When she moved to leave, one of the punks tried blocking her way. She punched him in the face, driving her weight and forward movement into him. With a yelp, he stumbled backward, sprawling across the table.
During this shift of bodies and attention, a man lunged for Sophia. Vivianne flung herself forward to knock him out of the way and she intercepted the blade.
The curved knife soundlessly burned through Vivianne’s apron and shirt to sink into her flesh. It cut deep into her belly and up between her breasts, spilling bright, scarlet blood.
The knife wielder snarled, “Viv! What are you doing?” He sounded shocked and horrified by her act of throwing herself between himself and his prize.
The screams were awful, both Vivianne’s and Sophia’s, spiraling up in wails of despair and pain.
Juan struck the guy in the side, as he bent worriedly toward Vivianne, the bloody knife clattering from his fingers.
“That wasn’t the plan,” he groaned, curling up in pain as Juan kicked him for good measure.
The leader’s gurgling scream joined the others as Mano crossed the room with inhuman speed and grabbed him by the throat. He slammed the larger man onto the table behind him.
“Such bad planning. Change. I dare you,” Mano whispered. Leaning in close, he drew in a slow breath, like smelling the steam coming from a steak. “No?”
He removed a knife from his hip. The metal of the blade shimmered like fire as the artful little weapon came free. She heard the soft, sweet sigh it made as it cut the buttons off the vest.
“If you piss yourself, don’t worry, it’s natural.” Mano growled, “I don’t have time to tinker with you. Who gave you this skin?” He nuzzled the tip of the blade into the breast and pressed, piercing the fur and hide with a tearing sound. The boy screamed.
“His…his name is Cole. Cole Alexander!” The name pitched upward into another scream as the fur ripped under the knife.
“And your name?” Mano asked, working the knife on the other side of the vest, slicing open the fur. The knife sang as the young man screamed.
“Daniel,” he panted and screamed again. “Daniel McNabb. McNabb!”
Frankie knelt by Vivianne to check her wound. It was deep and long, going from lower belly all the way up to her chest. The horrible black pit spread greedily through her.
Frankie wasn’t sure that she would be able to call the white-fire back into her if she wasn’t home. But the moment she thought of the energy, it was there. The leaping brilliance was eager to bound into those dark spots.
Vivianne’s mouth fell open in shock and she mumbled, “Oh, Gods,” while gripping Frankie’s wrists with bloody hands.
“Sshhh, just stay still,” Frankie whispered and applied pressure to the wounds while trying to get ahead of the hungry darkness.
“I am so sorry,” Viv whispered, lips speckled with crimson. “I should have trusted Amy. I was so lost when she d-died.” Her voice broke, shoulders trembling as she suddenly burst into tears.
Frankie could hardly understand the words, they were torn with emotion. “Amy kept saying…to keep you safe. I didn’t understand. I thought you were just a pawn—”
“It’s all right. You couldn’t have known.” Frankie was not the same woman who got off the plane a few days ago. Now she’d seen spirit-beasts, and heard the voice of Intuition and felt the connection with Christopher. She’d tasted fire. “Keep still, Viv.”
“You were…hidden. I didn’t believe. I thought Amy would pass it on to me. And then you arrived. And Sophia could only talk about you and making you comfortable and making sure you fit in. I was so jealous. I thought I could do better.”
“You weren’t a part of this, were you?” Frankie asked, stomach turning at the possibility she would knowingly skin her beloved.
“No! They said there would be a shift in power. Without Amy here, and with you arriving clueless…they said they would keep the order. I didn’t know what they were planning. I had no idea. I am so sorry.”
Sophia returned with towels, her face gray, she knelt by Viv’s side and took her hands, gripping them tightly.
“There will be plenty of time for forgiveness.” Frankie felt insanely protective of these two. Despite Vivianne’s misguided jealousy, Frankie knew in her heart she didn’t expect what they had planned to secure their standing.
Vivianne looked pale, tearful and broken with the revelation of her misplaced faith. She groaned, body tightening under Frankie’s steady pressure and the brilliance of the fire burning out the poison in those dark spots. Sophia leaned in and kissed Viv’s brow, whispering softly and lovingly to her.
Frankie shuddered with the effort. “Please,” she whispered, fingers warm against Vivianne’s chilled skin. Her body ached to the marrow of her bones by the time she got the bleeding stopped and sensed the cruel unraveling cease.
She noted the change in Vivianne’s breathing, the tightness easing out of her shoulders. Frankie’s drew away at last, hands crusted with blood, knuckles torn and busted. As she rocked onto her heels, the world tilted around her. The pair held hands, Vivianne and Sophia’s fingers woven tightly together.
There was a loud outburst from the men, an inhuman shriek of desperation. “You can’t stop us. We won’t be stopped. We will touch the Deity! Or you will touch him for us.”
She turned, eyes bleary as two of the younger men broke free while Daniel McNabb babbled out all his secrets, under Mano’s sighing blade.
One she’d punched earlier, his nose bleeding, his eyes wide and wild. Froth bubbled on his lips. The other looked fresh faced but just as unhinged. They were fixed on Sophia with a singular focus.
Frankie twisted around and swung at the man as he brought up his knife. The blade’s curved edge slammed into her knuckles. She screamed in pain as the hungry cold reached for her.
The white-fire lashed out with a protective roaring over her shriek. The blade shattered to bits, as though it were ash, splintering and throwing up red embers where her blood should have spilled.
The men stumbled away from her and fell, crawling backward. Their hands left bloody marks where they cut on the blade shards around them. She thought they were screaming but all she could hear was the ringing.
The loud, bell-like tone filled her ears. The sound tolled on without end, the sound echoed over itself while she crouched, looking for anyone to try to get through her to Vivianne or Sophia.
Her hands ached. The blade didn’t cut her skin but it hurt worse than if it had. It felt like she dipped them in fire.
Everyone scuttled away from her, staring with white-eyed fear. Only Mano and Chaze stood their ground, watching her with guarded awe.
She tried to speak but nothing came out. She tasted blood and her tongue throbbed. Everything looked too bright.
‘Don’t touch them! Don’t you dare hurt them!’ She wanted to roar. She might have been screaming. If they put a hand on Christopher…her vision swam with heat under her vengeful wrath.
Her legs wobbled and she took a lurching step forward, still braced for someone to come at her. One of the men almost tore through Mano’s crew to escape her.
Her strength gave out finally and she crumpled to the ground. The floor felt so cool against her burning cheek.
Intuition was chuckling quietly in the quiet darkness. My fierce little mouse. Try not to touch those things. You can do that from afar next time. Now, get up, sleepyhead. The soft touch between her eyes felt like a kiss.
She woke suddenly as someone’s hands closed on her shoulders. Her tired body wouldn’t respond to the demand to fight. Dirt and grit stuck to her eyelashes, blinding her momentarily. She smelled fire and tasted blood. Her tongue throbbed as she croaked out a sound.
She heard a woman crying inconsolably. A muffled, broken sob coming from far away. When she lifted her head the woman gasped and Christopher’s familiar voice warned, “Easy, Frankie.” He cupped her cheek. “What the hell happened?”
“They tried to use a
knife on her and she just—” Juan’s words faded as he fumbled for how to explain what he’s seen. “Went white.”
“White?” Christopher’s arms curled around her. Oh, he felt so fucking good. She rolled her head toward him and pressed her cheek into his chest, vaguely aware that she was leaving a bloody trail along his crisp white shirt. Or was it already bloody? She frowned and tried to lift her arm but her limb felt so heavy.
“Yeah—the blade just turned to ash when it touched her and it exploded. She lit up this room like the northern lights. I am still seeing spots. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“You’re cut,” Frankie managed to rasp.
Christopher looked down at her, his expression worried. “It’s nothing. What were you thinking?”
She licked her cracked lips. “No one hurts my friends.” She closed her eyes as his fingers gathered a fist full of her curls in a gentle, possessive squeeze.
“We are all right. Ssshhh,” he whispered, lightly wiping at her face. The sensation was a distant comfort against her other pains.
“I bit my tongue,” she said thickly.
Sophia laughed weakly and then broke into sobs. “Oh, Gods!”
“You didn’t bite it hard enough,” Mano said, his voice rough. “You can still fucking talk.”
She might have had some great comeback, but she sank into a dizzy sleep before she could form the words. It felt so good to surrender, sinking into the muddy darkness that swept over her vision and into her ears.
Chapter 24
Reality Check
She woke to the ringing. Not the brass gong tearing through her this time at least. The ringing of a simple phone. The sound rattled her teeth and set her tongue to throbbing as she fumbled until she knocked the receiver off the hook.
“H’llo?” she croaked and realized she was back in her home. In bed. Sank in white linen. The world swam up into focus. It was early, the sun wasn’t even up yet.
“Frankie? Frankie! You there?” The familiar, accented cigar and diesel baritone sounded horrible with the pitch of panic.
Dave.
“Yes, Dave. I’m here,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as awful over the line.
“What the fuck?” he shouted. “Why haven’t you called? I’ve been worried shitless.”
“Dave, you don’t want to hear this, but I’m a big girl. I’m taking care of things here.”
“Yeah? Well, you sound like shit. What’s going on? Do you need me to come out there? Talk to me, Frankie.”
Did he need to come out there? Her stomach twisted with phantom pain. “No,” she said it too fast and heard him growl and slam something in the background. “You’re not impressing me with the machismo.”
“Talk to me, Frankie. I’m your friend.” He obviously tried to throttle his anger but still sounded furious.
Even if she could tell him everything, how on earth did she begin explaining what was happening?
“Dave, I know we are friends. But what’s going on here is my business. It’s too complicated to talk about over the phone.”
She had secrets now. So many fucking secrets.
“Did you meet someone out there? Jen and Beth were showing some pictures,” he said quietly.
God, part of her wanted to sing that she had. She found someone. Finally. But the grief in his voice muted her enthusiasm. “This is not about me meeting someone. Remember our talks? Your advice to me? To find the path that makes me happy and only then find someone to—”
“I miss you,” he said before she could finish. She had never heard the stone and iron voice turn rusty like this. “You sound like shit, Frankie. I’m worried about you.”
“Sleepy small town. Nothing ever happens here.” Except the spirit-beasts, sages, and assholes trying to skin her friends to gain some next-level power-ups. Aside from that, absolutely nothing at all.
“I don’t believe you. Frankie. I know you better than you want to admit. We have a connection. Can’t you feel it?”
A connection.
The word made her fingertips tingle and the scent of sandalwood and spices wrapped around her. She imagined Christopher’s impish smile as he plied her with the softest kisses until she burned with white-fire.
Connection indeed.
Christopher was the one she wanted. Fierce and savage and fearless. Not the broken thing Dave dangled toward her like a flag of surrender.
She sighed, her heart breaking for Dave. The girl who would have rejoiced in this empty victory was gone.
Frankie was not the same woman.
He mistook the sigh and leaped on it like a starved beast. “You do, don’t you? Listen, sell that place. Come home. We can get a place together. We can—”
“Dave!” She had to cut him off before he ran away with his fantasy. “I am home. I love it here and I have friends and a real life here.”
“Then let me come to you. Let me be with you.” He lowered his voice, a horrible desperation in his words.
All she could think of was the horror on his face when he touched her. The way it felt to be shoved away. His expression of pain and fear.
“No, Dave,” she murmured and closed her eyes.
His breathing filled the line, unsteady and heavy with emotion. Her refusal hurt him but it was for the best. Desperately, she wished she could pull the thorns from his belly so he could move on.
“I should get going. It’s really…good to hear from you.” She made the smile come out in her tone.
“I’m calling you tomorrow,” he rasped. “Promise me you’ll call if you need me. None of this proud bullshit, Frankie. Just say ‘my friend needs you’. Okay? Don’t worry about me reading more into it. I get it. I hurt you. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
She wanted to cry and tell him it happened for a reason. Instead she said, “Thanks, Dave. You don’t have to worry. Don’t you think you trained me well enough?”
Dave sucked in a bull-like breath but before he could launch into his inevitable questions, she cleared her throat. “Okay. Gotta go.” She hung up before he could start.
A familiar thrum ached along the torn muscle and joints of her hand and she looked up to see Christopher standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. He carried a food laden tray and when their eyes met, the lines of worry on his face eased.
His slow steps toward the bed looked like a graceful prowl, his bare feet soundless on the floor.
“You look like shit, Sunkist,” he said like an accusation and winked at her.
She huffed and threw a pillow at him. “Asshole.”
And that’s how she started her recovery, eating the world’s best pecan French toast from the fingers of her handsome rogue.
Chapter 25
Healing
It was not only French toast, which rivaled the waffles, but whipped cream and fresh peaches from the trees outside.
She was full and satisfied when he finally set aside the tray. “So… What are you going to tell me about the events last night? You didn’t call me. Again,” he teased her, rolling onto his side beside her in the huge bed.
This was the first time they cuddled together in such comfort. She was naked under the sheet and he lay beside her above it. She reached out and smoothed her thumb over the tattoo on his hip, smiling at the curved mark her fingernail made under the crossed key and sword. She really dug in deep.
“Frankie. No touchy until I hear what happened,” he insisted, grabbing her hand to pull it to his lips, kissing her wounded knuckles.
So, she told him what happened. Everything she could remember at least.
“Mano, is it? You’re using his real name?” he asked, sounding impressed.
“Well, for now. If he keeps calling me mouse, I will have to revert back.”
“He calls Vanny Princess, and me Ponyboy. Kenneth is Little Prince. Derek is Cowboy, and Alexander is Zorro.”
“Why does he do that?”
“Bottom line? He’
s a smart ass. Like you haven’t noticed. But, I owe a lot to him. He’s all right.”
“He paid for everything, Christopher. All the repairs. He even put this priceless mirror up in the place.”
“That’s just the way he is. If he likes you. Lord help you if he doesn’t like you.” Christopher chuckled softly. “He took me to Hawaii for my twenty-first birthday. That’s when I got the tattoo. It was this very intense coming-of-age ritual.”
She glanced at his tattoo, curling her fingers with his. “Really? Did you have to sharpen a stick at both ends?”
“Oh, hunting boar in the forest? Child’s play.” He smirked at her. “I swam with sharks. I climbed a volcano and won the blessing of Pele.” He grinned at her, face flushed.
“Seriously?” she asked it but felt it in her heart that it was. “The Goddess Pele?”
He smiled and tipped his chin slightly. “Yes.” He kissed her knuckle again and pulled her fingers back to the mark so she could feel it. “I am fireproof. Which comes in handy being with you—you’re fucking hot.”
She laughed, unable to tell if he was joking with her or being serious. His expression was so kind and adoring, it made her throat tighten. It contrasted the memory of seeing the horror on Dave’s face whenever she touched him. Even though she was hiding, and had not touched that energy, did she always have the white-fire in her?
“What is it, Sunkist?” he asked softly, leaning closer to kiss her cheek.
“I’m just thinking about how dangerous I am. Why you risk being—”
He growled softly and kissed her to silence her words. Then, between one kiss and the next, the huge shadowy panther was pinning her down and the rough bubblegum-pink tongue licked up the side of her face from chin to hairline.
The low huff vibrated up from him and then he purred, flexing one giant paw to extend his talons and prickle against her skin.
Dangerous.
She laughed and used the pillow to slap at him but he grabbed it in his teeth and wrestled it with her, but mostly he let her smack him with it from her pinned position. He managed to tug her weapon away from her and flung it aside before rubbing his huge face against hers. His whiskers tickled and his teeth very gently pressed into her shoulder and neck.
Lies That Blind Page 19