My insides tangle. This is the second time one of Max’s people has emphasized just how much they care about him. Just like Hank did for me, they’ve accepted him as if he were blood when blood failed him. It doesn’t make familial loss any easier, but it softens the blow some.
I stand, pulling Max up with me, and shake Elaxi’s hand. “Thanks for your help. And I promise, I’ll get him back here safe.”
WE REACH THE BORDER between Mexico and Guatemala before Max’s strength gives out. I pay with cash for a motel, then drag him the rest of the way to the room, eyes sharp on our surroundings. Most of the guests look like tourists: overdressed, over sunned, loaded with shopping bags, and most so far from sober I doubt any of them will remember us.
Unless it’s all an act.
Shoulder muscles aching, exhausted, I drop Max in the chair just inside the motel room, then spell the door against intruders. “You didn’t stop enough, did you?”
“Not even a little,” Max says between gasps, his voice a croak. “I figured the more I did that, the more likely another hunter would be to pick up on us. Right, mama?”
I ruffle his hair, then head for the sink.
“Hold up,” Max says when I start to fill a glass with water. “We don’t want to drink that.”
Scowling, I turn off the tap. “Why not?”
“It’s beneath us.” He manages a ghost of a smirk.
“Max.”
He chuckles hoarsely. “It’s not safe for our pampered digestive systems. Ever heard of Montezuma's Revenge?”
Brows bumping together, I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Suffice it to say...” He pauses for a deep breath. “You don’t want to risk it, mama. There should be a massive water bottle in the bathroom.”
With a shrug, I find one next to the sink, and unscrew the top. “So, I guess you won’t be sleeping in the pipes tonight, huh?”
“You got it. I tried that once on my way to the states when I ran from my mom and it did not end well.”
A heavy weight suppresses my breath at the thought of sleep. I haven’t died today, so I’m going to have to spend the night in the bathtub. My stomach curdles with dread as I hand Max the glass of water and set the bottle on the table next to him.
“We definitely don’t want that,” I say no louder than a murmur.
Only half focused, I wander a path through the room, hands tucked under my arms. Antsy, I dig into a pocket for a cigarette, light it up, and take a long, slow drag. It’s ridiculous feeling this way when I’ve been through it so many times, but familiarity doesn’t make the anticipation any less disturbing. In a few hours, I’ll spontaneously combust in a blast of fire. Somehow, that’s worse than being killed, though I can’t quite work out why.
Nothing can stop it. And now that I’ve chosen to help Max, I’m worried nothing ever will.
“You okay, mama?”
I let out another puff of smoke. “Are you really going to ask me that? When we’re running from every bounty hunter around and any second now Yaritza’s going to figure out what we’re up to?”
“Is that all?” Max asks.
“Not enough?” I spin on the ball of my foot to face him.
Max takes a slow sip of water, gaze steady on mine. “More than enough. But so far, you’ve been pretty solid, mama, and right now, you kind of look like you’re about to be sick.”
A ball gathers in my throat and heat sears my cheeks. “I’m fine.”
“Fee...”
Nails digging into my palm, I can’t stop the growl that shreds my throat. “Why do you care?”
“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?” He lists his head to one side.
“I was going to turn you into Iris Smith even though you’re innocent,” I say louder than I mean to, incensed by his calm, annoyed by the emotions boiling inside me.
“You had plenty of reason to believe I was lying about that,” Max says, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then you saved me from Iris, and now you’re doing everything you can to clear my name. All that makes me feel pretty positive toward you, Fee.”
That ball in my throat hardens and expands. Before I can stop them, tears stream down my cheeks. I stare at my feet, then turn away from Max, painfully ashamed. When another few puffs of my cigarette fail to calm me, I stab it out in the ashtray.
“You don’t know anything about me. Fee’s not even my real name.”
I don’t know why I’m telling him this, why tonight’s death is bothering me so deeply, but the words tumble out anyway.
A hand presses gently into the space between my shoulder blades and I lose my battle with control. Wrapping both arms around my waist, I collapse forward, holding back ridiculous sobs, utterly humiliated.
Slowly, carefully, Max gives my shoulders a little tug and, in spite of myself, I curl against him. This close, I can hear the slight wheeze of his breath and the rapid pace of his pulse. Guilt gnaws me. If anyone has a right to break down right now it’s him. Instead, he’s standing here, comforting me.
“So, tell me,” Max says. “I’ll lock it in the proverbial vault.”
Balling my hands into fists, I press my forehead into his shoulder. “Faith.” I sniff. “My real name is Faith. Some joke, huh? My parents don’t believe in anything but gold, and I have no idea what I believe in.”
Max’s palm glides across my back and he hums quietly. “Sometimes it’s hard to know. Especially in our world.”
“What do you believe?” I ask, burning with shame at the faint sound of my own voice.
A long exhale escapes Max and he tightens his embrace. “Not much. At least ... not until I started working at The Mercury Room. Then I started to see...” He sighs again. “It sounds dumb.”
“I’ll take dumb.”
Max huffs again. “Something ... unknowable. What’s it called? Ineffable?”
“I’m not sure that’s the right word.”
“I don’t think there is a right one.” He tightens his embrace a little. “What’s pushing you over the edge right now?”
“It’s stupid.”
“I’ll take stupid. Though I highly doubt it’s that.”
I groan at the back of my throat. “I didn’t die today, so I’m going to die at midnight tonight. Which means I have to sleep in the tub. It’s nothing new. Happens all the time. So, I don’t know why I’m so upset.”
“That’s a pain. Especially after what you’ve been through the last few days.” Max steps back, brushes the tears from my face with his thumbs, then pulls the sheets off the bed and marches to the bathroom.
Face scrunched in confusion, I follow him. “What are you doing?”
Max drops his arm load onto the tile, then goes to retrieve the pillows. “Sleeping on the floor next to you, mama.”
Another sob chokes me. “Why would you do that?”
“No reason you have to go through that alone,” Max says with a smile.
I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “There’s no reason you should have to sleep on the floor.”
“I mean, I could try to drag the mattress in here, but somehow I doubt it will fit.”
A new wave of tears runs down my cheeks even as I laugh. I don’t have words to express what I’m feeling, in part because I’m not entirely sure. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before. It warms me in a way even my phoenix fire can’t.
As we settle down for the evening — Max covering his eyes with an arm when I undress and climb into the tub — I again wonder if these kindnesses are still all an act. Though he doesn’t need to convince me to help him, he might still be attempting to keep my loyalty. I hate that thought. Experience, however, has taught me that most people, Hank and Sam excluded, do good things for their own gain.
I can only hope that helping Max won’t leave me in far worse circumstances than I started.
13.
AFTER MY MIDNIGHT DEATH, Max and I move to the bed for the remainder of the night. I’m so exhausted I pass out befor
e I can think too much about our close proximity. In the morning, I wake to the sun threading through the strands of his dark hair, sliding over the sharp plane of his face. I lay perfectly still for a few moments.
Even without his magic at full power he’s gorgeous. Something I need to keep my mind off of, at least until we’re not running from bounty hunters, Amazons, and death in general. Really though, can I even think about some kind of relationship with my condition? Dying every day complicates my life enough as it is.
I steer my mind away from that gloomy thought. There is absolutely no reason to mentally dwell in such dreary places, especially not right now. Shoving myself out of bed, I grab my backpack off the floor, then stumble to the bathroom for another very cold shower.
After a few cups of coffee, lots of water, and some power bars, we start back on our journey toward Brazil, taking more frequent breaks this time at my insistence. When we reach Panama, we pause to get lunch at the least busy restaurant we can find.
We take our food to a far corner next to a wide red brick wall. Though I’d prefer to be close to the door, it’s not worth the risk of sitting near the massive front windows. The second any hunter sees Max, we’re in for a fight, and frankly, I’d prefer to avoid that.
I scan the restaurant over Max’s shoulder as he drains a bottle of water. “How’re you holding up?”
Spinning the bottle cap on the table, he offers a bit of a droopy, gray-tinged smile. “A little worn out, but I can make a few more jumps today, I think. Food should help. Though I’ll need to wait thirty minutes before traveling again. Unless you have a deep desire to see me puke.”
Bouncing my knee in an attempt to get rid of nervous jitters, I let out a weak laugh. “I’d prefer to avoid witnessing that. Shouldn’t have let you order that burger. Those don’t digest quick.”
All my scattered thoughts coalesce when a lone man in a Hawaiian shirt walks into the restaurant. Long strands of white-blond hair brush his sunburnt cheekbones, and bleach stains dot and streak his cargo shorts. Not the outfit of a bounty hunter, but something about his smooth, precise movements put my senses on high alert.
I track him as the waiter delivers our food, barely cognizant enough to thank him before he leaves.
“What’s up, mama?” Max asks, tilting over the table.
“It might just be paranoia,” I say quietly, watching the new customer order at the front. “But after the bus incident, everybody’s suspicious.”
The man turns from the counter, eyes on his change, and walks toward us. My fingers curl into fists. I aim my face down at my food but continue to watch him through my hair. He sits at the table directly behind us, mere feet from Max, close enough to cause trouble.
“You think there might be a hunter in here?” Max asks around a bite of his burger.
“Possibly.” I force down a thick cut French fry. “Right behind us.”
Max sucks cheese off a thumb but doesn’t look back. He takes another bite of his burger and chews a minute before saying, “Do you think we should run? I won’t be able to travel us far, but I can at least get us out of the restaurant.”
Picking at a leaf of lettuce, eyes never leaving the man behind us, I shake my head ever so slightly. “Not until I know for sure. There’s no reason to burn yourself out just because I’m feeling jumpy.”
“How are you going to out him?”
I force a sigh out through my nose. “I’m not sure yet. But the first thing I’m going to do is going to take a little concentration so give me a second.”
Focusing all my powers of concentration on the man, I mumble a spell under my breath, fluttering my fingers to direct it toward him. Beads of sweat form on my lower back as my magic hits his. It resists me, pushing against my commands.
He’s definitely disguising his appearance with a charm, but it’s not clear why. Thousands of paranormals cover up less socially acceptable traits with simple spells. That’s not unusual. What is significant is how hard the magic is fighting me. This only serves to stoke my paranoia.
Curling my upper lip, I reign my magic in and wipe my forehead with a sleeve. Forcing his illusion away will only cause trouble. This will take a little bit of a lighter touch and a lot a bit of savvy. I look up at Max.
“How would you feel about putting those mad water spirit skills to some good use?”
Tilting his head to one side, Max gives me a long, hard stare. “On our potential hunter friend?”
“You got it.”
Max looks at the guy out of the corner of his eye. “I can give it a shot. Scoot back a little, huh, mama?”
With the heel of my shoe, I push my chair away from the table as Max rocks his chair onto its back legs, that smirk chasing the exhaustion off his face. At this distance, I can feel the edge of his magic. Its warmth brushes past me and then ebbs quickly away.
“Hey, man, mind sharing your salt?” Max asks over his shoulder. “Ours is out.”
The man turns sideways. “Is that the best line you’ve got, water spirit? I’m a little disappointed.”
He moves so fast I hardly catch the flick of his wrist, the flash of his black knife as its tip presses into Max’s rib cage. With a harsh gasp, Max flinches away from it, face hard with shock as both hands raised as if in surrender. The blade follows his slight movement and the man smiles.
“Keep calm now.” He stands slowly, drags his chair to our table, then sits next to me. “This doesn’t have to get ugly. In fact, I’d prefer it not to. Isn’t my style. If you’ll just let this phoenix out from under your charms, we can all go about our merry ways.”
Confusion fully disarms me, and I can’t stop an impolite splutter. “I’m sorry. What now?”
The man’s brows form a V as he gives me a sad smile. “I know. It doesn’t make sense, right now. You believe you’re in love with him. But water spirits like him are tricky, powerful creatures. Once his spell is broken, you’ll see the truth, have your life back.”
I blink, attempting to get past the shock and onto a solution. This dude thinks I’m under Max’s spell. He’s trying to save me, not steal my bounty. There’s no way he’s a hunter, but he’s obviously a majorly powerful paranormal. Which would explain why I couldn’t dispel the charm obscuring his form.
Though this is a slightly better scenario, it’s still going to take a delicate touch, especially if he believes I’m not in my right mind.
Max tilts his head back and laughs, but it’s cut off with a grunt when the man presses the knife a little further into his ribs. “Listen, man,” Max says, hands still up. “I swear by Amphitrite, I’m not charming her. Actually—”
The man snaps and Max’s jaw slams shut. “We don’t need any more of your pretty words, my friend. I’m guessing you’ve stolen enough of this poor girl’s life with them.”
“No really,” I say. “He’s not using his magic on me.”
Or at least not its full power, my constant and consistent paranoia reminds me.
Max has been up front about this — that he can’t turn it off, only amplify it — but that doesn’t make me feel much better. It’s not his fault, the way he was born, and over the last few days I’ve seen him do everything within his power to prove that he hasn’t been manipulating me. Still, I can’t shake my naturally suspicious nature.
And somehow, I doubt this man will believe me either.
Head coasting to one side, the newcomer slides his ocean blue eyes between me and Max. “One under the charm of a water spirit would say just that. But there is a way to prove your state of mind.”
I sit up straighter. “There is?”
“Yes. If you’ll allow it.”
Resting an elbow on the back of the chair, I sharpen my gaze. “If it will prove his innocence, then yes, I’ll allow it.”
“It will require me to touch you. Is that alright?”
I clench my fists, my skin crawling at the idea of a stranger putting his hands on me. If he’s telling the truth though, if he really can con
firm that Max isn’t messing with my mind, then it’s absolutely worth it.
“Fine.”
With the knife still in place, the man reaches out and gently presses two fingers to my temple. A cool rush like water spreads across my face. Music floods my mind, calming my rushing thoughts. Lyrics accompany it. The language makes no sense to me at first but gathers meaning quickly.
Mermish.
This man is one of the earth-realm mer-people. Gifted with powerful healing, they are particularly capable of dispelling manipulative magic. Unlike their water spirit counterparts, they mirror gargoyles in their quest for the greater good. Which explains why he’s so set on helping me.
A slow sigh escapes my lips as his touch falls away and I open my eyes to his smile. He sheaths his knife, then rests back in his chair. “Her mind is devoid of charms. You were telling the truth. What a refreshing discovery. My apologies for rushing to such a conclusion.”
My nerves settle at his statement. “Not something you find often?”
“I’m afraid not.” He laces his fingers together and rests them in his lap. “The number of tourists I have to save throughout the year would shock you.”
“Not me,” Max says, rubbing his side. “My people are full of shenanigans.”
“So, I’ve seen.” The man dips his head. “My name is Zephyr. You may call me Zeph. Now that I’ve given you a bit of a fright, is there a way I can be of service?”
Max and I exchange a look, then the water spirit scoots a little closer in. “Actually, I’ve been water traveling us from the states and I’m pretty tapped out. My friend Kia — she’s a mermaid too — can sometimes help me recharge a little faster. Think you could do that too?”
“It would be my honor.”
Shutting his eyes, Zeph places a hand on Max’s shoulder. Faint blue light seeps out past his lids to coat his lashes. Its warm glow spreads through Max’s veins. The cracks seal up, the gray smudges fade, and the quiet wheeze underlying his breath smooths out. Releasing the hunch of his shoulders, Max visibly relaxes.
Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame Page 12