As it turns out, luck was on my side.
I bolted towards the fire like a madwoman. Crossing the line of it, I could smell my hair burning, dammit. That just chapped my ass.
Seeing me emerge from the flames must have surprised the hell out of Dawn Shiller, because the second before I double-tapped her with my magic and the blade, she turned to me and screamed. Her face was a twisted mask of rage and disbelief.
That made my heart flutter. “Say goodnight, Grandma.”
Her face contorted with rage. She tried to repel me with some sort of viscous fluid, but it was too late for the crazy bitch. I zapped her in the chest and sliced my blade through the air with such ferocity that I surprised even myself.
With a wet sizzle and a loud bang, she went down, thank the goddess. I watched as her body slumped to the floor, a smoldering black mark centered on her chest. I couldn’t say I was sorry.
More like grateful. Grateful that it was over. Grateful that no one else had gotten hurt. Grateful that the bitch was dead and couldn’t hurt anyone else, ever again.
That, and that my aim had been true. Unlike the last time.
I ran to Dane, knowing none of it would matter if he was dead. He was pale and unconscious. I slid to my knees and pulled his head into my lap, brushing his hair with my fingertips.
“Dane, can you hear me?” I felt for a pulse and mercifully found one.
I shook him a bit, called his name again. Dane’s eyelashes fluttered and he groaned. My heart rate kicked up. Oh, thank the goddess.
“Wake up sleeping beauty.” I teased.
His looked up at me, confusion behind his gaze. “What…”
I twisted my smile, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
As the second time in twenty-four hours that I’d had to wake his ass, it was a little absurd. Of course, the minute I thought about the first time, and our smoldering make out session, my body went all tingles and wildfire. I had to remind my stupid libido to shut the hell up for a while.
Dane’s eyes cleared and he struggled to sit up. “Elena?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I hadn’t even bothered to look her way; she wasn’t my priority at that moment. “Easy, your chest is still smoking for cripes sake.”
He shook me off and pulled himself up with the help of the wall and a flattened stack of cardboard boxes. He looked around wildly and my heart shriveled. I know, it wasn’t right. But we can’t help the way we feel, right?
Landing his eyes on Elena, still bound and helpless, he took off at a stagger and left me sitting there. I sighed, and decided to celebrate the little victories of the day. I stood and went back in the direction of the recently deceased Shiller.
Little victories. The dead magic-stealing bitch being the first. Not getting myself killed was the second and completing the mission the third. All in all, a good day.
While I was counting tally marks, Dane ran to Elena, still bound on top of the platform. He struggled with untying the ropes and looked to me for help.
I stood back—something told me to—but tossed him my pocket knife.
He caught it, but just barely, then turned his back to me. I could hear him speaking low to Elena, but they were too far away to make out the words being spoken. Still, I knew the tone. Worry, mixed with relief.
I wiped the supernatural goo from my face and hands, then looked back at the Shiller’s body. Just in case, you know? I started to make sure she didn’t have a pulse for good measure, but quickly realized that wasn’t necessary.
One needed an attached head to have a fighting chance at life.
Can’t say I was sorry about that at all.
I called Clive. When he picked up, I didn’t waste words.
“Say I had a mess to clean up… like it never happened.”
“How many?” He was quick to counter.
I think I knew what he meant. “One, just the one.”
“I’m going to text you a number. Order takeout for one. Give them the address then leave. Got it?”
I did. “You mean like the movie?”
“No, not like the damn movie. Where do you think they got it from, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. Old people sure could be touchy.
“Right, sorry. And thanks!” I cut the call and turned back around.
My eyes landed on where Dane and Elena stood. I wish they hadn’t.
While I’d been talking to Clive, he’d freed Elena and they stood embracing, though she didn’t quite look strong enough to stand on her own. She leaned against him, her body shaking as she cried tears of relief.
I felt like a voyeur, but I couldn’t look away.
He took her face into his hands, tipped her mouth up to meet his, and kissed her. Like really fucking kissed her. For a long damned time.
I don’t know why I was surprised. Dane had warned me himself… Incubi only marry succubi. Relationships with humans aren’t possible.
I turned away, my stomach lurching. All those near misses seemed different in the glaring light of day and that hurt me more than I’d care to admit. So… I shut that shit down and left the lovebirds embracing in the shadows.
Was it easy? No. Was it necessary? Yes.
On the way to my car, I ordered the “takeout delivery” and then realized I had one more thing to do. Quickly, as I started my car and shoved it into gear, I sent a text message to Dane so that he’d know a clean-up crew was on the way and they needed to leave.
He’d ridden with me, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to watch them canoodling in my rearview. I figured the least Dane could do was find his own way home. Besides, I had to swing by and get my shit before they returned.
No sense in making an awkward situation even awkwarder.
One last measure, before I changed my mind. I blocked Dane’s phone number too. Just in case he tried to call me later. I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, and honestly, I was a little worried I’d buy whatever he tried to sell.
It was better that way— a clean break and I could pretend it was just a job.
That’s what I was going to do, I decided as I hit the gas, cranked up the radio, and patted the package riding shotgun in the seat beside me. Move on to the next job. And then the next. One damned body at a time.
And I knew who was next. Little Miss Busted Fairy.
15
Two days later I stumbled out of bed and fought my way into some clothing. I set out on hundred-mile trek to find the damn kitchen in Clive’s compound because I was in serious need of coffee and something hot for my belly.
After what felt like hours of slinking around—trying to avoid running into a parched Vamp, which was a distinct possibility when you’re bunking in their freaking version of the White House—and more turns taken than a politician, I stepped into the kitchen. It was larger than my damn house. Marble and steel and a huge-ass bank of windows.
Who the hell were they feeding here? Not the vamps.
I thought about it and decided I really didn’t care. Coffee. I cared about coffee.
I had just pulled a steaming mug of all that is right in the world to my lips when Clive walked in. Well, he didn’t walk right in, given the windows and his tendency to blister and smell like a pork loin in the sun. First, he hit a button on the wall to lower the shades and chased the daylight over the red brick floor.
He turned up his sensitive nose at my mug and I chuckled.
“Not sorry. We can’t all live on Cup O’ Platelets.” I grinned, proud of my zinger.
His eyes dropped to three fresh, evenly-spaced cuts on the back of my right forearm. He raised an eye. “Do I need to ask?”
I was so not going there. Absently, I ran a hand over a similar scar on the back of my other arm. That one was for Morgan, a reminder from all those years ago. The others? Well, let’s just say I had a long way to go in racking up enough karmic points to outweigh the one long-healed mark on my soul.
“I don’t know, do you?” I countered.
“What’s this?” I asked, slipping my fingernail under the seal.
“No idea. It came via messenger early this morning. Return address says Baltimore.” He raised an eyebrow at that last bit.
I chose to ignore his unspoken question and instead pulled a crisp white folded card from the envelope. Setting the box on the counter, I flipped open the card and read it quickly, careful to keep my face neutral. Clive was cool and all, but I couldn’t forget that his loyalty was to my mother, above all else.
The card contained only five words— I’m in your debt. Always.
“You dropped something,” Clive reached for a rectangle of paper I’d missed.
I bit my lip, not happy to have let that slip by me. I held out my hand, hoping he’d just hand it over without looking at it. He didn’t, of course.
Clive unfolded what appeared to be a check and whistled, low and curious. “Mind telling me what you were off doing to earn that kind of cheese?”
“It’s cheddar. And I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I smile sweetly and took the check from him, tucking it back into the envelope without even looking at it. “Mind telling me what’s behind your back?”
He pulled a long leather case out into the open. It was the kind that held a long gun, or a pool stick. My fingers were crossed for a boom-maker.
“It came with the envelope.” He slid the case across the marble.
Unlatching the case, I lifted the lid slowly. To delay the surprise, sure, but also to give myself time to think before Clive had a chance to read my face. You know, just in case it was something I’d need to downplay.
But when I saw the contents of the case, there was no way in hell I could hide my excitement. Not. At. All. I squealed out loud. Really loud. Jumped up and down like a kid at a birthday party.
Dane had sent me a freaking sword. A long, silver, gleaming beast engraved with sigils down the blade. He was almost forgiven. With the sword soothing my bruised ego, at least I wouldn’t kill him if I ever saw him again. Probably.
I picked it up, testing the weight in my hand.
“You know how to use that thing, Quinn?” Clive’s face was just a touch terrified.
He took a step back.
I laughed. “What’s to know? It’s a blade. You swing it, baddies die.”
He shook his head. “It’s a wonder your mother doesn’t have ulcers. Come on, I’ll find Carmine and have him show you how to wield that thing, safely.”
“Is Carmine the pretty olive-skinned Fanger. You know, with the pecs? Can you compel him to instruct me shirtless?” I snickered, then placed the sword back in the case and secured the latches.
Silence. I looked up and Clive glowered.
“Geesh. Lighten up Pops. It was a joke.”
He began to crack a smile and I couldn’t resist.
“Besides,” I stepped in line with Clive as we headed down the hall towards the training complex. “If I want to see Carmine shirtless, I don’t need you to be my wing-vamp. I’m a big girl, I’ll just zap the clothes off him myself.”
Clive growled and I shrieked, breaking into a jog even though I knew he wasn’t going to really eat me. The fight-or-flight reflex is a bitch around Vamps, that’s for sure.
He caught up with me at the training complex doors.
“On second thought,” he said, “why don’t I work with you first? Just to be safe.”
“Whatever floats your boat, Pops.” I laughed and set my things down on a long wooden bench near the blade combat area.
Within minutes, Clive had me wielding the sword like it was just an extension of my body. It felt natural and deliciously dangerous.
“So, how did you like it? Your first job.”
“It was… interesting.” I parried, dodged Clive’s advance.
He swung low, attempting to sweep me off my feet. At least I understood then why he insisted I don tall boots. But no matter, I jumped his arc and returned the gesture.
“Interesting good?” he pressed.
“Of course.”
He smirked and sidestepped. “If you still want to do this kind of work, I can help. But you’ll have to be patient. I’m not going to throw you into something I don’t think you can handle. Your Mom would kill me if I got you iced.”
“I thought you were already dead?” I laughed and advanced.
He pushed me back, the metallic clang or our blades kissing echoed throughout the complex. “Touché. But I need you to answer me, are you willing to be patient?”
No. Not really.
“Sure,” I thrust my sword at his abdomen and he dodged to the right.
We spent the next several minutes letting our blades do the talking.
Finally, when I was about to go down a lung, Clive held up a hand. I followed him to a nearby counter, where he grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it in my direction.
“Drink,” he said. “I keep forgetting you’re human.”
I grinned, wide. “Aww, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. You haven’t been up against a truly scary creature yet.”
Don’t be so sure, I thought.
“I’ll be fine. Only the good die young, remember.” My attempt at a joke was more of a revelation, if one looked hard enough.
Clive wiped his sword down with some sort of cloth, ignoring my comment but shooting me an icy stare just the same. When he was done, he tossed the pale gray rag in my direction. It was soft, like a chamois, and must have contained some sort of polishing chemicals. My cleaned sword glinted like new under the hotlights when I was done wiping it down.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask… what was in the box?” I asked while securing the sword in its case.
“Not a damn thing. It was a test, you see.” He wiggled his head about like it was funny. It wasn’t.
I shook my head, put on my best mortified expression. “I almost died, twice, over nothing? Inconceivable.”
What little blood Clive had in circulation these days drained away from his face. No doubt, he was considering all the ways my mother would have tortured him for getting me killed over a stupid test.
“Kidding,” I gave my best gotcha-face. “You’re not going to stroke out on me are you, old guy?”
His face went taut and then relaxed. He tried to smile, but I could still see the tension etched into his brow. Of course, that made me want to fuck with him some more.
I went back for seconds. “You sent me to that shitty bar to pick up an empty box and bring it home? That doesn’t seem very test worthy, unless you were testing my sense of direction.”
Then it clicked. A test within a test. And one that would allow Clive to have plausible deniability if it all went south.
“Wait, did you have something to do with…” I tilted my face and narrowed my eyes. Dane had never said how he knew how to find me. Or how he knew what I was capable of. I’d bet my right boob that Clive had set the whole thing up.
“To do with what?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes and instead fiddled with the hilt of his sword.
I shook my head, deciding to leave it for now, and went back to gathering up my things. “Nothing. Never mind.”
He waited for me at the obscenely large double doors and I joined him shortly. As we stepped into the hall, presumably to go our separate ways. A strange look fell over Clive’s face.
“I’ve got meetings lined up the rest of the night. You going back home? I know your mom is anxious to get her hands on you.”
“Yea, I’m all packed. Just have to throw everything in the car and go.” I shifted on my feet.
It felt surprisingly personal and I wasn’t sure what to do with that. In some
ways, Clive was being more of a dad than my own had ever been.
He put one arm around my shoulder and gave me a quick squeeze. “I’ll be in touch then.”
He stepped back and I nodded. “Until next time.”
He walked away, but stopped half-way down the hall. “Quinn?”
“Yes.” I still stood where he left me, being all awkward as usual.
“You did good kid. Real good. I can’t wait to see what you do next time. But maybe avoid the incubi for a while, okay?” He raised his eyebrows and waited.
I shook my head, laughed and nodded. “Agreed.”
He smiled and left to attend to his Vampire Nation shit, and I thought about the weird way my life was shaping up on the trek back to my room to collect my things.
I was finally doing something with purpose, something good for the world. Me, Quinn—a daughter of darkness and death—was on the verge of becoming something the supernatural baddies warned their buddies about.
They’d better, because I’d be seeing them all real soon.
The End
Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed this novel, consider checking out Alex’s Blood Chord series, staring snarky Claire: a vampire, a witch and a Mom (Quinn’s mom, as a matter of fact). She has a serious appetite for all things dark and twisty. Be forewarned, this is not your daughter’s paranormal!
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About the Author
Born in the Deep South and raised right over the Mason Dixon line, Alex grew up feeling unsure where she belonged. That is, until she met up with a traveling Freak Show one fine day. Now she celebrates the unusual and appreciates how interesting life can be when you (ahem) open yourself to unique situations.
Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection Page 208