Broken Shadows

by A. J. Larrieu

  Charlie looked moderately less terrified, but only moderately. “What am I supposed to say to him?”

  “Tell him you sold the rest of your product and you have money you owe him, tell him you need a re-up, tell him whatever the hell you want, but get him to meet you in the next thirty minutes.” Sebastian grinned. “Or I will start breaking your fingers.”

  “I—I can’t do that. He’ll kill me.”

  “You don’t mind broken fingers?” Simon looked at Charlie’s restrained hands. “I’m happy to break something else.”

  “No! No. Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll call him. But you have to uncuff me.”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence.” Sebastian dialed Charlie’s phone for him and held it to his ear.

  We were all perfectly still while Charlie stammered out a request for more pills. The conversation was over quickly, and Seb hung up the phone.

  “He’ll be there,” Charlie said. “I swear.”

  “Excellent,” Sebastian said. “Until then, you’re waiting in lock-up.”

  Sebastian and James brought Charlie through one of the doors below Sebastian’s. James was going to stay on guard duty while Jackson and I helped Sebastian grab Simon. Charlie had told Simon to meet him at “the usual spot,” which turned out to be the same park where I’d run my awkward sting on Thomas. It wasn’t an ideal place for an ambush. Open chain link on two sides, a busy street on another, and wall of rotting wood siding on the fourth. There weren’t many places to hide. When we arrived, a group of guys were skateboarding in the half-pipe.

  Of all the problems the space presented, the skateboarders were the ones that bothered me the most. I didn’t see any way of getting rid of them. As it turned out, Sebastian had that covered. When a six-foot-six linebacker of a man tells you to clear out, it takes a brave—or perhaps stupid—person to say no. His wings were hidden, but it was impossible not to pick up on the threat he represented, the sneaking sense of danger. Even I could feel it. The guys picked up their boards and left, and Sebastian sat down in the half pipe with his arms folded and his legs crossed, waiting in complete stillness. Jackson and I headed across the street to an unoccupied twenty-four-hour Laundromat next door to something that claimed to be a “Sanctuary for Artists.” The windows were boarded up.

  “How are you doing?” Jackson asked me, his voice low.

  “I’m mostly afraid we’re going to get arrested.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Seb will take care of it.”

  “Still.”

  “We’re going to get him,” Jackson said, and he squeezed my forearms. “This is going to be over.” I recognized the note of anticipation in his voice. I felt it too.

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “The first thing I’m going to do,” he said, leaning in, and dropping his voice, “is take off every stitch of clothing and let you put your mouth on every inch of my body.”

  A bolt of desire lit me up like a lightning strike. Before I could form the words to respond, the rumble of a motorcycle jerked me out of the rapidly developing fantasy in my head. Simon.

  He parked his bike in a loading zone and headed into the park casually, hands in his pockets, as if he were checking the place out for the first time. He leaned against the swing set where the dealer had sat.

  Now it was up to Jackson and me to flush him into the skate park. It offered the best chance of taking him down without witnesses. We were supposed to advance from the two street-facing entrances, leaving him nowhere to go but deeper into the park. I’d pointed out that I didn’t represent much of a threat—my powers were still tapped out from grounding Erica and Charlie. But as Jackson pointed out, Simon didn’t know that.

  Jackson’s phone buzzed with a text from Sebastian—our signal.

  “Ready?” he asked me.

  “Ready.”

  We left the silent washateria and jaywalked across the street. Simon hadn’t seen us yet, but any minute he would. We headed for opposite gates, and the metal creaked when I opened mine. Simon looked up.

  At first, he only looked perplexed. I kept walking forward.

  “Mina? What are you doing here?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. He saw Jackson in the next instant, and no one could mistake his posture for anything but threatened. Jackson advanced on Simon, who looked as though he didn’t know which way to run. I spread my fingers wide. As Jackson had said, he didn’t know I couldn’t use them.

  He made up his mind—he ran, and he ran right for the concrete jungle of the skate park. It was obvious when he saw Sebastian. He shrieked.

  I looked around, hoping no one had heard, but the street was empty. I rounded the concrete wall bordering the skate park just in time to see Simon go down.

  Watching a guardian take down a threat was like watching a lioness take down a running gazelle. Sebastian leaped—actually leaped—onto Simon and flattened him, his knee in his back, his hands securing his wrists. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see him crouch down and rip out Simon’s throat with his teeth. Fortunately, he only handcuffed him with a pair of zip ties.

  “It’s over,” Sebastian said, his voice a growl. “You’re done.”

  * * *

  “You should all stay here tonight,” Sebastian said. “Just until we see how serious this is. There were a lot of witnesses at that bar.”

  We were all back in Sebastian’s loft having a “post-operation libation,” as James called it. He’d been stuck guarding Charlie while we handled “the fun part,” but he still declared himself entitled to a whiskey.

  “We didn’t have a choice,” James said. “Any delay and Charlie would have tipped off Simon.”

  “I’m not saying you didn’t make the right call. But you should lay low until we know how bad the fallout is.”

  “Fine,” James said. “If we must.” But I sensed that he was worried.

  Despite how bare Sebastian’s loft was, the sleeping arrangements were surprisingly comfortable. He brought out narrow foam sleeping pads and stacks of blankets, and we all camped out around the enormous coffee table. It was definitely the first time I’d ever had a slumber party with my boyfriend and his father, but I was too exhausted to feel anxious about it. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  The next morning, it was clear Sebastian’s worry had been well-placed. He woke us up by smacking the morning paper down on the coffee table.

  “Wha—?” I came awake in a panic, then relaxed when I remembered where I was. I didn’t stay relaxed for long.

  “You three need to get out of town.”

  Jackson was waking up more slowly on the pallet across from me. “Whass going on?” he mumbled.

  From behind a backless armchair, James said, “Where’s the coffee?”

  Sebastian ignored James and tossed the paper to Jackson. The headline on the back page read “Faux Arrest has Residents Concerned,” subheaded “Police seek three suspects in presumed kidnapping.”

  “Shit,” James said, looking over his son’s shoulder.

  “Indeed,” Sebastian said.

  “What do we do?” No one seemed sufficiently panicked about this situation. I was freaking out.

  “I’ll handle it,” Sebastian said, with far more confidence than the situation seemed to warrant. “James, I’ll need about a hundred grand, I’d say. Maybe a hundred and fifty.”

  I goggled at them.

  “Bribes,” Jackson said.

  James sighed. “Vivian and I have been wanting to take a little trip down the coast anyway. Jackson, would you like the cabin?”

  “That works for me.”

  “Then get going,” Sebastian said. “I’ll call when it’s under control.”

  We couldn’t risk going back to our places for clothes and toiletries. Vivian—l
ooking only mildly exasperated by the situation—came to pick up James, and Sebastian brought Jackson’s car back from its parking spot. Within half an hour, we were flying up I-80.

  “You know, I don’t think anyone’s actually chasing us,” I said.

  Jackson zoomed onto an interchange, which cut a canyon through a cluster of high-rises next to the bay, and a few minutes later we were over the Bay Bridge. He wove through traffic like a cat around chair legs, as if everyone else was staying still.

  “The sooner we get out of the city, the sooner I can relax.” He took the split for I-80 North and accelerated, and the Audi’s engine growled. I settled back in my seat as he blew past a furniture delivery truck.

  “Where are we going again?”

  “My family’s cabin. Tahoe.” He glanced over at me. “I was hoping to take you there under better circumstances.”

  I smiled at him. “I don’t know. This is pretty exciting.”

  “Now you sound like my father,” he said, but he was laughing.

  At some point, I fell asleep. Jackson must have carried me inside when we arrived, because I woke up in an enormous bed made out of rustic pine logs.

  I threw off the covers and went in search of a bathroom. The first door I tried led to a closet full of someone else’s clothes. I really had to pee. I tried the next door and found a bathroom that was bigger than my bedroom. It had a skylight and a whirlpool tub. A huge window overlooked a stand of conifers. I hoped they were as deserted as they seemed.

  I used the bathroom and washed my face in a fancy sink cut right into the granite countertop. Then I wandered out into what turned out to be a loft overlooking a vaulted great room with a massive stone fireplace.

  If this was a cabin, I’d like to know what Jackson called a palace.

  He was in the kitchen, which I could see from my spot on the balcony.

  “You said it was a cabin,” I said, and he looked up, his face relaxing when he saw me. I’d startled him.

  “It is a cabin.” He gestured at the tree trunks that made up the walls. “Look. Logs.”

  “Those are not logs. Those are timbers. And this is not a cabin. It’s a—a—lodge.”

  “Well—sorry.” He didn’t look sorry. “Breakfast?”

  “Sounds wonderful.” I joined him in the kitchen. “Any news from Sebastian?”

  “He’s working on it. Might take a few days.”

  “I’ve been stuck in worse places.”

  There were probably fancy names for the stone in the entryway and the sleek stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. The stove looked like it cost more than my monthly rent. I was more interested in the sausage patties Jackson was frying on the griddle.

  “This was all we had in the freezer,” he said apologetically. “I’m not sure how old they are, but they look fine.”

  “At this point, I’d eat almost anything.”

  “I ordered groceries. They should be here later today.”

  “Oh, good. I’d hate to starve in luxury.”

  I opened the freezer in search of coffee. It made a snick-whoosh sound as if I was entering a sterile containment chamber. There was a tub of ice cream, a several mysterious foil-wrapped packages and—thank heaven—a half empty bag of coffee beans. I took them out and figured out how to work the excessively complicated coffeemaker attached to the cabinetry. I had to make do with powdered creamer, but it wasn’t terrible. We ate together at a small table set next to a huge window with a view of the lake.

  “This place is pretty incredible,” I said. “Do you come up often?”

  “I haven’t been in years.”

  I shook my head at him. “You really need to use your vacation time for something other than tracking down criminals.” I ate the last piece of sausage off my plate. It was perfection.

  “Ah—I’ve been meaning to tell you.” His eyes twinkled. “I quit my job.”

  “You what?” My jaw dropped.

  “I quit. I’ve wanted to do it for years. I just didn’t know it.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t help grinning. I could almost feel the relief and happiness coming off him. “Wow. Congratulations.”

  He stretched his arms behind him. “I have enough freelance work lined up for six months, maybe more. It’ll be a lot less money, but...”

  “Worth it,” I said.

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  I raised my mug. “Here’s to no more boring warehouses.”

  Jackson clinked his cup with mine.

  We picked up our dirty dishes, and I started washing the griddle over his protests. “You can do the plates. So does this mean you’re going to be designing more enormous ranch houses in Texas?”

  “Some. But hopefully a lot more mixed-use buildings in the city. Things like the Center, the evictions, all the developments...I might not be able to stop it, but I don’t have to be a part of it.” His face was serious, and I stopped scrubbing for a moment.

  “I understand that,” I said, then, “I’m really happy for you.” And it was true. It was the right decision for him, and that gave me a warm joy right in the center of my chest.

  “We’ll see if I feel this way after three months of unemployment,” he said, his voice only half-colored with humor.

  “You’re going to be fine. And you could always have a fallback career as a magician.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

  He narrowed his eyes and leaned in, about to kiss me, but I put my hand on his chest and stopped him.

  “Your powers.” I could stop some of it, but where this was headed...I couldn’t pretend I’d be able to focus enough to keep from grounding him.

  “The bad guys are all locked up.” He walked forward and put a hand on either side of me, caging me against the fancy sink. “We don’t have to worry about defending ourselves.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “Then what are you worried about?”

  We hadn’t spoken about what he’d said at the bar. I’d decided to assume it had been a slip, some side effect of the music and the situation. Because no converter would choose to spend his life with a woman who neutralized his powers every time she touched him. I could slow it down, but there was no guarantee I’d ever be able to stop it completely. We’d had a good time, but it was going to have to be over eventually.

  “You don’t have to touch me,” I said. “We can—”

  “Do you want me to touch you?”

  The way he said it—voice pitched low, body leaning in—the question couldn’t be anything but erotic. He slipped forward until his body rested against mine, his hip to my belly, his hard thigh nudging mine apart. We hadn’t made skin-to-skin contact yet. There was still time.

  I could have pushed him away, but I didn’t want to, couldn’t make my hands obey me. They twisted in front of me like alien creatures, strange, tentacled things outside my control. Jackson caught one of them and pulled my hand up, dragged my fingers over his face.

  “Let it go,” he said. “Just let it go.”

  His skin was clean-shaven, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, I let my fingertips linger at the curve of his jaw. Jackson sighed and turned his head ever-so-slightly, then gently caught the tip of my pointer finger with his teeth. His eyes were closed, his nostrils flared out as he inhaled, long and deep, and sucked my finger into his mouth. His tongue swirled over the pad, and I couldn’t help it—I shuddered. My mind was blank. Electricity raced up my arm to my chest, making me gasp. Jackson pulled my finger from his mouth and slipped the next one in, slow, as if he were threading a needle. By the time he’d finished with my fingers and traced a circle in my palm with the tip of his tongue, I’d collapsed helplessly against him, panting as though he’d been inside me. There was no going back now—I could feel his power in my bones.

&nb
sp; “I hate that I can’t hear you.” I’d never had a lover whose head I couldn’t enter. Being with Jackson, not knowing instantly how he felt, what he needed—it made me feel as though I were standing on a rocking ship.

  “I can’t hear you either.” He wrapped his big hand around my small one and laid a delicate kiss at the hollow of my throat. “We both have to feel our way.” He took my hand and moved it to the hard bulge at his groin. “I want you.” He moved it over his heart. “I love you.”

  I finally met his eyes. His heart was pounding against my hand, the hard muscle of his chest no barrier to my feeling it.

  “If you don’t feel the same, then tell me. Tell me, and I’ll let you go.” His hair was falling down over his closed eyes, his mouth barely open. Both of his hands covered mine where it rested on his chest, and I watched our intertwined fingers rise and fall with his rapid breath.

  “Jackson...” I said.

  He opened his eyes and looked at me.

  “I love you too.”

  He kissed me, tongue darting out to tease my mouth open. He braced his hands against the counter, enclosing me. Only our lips were touching. Carefully, slowly, I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back, herding him into the living room. When he found the couch with his knees, he pulled me down with him, settled me over his hips. His erection pressed against my center, and I rubbed him through his jeans. Jackson groaned and thrust against me, pulling me tighter, sliding a firm hand to the back of my neck and bringing me down on top of him. He found my mouth and introduced his tongue, sweeping it against mine with insistent pressure and the promise of more. His power was grounded completely. I didn’t have to ask him to know.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I murmured, my blood pounding with a combination of desire and stolen power. “I have to ground it.”

  “Ground it, then.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and he moved his mouth to nip at my neck.

  I could barely concentrate on my own name, much less controlling the release of power from my overcharged body. I sat up, putting a little bit of distance between us, and closed my eyes so I couldn’t see the way his were dark and heavy-lidded with lust. It took me a moment to get myself under control. Once I felt secure, I let it bleed out slowly in a wave of heat. The places where our bodies still touched sparked.