TWENTY-TWO
Bar Fight
Axel grabbed for the bat Kelly swung at his head at the same second Riley chucked her glass at his skull. Destiny moved so fast it was like lightening surging through the sky, a blur of movement too fast to follow—she smashed the glass away in midair and rushed at Riley where she’d stepped out of the booth.
I threw my hands out before she could reach my friend, a blast of telekinesis forcing my own feet back an inch, and the undead bitch flew back as if struck.
She hit the ground hard and was up again in seconds, no pause, no hesitation. Recovery time wasn’t something she needed. I climbed onto the table and launched myself at her. I was getting Riley and myself out of here, if it was the last thing I did.
Maybe this was how the Vampire felt all the time; bloodthirsty, heart pounding in longing for violence.
I couldn’t hold myself back if I tried, if I’d wanted to, and there was not a single part of me that did.
Destiny rolled out of the way before I could land on her. I hit the ground and kept moving, scrambling out of the way to get out of her range. The bar tilted around me in the rush, lights blurring.
I lumbered to my feet and spun to swing at her, and she deflected my punch easily. Her fist caught me in the stomach, knuckles twisting as she pulled away. Her punch was like a gunshot.
Nothingness filling my torso—
The breath left me all at once, and I wheezed, but I couldn’t let myself stop. The others were blurs of colour around us, two human woman and a brutal Charmer reduced to streaks of motion as they fought.
Axel would be done with them quickly, and I had to be at their side before that happened.
I wasn’t willing to kill either he or Destiny unless it was my only option, but I doubted they had the same reservations about us.
They needed me alive to take back to Crayton. Riley and Kelly were more than expendable.
But not to me.
I half-fell toward the Vampire, and jolted forward to slam into her with my shoulder, throwing my entire body into the tackle. She barely budged, and her arms were around me in seconds, squeezing so tightly I thought I’d never breathe again. When her arms withdrew, I fell to my knees.
Destiny wrapped her fist around chunk of my hair and tugged my head up so she could whisper in my ear. “Still feeling lucky?” she asked.
I could hear the grin in her voice. Maybe it was time to wipe it right off her smug damn face.
“Luckier than you.” I spat, and slammed my head back into hers so hard we both saw stars.
Destiny screeched in anger. She fell away, hands dropping from my hair, and I stumbled into the side of the nearest booth, wood smooth under my fingertips. My ears rang, head pounding violently. Forget it, I told myself. Time to move. Before the throbbing had faded, I was looking for Axel, looking for an opponent. Kelly flew past me with a hard shove. Axel yanked the bat out of her hands before he kicked her away, and then, moving like the flash of a camera, he grabbed Riley and ripped her around like a rag doll so her back was to his chest, setting the length of the bat at the base of her throat to keep her pinned, a moth pressed to a page with pins through its wings.
I froze feet away, my eyes locked with his.
Riley’s scared, angry face, her intense displeasure burning like a star. Axel’s bloodthirsty delight—the joy of a good fight written all over his features.
Could I get to them fast enough to stop him from hurting her?
I didn’t like my chances.
Clearly, he liked his. “I think it’s time we ended this. Stop fighting, and I’ll let your little mortal friend go.”
“The only little friend any of us have here is the pathetic excuse for a dick in your pants, now get your fucking hands off of me!”
He jostled Riley forward. I heard her teeth smash together, but she said nothing. She had the look in her eyes of a cornered animal, ready to bite.
“Stop!” I took a step forward and someone pulled me back—Destiny’s nails digging into my skin.
My eyes raked over Kelly’s limp form. How badly had he hurt her?
The situation had spiraled beyond my ability to control it. I wished Riley wasn’t my friend so I couldn’t have dragged her into this mess. I wished Hunter wasn’t so determined to make me care, so I hadn’t been dragged into it myself. Most of all, I wished that I’d never walked away from him like such an idiot.
I should have stuck close until I knew we were both safe.
Stupid little boy, burned and sad and scared and scarred, lonely, always so afraid.
Fear has no place in this world.
I’d told Hunter that he gave his emotions too much power over him, prided myself on being better than that, on being in absolute control of my feelings—but I was a hypocrite, and I was wrong. I was just as ruled by my own—by my fear—as he was. The only difference was that instead of admitting mine, I tried to deny it. And now I was going to get the one person I actually loved killed because of my mistake.
No. No. She would not die on my watch. I wouldn’t permit it.
Destiny was still clutching the material of my jacket. I grabbed her hand and twisted it until I heard something inside her arm snap. Immortal or no, her bones could be broken. I would break every single one if I had to. I dropped her, ignoring her screams, and took a single, deliberate step forward, my eyes on Axel’s.
I was sick of being the scared one.
I would give the world something to fear.
“You have five seconds to let my friend go before I rip your arms off and shove them down your ugly throat.”
He looked delighted. He tossed Riley away and she hit the side of the bar so hard the wood cracked down the center. She whimpered, slumped to the ground, but I couldn’t afford to see if she was okay. I had to end this.
I flew at Axel. Behind him, glass shattered and shards of it exploded into the air. The front window of Jetstreams burst open, rain falling in from outside along with a slight, pale girl, with icy blue eyes and dreadlocks.
Jackson’s Reaper. Because the world hadn’t made it clear enough how much it hated me, tonight.
If she wanted a fight, too, she could have one.
Glass pellets rained down, tiny images of me reflected in every one of them as I jumped at Axel. I pulled my arms back, ready to send a blast of force at him. I was going to blast this jerk off his ass.
My hit never made contact. At the last second Axel’s head shifted back in my direction. His giant arms flew up, fists hitting my chest, and he shoved. Not with telekinesis, but physically, with the strength of a Jeep pulling full speed. The air left my chest, oxygen abandoning me, and I slammed against the ground.
The world dimmed, went black, and sound turned murky through the ringing in my ears.
Everything vanished for a few peaceful seconds.
There was a face there, in the dark. A boy. One I didn’t know, who seemed like part of the darkness around us, like it was contained within him. He smiled at me viciously, enough to fill my veins with ice water.
His violet eyes flashed. “Not yet I’m afraid, love.”
There was something like a shove or a pull, bringing me back out of the dark. I didn’t want to leave it—wanted away from the strange boy, yes, but not the blackness he lingered in. I heard him laugh as I was dragged unwittingly back into the world of light and pain, my ears ringing, glass and cold tile beneath my back, cutting into my jacket and flesh, and then he was gone.
I heard the sounds of a scuffle, shouting and flesh hitting flesh. Footsteps crunched over glass. What was happening? Kelly? Riley? Were they okay?
Was I?
I wanted to scream at myself to get up, force my limbs to carry me across the room to where she’d crumpled against the base of the bar, but I couldn’t move. My senses were coming back to me, only not fast enough.
The world ebbed in and out.
“Sky,” a voice near my ear pulled me back from the brink. Jackson?
; I blinked my eyes open and realized that a deafening silence had filled the bar. The Incubus was kneeling over me, too close for comfort, concern etched across his features. I could feel his fingers probing gently at the base of my skull where it met my neck, testing the skin there.
“He’s not bleeding anywhere, at least,” he said to someone else. Then, to me, “Are you okay?”
“Riley?” I rasped. I tried to sit up, glass and powder shifting beneath me. Spilled beer soaking my pants. “Where is she?”
Jackson’s hands found my shoulders and eased me back down. “Whoa there, Cowboy. Your friend is fine. Penn is with her.”
Heat flushed through me like a fever, head swimming from the pain. My heart was still racing—so fast, too fast—images I couldn’t make sense of filtered through my mind. Hunter, sinking into the sand. Jackson, shoving me against a wood paneled wall, his eyes inches from mine. My mother, standing in the center of an inferno. Penn floating on her back in a pool of scarlet
Penn spoke nearby. “We’ve got to go. We haven’t got much time. Riley is fine to walk. How’s Sky?”
“Not good. We’ll have to carry him to the car,” Jackson replied. His voice sounded further away than it had been, and I realized that at some point my eyes had drifted shut again. “I’ll handle it. Take care of the owner’s memories and let’s get the hell out of here.”
There was a second of nothing but silence and heat and pain, and then Jackson’s voice was back.
“Rest easy, liesmith. You’re safe now.”
I didn’t entirely believe him, but I couldn’t fight anymore. His words followed me down into the darkness, a flatter, emptier one than before, and then there was nothing but silence.
TWENTY-THREE
BATTLE PLAN
I woke up in Jackson’s office, pounding head, stinging eyes, aching body. I felt like I’d been fed through a meat processor and then glued back together, piece by mangled piece.
My head throbbed in several places, brain like a pile of frayed nerves and bruises.
The cold hanging in the room made it easier to breathe, and I focused on the smooth cushions of the couch beneath me, the dim lights illuminating all of his books and toys and binders, scraps of ripped and folded paper hanging out at odd angles. Details to fixate on so I wasn’t reduced to my pain and my fear. Disoriented, I blinked a few times, and groaned as I started to stir.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” Jackson was sitting the chair behind his desk, sandy hair mussed, with a bottle on the desk in front of him. He looked tired of being tired, black bags forming, red rims around his eyes.
This guy could give Melissa a run for her money.
“Is that vodka?” I croaked out.
Maybe my priorities weren’t in order. My migraine didn’t particularly leave me room to care.
“Come here,” he said, reaching over to grab two shot glasses off the liquor cart. “You’ve been out for two and a half hours.”
“Riley?”
“Upstairs,” he waved away my concern. “She’s too tough to stay down for long. Last time I checked she was figuring out how to leech our wifi.”
Safe. Alive. Glued to her phone.
The wave of relief that crashed over me was impossible to squash back down. Jackson looked surprised at the small smile on my face, but said nothing.
I resisted the urge to cry.
“I may want a swig of that.”
Dragging myself off the couch felt like falling off the cliff in my dream. I stood still for a minute, knees shaking, as the world titled around me. By the time I recovered Jackson had slid a full shot glass across the desk.
It was enough motivation to make me walk over and drop into the chair, dead weight.
I had no idea what to make of Jackson. I’d seen him at first as a cunning businessman, all exposure and sensory overload, flashing lights and vivid colours—a beautiful disguise hiding something darker. His betrayal earlier today—had it only been a this morning?—only cemented that image. And yet, he’d let Hunter and I get away, and then rescued us from Crayton’s men again at the bar. So now I had to wonder if he was our ally—he didn’t seem the type to do anything that didn’t further his own goals. Selfish. But I understood that. I knew he wanted to keep up that aura of mystery, could see that he loved walking around like a living question mark in the way he smirked at me as I studied him now. He wanted me to take the bait—I just couldn’t figure out why.
I don’t like being left in the dark. I pondered my vodka. Counted to three. Swallowed it without letting myself think about it and relished the burn of acid in my throat.
Nice wake up call. Liquid fire spreading through me. My joints burned from the fight, but that was a bad burn. This was a good one. A small nod to vice before I forced my feet back to the ground and focused on the situation at hand.
“Why did you save us?”
“You don’t waste words, do you?”
I squinted. I wanted my head to stop spinning, the air to stop feeling so thin. “Not at times like these.” I said. “I don’t know if I can trust you not to try and kill me again, and if that’s the case, I’d rather get the whole kicking your ass part over with so I can deal with my hangover and figure out what the hell I’m gonna do with my life.”
Except, I couldn’t even fight off Crayton’s goons on my own, so how was I supposed to take on an Incubus with a bar packed with them?
I could hold my own, but magik was new territory.
Obviously my technique was sloppy and unrefined, if getting my ass kicked was any indication. I’d gotten a late start, and it showed. Dangerously reckless and unskilled. Fantastic.
But for a minute, just a minute, I’d held Hunter’s strength in my body.
Destiny’s scream echoed in my mind, the crack of bone in my ear, and I shoved it away.
“Big problems,” he noted, pouring himself another shot. He tilted the bottle in my direction, questioningly.
I shook my head, and he leaned back without comment.
“Those tend to find me,” I said.
Jackson tilted back the second shot and set the glass down, scrunching his eyes shut for just a second. He ran his hand over his forehead, through the flop of light hair falling in his face, and blinked at me.
“I know the feeling.”
I didn’t know which move I was supposed to make here, where I was supposed to go. The path that had led me here flashed before my eyes: glass raining down on us like the arrival of death, the mud clinging to my shoes as I stomped away from Hunter, like the earth itself was warning me I’d chosen the wrong direction.
I’d made so many poor decisions. I couldn’t afford to make another one here. Why had Jackson saved us? And what did he want in return?
My actions had consequences, so many of them I couldn’t keep track of them, like ripples in a pond and nesting dolls. Consequences inside consequences inside consequences, and no matter which way I went, more were waiting for me to crash into them. A million universes where I made the same bad decisions, lined up beside one another.
“Where is Riley?”
“Upstairs with her cousin, anxiously awaiting your grand reappearance. She texted us,” he said, “when the fight started out. If it weren’t for her, you would be enjoying different company, right now.”
Thank god for Riley. “I should go and see her.”
“We need to talk, first.” He capped the vodka and shoved it to the side, crossing his arms on the desk, and leaned closer to me. “You see, Sky, we share a mutual enemy.”
“Oh? I was sort of under the impression he was a friend of yours—you know, just the vibe I got when you tried to hand us over to him on a silver platter.”
“That was—”
“Not the best demonstration of your loyalty? I got that. What’s going on, Jackson? Why did you save us? And why shouldn’t I be jumping over this desk right now and smashing that bottle over your head?”
“One,” he said, ticking items off on his
fingers, “I need you. Two, because I’m stronger and faster than you. And, three, because it would be a waste of a good drink, and if you seem like anything, it’s someone who can appreciate a good drink.”
“Side effect of an alcoholic mother.”
“We have that in common, then.” He looked me over. “Well, your mother is probably a lot less murderous than mine, but.”
“You want something—”
“Yes.”
Shadows of Ourselves Page 25