by Moira Rogers
A crack appeared in Charles’s calm façade, revealing a hint of madness. His hands shook as he curled them into fists, and the power in the room swelled. “He won’t have a choice. If he refuses…” He smiled suddenly. “Mackenzie is indispensable. Marcus is not.”
Realization stunned Jackson. “Another kid made it.” Anger gripped him, along with a fresh wave of what he’d known in his gut even before he’d watched Steven die. He won’t stop. He won’t ever stop.
“We got two boys before our sweet little Jessica came along.” Charles looked at Mackenzie again and all the man’s barriers fell away, showing a terrifying pride and possessiveness. “She’s my greatest accomplishment. And you can’t have her.”
Jackson bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his retort. As long as the old man’s attention remained on Mackenzie, he had a chance. His fingers again crept toward his holster. Don’t blow it, Holt—
Mackenzie groaned softly, a pained noise that made his chest tighten. Charles took a step forward, his gaze locked on her. “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he murmured. “You forced me, Jessica. Forced me to do this to you.”
With Charles’s back to him, Jackson took the opportunity to snatch his gun from its holster with numb, nerveless fingers. He thought he might drop it, but his arm didn’t waver as he aimed at the broad expanse between Charles’s shoulders and fired.
Light and magic flared even as the muzzle flash faded, and searing pain tore through Jackson’s leg. “Fuck!”
Charles glanced over his shoulder at the bullet wound in Jackson’s thigh, and sighed as if Jackson had done something terribly inconvenient. “Why do you persist in these ineffectual shows of defiance? Your wolves couldn’t stop me. Your Seer couldn’t stop me. What advantage do you think you have they didn’t?”
Through the haze of pain, Jackson saw Mackenzie’s eyes flutter open. She met his gaze and dug her teeth into her lower lip as her face screwed up in concentration. She shimmered, and for a brief second he caught a glimpse of a cat tangled in the skimpy clothes she’d pulled on.
The power hit him.
The wave of sheer strength that washed over him was staggering. It dwarfed everything magical he’d ever felt, from the smallest glamour to the most involved, multilayered spell, and he laughed. The blood welling between his fingers seemed inconsequential, meaningless.
A bullet can’t kill me.
Another laugh bubbled out of him, and he looked at Charles. “I think the odds just evened out.”
Charles blinked at him, confused incomprehension fading into shocked realization and, for just a moment, a hint of fear.
Even with Michelle’s halting description of what it felt like to force a change on someone, it should have been harder. Jackson shouldn’t have been able to so easily command the magic racing through him, to turn and focus it on Charles Talbot. To use it against him.
But it was terrifyingly simple.
The Seer glinted, blurred as the magic curled around him. For several tense seconds Charles battled it, but the power of the spell plowed through the Seer’s attempts at resistance with an ease that left Jackson breathless. Charles’s human form slid away, leaving an aged, angry cougar in its place. He fought the confines of his clothing, and Jackson slumped back against the wall as nausea swept over him. A wall of misery stronger than any magic hangover he’d ever had crashed in on him, obnoxious and suffocating, and he struggled to stay conscious as a snarl of challenge echoed through the room.
Mackenzie sent her most heartfelt thanks to Steven for his parable of the underwear-entangled cougar as she tore free of her tank top and lunged across the room. Charles struggled, his front legs tangled in his ripped shirt. She barreled into his side and knocked him over, but a quick twist of his body sent her tumbling past him before she could pin him down.
She scrambled to regain her footing and found him biting at the tattered shirt. He was wiggling out of the clothing more quickly than she’d thought possible, destroying her initial advantage.
So she braced her back paws against the ground and launched at him again, a fierce snarl erupting from her throat. He managed to free his front legs and rose to meet her, his teeth scraping across her shoulder and back. They rolled again, one over the other, and he landed on top of her. He swiped at her face with one paw, unsheathed claws digging through her fur.
She kicked out with her back legs and writhed away from him, clawing at his neck with another snarl. When she came to her feet this time, she put herself squarely between her opponent and Jackson.
She heard Jackson whisper something, but the words made no sense. She didn’t have time to dwell on them anyway, because Charles hunched down and jumped at her. She met him with one shoulder, but his weight knocked her back. He clawed at her belly, and his jaws snapped on one of her hind legs.
Charles was larger, maybe even stronger, but he was slower too. She raked her claws down his side, and he screeched his pain and twisted to protect his vulnerable stomach. She didn’t give him a chance to recover this time, just leapt on top of him and sank her teeth into the back of his shoulder.
He hissed, but her weight bore him to the floor. She growled and bit him again. He screamed and bucked, but she held tight, her claws digging into his sides. Mackenzie bit him again and again. Finally, she felt the grate and crunch of bone between her teeth.
Charles thrashed. He convulsed, his claws digging into the cheap carpet, and stilled.
Mackenzie rolled away and lay panting on her side as the adrenaline faded and pain took its place. She tried to regain her human form, only to remember too late that she couldn’t, not while the spell was in place that gave Jackson power.
Jackson. The thought brought her to her feet, a hiss of pain leaving her when she put weight on her left leg. She limped across the room and found Jackson leaning against the peeling wallpaper.
He’d gone pale, and sweat poured down his face and neck in rivulets. His jeans were soaked with blood, and the metallic tang of it stung her nose. She nudged his face with hers, but he didn’t move.
Fear made her whimper as she did it again, harder. He mumbled something, and she lowered her mouth to his hand and nipped him gently.
His bloodied, weak fingers stroked her fur. “Did you get him?” he rasped.
She nipped at his fingers again and lifted her head to nuzzle his cheek with a low purr.
Jackson snorted and moved his hand to the top of her head. “Finire.”
It felt uncomfortably like the time she’d shocked herself trying to change a light bulb. Electricity raced through her, leaving a trembling exhaustion in its wake. Her back leg gave out and she sank to the floor next to Jackson as the last of the feeling faded.
Change. You have to change and get a doctor— She closed her eyes and reached for the power inside her. It was there again, a warm, gentle glow that unfurled as she willed herself back into her human form.
“Jackson.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears as she pushed herself upright again. She was covered in bloody scratches, along with a few more painful puncture wounds, but the pain was tolerable. Jackson, on the other hand—
She registered the faint sound of sirens as she caught Jackson’s face between her hands. “Someone must have heard the gun and called the police. Is Talbot going to change back to a human?”
“No. He isn’t.” He looked down and grinned. “This is the weirdest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He turned and opened his clenched fist. A lump of metal lay in his blood-slicked palm.
“Is that—” She lifted the spent bullet from his hand that should have still been in his leg. “Jesus. How are we supposed to explain any of this to the cops? A wild cougar attacked me in the shower and you shot yourself?”
“We don’t explain it.” He climbed to his feet with a pained curse. “We have to get out of here. Can you drive?”
“Only if it’s to a hospital.” Pulling on clothing over the bleeding scratches wasn’t appealing, but dri
ving down the road naked was bound to draw attention. “Can you keep yourself from bleeding to death in the car?” she demanded as she dragged on a pair of pants and her T-shirt.
“I’ve stopped it for now.” He moved slowly, laboriously, but he wasn’t dripping blood on the carpet. “Grab my gun, and get Talbot’s wallet. Hopefully they won’t print the room for a dead cat.” He snatched the bags of herbs and stuffed them into his bag.
She gathered Charles’s clothing and wallet, and shoved the bundle into her duffel. She held Jackson’s gun gingerly in one hand as she swung the bag over her shoulder and took his for good measure. “Here, make sure this doesn’t go off. Give me the keys.”
He handed them over and secured the gun in its holster. It took them only another minute to get into the car, and Jackson leaned back in his seat as she pulled out of the parking lot.
As soon as the sirens had faded away behind them, Mackenzie held out a hand to Jackson. “Cell phone. I need to find a hospital—”
“Get back on the interstate,” he muttered. “Toward home. There’s a hospital right off I-10.” He handed over his cell phone. “Call Alec. He’s the first listing…” The phone dropped to the seat beside her, and Jackson slumped against his seatbelt.
“Shit. Shit.” She ignored the phone and fumbled at Jackson’s neck with one hand before she remembered she didn’t need to feel for a pulse. She could hear his heartbeat, weak but steady. So she turned onto the interstate and prayed like hell as she dialed Alec’s number.
Chapter 27
“They always smell like death. Really clean death.”
“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve said today, Peyton, and that’s saying something.”
“Shut up. You know what I mean. Death and disinfectant.”
“Yeah, well, the place is making my skin crawl, and the smell is the least of it.”
If Jackson didn’t open his eyes, or at least his mouth, he’d have to listen to them for hours. “For the love of God. You both hate hospitals. We get it.”
By the time he lifted his scratchy eyelids, Nick was by his side, her hand closed around his. “Jackson Holt, you scared the living Christ out of me. Out of all of us.”
Hair tickled at his other hand, and he turned his head just enough to see Mackenzie slumped over the bed, her cheek on the mattress and her fingers curled just short of his.
Alec stood at the end of the bed, a tired but relieved smile on his face. He nodded to Mackenzie’s sleeping form. “I moved her into a more comfortable position once, but she woke up, said something rude and went right back to that.”
Something inside him soothed, a tension he hadn’t realized he carried. “Is she okay, or does she need to be in a bed too?”
Nick smiled gently. “She’s fine. Scrapes and a bite in her thigh. The scrapes are almost healed.”
“Good.” He glanced at Alec. “I bled in your car, didn’t I?”
“A whole hell of a lot. We’ll add that to the list of things I’m going to kick your ass for when you’re better.”
“Just remember I saved your life,” Jackson reminded him. “All of you.” That alone was worth every second of terror and pain.
Nick thumped him. “Hey, medical miracle. They’ve got more tests to run on you, since they can’t seem to find the bullet that should be lodged in your leg. But we’re going to get you out of here as soon as possible, okay?”
“Jackson?” Mackenzie lifted her head and blinked at him from behind the tangled fall of her hair. She looked exhausted and bleary, with several fading scratches on her cheek and puffy red eyes. When she saw he was awake, though, her smile lit her face.
He raised his hand to her cheek. “Kenzie. The hero of the hour.”
“I think we can share the honor.” She kissed his palm softly. “You scared me half to death when you passed out in the car.”
“Sorry.” He pulled his other hand free of Nick’s and brushed Mackenzie’s hair back. “I love you. I forgot to say that before we almost got ourselves killed.”
Her hand curled around his, and he swore he saw tears in her bright blue eyes as her trembling smile widened. “I like it better this way. I can say that I love you too, and it doesn’t feel like goodbye.”
The door slammed, and Jackson grinned, but he didn’t pull his gaze away from hers. “Nick and Alec just hauled ass out of here, didn’t they?”
“Do you really blame them?” She rose unsteadily and leaned over to kiss him. “If you were sturdier, I’d climb into bed with you.”
“If I had more blood left, I’d let you.” A tear rolled off her cheek and splashed on his pillow. “Shh. You’re free now. You don’t have to run. You could go back home.” The words left a bitter taste on his tongue, but he forced them out anyway. “You don’t have to stay.”
Mackenzie laughed and shook her head. “I’ll go back to South Dakota, but only when you’re healthy enough to go with me. Maybe you can use your investigative skills to help me if my scummy landlord has taken all my stuff because I missed paying rent. Though the only things I really want are my wardrobe and my CD collection and a few pictures.”
Relief made him weak. “If we can’t get it back, we’ll replace it all.” He wrapped a lock of her hair around his fingers and winked. “You’ll have to meet Mama.”
“Oh Jesus.” She dropped her forehead to his, and her hair fell around them in a curtain that smelled faintly of the herbs he’d used to cast the spell. “This is crazy. I don’t even know your middle name.”
“Sure you do. It’s Jackson.”
Her head popped up and she gave him a wild-eyed look. “So I don’t know your first name? That’s not helping.”
“It’s Andrew,” he told her softly. “Andrew Jackson Holt.” He waited for it to sink in before flashing her a sheepish smile. “Mama’s a Southern belle, darlin’. A real Georgia peach.”
“I guess so.” Her smile returned. “I suppose I’ll have to meet her, since I’m not planning on letting her son out of my sight again for a couple months.”
“Good.” After the last few days, holing up in his apartment with takeout menus and rented DVDs sounded like heaven. “It isn’t going to be easy.”
“What isn’t?”
“Life with me.” He shifted uncomfortably and kissed her again. “I wish I could say the last week of my life has been a unique experience, but sometimes things get dangerous.”
She studied him in silence long enough to make him nervous. Then her teeth caught her lower lip, and she tilted her head. “Guess it’s a good thing your new girlfriend has super powers.”
Jackson laughed, but his amusement faded as he remembered Charles’s words. “We need to talk to Marcus. Talbot said something about there being another kid like you two. A boy.”
“I think I heard.” She settled on the edge of the bed, one hand still wrapped around his. “But we can worry about it later. When you’re better.”
He relaxed against the thin pillow and scratchy sheets. For the first time since he’d met Mackenzie, he could envision spending his days with her with no life-or-death interruptions or ticking clock. “Maybe Nick’ll give you the next couple of months off.”
Mackenzie lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. “Nick might have to find a new bartender. I’m feeling inspired to reach for my dreams, and my dreams don’t involve mixing drinks. Not professionally, anyway.”
His heart thumped. “She’ll get over it, especially when she sees how happy you are.”
“I will be,” she whispered, and the look in her eyes promised him a future full of passion and love and laughter. “I absolutely will be.”
Epilogue
Jackson shifted his weight and leaned heavily on his cane. “Did you bring it?”
Nick held a brown paper bag aloft. “Exactly what Mahalia told me to get. Forgot the glasses, though.”
He snorted. “I don’t think any of us have cooties, Nicky.”
Mahalia dropped a hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder and squeezed
. “Even if we do, the tequila will make short work of ’em.”
Mackenzie covered Mahalia’s hand with her own. In the weeks since Charles’s death, Jackson’s mentor had gone out of her way to make her feel welcome, not just as a member of the odd group of supernaturals who’d made her bar a second home, but as an addition to Jackson’s life.
Even so, guilt filled Mackenzie as she stared at the small, cleanly chiseled headstone. The one thing Mahalia had refused to discuss was Steven’s death, and she didn’t know how the older woman would come to terms with the part Mackenzie had played in it. It was my fault. My mistake.
Nick crumpled the bag, shoved it at Alec and twisted the cap from the bottle in her hand. “Who wants to go first?”
Mahalia squinted against the afternoon sunlight. “That would be me.”
Instead of speaking, she held the bottle and stared at the grave in silence. Finally, she smiled faintly. “Damn near thirty years, wasn’t it? Rest well, Steven.” With that, she tilted back the bottle and gulped down several swallows. She coughed as she shoved it at Mackenzie. “I didn’t remember that stuff being so vile.”
Mackenzie cradled the bottle between her hands and tried to speak around the lump in her throat. “I wish I’d had more time—” Her eyes burned and she squeezed them shut. “Thank you.” She tried not to choke on the expensive liquor as it burned its way down her throat.
Jackson accepted the tequila with a lopsided grin. “You did it, Steven. You stopped it.” He drank and waved the bottle at Nick.
She sipped in silence and held it out to Alec, who shook his head. “Someone’s got to drive you lushes back home.”
Mackenzie slipped her arm around Jackson’s waist, silently urging him to lean on her. “Jackson needs to get back to the car soon. He shouldn’t be walking so much on his leg.”
“Don’t fuss,” he whispered against the top of her head.
Mahalia opened her bag and pulled out a worn, leather-bound book. “This was in Steven’s things.” She held it out to Mackenzie. “It’s Zacharias Nelson’s journal. It looks like he followed Charles’s plans pretty closely, but there’s nothing in there about the second boy. He mentioned your mother, though.”