
“The price?”
“I do not have a current corporeal form. Although it was meant to be a punishment, I look back now and realize how fortunate I was for you to house me. If you will allow me use of your body for twenty-four hours—once a year—I will do this thing and leave you both alone thereafter. Until it’s time for me to inhabit you and enjoy…”
Tom sighed. “I know what you’ll enjoy. I don’t think Ali will go for it. We’re kind of staying away from magic, you know? Plus, I don’t want to be arrested.”
“I am far less expensive and far less trouble than adoption or invitro fertilization. I don’t know how long you last in the sack, but give me twenty-four hours and I will make it happen.”
Tom spoke aloud again. “I don’t know.”
Ali replied groggily. “Don’t know what?”
“Nothing. I’m thinking aloud.” It’s like making a deal with the devil.
Loki laughed. “I am not of Judeo-Christian construct—at least not originally. I am a god of change. The god of change. After all that you’ve been through with that bitch Corazon, do you not believe you should have a modicum of happiness with the woman you love and the children you shall cherish?”
“You won’t hurt her, right?”
“I will love her. For hours. And she’ll think it’s fully you. Although I can add some flare to your lovemaking that will leave her head spinning.”
Tom nodded. “All right.” Egotistical demigod.
Loki sniggered. “Excellent. Just one thing…take the baby to the runes when it arrives.”
“In the tunnel?”
“Yes. In the tunnel. It’s important. It’s part of your heritage.”
“What?”
“The hands that made the runic wall…they live on in your DNA. They are your forefathers.”
“I’m a Viking?”
“In blue. Yes, Tom. And your child will hear the song of the runes and will someday help lift this sooty place out of poverty and into a new renaissance.”
“Fuck, I guess I’d better marry this woman and get to making babies.”
“No time like the present.”
Tom p
ressed his erection into Ali’s backside. “Babe?”
“Fine.” She rolled over.
“Let’s head to Reno tomorrow and get hitched.”
“Will you let me sleep if I say yes?”
Tom kissed her. “Nope.” He unbuttoned her pajama top.
The End
JJ Andrews’ Hexing Harlots series is available here
JJ Andrews also writes as Darragha Foster. Those books are available here.
Darragha Foster is an award-winning paranormal romance author who finds inspiration all around her. Like in the rocks she collected in Iceland, pieces of art she buys at craft shows, and in the cold case at the grocer. Where she is no longer welcome. Long story. She enjoys hearing from her readers. You can find her on Facebook (Darragha Foster), Twitter (@darragha) or by email, [email protected]. Be sure to use the subject line, I want to know why you were kicked out of Trader Joe’s for fondling their dairy products, if you email.
JJ can be found on Instagram at authorjjandrews, and on Facebook as https://www.facebook.com/authorjjandrews/