Death's Kiss

by McKenzie Hunter

  Kieran was still putting on a show for the witch.

  “I have them,” I said.

  He nodded and let the fire fall from around her. Her eyes were as fiery as the blaze that had just surrounded her. Her hair was scorched, and there were burns on her arm, mostly first- and second-degree. She wasn’t too badly injured but was damaged enough to remember her run-in with the pissed-off fire mage.

  We walked out to find Alex riding the smaller dragon. It twisted, speeding up and rolling, trying to throw off the shifter, who had his massive arms clamped around its neck. A weary Cory kept flicking magic at the black dragon. It was weak magic and became less effective with each use. When the dragon made a lunge for him again, I took out my Ruger LC9 and shot. I grazed his side, but the scales provided some protection. Three more shots and he whipped around in my direction, and then his powerful tail hit the ground, making it rumble and shake and throwing me off balance. When the tail moved in my direction again, I yanked my knife from its sheath and jammed it into him. The dragon made an angry sound and started running toward me. I jumped out of his way, whirled around, and stayed close enough to retrieve my knife from his tail.

  He padded toward me, lunging and baring his teeth, moving to the side to swipe me with its tail. I flipped back, and it barely missed me. Three sharp strikes with the knife and he wailed in pain. The other dragon made a sharp, spiraling dive to the ground, trying to throw off Alex. Giving in to the fact that it wasn’t going to be able to do it, the dragon turned so it could land on its back and crush the unwanted driver. Alex jumped off and rolled out of the incoming dragon’s way. The dragon I was dealing with was becoming increasingly irritated that he hadn’t subdued me.

  “Well that’s enough of that,” Kieran said as the small ball of fire that he played with in his hand became a massive orb. He extended his hand like he was throwing a baseball and released it into the house. It caught on fire, and the dragons’ attention went to it. They ran into the house, transitioning to their human forms as they moved. Their distraction let us make it back to the entrance, which was sealed. Fuck.

  Cory pulled out his knife, barely able to stand.

  “You’re not going to be able to do it.” I turned to Kieran. Yeah, this is going to be easy.

  “I need to use your magic. You won’t be able to take the ward down. I can once I have access to magic. To borrow it, I need …”

  I was sure he knew what I was about to say. I needed to borrow his magic. I took a deep breath, wondering if he’d say no. If I were him, I would have. We probably had time to wait until Cory was rested up enough to do it, but we ran the risk of having to deal with two angry dragons again and an even angrier witch.

  “Okay,” he agreed quickly. Too quickly. I narrowed my eyes on him.

  “I, too, like Mephisto, have a curiosity.”

  What the hell is wrong with them? Not one time in my life had I wondered what it would be like to be suspended between life and death.

  “It won’t take long,” I said, looking at Alex. “You’ll have to carry him out when I’m done.”

  Hesitantly, I slowly moved closer to Kieran. He welcomed my approach with a small smile. I leaned in. Just a few inches from him, I whispered the spell, and the power in it flowed through me. The only words of power that I possessed, and they caused death. They captured Kieran’s breath, pulling out his life slowly. Magic coiled around me, prickling over my skin. It settled on me, familiar and welcomed. It was when I felt it that I became intimate with the hunger that I denied constantly, the need that I ignored, the cravings that I left unfulfilled daily. It was flavorful against my palate and satisfied me in a way that nothing else ever did. Kieran collapsed to the ground. I was too caught in my craving, the throes of having my addiction satisfied and not having to deny it, and I forgot about him. I blinked myself into the moment as Alex moved past me and caught a half-dead Kieran before he hit the floor. I’d gotten so accustomed to how Cory’s magic felt that I had to get used to the difference. This was new. New was always good. Better. Different.

  “Do the spell, Erin,” Cory commanded in a stern voice. I nodded in assent. Magic melted over me, the energy and connection with death, the soothing and intoxicating feeling of it, the thrum of magic from that and newly acquired magic from Kieran. I stared at the glow of fire that rolled off my fingers and danced over my hand. I should have been screaming in pain, but I’d absorbed his magic. I felt nothing except that overwhelming power of being able to control fire. Mesmerized by the flickers of oranges, reds, and little idyllic blues, I watched them engulf my hand.

  “Erin.” Cory said my name with force, rough and hard. I dragged my gaze from the flames to him. I nodded and extinguished the flames. I walked closer to where we’d entered, feeling the pulsating magic that came off the ward and secured it closed. I whispered the incantation that Cory had used earlier. The magic felt familiar, as if I’d adopted it as my own. But it wasn’t mine—it was fleeting, borrowed from Kieran’s death state. I concentrated on the ward and Kieran’s life that was held in the liminal state between life and death, making sure I returned him before he crossed over. The same thoughts passed my mind that always did when I appropriated another’s magic. How long would it last in me if I let him cross to the other side? Consequences. I forced the images into my head. The counselors, cells, treatment, my mother’s disappointed face. I checked my desires, buried them deep, and then completed the spell.

  Alex carried Kieran over the threshold, then helped Cory over. I was just about to step through when I was hit hard from the side, a ball of magic melting into my skin. I rolled and attempted to stand and was thrashed with another. When I finally came to my feet, the witch’s angry glare was fixed on me. A wave of her hand and she tossed me back again. I threw magic back at her when she stumbled and then mashed my hands to the ground with flames corralled around them, catching the grass on fire. I pushed it toward her with a gust of magic. I might not have exhibited the pageantry and skill of Kieran, but anyone who saw magic raging toward them was going to be distracted and retreat.

  It had taken too long. I felt death calling Kieran. I had to get to him. I ran toward the entrance and quickly exited, sealing the ward. Kieran was lying on the ground. I knelt next to him. His face had relaxed into a state of somnolent calm, ready to accept the fate of death. The thoughts of keeping his magic vanished. I didn’t hesitate. I leaned over him, exhaling death and restoring his magic. He lurched up with a gasp, his eyes hazy and distant. He blinked several times before he leaned into me with a slight curl of his lips. I jerked back from his attempt to kiss me. It always happened, no matter who it was: they were drawn to me, the giver of life. It was as if they’d forgotten I’d taken it from them in the first place.

  He looked startled by his own response. “Sorry,” he whispered.

  “It always happens,” I said. It took a minute for him to stand, but not before he tested his magic. I stood just a few feet away, longing for it—and I hated that. But I hung on to the joy of knowing I’d stopped. I hadn’t hesitated before restoring him. I was getting better. Much better.

  CHAPTER 7

  As I sat in the middle of my small home office that was nothing but a basic desk and chair, I reveled in the fact that I’d restored Kieran. The room was hardly used, and the concept of calling it a second bedroom was laughable, but it was cozy and relaxing. The plain yellow walls were comforting. I couldn’t keep them white. I hated white walls. I sat crossed-legged on the yoga mat, inhaling the vanilla scent that came from the lit candle, having a hard time focusing. Meditation usually helped, but not now.

  I got up and blew out the candle: it reminded me of Kieran’s magic. The feel of it, the colorful flames that had been under my control, and the intoxicating feeling of new magic. I loved Cory’s magic, but it was attached to a feeling—my love for my friend. I knew that every minute I held it, the closer he was to death. I couldn’t kill my friend. It made my heart ache that I didn’t feel the same way about
others. I should have, but I didn’t. It made me understand why people were wary about death mages. Could anyone so closely linked to death ever be a good person?

  Before I could return to my position on the floor my doorbell rang. After looking out the peephole, I paused before answering the door—Mephisto. He took me opening it as an implicit invitation to come in.

  He looked around. “If you worked for me, you could afford better.”

  My two-bedroom apartment could easily fit in his living room. Small, but it was mine, and it fit me to a tee. The tiny kitchen was all I needed since most of my meals were just a sandwich or peanut butter and apples. The quaint living room was just big enough to hold my multicolored sofa and a small tan accent chair. I had a TV on the wall.

  “I don’t want better. I like what I have.”

  He gave the room another scan and his lips bent into a frown. “Landon said you returned his items this morning.”

  I nodded.

  “Did you get my payment?”

  I grabbed my phone off of the little nook near the kitchen, pulled up my bank app, and looked. I raised a brow at the amount. “You didn’t take out your fee?” I’d expected him to, as well as subtract the cost of the repairs. Either way, it was more for one job than I’d make for half of the year. It was more than enough.

  “Alex and Kieran helped; surely they weren’t okay with paying full price.”

  “My fees aren’t negotiable. Alex and Kieran wanted their things back. Honestly, them helping was for them more than you. Alex and Kieran sent a clear message not to take anything from them again.”

  I hesitated before speaking. “There are dragons and a witch living near our city. You know this and realize we just retrieved some objects from them. Once they nurse their wounds, the dragons will be back to their antics and terrorizing the ‘good folks’ of the city.” I threw his words from earlier back at him.

  He flashed me a sly, lazy smile. “Ah, of course. I’m sure they will have the good sense not to steal from Kieran, Alex, Landon, or me again.” And then he shrugged, “But you are right, they will continue with their thefts and people will come to me—to us, because we will become known for quickly and efficiently retrieving those goods. It seems like a win-win to me.”

  I sucked in a breath, and my eyes sharpened on him. I didn’t want to be part of his dubious plans and decided I would give the information to Madison. Drawn into my plans to circumvent Mephisto’s I hadn’t noticed that he was just inches from me, invading my space. I turned my thoughts from my plans to his magic—his unique, dark, bewitching magic. The aura of it seemed more enchanting than before. I leaned in, trying hard to deny it, but I didn’t move. I stayed planted as he inched even closer, taking away any distance between us. “We were interrupted before, weren’t we?”

  Taking a big step back, I finally looked at him. Satan. I kept saying it over and over, a reminder that he was the devil. You never made deals with the devil. But that was just something I’d made up, from a name he’d adopted. He was still a man I didn’t know, with a name he wouldn’t provide, with magic stronger, more unique, and darker than any that I’d felt before. I stepped back farther. The contrast in our appearances was even more stark. He was dressed in all black again, slacks and a button-down shirt. His eyes were molten lava as he looked at me. They made their way from my bare feet to my white leggings and slowly from the edge of my shirt, over my white tank top, my unconfined breasts, to my throat. They lingered there, probably watching the strained muscles around it as I denied myself something I clearly wanted. I focused on my small room where I meditated. I channeled the feeling of tranquility that it brought. Once I’d found that calm, I returned my eyes to him.

  “There is a cruel beauty to your magic,” he said gently. “Death can be a gift; it doesn’t have to be a curse.”

  I should have stepped away. Run like a knife-wielding psychopath was after me, but I didn’t. I was an alcoholic being offered a drink, a drug addict being seduced into her next fix.

  “Let me make it easy for you.” His lips covered mine. It was second nature—my nature. I said my incantation, pulled the magic to me, feeling it coil around me, bathe me in power. Opening windows and doors to something strong, enchanting, all-consuming. I slipped my fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. I felt him stiffen and eventually slip to the ground.

  I stood rooted in space, the room hazy but pleasant, my body languid and relaxed. The magic continued to course through me. It was my drug of choice, and it was like experiencing it for the first time. I could hear my own soft pants as it filled the room. My hands glowed and when I waved them, sparks of color flitted around the open space. I let the magic carry me to new places full of wonder. Moving from door to door reveling in each new experience that it brought me. I walked through one and was presented with a thick, lush forest, vibrant flowering trees throughout the vast land. The smell of honeysuckle inundated the air. I looked for signs of human life—none. A few animals off to the side: deer, rabbits, a giraffe, a lion, and farther out a bison. I stared at the odd assortment and pondered how some should have been prey and the others predators, but they remained in a state of harmonious interaction.

  Before I could explore it any longer I blinked and was swept away. The magic was still strong, feathering over me, stretching around me and cradling me. It wasn’t ominous, the way it had felt as it wafted off of Mephisto, but it wasn’t similar to anything I’d felt before. I waded through sparkling blue water that rose to my waist. Hints of the setting sun peeked over the large mountains that surrounded me. I looked off to a waterfall and the rainbow that was offset just a few inches away. And winged dragons … no, they were humans, wings expanding, filling the clear sky. The wings were as varied in color as the naked bodies they were connected to. I kept my eyes open, afraid that if I blinked, if I glanced away for just a second, I would be swept away from a place of beauty.

  It didn’t stop it from happening. The new world I entered was bleak, absent of sun, and the moon gave off just a hint of light. Stretches of dark uncultivated earth as far as I could see. Animals skulked behind trees. All I could see of them were their eyes, which glowed with feral curiosity and menace. I locked eyes with one of the hidden creatures. I should have felt fear or a sense of dread being in a place so dark and dreary, but I had the same comforting feeling as in the place of beauty. Mephisto’s magic found comfort, strength, and contentment in all places. Nothing was foreign or scary to him. My curiosity welled even more. What creature could possess such wonderful magic? Covetous desire rose in me in uncontrollable waves. I tried to push the thoughts away. Think about jail, the clinic, Madison, Mother’s look of disappointment; think logically that the magic would be fleeting. Once the body was dead and I’d exhausted the residual magic, this would be gone. Would it be worth it to have him dead, to send my life into havoc once again for a few days, months, or even a year? It all would seem so brief it would never be worth reliving what I had gone through years ago.

  Which made the desire to possess it even stronger. Even the doors that opened to something dark didn’t elicit fear; they ignited my curiosity. It wasn’t just the fantastical worlds his magic created and revealed to me. I understood Mephisto’s arrogance—I felt omnipotent. Stronger than ever. Braver. All self-doubt and worries melted away. It was peace and torment. I’d never experience this again. If I were to, I’d be at Mephisto’s mercy and his willingness to share. He’d be in control of this feeling, and I wasn’t willing to give him that much control of me. But how long would his magic last? It was so much stronger than anyone else’s. I’d conceded to keeping it—I would have it for as long as it lasted. I resisted when my conscience forced me to look at him. I remembered the counselors trying to force me to have feelings of remorse that were needed to override my desire to possess magic. But remorse was a learned behavior for me, it wasn’t intrinsic. I had learned it and needed to make myself act on it.

  I turned around to look at him. His body ha
d been placed into a state of in between, and seeing it would prompt me to do the right thing. But he wasn’t on the floor; he was standing, studying me with a slight, devious smile and intense curiosity and pleasure, as if he’d found a sordid satisfaction in watching me enjoy the many facets of his magic.

  He moved toward me. Leaning down, his lips covered mine. They were warm and commanding, as he laced his fingers into my hair, crushing my body against his lean muscles. His tongue teased mine before he pulled his magic from me, not as gentle and seductive as it was when he gave it over to me. The kiss lasted longer, becoming more heated with each moment, and then he pulled away. My ragged breathing and the sound of my racing heart filled the air. I leaned into him, the way others did with me, wanting to taste his lips again. Their desire was because it was a source of life, mine because his was a source of powerful, enigmatic magic. I wanted to be bonded to it, and if the trade-off was being tied to him as well, I’d do it.

  I closed my eyes, trying to hold on to the sensation and committing it to memory, hoping that would be enough. Memories were enough, right?

  He kept me at bay, maintaining the small distance he’d placed between us. “Beautiful curse ... let me be the one who lifts it. You help me, and I will help you. You can have it both ways, and I plan to help you do it.”

  With that he went out the door, leaving me staring at it, wondering what the hell he was. I didn’t just need to find out his name; I needed to find out what he was as well. How was I going to help him?

  * * *