Staked!

by Candace Wondrak

  My face immediately twisted.

  “And as you already know,” his tattooed hands slowly slid off, “I meant that to be as dirty as possible.” A handsome smile drew out his dimples when I smacked his chest. “Just so you know, if something happens to you tonight, I will become obsessed with revenge and not stop until anyone who touched you is dead. That said, I think you’ll look completely sexy in that dress, and I hate the fact that you’ll be with Crixis while wearing it.”

  “That’s comforting, and thanks. Now get out so I can get changed.” Using my arms and legs uniformly, I pushed the six-foot blonde out of my room and shut the door. I had to hold myself back from slapping him again when he said something very inappropriate.

  Seeking to stop wondering why I wanted Gabriel to keep talking, I focused on the red dress and the necklace I was going to double it with. It was the necklace that the blonde boy himself had given me all those weeks ago, on his birthday. The same one that he bought three years ago with Michael’s stolen credit card.

  That was a story I’d never get tired of reimagining.

  After undressing, I struggled to get my wide hips through the small dress. It may be true that I had a flat stomach and I had hardly an ounce of fat on me, but that didn’t change the fact that I had wide hips that made it hard to slip into a size three dress. Liz was more rail-thin than I was.

  I stretched my arms as far back as they would go, hoping to zip up the skintight dress. There were some minor, unimportant, trivial problems with that. Okay, just one: I couldn’t reach the zipper. At all.

  “It appears to me that you need help,” a voice behind me said.

  I jumped a little when I saw the reflection in the mirror. His bright green eyes were on my bare back; I could see it in the mirror. “How did you get in here?” I demanded of Crixis after throwing a glimpse to my door. Still closed.

  “There are many things of which you don’t know about me.” He laid a hand on my lower back, asking, “Shall I?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I bit my lip when his fingers slowly made their way up with the zipper. I focused on the anger I felt, on wanting to punch him in the face repeatedly. I refused to focus on the coolness of his hands on my bare back.

  His hand brushed my shoulder as he reached for the thousand dollar necklace. Not knowing what else to do, I lifted up my hair. Once the jewelry was latched, I breathed out easily, knowing this close encounter was almost over. Besides the dream, this was the longest and closest I’d been to him without simultaneously getting bruises.

  And internal injuries.

  Spinning to face him, I finally grasped the fact of how close he really was. Too close. Too.. Close. Since he was so close, I decided that leaning back against my dresser would put more space between us. And it did. Thank God.

  Know what else I did? I said the first thing on my mind. Kind of. “Never come into my dreams again. Never.”

  “Why?” Crixis inched closer, just what I didn’t want him doing. “Did it make you uneasy?”

  I feigned a laugh, sounding completely fake. Whoops. “No. I would just like my dreams to be the way they’re supposed to, without any interference from you or anyone else.”

  His black hair fell over his eyes as his cocked his head, stepped closer, and asked, “So you weren’t uneasy?”

  “That’s not—” I stuttered as he stepped closer. That space I worked so hard to put between us? He took it back, and then some. My chest touched his stomach.

  Talk about that awkward feeling you get when your boobs are touching the monster that murdered your mother and father…oh. You’ve never had that particular awkward feeling? Count yourself lucky, then.

  “I only control some aspects of the dream.” Crixis brought his head down to mine, touching his nose with mine. The same way he did in my dream. “You control everything else. Subconsciously, of course.”

  “What does that mean?” Whatever it meant, I knew I didn’t like it.

  “It means—” His lips smirked. “—that you could have stopped the kiss. You could have woken up sooner. You could’ve struggled, just like you could be struggling now.”

  I decided to act like his closeness and stiff body weren’t getting to me. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You like it when they struggle,” I hissed in his face, glowering. “And I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

  “Actually, you don’t have to struggle to satisfy me.”

  Knowing something was going on where it shouldn’t be, I manned up and shoved him off, saying, “Get the frick off of me.” Only I didn’t say frick.

  Crixis’s body shook with laughter as he took a step back.

  What was with me and psychopathic, murdering, insane Daywalkers? I was like a magnet.

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Liz

  I sat on the edge of Michael’s bed, watching as he paced the room. He did seem very concerned about Kass, and I completely understood why. Crixis was the reason Taiton and I came; working with him was the last thing I expected.

  Although Crixis was one of the worst murderers of all time, Kass wanted to keep her promise. I found that very commendable. Sadly, I seemed to be the only one who thought that was admirable, for everyone else was content to go back on their word and deceive the Vampire who, I was convinced, could see through it.

  “Michael,” I began, setting my hands on my lap and crossing my ankles, “she’ll be fine. Stop worrying. They left over an hour ago; they’re probably not there yet.”

  “I know, I know. I just…worry about her.” He buried his thin face in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes between his glasses.

  A warm smile formed on my lips. It was so refreshing to see this kind of Guardian-Purifier relationship. In all my years, I had never seen a Guardian care this much about his or her Purifier. Of course, they did care, but they tended to limit it because Purifiers usually did not live past their eighteenth year.

  Patting the bed, I said, “You need to relax. Lucky for you, I know just what you need.”

  His eyebrows rose, just like they always did when I hinted at such things. Michael was definitely a quirky man, but I loved him all the same.

  Did I truly mean that? I believed so.

  As he slowly made his way to the bed, I giggled and pulled down his sheets. Something under his pillow caught my eye, so I dug my hands beneath it and extracted a black laptop. If I hadn’t yanked the sheets, I never would have noticed.

  Odd how chance could change everything.

  “What is this?” I set the small computer on my lap and looked to Michael, who stood before me with a flustered expression on his face.

  “That—” He took the laptop from me. “—is my laptop. I forgot I put it there.” Michael said not another word as he stood on his tiptoes to place it on his tall armoire. “Now…where were we?”

  I smiled when he began nuzzling my neck.

  The smile masked my true thoughts. Michael lied to me. He lied and his performance was flawless. That laptop wasn’t his. It was Koath’s. I saw him take it from his room when we were at the house with Kass.

  What was Michael hiding?

  Chapter Twenty-Four – Kass

  “Why did you need me to come?” I paused after every other word, because I had to focus on walking in my four-inch heels. Going to a renowned club in combat boots? Apparently not a good way to pretend you’re on the list.

  It’s funny how I had to get all dolled up and the only thing Crixis did was unfasten the top two buttons of his black shirt. Society and it’s stupid double standards.

  We walked up to the bouncer who guarded the door. The bouncer was a short, stout man who was taller than his hair. Yeah, he wasn’t bald. No one’s bald. They’re all just taller than their hair.

  “And your names are?” He readied his clipboard, eyes prepared to search the list of names for our own.

  Crixis smiled a charismatic smile that would captivate almost anyone. Anyone but me. “Our names are right there.” His green eyes were locked on th
e overweight bouncer that reminded me of a bald Kevin James.

  “Where?” The Kevin James look alike scanned the first page over and over.

  “See that blank spot at the bottom? Our names are right there,” Crixis spoke slowly, over enunciating every syllable.

  A false recognition entered his eyes when he said, “Right. There they are. You’re both good to head in.” His chubby arm held the door open for us.

  I glimpsed at Crixis, who motioned inside and said, “Ladies first.”

  I could already tell this night was going to be torture.

  The club was dim, just as I expected. The music was loud, just as I expected. The strobe lights were annoying, just as I expected. This whole place was just a typical club, filled with alleged Witches.

  My hand grabbed his arm as I said, “Why did you need me here? And this time, don’t ignore me.” I soon became aware of the fact that I was still gripping his arm, so I quickly dropped it.

  Crixis led me to an empty place and looked around to make sure no one could overhear what he was about to say. “I need you here because I need to distinguish between the Witches and humans.”

  “What…” I trailed off when he continued.

  “The humans will act normal towards you, but the Witches will feel the energy that you possess. They’ll be curious, and,” he paused as he broke eye contact to stare at the people who were slowly coming closer, “do exactly what those Witches are doing.”

  My eyes followed his. There was a group of five men and women who gravitated near us, trying to be low-key in their staring. Too bad they were being completely obvious. “So,” I summed up what he was attempting to say, “you wanted me here because I’m a supernatural magnet?”

  “Disappointed?” Crixis smirked.

  “No,” I snapped. “Why would I be disappointed?”

  His broad shoulders shrugged. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

  “I don’t think so,” I muttered. “I’m not dancing with you.”

  Crixis snatched my hand and led me to the center of the dance floor. I swore, if his grip wasn’t iron strong, I would have run far away. I would have run so far away after I beat his face in with a broken chair leg.

  Using his rock-solid arms, he forced my back against his front. It wasn’t the first time I thought this wasn’t a good idea, but now I was really debating that this was a terrible idea. I wanted to throw up.

  Leaning his head over mine, he whispered loud enough that I could hear, “Dancing’s the perfect cover. It gives us reason to move all over the dance floor, which is exactly what I need to do to scope out these Witches without making it obvious.”

  I turned my head slightly to face him as our bodies were one with the music. Never thought I’d be grinding Crixis. Never. “Just in case you don’t already know,” I hissed, “I hate you.”

  “And I hate places like this” was his reply. “Too crowded, too hot, too loud.”

  “That’s the point.” The receiver of my nastiness deserved every bit of malice I gave him. Actually, he deserved more. Like a few hundred stakes in his heart.

  He took his lips to my ear, whispering, “I’d much rather be in this position alone…”

  “Okay, let’s stop talking.” If we continued with this, I could only imagine where it was going to go next. And I wasn’t about to let that happen. It was bad enough he invaded my personal bubble and practically humped my back. And let’s not forget about his hands on my sides/hips/stomach. They were all over the place.

  My heart pounded with the beat, as did his. There was something about this scene that made me want to overlook everything that was occurring and the situation, too. If I was dancing with literally anyone else, I’d be fine. I’d be relaxed.

  It was the small fact that Crixis could snap my neck at any given moment that made me a little anxious. Plus the fact that he’d killed my family. Yeah. That, too.

  Dancing was hard work. I was sweaty within minutes, and to my surprise, Crixis was only a few sweaty minutes behind me. I never thought Daywalkers could sweat. I was wrong, apparently. It turned out I’d been wrong more than I’d like to admit.

  To say I didn’t enjoy the next hour of intimate dancing would be the biggest understatement of the year. While we grinded against each other, I couldn’t stop thinking about a certain blonde boy. Did I sort of, kind of, in a weird way, have a tiny thing for Gabriel?

  …Maybe.

  Like, the tiniest thing.

  It was a terrible realization, one that I could never share with my Gabriel. Surely, it had to stem from that make-out session with the other Gabriel.

  Crixis nonchalantly moved us to the side of the crowd of people getting down on the dance floor, whispering, “There’s a Witch I’d like to get a better feel of.”

  Finding that I was losing myself in the moment once more, I snapped out of it and said, “Do you think she’s the one who’s trying to bring your maker back?”

  “I don’t know, but she’s been acting very strange this entire time.”

  “What do you mean?” My neck was beginning to hurt from twisting it to look at Crixis. He must have sensed my pain, because before he answered, he spun me around, landing my front heavily on his.

  Not exactly what I wanted. Not at all what I wanted, actually. Having the feeling of his…

  Yeah, let’s stop that thought right now before it fully materialized.

  “I mean—” His nose brushed my ear. “—that she’s been the only Witch who hasn’t gotten within a foot of us. But she stared at you as if…as if she knew you.” Crixis moved his hands to my shoulders. “Yellowish hair and a leather dress. I’m going to get closer.” His rough hands relocated on my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Stay here. Don’t move until I get back.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he was gone.

  Not knowing what else to do, I decided to lean on a pole that was a few feet away. That way, I could watch them without being too creepy.

  It took me a mere five seconds to spot the woman Crixis was walking to. The back of her head was turned in my direction, but I was able to see her rose-gold hair nonetheless. She was bone thin, her thinness heightened with her tall heels.

  How was Crixis going to know that she was the Witch he was looking for? And if this woman was the Witch who was bringing Sephira back, how were we going to deal with her to make sure she failed? We couldn’t kill her, because that’d be murder…

  It was then that I remembered Crixis didn’t follow Council rules. He’d be fine with killing her. He’d do it in a blink of an eye.

  He neared her, so I focused all of my attention on the two.

  A gasp escaped me when I saw her turn his way after he purposefully bumped into her.

  It was settled. I couldn’t let Crixis kill her. If she was truly the one he was after, I had to tell Michael. I had to tell Liz. I had to tell someone, because she was a Councilmember, and the school’s secretary.

  Cleo.

  Chapter Twenty-Five – Crixis

  “My bad,” I said, simulating a smile that had deceived more than its fair share. This Witch was smaller than I thought, and while I sought to bump her lightly, I ended up nearly knocking her over.

  She caught herself ungracefully, muttering, “It’s fine.”

  I sized her up. She was a tiny Witch that could double as Sephira’s doppelganger, minus the light hair. She was undeniably the one I was searching for. It was unquestionable. This Witch reeked of ancient magic; I could sense it from a mile away. Plus, she smelled like her. Beautiful sweat and decay.

  It was all thanks to that other Witch I met in this place, the one who gave their scheme away. The one who was found dead in her apartment a few days later. Poisoned from an unknown substance. My bite.

  In a few days she’d awaken as a lesser Vampire and dig herself out of her grave.

  I didn’t take pleasure in creating more lesser Vampires, but something had to be done. The Witch begged for it, just as this one now did.

>   The Witch coughed and hustled away, moving for perhaps the first time all night. It was clear that I made her on edge; I had that effect on virtually everyone. If only she knew that I was the one who was going to end her pathetic life.

  Making my way back, I found Kass supporting herself on a metal column. A thin film of sweat glistened on her forehead and her chest. I stared at her chest for perhaps a bit too long. She saw where my eyes were and immediately crossed her arms, seeking to cover them.

  “Well?” Kass prodded, scowling at me. “Was she the one?”

  Snubbing the urge I felt to flash us somewhere private, I replied, “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?” There was a hint of worry in her eyes that I could not place.

  “I’m positive. When she leaves, I’ll follow her and—” She held up her hand, and involuntary curiosity swept over me, causing me to freeze in mid-sentence. Not many were as bold as her. Even less so, when they found out that I was a killer.

  Kass stepped closer, surprising me, and stated, “You can’t kill her, Crixis.”

  Who did she think she was? She did not reign over me, she couldn’t tell me what to do and what not to do. “And why,” I kept my voice as gentle as possible, “is that?” I had to take care of the Witch now. I couldn’t wait for Kass and her friends to think up a nonviolent plan.

  “Because she’s part of the Council.” Kass’s answer was a bit of a shock.

  “Let me get this straight.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was a roadblock that I did not see coming. I couldn’t kill a member of the Council without having some serious consequences, as in more Council Agents after me.

  It wasn’t as if they could purify me; it’s just they were simply a bother I’d rather avoid.

  “The bitch is a Council member?”

  She was sluggish to nod. “The witch is.”

  “Trust me,” I said, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the club, “I meant what I said.” The night air hit us the same moment she wriggled her hand out of mine. I glanced back at her defiant expression. “Come on. We have to go.”