He stood there, uncertain for the first time. “What is this petulance? You are a daughter of the Lunar Order. There should be at least a hint of grandeur in your DNA, some pride. An ego, at very least. I’m not here to hold your hand.”
“My hand? Ha! You’d rather cut it off than hold it. You have no soul.”
“Soul?” He laughed. “I’ve lived too long to need such a human crutch.”
I kept my head between my hands, summoning what was left of my elemental power, drawing on moonlight and starlight through the open door.
He took a sharp breath in, sensing what I was doing. With a wave of his hand, he struck the door shut, the lock miraculously fixed. Next, all my open windows slammed shut one after the other.
My eyes peeked ever so slightly toward the kitchen. His gaze followed mine in a flash to spot the five-gallon water bottle near the fridge that I had bought earlier just for this occasion.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he said.
I could not help but grin when he locked in on the bottle. No matter his strength, he could not match my influence on water or any elemental source.
The water cooler burst, cascading out in torrents to reform as a thick pane of glass suspended in the air. With a flick of my index finger, the flattened fluid slid across the room before I released it from my spell just above the Immortal’s head and drenched him.
His hair stuck to his forehead like he had been licked by a cat. His black button-up shirt clung to his pecs and six-pack, but the most pleasurable result was the dumb expression on his stunned face.
I expected sudden vengeance, but once the initial shock passed, he seemed almost amused. “Checking to see if I would melt?” he said, shaking off water all over my carpet.
The devil got hold of my tongue. “Maybe I want to get you out of your clothes.” Holy shit! What was I saying?
He flared his nostrils. I had surprised him.
“I’m kidding, obviously,” I blurted out. “I can extract the water with a simple spell.”
He grabbed my wrist. “No more tricks, do you hear me? You will not draw any more attention to yourself, not while you’re under my command. I’ve cloaked the magic reverberations, but there’s a limit to my patience.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll use a blow dryer. Jeez. Just give me the shirt.”
He started to unbutton. I turned to give him some privacy. It was hard to believe he was doing exactly what I told him. Somehow, I had happened upon the perfect plan without being entirely aware of what I was doing.
I reached just inside the bathroom to grab a towel. Keeping my eyes averted, I walked over to extend my arm. He took the towel and replaced it with his wet shirt.
Returning to the bathroom, I laid the black shirt flat over the sink and picked up the nearby blow dryer. It was a stroke of luck he preferred dark colors, possibly in contrast to his whole Nordic look—blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin. A light color would have made my newly forming plan impossible.
The hot air wafted over the wet fabric as I moved the blow dryer from side to side. Careful not to interrupt the droning hum, I reached under the sink to retrieve Faion’s blood.
My heart thumped in my chest as I evenly coated the inside of the tight shirt with the dark red liquid. If caught, I’d be toast.
This better work, I told myself, wiping sweat from my face.
I found him sitting on the sofa, bare chested, the towel heaped on the carpet near his feet. The raw power of his physique was nearly as awe inspiring as his magic. The golden tattoo of a regal double-headed eagle on his chest shone like amber, its spanning wings curving over his pecs. I leaned closer to admire the flame serpent tattoos on his forearms.
Wait. He was holding The Book of Night Rituals, leafing through the centuries-old pages.
“Put that down,” I said sternly, handing him his shirt.
Keep looking at it, please. Take all the time you need.
He took the shirt and shook out the wrinkles.
“It might be a little damp,” I said.
He ignored me as he slid one arm through the sleeve, then the next, his abs dancing about like they had a life of their own. Suddenly I became aware I needed oxygen. I needed to breathe.
I sat on the chair across from him, unable to look away.
His eyes returned to the book, taking no notice of my rapt attention.
Ninety seconds, Faion had said, ninety seconds and the blood would absorb into his perfect skin, leaving no trace.
I rubbed my neck and yawned. I let a sigh escape my lips.
“What are you trying to do?” the Immortal said, eyes still on the book.
“Trying to read your mind.”
“Impossible.”
Yeah, I know. You have like a million barriers. “I find simple minds are the easiest to read. Give me a minute and I’ll know your life story.”
He shut the book and looked at me. “You’re covering.”
“I don’t even know what that means. Is there like an urban dictionary for evil Immortals I should be studying?”
“Now you’re really covering.”
“Okay, fine. You’re kind of hot and it’s annoying. You should be the ugliest man in the world, if we’re going by content of character.”
He got up. Shit. I still needed some of his hair.
I leapt to my feet and wrapped my arms around him. “If I help you, will you protect me?” I laced my fingers behind his neck.
The look on his face was one of violation. I never felt more like a stalker in all my life. I had just said he was hot and now I had jumped his bones.
“Get off of me,” he said, bristling. “I am not your intimate.”
He picked me up to remove me, but I held on, grasping at the hair on the back of his head, yanking a couple wet strands off their roots.
I dropped his hair to the carpet, instantly ridding myself of the evidence.
My hope was that a small level of pain would not register with him. The gamble paid off. He felt nothing, especially while fighting off my unwanted and very awkward advance.
“What has possessed you, girl?” he growled. “What possible romantic interest would I have in a meager young witchling like yourself?” He adjusted his shirt and patted down the hair on the back of his head.
I searched for some bullshit response. “I’m sorry, I don’t even—”
“Yeah, you don’t, because you’re a mess,” he said, tiring of me completely. “I’ll give you this one warning. I don’t have a good side or even a human side. Fuck with me again and I’ll make sure our adventure will be your last.”
Okay, but today might have been my last adventure, so I was surprisingly okay with his scary new threat. Today, somehow, I kind of, sort of, won.
Well, maybe not won, but for now at least, it was mission accomplished.
CHAPTER 9
____________________________________
Something paranormal was on the bus. I felt it the moment I sat down. Maybe I was too tired after a long shift and constantly stressing about the return of the Immortal. Maybe all my senses were shot.
I shifted in my seat. There, I felt it again. I also now picked up a scent, the unpleasant scent of a foul being, a creature neither good nor basic.
There were seven other passengers on the bus. I examined them one by one—an elderly lady staring out the window, a young mother playing with her prattling toddler, a middle-aged man in a suit, and three hunched teenagers minding their phones, occasionally murmuring obscenities.
None of these were the foul being.
Was it the driver? From where I sat, I couldn’t get a clear view, so I rose in my seat to take a better look. Yeah, just a dude. Definitely basic.
What was that sinking feeling then? And that smell?
I tried to use my phone as a distraction, but the sensation drew closer like a hot breath on my neck. The hairs on my arms stood on end. I sprung to my feet. I couldn’t shake the certainty that something sinister was on the bus.
&
nbsp; I got off at the next stop and stood in a daze to watch the bus drive away. Why had I gotten off the bus to walk home in the dark? Had I been compelled by some force, some whisper, some fiend?
The last time I walked home it did not end well.
I began walking fast. I gathered my powers under my fingernails.
Something hissed behind me. I turned to look but saw nothing—just a penetrating darkness. I took a few uncertain steps on what felt like the emptiest sidewalk in the world.
I stopped cold when I saw two yellow eyes gleaming out from a dense thicket of vines. I strained my eyes to glimpse glistening fur and razor-sharp claws. The creature came into full view, standing on two legs. It was about four feet tall. Deep scars cut across its triangular face as if chunks of flesh had been gnawed away.
I startled, afraid to move. If I moved, I was certain to be devoured. The small, deformed, bear-like beast measured me with its shining, lemon-drop eyes like I was food.
Using every ounce of my elemental energy, I sprang forward, making a beeline for the nearby shopping center. My heart leapt against my chest, striving to escape the teeth and claws of the beast behind. I weaved through cars, trying to be hard for the fiend to grasp. Two frightened people stepped back as I darted past them and plowed through the first door I could find.
I did not look back to see if the couple outside had been devoured. I bent over to catch my breath before realizing I was inside a packed sports bar.
The dim lights gave the place a shadowy, otherworldly feel. My ears pulsated with the muffled sounds of roaring stadiums and drunken banter.
The couple entered. They were alive and unmauled. When they walked past, they were leery of my presence and put off by my heavy breathing.
I sensed sinister eyes staring at me through the stained-glass panels of the door. I imagined my bones melting and becoming hot liquid.
Quickly, I disappeared into the crowd and leaned against the back wall. Sweat poured out of my every pore. I didn’t have any fight left in me. That hideous face with the yellow eyes bore so deep into my center that I was left feeling hollowed out and hopeless.
“Are you alright?”
A smooth, velvety male voice.
I opened my eyes. There was something familiar about the smiling, handsome face in front of me but I couldn’t place it.
He leaned forward to speak into my ear. “Do you need anything? You’re shaking.”
His breath tickled my ear.
Where had I seen him before? The lush brown hair, the clear hazel eyes, the way he smiled like it was Christmas morning… it rang a bell, a faraway bell, somewhere in my mind.
“Are you casting a spell?” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.
Wait, what? Don’t tell me this nice guy is another deep sider.
“The magic book,” he said, noticing my confusion. “We bumped into each other. You dropped your book.”
Right. The guy outside the library. I pulled myself together enough to form a few syllables. “I’m fine, thank you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, but you seem rattled. Have you had too much to drink? I’m not asking that, you know, in a creepy way. I’m not trying to take advantage. I’m the good guy, a good guy. Shit, I sound like a dick.”
False alarm. This guy was clearly basic.
“No, you’re fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Listen, can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
Okay, that was a little too accommodating. “Would you, being a good guy, spend some time with me? Just hang out and chat until I feel better?”
“Consider it done.”
He took my hand and led me to a corner booth. I realized I must look like hell, all sweaty and red-faced from exertion and anxiety.
“What about your friends?” I said. Surely, he didn’t come here alone.
“No worries,” he said. “They’ll hardly miss me. They’re here for the game and the booze.”
It’s always a game with men. War. Domination. Supremacy.
“Emmet.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name, it’s Emmet. Emmet Groshek.”
I exhaled, trying to relax. “I’m Sophie.”
“Cool,” he said. “Sometimes, shit gets too real. I get it. If there’s anything you want to talk about, anything at all I can do to help relieve stress. Again, no creepy innuendo intended in that.”
“Maybe stop using the word creepy,” I advised him.
“Right, you’re right,” he said. “Good note.”
The waitress showed up to take our order.
“Water,” I said. “I’ll have a glass, no, wait. What’s the biggest container of water you have? I’d like a lot of water.”
It took her a moment to process my strange request. “I’ll bring you out our two-liter carafe,” she said. “I’ll put a rush on it.”
“Yes, please do,” I said, overly grateful.
“The girl’s thirsty,” Emmet said, instantly regretting his word choice. “Just a beer for me,” he said. “Sam Adams”
“Make that two Sam Adams,” I said, thinking a beer in my hand might help me blend in. “But bring the water first.”
The waitress raised her eyebrows and walked away.
Emmett grinned in the way men do before they attempt a joke. “Need all that water for a magic potion?”
“Actually, yes,” I said, playing along. “It’s a Mermaid spell.”
“Nice. Mermaids are hot, and what man doesn’t want to date a sexy witch?” he said. “Combine the two and that’s some fire. Muy caliente!”
“Careful what you wish for,” I said.
He laced his fingers on the table. “I’m a careful cat. For the record, you don’t owe me any explanations. You do you. No judgment.”
A server arrived with our beers and the oversized carafe of water. He set three glasses on the table, two in front of me.
“Thank you,” I said with a big sigh.
The server emptied his tray and darted off. I filled a glass with water and gulped it down.
Emmett raised his beer. “To lucky encounters and mermaids.”
We clinked our beers and drank straight from the bottles. The cool water and the alcohol hit my bloodstream. The rest of the water in the carafe began to simmer and hum. Only I could hear it. I began to feel it as well, binding with the elemental magic in my blood.
Suddenly, the urgency of the water’s call became too intense. I couldn’t hold out any longer. I needed the energy that was freely offered to me, the persuasive, all-encompassing power of a strong elemental source. I had no idea how the night would end, but I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I had to be prepared for all eventualities.
I rolled up my sleeve and sank my arm in the water. I closed my eyes as the energy shot up my arm all the way to my ribcage. It felt like an electric jolt to my heart, spreading potency into every cell of my body. An aching hum hit my nervous system, but the sharp tinge of pain felt extremely satisfying, like an intense endorphin rush.
I quietly thanked the water before I opened my eyes and pulled my forearm out of the carafe. Emmet looked stunned. He offered me his napkin.
“You said no judgment,” I reminded him.
“No. I couldn’t even begin to judge you.”
His tone was somehow reassuring. There was zero duplicity about him. Emmett was that rare man who knew himself so well that he seemingly always spoke his truth.
I leaned in close. “Do you know how to get to the backdoor?”
His lips parted ever so slightly. He looked straight into my eyes. “I do,” he said. His unblinking gaze had such a calming effect on me. “I can show you.”
We left the table and our drinks behind. Navigating the crowd, he reached back and took my hand. I didn’t know if it was the taste of booze or the abundance of elemental energy or Emmet’s gentle grip, but I felt like I was floating as we weaved through a bright yellow service kitchen.
When suddenly we clanged out
through an EXIT door into a dark alley and were standing next to an ancient green dumpster, he let go of my hand. Reality raced in and with it the rancid smell of discarded booze and bar food.
The alley was unpaved, just dirt and the scant remains of crushed gravel. Taking a few deep breaths, I did not sense any foreboding presence or malicious intent in the air.
“Where to?” Emmet said.
I gave him my full toothy grin. “You’re a total prince, but I think I’m good.”
He touched my shoulder lightly. “Are you hiding from someone, Sophie?”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
“Listen,” he said. “That’s not my business, but I’m not about to let you walk home alone.”
I considered his offer. Emmet’s aura was a light blue, very human, too faint to even matter. Not only was he no threat to me, he was also no threat to any manner of beast that would come for me. Yet, I didn’t mind the company.
“Okay,” I said. “We can walk, but there’s nothing after me. I’m just having a day, the kind of day I don’t want to talk about.”
On our way to Reservoir Drive, Emmet talked incessantly. I only caught bits and pieces as he enthusiastically gesticulated narrative details. I did learn he was an intern at Sharp Memorial Hospital, training to be a doctor of sports medicine. He also worked part-time as a trainer at a gym. He was twenty-seven and hailed from Rhode Island.
He was pleasant enough and easy on the eyes, to be honest, but no one could have held my attention that night. Two blocks from my place, I grabbed his arm to stop him. I wasn’t about to lead anyone else to where I lived.
“This is it, Emmet,” I said, offering my hand. “Thanks for your gallantry.”
“Oh, yeah. Not a bother,” he said. “My mom raised me right.”
“I agree, she did.”
Awkward silence.
“So,” he hesitated. “Would it be out of line to ask you out?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe you should try.”
“Right. Ah, Sophie, would you—”
“Emmet, I’m just messing. Yeah, we can see each other again.”
“Really? Cool. That’s cool.”
“The only thing is, as you can see, my life’s a little crazy just now.”
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