To Date A Disaster (Southern Sanctuary - book 6)

by Jane Cousins

  Damn, Erik found himself smiling as he studied the way her dark golden lashes brushed the satin skin of her cheeks. He should maybe remove her glasses for her, but his limbs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each as he shifted even lower on the couch, he was so tired, maybe he’d just close his eyes for a little bit and rest, five minutes and then he’d leave… definitely.

  * * *

  Cara came awake with a start. Ouch, her neck was stiff, as she struggled to sit up… sit up? Oh, she had fallen asleep on the couch. What had awoken her? Oh, those damnable winds were back, the rain had stopped and her little cottage once more felt like it was under attack as sand pelted the front windows and skittered across the roof.

  “You’re right…”

  Cara bit back a scream, merda, Erik Valhalla was still here. In what universe could she have forgotten he’d come home with her last night? He was standing at the large picture window, his back to her, his legs slightly apart, his arms folded over his chest, his entire focus on the murky grey world outside her cottage, dawn must be less than half an hour away.

  “What am I right about?” Wrapping her arms around her waist she went to stand next to him, dragging the blanket with her.

  “The wind, there’s something… off about it.” Erik frowned, trying to pin down why the sound was setting his teeth on edge.

  “Sometimes I think I can hear moaning out there.” Cara offered tentatively, hoping he wasn’t going to think she was insane.

  Erik shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything like that, not yet anyway… but I keep thinking I see… shapes.”

  Cara searched the grassy front lawn and the road beyond… nothing.

  “I should ring my mother.”

  Cara blinked, Erik’s statement had come out of left field. “I think it’s a bit early to be ringing her to apologise.”

  Erik turned, his frown deepening. “Not to apologise, to find out if she knows anything about this wind.”

  “Why would your mother know anything?” Cara was bemused.

  “Because she’s an Air Mage, she might know if these gusts are being magically generated.”

  “Oh…” Cara nodded. “But they’ve been going on for almost a week now, wouldn’t she have sensed something was wrong by now?”

  Erik shook his head. “Not necessarily. My folk’s place is located inland and these winds are coming directly off the ocean. Plus, I think I told you how distracted she’s been in regards to getting her baby making schemes to bear fruit… excuse the intended pun.” Erik gave Cara a half smile as he rubbed his gritty eyes. Pulling his mobile out of his back pocket he frowned down at it. “No signal.” Walking over to Cara’s house phone he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear for a moment. “Line’s dead.” He shifted his attention once more to the blustery view. “This can’t be good.”

  Cara hugged herself tighter. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure. What sort of protection have Maat’s warriors provided you with? Bodyguards? Protection detail? Bat signal?”

  Cara shook her head. “They said I’d be safe here, that with the Sanctuary grid and being surrounded by so much magic it would be impossible for Sek and Mot to get a fix on me.”

  Erik glanced outside again. “Shit… shit!”

  “What?” Cara was beginning to get scared. “What is it?”

  “The winds… they’ve been searching for you through the winds.”

  Cara frowned. Erik’s hypothesis sounded ominous but it didn’t quite ring true. Sek and Mot were products of their father. According to Maat’s warriors they had been known to masquerade as Sheriff’s deputies in Texas for shits and giggles. Why Texas? Because like their father they were creatures of sun, heat and sand. “Not the winds…” Cara looked down at the window frames. “The sand… it’s the sand they’re using.”

  Erik grabbed Cara by the shoulders pulling her away from the large picture window. “Okay, you’re okay Cara. I’ve got you, you’re safe inside.” He stared down at her, his hands gripping her lightly toned upper arms. He noted the fast pulse throbbing at the base of her throat and the faint sheen of perspiration dotting her forehead. “I’ve got you, Angel. You need to get control. What brings on your attacks?”

  Cara couldn’t think. “Um…” What bought on her one of her chaos whammies? “Panic attack… breathing, vision….” No, that wasn’t right, not anymore, the trigger for her last few attacks was standing right in front of her. Oh, no!

  “Okay, so panic attacks. Then we just need to get you to focus on something else entirely.” Erik could think of one thing and one thing only to distract her. Of course the fact that he’d been dying to kiss her from the moment he first saw her sprawled on the footpath, outside his cousin Riya’s boutique, might have played a small part in his decision process. With that in mind he pulled her in close, his intent all too clear.

  Cara tried to get the words out to tell Erik that this was really not a good idea but her body had put her brain on the mute button and just wanted to savour the moment as one of his hands came up to fist the mass of knotted hair at the base of her skull, tilting her head up further as his lips descended on hers.

  Heavens, the man was radiating enough body heat to scorch metal and yet despite all those hard planes of muscle his lips were so very soft and addictive. His kiss was like a match to her tinder. One moment she was terrified and uncertain, the next second she was clutching at the man, every bone in her body seeming to liquefy, the heat travelling down her body to pool between her legs and just like that… POW, the ball of chaos that pulsed there punched out of her body in a meta-physical wave.

  There sounded a screech of metal from outside a millisecond before the large picture window exploded in to a million pieces. Erik moved like quicksilver to shield Cara from the glass, hunching over her.

  Merda, oh no. Erik! His back and legs had taken the brunt of the glass, she couldn’t believe he was still standing as the wind barrelled into the room. She needed to get him to lie down, every inch of his back had to be shredded. She needed to call an ambulance.

  Cara struggled in his arms, pushing back until he reluctantly let her go. “Oh God, Erik are you…” She tugged him around so she could see how bad it was, what she had to deal with. “Wh…?” How was that possible, the back of his t-shirt was shredded and there were holes in his jeans but underneath the fabric his skin was perfect, no cuts, no glass embedded in his flesh.

  She stumbled away from him. How was that possible? He should be dead or at the very least gravely hurt? She grimaced as tendrils of her hair blew into her mouth, yuk, worse she’d swallowed a few grains of sand. “How…?”

  “Cara…” Erik blinked as sand flew into his eyes, damn stuff was everywhere. Crap, he looked down, he couldn’t even see the carpet anymore the sand coating it was that thick. That wasn’t right, it shouldn’t have gathered that quickly. Even as he watched the sand rippled forward, not pushed by the gusty wind barrelling through the broken window but as if it had intent and a will driving it… driving it towards Cara. “Oh shit…”

  Cara looked down in horror, sand had encased her sneakers, trapping her in place even as more sand rapidly spread up her legs, climbing her, encasing her. Suddenly it was up to her knees and then swiftly covering her thighs. She didn’t know what was happening but it wasn’t good, whatever it was.

  She tried to bat Erik away as his arms came around her upper body locking on tight.

  “Don’t…” She tried to protest as the cold sand spilled upwards over her buttocks and waist, feeling a distinct sucking sensation as the world around her began to grow wavy and indistinct.

  Erik looked down at Cara, fierce protectiveness radiating in his cobalt blue eyes as the sand travelled over his arms and up towards his throat. “I’ve got you Angel… wherever you go, I’m coming along for the ride.” He had to shut his mouth then as the sand travelled up over his chin, mouth and nose.

  Cara watched in horror as Erik’s face disappeared behind
a mask of sand, knowing that at the same time a similar mask was flowing up over her own features. Merda, she wanted to cry out loud but daren’t open her mouth as everything went black and seemed to swirl around her.

  The one thing, the only thing she could take comfort in was the feel of Erik’s arms locked tightly around her like bands of unbreakable steel.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Erik grit his teeth, fighting the urge to launch himself forward and body tackle the dickwad currently standing next to an unconscious Cara, slapping her awake.

  He might be an artist but he came from blood thirsty warrior stock, grew up surrounded by them, trained and fought with them. He knew he could take Sek and Mot out, maybe even their sand monster too, he could do all that if only he could tap into his magic, so it was beyond galling that a simple bit of plastic tied too tightly around his wrists was currently his biggest obstacle to overcome. Why couldn’t it have been good old fashioned handcuffs or chains… what happened to tradition?

  Fuck, for the moment, he had to play along, wait… be patient. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his life. Right at this minute he was literally vibrating with anger. Cara was in danger and every instinct he had was screaming at him to save her. Desperately he tried to recall everything his sister, Hadleigh, and her husband, Vaughn, had told the family about their encounters with Sek and Mot.

  Damn his own hide, he’d tuned out most of everything they had said, ignored it all as just inconsequential enforcer business that was technically nothing to do with him. Well, he was paying in spades for that stupidity now.

  They wanted Cara’s blood, didn’t they? They needed the blood of an ancestor and the blood of a witch for their damnable wake Apep up ritual. He frowned, recalling how badly hurt Hadleigh had been by Sek and Mot when they thought she was a witch. They’d practically shredded his sister, only Vaughn’s intervention had stopped her from crossing over to the battlefields of the true Valhalla.

  But there was no witch present here this time, only Cara, the ancestor and himself. So what were Sek and Mot’s intentions? Why had they bought Cara here, if they didn’t have a witch to complete the ritual? They needed something, wanted something from Cara… but what?

  He frowned as a stray memory surfaced… something about Sek and Mot being supposedly weakened, yet studying the two demi gods carefully he saw no depletion in either their physical or magical powers. If anything, the air in here practically sang with the throb of power emanating from dipshit and dickwad. They controlled a freaking sand monster for Goddess sake. They were about as far from weak as a category five storm. Shit, what was going on?

  Okay, so the dickhead duo were far stronger than Maat’s warriors were aware of. And they were surprisingly smart too. Erik eyed the cavernous space. Hiding their father’s sarcophagus in plain sight like this, it spoke of cunning and a sly sense of humour. They might talk and act like two good old boys from Texas but they had been working on awakening their father for thousands of years… wait, why?

  If they had a power source somewhere, why did they need Apep to wake up? Sure everyone thought it was because they wanted Apep to wave his chaos wand and rule the world, but speaking personally as a man with a controlling, stubborn - thinks he’s always right - father, there was no way dipshit and dickwad wanted to wake daddy just so they could play second fiddle for the rest of their semi-immortal lives.

  They were demi gods. Powers in their own right. The only reason they had to wake up Apep was that somehow, someway, Apep’s waking up benefitted them. But how?

  His attention was caught as Cara began to stir. At least she was okay. He watched as she took in her surroundings, the sand monster and then her long lost relatives. Damn he was proud of the way she lifted her chin and met their gazes, his little librarian was feisty and smart.

  Erik’s neck arched backwards as dipshit tightened the hold he had on his hair. They’d be commencing the torture part of this scenario any moment now, he just needed Cara to keep her cool, keep all the attention focused her way and draw this game out as long as possible. For Goddess sake, dipshit had a combat knife only inches away from his face, if he could just somehow get that and cut the plastic tie around his wrists all bets would be off.

  Come on Cara, Angel, play for time.

  * * *

  Cara frowned, someone was slapping her cheek and not in a gentle - hey sweetie, time to get up - kind of way. This person had a large calloused hand and reeked of tobacco.

  She wrinkled her nose, yanking her head back as her eyes fluttered open and she came face to face with a stranger who was looming over her. A large man, muscular but beginning to lose that edge with extra pounds around his middle and chin, his jowls heavy, his neck particularly thick, his skin ruddy and tanned. He grinned at her, a wad of tobacco clenched between his teeth.

  Cara fought not to flinch. There was something about this man, he had an imposing presence, his dark eyes off putting this close up as she could see no differentiation between his iris and pupil, like a clear starless moonless night sky… creepy.

  Cara swept her gaze over the rest of him, noting the security guard uniform he was wearing, dark brown jacket and tie, tan trousers and shirt. He took a casual step back, giving her a brief glimpse of a nightstick, a gun tucked in the waistband of his trousers and incongruously an employee plastic identification badge dangling from his trouser pocket. She didn’t get a look at the name or the photo but the company logo hit her right between the eyes.

  That couldn’t possibly be right! Yet, as she let her eyes travel around the vast cavernous room she was forced to concede that the man’s security badge wasn’t a figment of her imagination. She’d been swept up by a sandstorm and transported to The Metropolitan Museum in New York… the Egyptian wing to be exact.

  She noted the stone carved archways, the imposing pitted marble columns, decorative friezes and the three sarcophagus… or was that sarcophagi? Three of them lined up in a neat row on a raised dais and she was sprawled across the lid of the one in the very middle.

  Ick, she bolted into a sitting position. Fancy waking up to find you were sitting on your Great-Great-ridiculously high number of more Greats added-Grandfather’s sarcophagus, or at least that’s what she was guessing.

  She fought the urge to scramble down off the lid. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going anywhere with her wrists bound together with what looked like a plastic zip tie that law enforcement officials or security guards commonly used. And not with the intimidating presence of the security guard hovering so close… smiling still, grinning in fact, as if he’d just been presented with a free 50 ounce steak that he was thinking of devouring whole, creepy asshole.

  To distract herself Cara glanced down to make sure all her body parts were correct and accounted for… thankfully yes, though it was weird to find not a single grain of sand clinging to her skin or clothes. She shuddered, recalling the tidal wave that had engulfed her, covering her mouth, nose… eyes. Where had all that sand gone? Had she imagined it?

  No, as the security guard jogged down the set of stone stairs a movement out the corner of her eye had her head swivelling around to see who… or should that be what, was standing almost directly behind her. It was a creature entirely made of sand, it had legs, arms, a head but no face. The sand rippling and shifting constantly… perhaps Golem, was the right term for the creature, with its roughly humanoid shape. It remained frozen in place, directly behind her, looming and just generally freaking her out, those huge sand slab like hands looked like they could all too easily throttle her.

  Cara bit the inside of her cheek to stop the whimper that threatened to emerge. She was alive, unscathed… for the moment, she needed to get her brain into gear so that she could stay that way, plus she had Erik’s well-being to think about. Merda…Erik!

  She swiftly turned her head again, searching, relief flooding through her at the sight of Erik kneeling on the floor at the base of the stone steps leading up to the raised dais upon
which Apep’s sarcophagus rested. He appeared unhurt, his wrists, like hers, were bound together by a plastic tie.

  A second man, dressed in the same uniform as the one who’d slapped her awake stood next to Erik, one hand fisted in Erik’s dark hair keeping him immobilised, the other hand holding a large scary serrated knife, rather too close to Erik’s face for her comfort.

  A chill swept through Cara, it wasn’t just that the two men who had taken up a mirrored stance on either side of a kneeling Erik were wearing matching security guard uniforms, everything about them matched; their faces, build, dark slicked-back hair. This had to be the twins Sek and Mot. Her long lost, too many greats to count, uncles. Seeing them together just upped her creep factor level to its highest setting. Then the duo simultaneously grinned at her and she left creepy behind and entered terror town.

  It is one thing to be told there is magic in the world, it’s a whole metaphorical cuff to the back of the head to be encased by sentient sand and transported to a city on the other side of the world.

  Only three short weeks ago, her heart would have been beating a mile a minute, her breath would have been coming in hot painful short pants, her vision would have been blurring at the edges and the hot ball of chaos that had been living in her chest for the previous eighteen months would have started to build and throb, signalling impending doom.

  But not now, not since she’d moved to Haven Bay and met Erik Valhalla. Okay, yes she was scared, her heart was racing and her breath was coming a little fast but she wasn’t even in stage one of a panic attack. Hey, what do you know, meet a total hottie who can be a bit of a jerk at times and steady your nerves, it would have to be a first she reckoned.

  “Welcome to the last…” The one that had slapped her awake addressed her.

  “…day of your life.” The one holding Erik immobilised finished the sentence.

  Cara was sure they intended to intimidate or scare her with their threat but suddenly she found herself shaking her head and laughing. They were just such try too hard villains. “What? No ominous music to punctuate the impact of your words? You two should really start thinking of adding a soundtrack to your threats.” She crossed her legs and took a deep breath. “Sek and Mot, I presume?”