Water Witch
Page 16
“And the asshole powers-that-be thought because you’re a mouthy kid, it’d be water under the bridge. Idiots. You’re a sensor?”
“I’m a sensor,” I confirmed.
“Cool. What do you sense from me?”
“You’re too much of an idiot to be scared of me.”
“Who are you calling an idiot, idiot? Why would I be scared of you? Dude, you’re a walking wave magnet. I’d handcuff you to my shop if I thought I could get away with it.”
Dan’s brother shook his head. “You can’t steal my handcuffs to hold a water witch hostage, no matter how nice his waves are.”
“You’re a cop?”
“Some days, I regret my career choice, so I’m trying to talk Dan into suffering, too. I keep telling him he has a boring—”
“Safe.”
“—desk job.”
“Running away doesn’t work, Dan. Been there, tried that. If your brother’s more dominant, you’re screwed. I just thought you’d like to know.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, Dusty.”
I pointed at myself. “Son of an Alpha police chief. I was supposed to be a lawyer. I spend more time in the morgue than I do at home.”
The Fenerec exchanged looks, and Marc frowned. Unhappiness radiated from both of them, and I tensed, expecting I, as usual, was to blame.
“No, Dustin,” Dan said.
“But I didn’t say anything.”
My friend tapped his nose. “You smelled worried. So, no. I’m annoyed because you’ve been railroaded, that’s all. Alphas sometimes—”
“Often,” Marc grumbled.
“—lose sight of reality. What fits their plans doesn’t necessarily better the subject of their meddling. Idiots. They would’ve been courting trouble with you even before you became a surfer’s best friend.”
“How so?”
“You’re a hot-blooded American man with an attitude. Alphas don’t bother you at all. Your old man would keep trying to control you until you told him to screw himself with a surfboard. Knowing you, you’d help him insert it, resulting in even more mayhem when your father discovers you’re no longer a little puppy he can boss around. Worse, you’re a man who has learned the hard way there are no such things as guarantees or security, so you’re jumping at shadows—and your magic is jumping with you. It’s like with young Fenerec who’ve figured out other predators exist. Until they learn to make their own security, they’re paranoid. You’re the witch equivalent.”
“But how do you know?” I whispered.
“I know you. I also know every time you’ve come to my beach, your scent changed. You went from anxious to focused but relaxed. I never frightened you, not even when you learned I’m a Fenerec.”
“I knew what you were when I first met you.”
“I know. I saw the moment you recognized what I am. The instant I was nice to you, you felt safe. That’s the issue, isn’t it? You no longer feel safe with anyone, not with your father’s pack, and not with your family. They’re afraid, and you know it.”
“But why aren’t you afraid?”
“I have no reason to be afraid. What do I have to fear? You’re still you. You’re a young man who loves to surf, you can’t seem to stop running your mouth because that’s what you do, and you care far too much about what others think of you. Doing the right thing is always hard, and there will always be those who can’t handle it. Don’t let them destroy you. Do what you must, and learn to accept the burden of their disapproval. I’ll tell you a little secret.”
I considered Dan’s words for a few minutes before asking, “What secret?”
“There’s zero reason for their fear to become your misery. Don’t fear their fear. Most of them will never act on it unless you corner them. Wait for the anger. Those are the ones you should worry about. People are afraid of things all of the time, but unless they’re provoked, they likely won’t do anything. But anger? It’s easy to provoke someone who is angry. Sometimes, all it takes is a misinterpreted look.”
“But how am I supposed to do that?”
Dan smirked at me. “We have an idea, but you’re going to hate it.”
“I’m not sure I want to know, but fine. What idea?”
“We’re going to play a hunting game. We’re the predators, and you’re the prey. We’ll stalk you, and we’ll focus on every negative emotion we can, but we’ll only tag you when we’re angry.”
“You can do that?” I blurted.
“We can. I’m hoping we’ll be able to teach you how, too. And to sweeten the deal for you, when you catch us five times before we can tag you, we’ll take you out on a boat so you can relax completely in your element. If you’re really quick at catching on, we’ll take you diving.”
I sucked in a breath. “Diving?”
Marc saluted. “That’s why I’m here. Dan’s the surfer, I’m the dive instructor. With a gift like yours, you need to see the ocean in its entirety. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a braindead moron.”
“But why? Why do all of this?”
“Everyone needs something to look forward to, and when I was briefed on your situation, it seemed obvious to me what the problem is. What’s the point in living if you have nothing? I suggested that for you, that’s the whole issue. You feel you have nothing because you’ve lost everything you’ve tried to build for yourself. You can’t even choose what to do with the rest of your life. Life has become a prison with no door, no hope of escape, and no hope of reprieve. Am I right?”
Marc’s words hurt, and unable to say a word, I nodded.
“That’s why we’re here, Dustin. Not to fix every last one of your problems. We can’t do that. But we can remind you there’s a lot worth living for and help you learn. Of course, we’ll be treating you more like a wolf than a witch, but if witches can’t help you, maybe we can.”
So little made sense, but all I could detect from either Fenerec was sincere concern, not for themselves, but for me. “I’ll do my best.”
“That was never in doubt.” Dan crouched down and pressed his finger to the center of my forehead. “You don’t know any other way. It’s all or nothing with you. That’s where everyone else gets it wrong. You don’t know how to give anything other than your very best.”
The first time Dan tagged me, he hit me so hard he knocked me out, and I had a faint memory of a blue-white wolf howling his laughter at my misfortune. I had no idea how he’d done it, but I hadn’t sensed him at all, not until he was on me, smacking me to the ground. While the sand helped to absorb the worst of our collision, I woke with a pounding headache.
Dan poked my cheek. “Good morning. What have we learned here?”
“You suck,” I slurred.
“And here I thought that was obvious. What else?”
“You hit hard.”
“Also obvious. You’ve been out cold for twenty minutes.”
“You hit me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Really hard.”
“I did.”
“How the hell did you even do that?” I forced my arm into motion, scooping a handful of sand and flinging it in my friend’s direction.
He laughed at me. “You trust me. You have nothing to fear from me, so you ignored my presence. You tracked my brother the whole time.”
“Huh.”
“So, you filtered me out because you don’t view me as a threat.”
“Well, that was stupid of me. I’m screwed, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. Walk it off, and we’ll try again. The idea is for you to only worry about those who might actually mean you harm, not everyone you aren’t confident you can trust. We’ll try not to clean your clock, but pain is the best teacher.”
I was so, so screwed, and judging from Dan’s grin, he meant to enjoy every moment he spent pounding me into the sand.
Twelve tags and two knockouts later, I lost my temper. A rogue wave flattened the Fenerec, who laughed like maniacs.
Not only had
I been utterly incapable of detecting Dan, I lost my perception of Marc, too. In true wolf fashion, they loved hunting me. Their pleasure at catching me off guard was often the only warning I got before I ate sand.
An audience of sharks lurking in the waves approved of the Fenerec and their prowess.
Lurching upright, I crossed my arms and scowled. “I don’t get it.”
“You do, actually.” Marc crouched beside me. “You’ve figured out I’m not a threat to you, so you’re disregarding my presence. You’re doing it on an instinctual level, much like a Fenerec. It really is all or nothing with you.”
Dan chuckled. “I told you. Anyway, progress has been made. The real problem will be teaching you how to identify when someone is actually out to get you, and I know the perfect place to put this to the test.”
“Where?”
“Cape Town.”
“Why there?”
“It’s number fourteen on the world’s list of most violent cities, and I got my dirty hands on a Volkswagen Citi Golf to encourage the nasties to come out and play with us. That’s the top hijacked car in Cape Town. You’re handsome enough we might even lure a kidnapper out. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“No. No. No. That would not be fun. No, Dan. Marc, tell your brother to stop.”
“Sorry, Dustin, but he’s right.”
Dan patted my shoulder. “You’ll probably be okay. It’s not every day I get a free pass for some vigilante justice while helping a witch learn what sort of filth live in our world. I think you’ll find it’ll be a lot easier to focus on the true threats around you when you’ve seen what danger looks like first-hand.”
I already regretted cooperating, and I hadn’t even agreed yet. “You’re going to get me killed.”
“Don’t be overdramatic. We’ll protect you.”
The first time carjackers tried to dislodge Marc from behind the wheel, three men died, two shots were fired, and I emerged from the brawl with a graze on my arm. Marc and Dan claimed all the kills, as I couldn’t get out of the vehicle in time to figure out which asshat had shot me before the Fenerec started snapping necks.
The few witnesses to the incident didn’t seem all that surprised, although they raised their brows at the outcome. The instant all three assailants fell, everyone scattered.
“Lesson one: don’t get shot. Lesson two: don’t leave evidence.” Marc pointed at my arm. “Bleed only in the car.”
Considering I’d barely gotten a foot out before they’d finished the fight, I retreated, buckled up, and slouched, bleeding only in the car like I’d been told. “What the hell just happened?”
“Three thugs tried to steal the car. One shot you. We killed them,” Dan reported. “I think that covers it. Go again?”
“As long as Dustin can handle another run.” Marc arched a brow at me. “You probably want to wrap that new scratch of yours.”
“Are you two crazy?”
“Yes,” they answered.
What had I done to deserve my lot in life? The more I thought about it, the less I liked the answer. Any other time, I would have complained. “Okay.”
“Next time, don’t get shot,” Marc advised.
Dan twisted around in his seat and winked at me. “If you think you’re going to die, let us know.”
“Gee, thanks. I’ll try to do that.”
The Fenerec laughed.
“Are you asshats deliberately looking for these dicks?” I was tempted to knock the brothers’ heads together, but I kept my hands to myself.
The Fenerec giggled.
Ugh. Damned wolves.
“You’ve killed how many people today?”
Marc shrugged. “I’d say twenty-four or so. Fifteen carjackers, and who the hell knows why the others opened fire.”
“The one might survive,” Dan corrected.
“Why are we doing this?”
“We’re testing if you’re volatile,” Dan replied. “You’re not.”
I clapped. “Go me.”
“You even noticed the last batch before they opened fire. That’s progress. As you’ve successfully detected a hostile, we’ll call it quits for today and return to the hotel. We’ll catch some waves in the morning and do it all over again tomorrow.”
If they thought I’d go chasing after death again willingly, they were out of their minds. Fortunately, Fenerec needed to sleep, and I had one trick left up my sleeve. I’d run away.
At three in the morning, Dan and Marc finally slept, and I tiptoed out of their room and returned to mine. While dangerous, night surfing seemed a hell of a lot safer than running away from a duo of wolves out to prove a lethal point.
Kill or be killed applied to humans, and they meant to teach me how to identify the worst ones through extended exposure. I muttered curses, gathered my surfing gear, and hauled it to the beach so I could get in some time in the water.
I couldn’t tell if exhaustion crippled my witchcraft, but I barely noticed the tired employees in the lobby. I went down the steps to the beach and halted where the sea met the shore.
The crisp, cool sea air flooded my lungs, and I breathed in deep, closing my eyes. Beyond the break, several sharks hunted a school of fish, which wouldn’t last long.
A hand clamped over my mouth, and a muscular arm wrapped around my throat. I’d dealt with Dad putting me into a feigned sleeper hold enough times to recognize it.
He’d beaten several counters into me, but I’d never tried them on sand before. The arm’s owner radiated only a flicker of warmth, but I couldn’t tell if the sensation was amusement, smugness, or pure enjoyment of my predicament.
Hell no. I would not be the plaything of some punk.
I grabbed hold of the arm wrapped around my throat, leaned back, and kicked. Under normal circumstances, I never would’ve landed a blow, but I used the ocean and its water to my advantage.
Nothing said hello quite like a foot to the face. I also said hello to several broken toes, as I found out how hard a skull actually was and how little protection surf shoes offered.
I yelped, as did my father.
“Damn it, Dad!” I howled, hopping on one foot. “You piece of shit, foot-breaking parent!”
Somewhere behind me, Mom laughed. “He kicked you in the face, Rob.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Dan demanded, coming down the beach.
Damned fucking wolves. “He tried to put me in a sleeper hold!”
“He snuck up on you, didn’t he?”
I cursed them all and sulked in the ocean until not even the cold water numbed the throb in my foot.
I had broken three of my toes on my father’s hard head, and thanks to a lack of Inquisition-run clinics in the area, I limped through a flight to Spain with my parents, Marc, and Dan in tow. Every step hurt, and when turbulence hit, I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t scream.
Cursing Dad’s idiocy kept me busy the entire flight, and fortunately for me—and my dipshit father—our Inquisition contact had mercy on me upon arrival. Before my parents could intervene, he jabbed me with a needle and shoved me into the waiting car.
Five minutes later, I took a long and overdue nap, and I slept through the trip to the clinic, the care to my toes, and any other examinations they subjected me to.
I liked the sneaky doctor. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d woken up so refreshed. A pile of clean clothes and a note waited for me, which instructed me to make myself at home.
‘Home’ was a beach house with calm waters, utterly inappropriate for surfing. I went swimming anyway, floating on my back, no care to where I drifted. I closed my eyes, basking in the still quiet of the ocean.
Several young sharks and their mother kept me company.
“What are you doing, pup?” Dad asked.
I cracked open an eye to discover my father had acquired a kayak from somewhere. “Swimming.”
“The Albano brothers tell me you’ve gone and broken your witchcraft again.”
What an asshole. �
��It’s the sort of broken I can live with.”
“That’s the first bit of good news I’ve heard this week.”
“They killed twenty-something people, and I didn’t even try to stop them, Dad. Why’s that?”
“They told me about it. I have a theory.”
“Do tell.”
“You don’t care if anyone hurts you anymore, so your witchcraft isn’t constantly bombarding you. The Albano brothers told me what they were trying to accomplish.” Dad growled.
“Marc owes me a diving trip, and Dan’s my surfing buddy. You can’t kill either one of them.”
“That’s not fair, Dustin.”
“Marc’s going to take me on a diving trip, and Dan owes me more surfing lessons, Dad.”
“Well, shit. You’re not going to let me beat them, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Fine. I’m taking you home with me, then. You’re banned from living on your own until further notice. Your living alone rights are revoked.”
“That’s not fair. I’m an adult, Dad. You can’t do that.”
“Deal with it, pup. I’m doing it, and I’ll whine at the Inquisition until they give me my way.”
Damned wolf. I dumped him out of his kayak because I could before swimming for shore.
Nine
Puppy Mayhem
Every city had its secrets, and those secrets hid the darkness of its people. Las Vegas wore many of its secrets as badges, proud of its failures and indecency. As a child, I’d been charmed by the city’s lights.
As an adult, I lived in its shadows.
Everyone knew Las Vegas embraced sin. Sex and drugs often topped the list. For every criminal my father imprisoned, two more came to take their place.
Dad’s list of enemies grew, which made me the perfect target.
My father’s reputation as a family man was really going to get me killed, and the latest batch of asshats had a decent plan for a change. Since they couldn’t touch my father’s pristine record, they meant to ruin him using me.
I could accept that as a motive. It wasn’t my first rodeo as a target. For the moment, I would assume the motive explained the why.