None of this had happened before.
Jax unlocked the door, and Eve hurried through.
In the bedroom, Z lay on the floor, bleeding, with Jax hovering over her.
Eve landed on her knees across from Jax. “Z. C’mon. Wake up. Come back to us.” The hands that had touched Alaric so soothingly, lovingly, smoothed over Z, checking her pulse, trying to wake her up.
So much blood. Alaric stepped into the room, but didn’t approach. He couldn’t chance being set off again, this time by real blood, not magic. By some miracle, Eve had been able to hold him back in the hallway, but if the curse hadn’t abated, he wasn’t sure anything else could’ve stopped him. If Z’s blood got anywhere in his mouth, Eve’s freely given kisses might not sate his need for slaughter. He would kill Z.
Alaric sent up a silent prayer to whichever deity was listening today. Please don’t let her die. My curse may not’ve done this to her, but I don’t want to live with the death of Eve’s friend too. She doesn’t deserve this.
“She’s not breathing.” Jax repositioned Z’s head. He glanced at Eve as though asking permission, but didn’t wait before bringing his lips toward Z’s.
Coughing, Z turned away from the resuscitation attempt. “No touching. Remember?”
Frustrated but relieved, Jax leaned away. “You were unconscious.”
“Not anymore.” Z coughed again. “I need a drink.”
Alaric smiled gently, disappointed on behalf of his partner that he hadn’t quite gotten some mouth-to-mouth but consoled that Z was awake and as okay as she could be given the circumstances.
Eve slid an arm under Z’s shoulder and told Jax, “Let’s get her out of here so she doesn’t accidentally touch anything else that’ll trigger her.”
Jax helped Eve get Z to her feet. The kid seemed like he had it under control, but then Z’s knees gave out. Not allowing himself a chance to second-guess his actions, Alaric caught her before she reached the carpet, and lifted her into his arms. Not today. This girl would not suffer anymore. Not if Alaric could help it.
Blood. Too much blood. Still the biggest danger to her safety, Alaric pinched his lips shut. A crimson stain now glistened on his shirt where her head had lolled against his chest. Dammit. Be more careful.
“Is that—? Are you—?” Jax put a hand on Alaric’s shoulder, worried again. “Should you be doing that?”
Alaric gave him an irritated but reassuring look. No, he shouldn’t be doing this, but he was damn well going to make sure nothing went wrong. Now that he’d regained control of himself, the girl in his arms was a terrific distraction from pretty much everything else in the room…and in his heart and head. He’d take all necessary precautions.
His footfalls echoed in the tiled hallway as he carried Z into the front room and settled her on one of the dark green leather couches. Her hard-edged glare was tinged with what was clearly an unwelcome vulnerability, so he retreated without asking whether she needed anything. Besides, Eve had detoured into the kitchen. The sounds of cupboards opening, Eve digging through the fridge, came from around the corner. She’d take care of Z, soothe her ills, just like she’d done for him.
Jax put Z’s backpack on the carpet near her feet. Good. That would probably be the best comfort he could give. Something familiar.
“Not loving all this touching.” Z’s voice was weak. She coughed fresh blood into her hand.
Alaric needed to get out of there. He backed farther away and pulled out his phone. “I’ll get someone here who can help.” Because unless Eve could magically fix internal injuries, Z might still be in some trouble.
“What about your shirt?” Jax pointedly glanced at Alaric’s chest. The kid was a damn good partner for noticing, but Alaric didn’t want to be reminded of his deadly, irremovable curse right now.
He grimaced, the smell of hot blood teasing his senses. Phone to his ear, he headed out the front door. “Sorry to bother you, brother. I need another favor...and a shirt.”
Chapter 4
Jax stood in the entryway, unsure whether to go directly to Z, make a stop in the kitchen for some water for her—or find a first-aid kit. With Alaric outside on the front porch, a more solid plank of wood between him and Z, Jax felt a little better. Judging by the discomfort on her face, Z wasn’t out of the woods yet, but at least Alaric was no longer trying to kill her.
There was no instruction manual for this. No precedent either. Last time Jax had witnessed Alaric’s monster, it had been a whole different, disgustingly messy ordeal he wished he could unsee and unremember. He’d never seen anything like what Z had gone through.
A pained exhale preceded her saying, “I still need a drink. My flask is in my bag.”
Finally, something Jax could do for her. She probably didn’t want anyone snooping around, rummaging through her stuff, but he took her request as an invitation anyway, lowering the zipper and peeking inside. The bag was stuffed with snacks, gloves, clothes and something shiny down near the bottom. A knife? Or maybe the flask.
“The liquor can wait,” a female voice warned.
Jax retreated from the backpack like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and glanced at Z’s goth friend. She stood behind the sofa, holding a glass of orange juice and a damp dishtowel.
“OJ?” Z smirked. “Gee, Mom. Can I have pancakes too?” As she straightened to accept the drink, she winced. Blood tracked like wicked tears from her eyes, which were an eerie crimson. More blood stained her nose and mouth. If that was what her outside looked like, her insides must not be feeling so great either.
“Hey, get those away from her,” the woman directed Jax, gesturing at a collection of homely dolls huddling together on one end of the couch. “Looks like human hair on those wigs. Let’s not chance her triggering again.”
No, that would suck. He sprang to action, moving the dangerous little girls. “Okay. Anything else?”
“Not that I can see. But any remnant of a deceased person will set her off.” She didn’t seem thrilled about all the antique dolls, but they were at least six feet away from Z now. Hopefully that was far enough. Z’s friend sat on the couch next to her and helped her get more comfortable.
“Oh. Like any part of Trevor and his girlfriend too.” Jax searched for anything else that might be a problem. Geez, the entire house was full of potential landmines. No wonder Z wore gloves, layers of clothing and a hood up, even in the middle of summer. They were her own personal Kevlar, protecting her from the world around her.
“Trevor, his girlfriend, random dead person’s fingernails, hair, skin that just happens to be hanging around...” Z narrowed her eyes at Jax. “You.”
The accusation in her tone made him squirm. Why did she still think he was dead? She hadn’t convulsed when she’d touched him earlier. Whatever.
With the dishtowel, her friend began wiping the blood off Z’s face. Despite Z’s cringing, the woman continued her task. Z’s expression said it all though. She utterly detested the whole ordeal. Okay, now he didn’t feel so bad about Z’s constant hands-off rebukes. She didn’t even want someone she liked brushing over her skin.
Even though you’re not dead, do not touch Z for any reason. Damn, that sucked.
Z sipped her juice and put a hand to her head. “Fuuuu... I really hate taking a bullet to the brain.”
“You felt that? That’s what was going on?” Jax tried to keep the thrill from his voice because she was feeling so shitty, but he’d never met anyone who had a skill that related to his. They’d shared different aspects of the same experience. That was pretty damn cool. Okay, more for him than for her, but still. “I saw it. I saw him do it.”
“Well, that is how he died. Bullet. Brain. Ow.” She handed over the mostly full juice glass to him with an eye roll. Crap. Maybe he’d shown a bit too much enthusiasm.
Alaric came through the front door, closed it behind him and stood there, looking like he’d gone through the ringer. Who the hell had he called and what the hell had been said? After a se
cond or two, Alaric’s expression smoothed out, a mask dropping into place as though nothing had transpired. “What’s up? Is she okay? Help is coming.”
Irked, Z answered, “She is fine. She doesn’t need your help.”
Even from across the room, Alaric had a gentle bedside manner. “Sure, but let’s get you checked out anyway. There’s blood everywhere.”
Jax set the OJ on the end table within Z’s reach, in case she needed it again, and went to the entryway. “So who’s coming?”
“My brother,” Alaric said without emotion, but those two words made perfect sense of his earlier stunned silence. He must’ve gotten reamed. Jax had never heard of a kind word or action toward Alaric from Cas. Weren’t siblings supposed to care about each other? Jax loved his sister. Every time Sera called, they laughed and joked when they weren’t helping each other with whatever current life crisis they were going through. Every time Alaric called, Cas was a dick. It was unfathomable why, after thousands of years of abuse, Alaric just took it and kept trying to carve out some kind of relationship. “Did you get anything?”
“I saw Trevor’s ghost, but he didn’t see me. I couldn’t interact with him. I only saw what happened when she touched him. It was like a residual haunting. He’s gone. They’re both gone.” But why the hell had Alaric triggered? And what made him stop? No one died. “Are you okay, man? That was… That was weird.”
“You’re tellin’ me. I dunno what’s up with her mojo, but that’s some crazy powerful stuff.” He nodded toward the couch. “You sure she’s okay? I can’t go over there now. Can’t tell whose blood is whose anymore.”
Yeah, but the scarier threat is right under your chin. “Dude. Your shirt.”
Alaric replied with an I know, shut up look, so Jax retreated to Z. Last thing he wanted to do was piss off Alaric right after his brother had pissed on him.
A lot of the blood had been wiped from Z’s face, but the crimson tears still tracked from her eyes. Z’s friend wasn’t cleaning her anymore, though, instead scrubbing the wet towel over her own palms and fingers before handing it to Jax and studying her hands. That was odd, but made sense when she gave Jax a knowing look and met Alaric on the other side of the room. Wow. She’d made sure all the blood was off her. That was awesome. One more person to help Alaric protect the world from himself. It was a pretty big job sometimes.
Jax sat next to Z and picked up where her friend had left off, wiping gentle strokes along Z’s lips.
“Whoa.” Dodging his hand, she spluttered past the cloth at her mouth. “W-what is it with you and all the touching?” Annoyed, she commandeered the dishrag.
“I need to get the blood off you.” As he watched her blindly wipe below her eyes, he couldn’t sit by and not help. It was too important. He took possession of an unused corner of the towel and began removing smears she’d missed. “What did you see when Trevor opened the door?”
She made a face but didn’t tell him to stop. Thank goodness for small victories. Settling against the back of the couch, she dropped the dishcloth, leaving it hanging from his fingers. Did that mean she trusted him, that she didn’t mind him touching her? Well, he wasn’t going to stop and ask.
“I didn’t see anything.” She grimaced as he rubbed at a particularly tough spot. “He didn’t see anything.”
Dammit. Jax had hoped for more insight. Using one finger, he carefully nudged a stripe of soft hair back from her face and wiped a smudge of blood from one cheek.
Uncomfortably dealing with his ministrations, she continued, “Bright white light, then searing pain, like my—his—insides were being scraped out. His gut, his mind—like someone was dissecting him, tearing him apart searching for something. He fought, even though he knew he wasn’t gonna make it out alive. He thought about how the five was compromised, whatever that means, and then he was dead.”
Damn. The five. Fox was one. Trevor must’ve been another. That was two. When Jax had talked to Fox right after his death, he had warned, “One of five. Get to five of five and we’re fuc—” Shit. They were at two of five.
“Wait.” He anxiously rewound her account. “Your insides were being scraped out. Are you okay? Are your insides still on your inside?”
“I’ve felt worse.”
Jax dropped the towel and reached down into Z’s backpack where he’d seen the flash of shiny earlier, really hoping he’d pull out a flask and not slice open his hand on a weapon since they seriously didn’t need any more blood issues today, thank you very much. His fingers closed around something metal and cool with rounded edges, and when he shook it, liquid rolled inside. He subtly slid the rusted and dented canteen into Z’s hand so her friend wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t take away the pain, but he could slip her something that might dull it a little.
The smallest hint of a smile curled up her lip when she cracked the flask open and took a drink. She might look like just a punk on the outside, with her standoffish attitude, leather and metal choker circling her neck, and various ringed piercings, but she was a warrior. A death-reliving warrior who got her ass kicked repeatedly and kept coming back for more. Jax wondered how many murders she’d helped solve. How many families she’d brought closure to. Was this misery worth it? It had to be, or she’d stay bundled up 24/7 and live like a hermit.
She was such a badass.
“When you ran into me earlier, you thought I was ghost, didn’t you.” She glanced at him knowingly, curiously, out of the corner of her eye. “You thought you’d walk right through me.”
“Yeah, I did. You looked like a ghost to me.” Hopefully she wouldn’t hate him for telling the truth. He wiped his palms on his jeans. Shit. Nervous tick. He clenched his hands in his lap and forced a smile. “Almost like Trevor. I only saw the things he did. I can’t get thoughts and stuff like you can.”
“Huh.” She made a sound of twisted amusement. “So you’re dead and I’m a ghost—at least to each other.” Z offered him the flask. “Here’s to fellow death freaks.”
“Thanks, but I don’t drink on the job.”
She shot him a belittling smirk that suggested he was a gigantic idiot and then took a long swig.
Shit, I just shut her down. Dumbass. “After the case is solved, do you…uh…wanna get a drink together?”
Z picked up the discarded dishrag, wiped at her face and ignored him entirely.
Fantastic.
And that’s why I never get dates.
Chapter 5
It was time for Eve to throw herself on the sword. Alaric’s sword. Time to get bloody, or, well, get Alaric unbloody, as the case may be. Okay, the analogy could use some work, but whatever way Eve sliced it, Alaric needed his Z-bloodstained shirt taken off and stashed far away from him, out of the danger zone. And who here was better qualified to strip Alaric down and closely study every inch of his beautiful, bare flesh to make sure he was clean? Really, Eve was a mother-effing hero for stepping up and helping keep Z safe.
Careful to avoid getting near the stain, Eve undid the first button, then the second, proceeding down his chest. “So, blood curse. Love curse. Any other curses you wanna share with me?”
Alaric kept his chin lifted, mouth tipped away, a small smile tilting his lips. “Every third Thursday is a bad hair day. Like, so bad I have to wear a hat.”
“So how many Thursdays do I have to wait to see that?” Raising her eyebrows, she slipped the last button free.
“I guess you’ll just have to see me every Thursday to find out.”
“Hmmm.” One sleeve at a time, she slid the fabric down his arms in a careful dance, both of them moving cautiously to avoid any blood transfer. This was one of the more interesting strip teases she’d participated in. “Now I just need an excuse to see you the other six days of the week.”
“You don’t need an excuse.”
Shirt in hand and biting back the giddy boo-yah cheer, she put distance between them. Though she wasn’t running from his affection—not this time. After folding the shirt in on
itself to add a little more of a fabric buffer around the stain, she tucked it away on an old trunk off to the side, then beat feet back to Alaric. Her job wasn’t done yet. She still had some naked hot man flesh to fondle…study. Same diff.
Hand on his freaking incredible chest, she stepped in close. No blood that she could see. She smoothed over his powerful pecs, fingers dancing through the dark hair smattered there, her other hand lowering to his rock-hard abs because she was nothing if not thorough.
He stilled her progress, capturing her wandering hand and tugging her closer. Which would make her full-body inspection even easier, except he was staring into her eyes, the brilliant blue full of awe, and she couldn’t look away.
“I’ve never been able to stop before.” He shook his head, like he barely believed what he was saying. “I don’t know what you did to me, but you made me stop. You pulled me out of the blood curse.” He leaned his forehead against hers and wrapped an arm around her waist. His lips were so close she tasted his breath, his words, his wonder as he said, “Who the hell are you to me?”
A question she couldn’t answer. But she wanted to figure it out with him. Wanted a lot of things with this man who didn’t see complications, only possibilities. This man who saw her, when even she looked in a mirror and sometimes had trouble finding herself. So she opened up, spilling more of her secrets that she never shared, the words feeling both fragile and hopeful on her tongue. “I don’t know who I am. Why I am. Where I come from,” she whispered, so Z and her current caretaker couldn’t hear. “I’m a mystery, even to myself. I’ve lived and died for decades, never knowing where I came from. But with you—”
The abrupt clunk of the front door opening shut her up right quick. Whoever Alaric had called to help was here. Her words could wait a little longer.
Alaric had more to say though, speaking into the void of her silence. “I’m in love with you like I’m never gonna stop.”
The door slamming closed was a jarring exclamation point on Alaric’s profession of love. Her heart jolted, and his body tightened beneath her touch as though preparing for a blow, before he turned around to face the intruder. Okay, the man had been invited and was here to help Z, but the tension made him seem anything but welcome.
Electric Anomaly (Necrolectric Book 3) Page 2