by Lizzy Ford
"I don’t dance," she told him.
"Hush."
He spun her to face him and pulled her against him with one arm while his other took hers to the side for a waltz pose.
"Where you been hiding?" he asked casually.
"None of your damn business!" she snapped, craning her neck back to look up at him. Even in her heels he towered a head above her. His eyes flared amber then faded to tanzanite as he gazed down at her.
"You drop off some sort of demon in my house, try to convince me I’m either completely crazy or suffering from amnesia, stalk me to this gala, and expect me to tell you where I spend every minute of every day?" she demanded at his silence. She tugged at her captured hand and was squeezed against him even harder.
"You weren’t supposed to remember anything," he replied calmly. "You have a genetic--"
"Don’t want to hear it,” she cut him off. “Take Toby and the damn death guy and leave me the hell alone."
"I can’t."
"The hell you can’t."
"You’re in danger," Kris said.
She studied him.
"Some very bad people know who you are now," he added.
"So what? You feel guilty for dragging me into this and are obligated to help me?"
"Guilty, no. Obligated, yes. You're destined to work alongside us immortals." His honest answer silenced her. She stepped out of his embrace, the two of them freezing in the middle of the dance floor like rocks in a flowing creek. "Katie, I need to talk to you about something very serious."
He made no move toward her. At his severe tone, she took another step back, ready to exit as fast as she could in the snug dress and high heels.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out. A murmur went through the dancers, several of whom sounded as if they ran into each other before pausing. The orchestra fell silent, and somewhere someone--possibly the host--called for the generators to be turned on. A woman gave a cry, and the sound of jostling grew closer.
A man walked calmly through the crowd, strange red tattoos glowing all over his body, similar to the tattoos she'd seen on David Kingsly's neck when he invited her to the gala. She didn’t know what he was, but she felt cold inside.
He was evil.
Kris rested one hand on her shoulder. She started to pull away.
"He can’t sense you while I’m here," Kris whispered.
She watched as the creature neared in the shadowy darkness. Katie's breathing grew shallow. Her eyes stayed on the creature, which joined several more tattooed beings in the hall before they all struck out in different directions. As if on cue, the auxiliary lighting came on, casting a romantic glow around her.
"No one should know you're here. We gotta get out of here," Kris said.
His hand gripped her neck loosely. A pulse of warmth dispelled the tunnel vision that had begun to form.
"We'll take a shortcut."
He took her hand and led her through the crowd at a steady pace. She looked over her shoulder, uncertain where the men with tattoos were. She didn’t know what they--or he--wanted, but if the man before her was worried, she should be terrified. Kris reached an alcove out of sight of the crowds and faced her.
"Close your eyes," he ordered.
She stared at him. He gripped her arm. Before she could shove him away, the sounds of their world fell silent. She looked around, stunned. Their surroundings looked as if someone had left a fog machine on too long in a gym. Several doorways glowed around her, and Kris yanked her toward one. She opened her mouth to speak and then clamped it shut, her stomach turning. He all but dragged her through one of the glowing doorways before she vomited.
Kris muttered curses and touched her shoulder.
Warmth and cold shot through her, righting her stomach but bringing intense pain to her head. She pushed his hand away, unable to stabilize the hot and cold racing through her blood. Her teeth chattered and her body felt so hot she wanted to scream.
"Stop it!" she all but shouted. "God, my head!" She gripped it, vision blurred and balance precarious atop the four-inch heels.
Kris reached for her and she stumbled back, holding up her hand to ward him off. He snatched both hands in one of his, balancing her with his body as he placed his other hand against her forehead. The sensations stabilized and then dissipated.
"Enough, enough, enough!" she belted with a shove.
Her vision cleared to reveal she now stood in a luxurious living room with several people in front of her displaying varying levels of alarm on their faces. She wiped the tears from her face, feeling more torn up than she had the day before. Tattoos flared on the arms and necks of the people in front of her before fading and growing invisible again.
"Whiskey?" Ully was the first to speak.
"Two," Kris replied.
Katie caught her balance against the arm of a sofa.
"Your rescue mission went well," one of them commented with a half smile. He was built like Kris with dark hair. The similarities stopped at their tanzanite eyes and chiseled features; the speaker’s skin was as dark as night.
“Well enough,” Kris replied.
"Are you all right?" the night-skinned man asked her. He rose and motioned for Katie to take his seat in a plush armchair.
She didn’t answer, concentrating on figuring out where the hell she was.
"I’m Andre. This is Jade and Ileana. You know my brother Kris. You also know Gabriel and Ully, I believe."
She lowered herself onto the sofa. "Feels like I've been on a drinking binge," she murmured.
"Kris, real people aren’t supposed to go through the shadow world," Ully said, wide eyes on the man with glowing amber eyes.
"No shit, Ully," the man named Jade responded.
"I went through the shadow world?" she asked, brow furrowing.
"Technically, you may have died," Ileana said with a sip of wine. "Death gets pissed when mortals go through the shadow world."
Built more like the beauties Hannah surrounded herself with, Ileana was a natural bombshell with pillowed lips and large eyes.
"Hey, we’re alike now!" Ully said, handing her two glasses of whiskey.
Katie took the glasses from him and downed them one at a time, then handed them back.
"Glad to see you’re taking this so well," Kris said.
Fury lit her insides at his calm words, as if he wasn’t responsible for destroying her life! She rose, wobbled, and pulled off her heels. She looked around until her eyes met those of the death dealer.
"Gabriel, you’re taking me home," she ordered.
The death dealer rose.
"Sit, Gabriel," Kris responded.
Gabriel obeyed, and Katie flung a shoe at the domineering man with the jewel-toned eyes. He caught it with reflexes too fast for her to follow.
"You will send me home, and you’ll remove Toby, Gabriel, and every other interference you placed in my life, down to the scuff marks in the hallway, which I know weren’t there on Tuesday! No more dead doctors, no more kidnappings, no more blood draws, nothing!"
The angrier she got, the calmer Kris looked. His eyes went from emerald to tanzanite again.
"When you calm down, we’ll--" he started.
"No. Now. I’m going home now. Back to my boring life, my horrible job, my tiny apartment. Now, Kris!" She saw the white of his knuckles as he gripped her shoe hard and sensed she was pushing a wild animal. His jaw was clenched and ticking as the muscles jumped.
He wasn’t going to budge. Neither was she.
"Let’s take a step back, shall we?" Andre said, stepping in front of her. "We shouldn’t take you through the shadow world to return you. If Kris didn’t kill you on the way here, he might on the way back. I’m going to send Kris away and bring you a bottle of whiskey. Then we’ll talk. Is that okay?"
His presence and words were as soothing as Kris’s were not. She felt herself relaxing at his even tone and the words that seemed logical enough. She didn’t want to be dead, and she definitely nee
ded more whiskey. At her hesitation, he motioned for her to sit again and turned, continuing to block Kris from sight.
"Brother," he said with gentle command. "Jade, you, too. Gabriel, do whatever you do."
The death dealer disappeared. She heard Kris stir, and the cocoa-skinned Jade followed. Andre relaxed and sat on the couch near her while Ileana drew close as well. Ully reappeared with a carafe of whiskey and set it down, taking Andre’s head nod as a cue to leave. Andre poured her whiskey and sat back. She sipped it, rubbing the back of her neck.
"You are handling this well," he said.
She eyed him. His words appeared genuine, unlike Kris’s.
"You’d have to be pretty mentally tough to go through all this without cracking."
"Oh, I’m cracking," she shot back.
He chuckled. Despite her fury and fear, she found his presence oddly calming, like sitting in a spa surrounded by incense with her feet in a salt bath. The air around her felt heavy and still.
He was doing something to her. Even with her precious whiskey, she shouldn’t feel like she did. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the fog he’d placed there.
"I don’t need you to placate me!"
He leaned forward, curiosity flaring in his tanzanite eyes. Whatever fog gripped her dissipated suddenly, and she breathed a sigh at the palpable release. She tossed back the whiskey, meeting his gaze only when he placed his hand across the top of the carafe.
"You’ve had enough," he said with genuine concern. "I apologize. I won’t do it again."
Katie pulled the carafe from his hand and poured herself another two shots. He pursed his lips then poured himself a shot and sat back to sip it. They gazed at each other for a long moment.
"Did I really die?" she asked at last.
"No. But mortals shouldn’t travel through the shadow world. It’s hit and miss on what’ll happen."
"What exactly is going on?"
He leaned forward and placed the glass on the table. "It’s a long story, one you don’t necessarily need to know to understand your circumstances. My brother’s people found you and identified your unique gift for…blocking their natural talents. It makes you valuable and dangerous. If our enemies find you, they can take your blood and modify the creatures who work for them to make them immune to us."
"Back up a sec. Natural talents?" she echoed.
"Our ancestors were immortalized--albeit incorrectly--in myths. Mages, vampires, elves, immortal creatures with extraordinary powers who battle evil for supremacy and the ultimate fate of mankind."
"And my unique gift could make the bad guys immune to the good guys."
"Correct," he said.
"Why is your brother so pissy when he interfered with my life?"
"My brother is never pissy," Andre said with polite offense. "He’s unaccustomed to having his authority challenged. We nicknamed him the Phoenix, which is notorious for not only rising from ashes but also for taking down everyone and everything around them in flames. He’s forever in that stage that precedes a perfect storm."
"Highly combustible, I get it,” Katie said and rolled her eyes. “Send me home, get rid of everything that shouldn’t be there, and move on. Everyone will be happy."
"I wish it were that easy."
"Why isn’t it?" she prodded.
"Because our enemies have your blood and know everything about you. This started out as a mission about us but has turned into a mission about you."
"How did you trick my sister Hannah into thinking I had a kid, when you and I know I don’t?"
"Angels must be raised by humans in the mortal realm,” he said patiently. “It’s something immortals learned long ago. Angels are mortals’ allies, but they can’t appreciate the intricacies of mortals without the years of exposure. When we placed Toby with you, we altered the minds of those in your immediate family circle. We learned that those outside of this circle are less likely to be concerned about the appearance of the child. The human mind is quick to find excuses to accept such things."
She gripped her head, feeling sick.
"Go and rest. We'll talk in the morning," Andre said with genuine warmth.
"I could use some food, though. Too much alcohol on an empty stomach."
"I'll send dinner. Your room is the third on the left." He indicated a narrow hallway off the large formal living room.
She stood, wobbled, and then went the direction he indicated. The room was dark, the floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the incredible views of the Eiffel Tower , whose frame was outlined by lights against the dark Parisian sky. She was about to step onto the balcony when a knock at the door drew her attention.
Andre entered, followed by a second man carrying a large tray of food.
"I included the whiskey, though I advise you to stop drinking soon," he said with brotherly firmness. "We'll be going to a soiree across the street in about an hour. You'll have some peace, at least until tomorrow morning."
Katie offered a watery smile, eyes going to the roast lamb, bread, and custard. They left, and she sat and ate leisurely. When she finished, she crossed to the balcony.
She’d never left the country and couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the romantically lit Arc de Triomphe. The street below was narrower than it appeared on TV and packed with cars and elegantly dressed men and women walking to a gathering across the street--probably the soiree Andre had mentioned.
In the distance was a dark swath of park leading up to the lit-up Eiffel Tower, which was larger than she’d imagined. The air was chilly, but she left the window open to the street sounds and the cold, wanting to feel normal.
Wiggling her toes in the plushest carpet she’d ever felt, she leaned against the window sill, exhausted yet wired. Andre was the only gentleman in this outfit and the only to take pity on her.
Her headache was gone, her stomach full, and another glass of whiskey in her hand. By the end of this ordeal, she’d be an alcoholic.
If it ever ended. Andre and Kris seemed to think she was there for the long haul. Her chest tightened again, and she sipped more of the warming liquid. She wondered if this was what immortality felt like, watching humanity progress down a road unable to join them in soirees or understand how precious every second of life was. Did humans understand both their universal significance and their individual insignificance?
She shook the thoughts away, suspecting they weren’t hers. Whenever Andre tried his shit, her head felt foggy, and right now, she was foggy.
"Stop it!" she hissed at him, suspecting he’d hear her, even if he was one of those in attendance at the soiree.
The sense eased. She slumped against the sill, hot from the inside out while the late fall breeze chilled her skin. Her eyes fell to the entryway in front of the elegant building in which she stayed, then to the street further down, where several forms moved from beneath a canopy, trailed by a shadow darker than night. She saw Kris and squeezed her glass to keep from hurling it at him. Andre was with him, the beautiful woman, the dark man Jade. All trailed by Gabriel, who paused to look up and wave at her.
She waved back, wondering how the most damning of them all was also the only who seemed anywhere able to feel sympathy. Gabriel disappeared. She imagined he went to her apartment to check on Toby and was struck by her longing to return to the tiny, cluttered mess of a life that was hers. She closed her eyes, desperately wishing the whiskey would take effect and knock her out.
The boom of thunder and a bright glare made her eyes open. It hadn’t come from the sky but from one of the buildings across the street, diagonal to her. She suspected fireworks and saw something streak into the sky. It didn’t explode into lights but fell to her side of the street. She watched in fascination, not understanding what it was until a floor several below hers exploded into flying stone and fire. The impact of the rocket knocked her on her backside. She heard another boom, then a third.
The building shuddered, one explosion hitting close enough to her room that her w
indows shattered. Fear lit her insides, and she scrambled to her feet, darting to the door. It was still locked.
"Let me out!" she shouted, beating on it.
It wasn’t a cheap plywood door with a simple push lock but a thick, wooden door as ancient as the hotel with deadbolts, as if Andre regularly locked prisoners in his guest room.
The door didn’t even flinch as she beat her fists against it as hard as she could. She stepped away, sweating from whiskey and fear. Another boom, and the edges of the door lit up and spit fire as the rocket exploded in Andre’s apartment. The impact knocked her back. The door groaned but didn’t give, though the wall on one side crumbled enough to leave a large opening.
Andre’s apartment was black and fiery. The rocket had exploded as it landed on the floor, leaving a gaping hole. She squeezed through the hole in the wall to find there wasn’t enough of the floor left to walk on let alone make it to the door across the apartment.
She wriggled back into her room, mind working quickly. Another boom, another flash of light outside the window, another shudder as the building struggled to stand upright. Screams and blaring horns came from the streets. She tiptoed through the glass and leaned out the window, eyeing the wide ledge. There were balconies along the far side of the building that hadn’t been destroyed. Any thought she had at Andre’s apartment not being the target fled as she saw the damage done to her side of the building.
The booms stopped. She saw dark figures jump from the top of the building across from her to the ground, unaffected by what seemed like a thirty-story drop. They wove their way through the panicked crowds toward Andre’s building.
Coming for her.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
Half drunk, shoeless, scared shitless, she had no option for escape except to crawl from her balcony onto the ledge. She wiped the glass shards from the ledge and carefully stepped out, standing against the outside wall. The ledge was just wide enough for her foot to fit fully. The wind was harsher, colder than it was just a few minutes ago. She pressed the front of her body against the building, dug her fingertips into indents in the stone, and slid her foot along the roughened ledge to the right, stepping slowly and forcing her head up.