"I know." Justine leaned on the window sill and stared out across the city. "But I can't figure it out." Derek was stumping her. She had no idea how to handle him and the challenge he presented.
"You will. We will." The intercom buzzed, and Theresa used the end of her tail to hit the button. "Yello."
"It's Xavier. Justine's needed in the lobby. Umph." There was a crash, then a thud, then a howl of pain, then silence.
The two roommates looked at each other.
"That sounds like there's something fun going on down in the lobby," Theresa said. "I think we should go check it out."
"Hang on." Justine hurried over to the intercom and pressed the button. "Xavier?"
No reply.
"Xavier? Are you there?"
Again, no reply.
Theresa's tail twitched and a cascade of sparks shot out of her nose. "Maybe I should investigate. Pretty please?"
Adrenaline rushed through Justine. "I think it's my party, but you can kick the ass of anyone who comes after Mona while I'm gone." She ran over to the bookcase and grabbed her gun.
"This could definitely be a trap." Theresa looked delighted. "A two-pronged attack. One in the lobby and one up here."
"I know, right?" This was turning out to be the most interesting week she'd had since she lost her virginity when she was seventeen. She raced over to the front door and hit the button for the elevator. A little action was exactly what she needed to clear her mind. Shoot first, think later. "You'll be ready?"
"I'll incinerate first, ask questions never." Theresa's eyes were gleaming, and her lips were pulled back to show glistening teeth.
"Awesome." The elevator arrived. Theresa came up behind her, flames ready, as Justine yanked the door open and aimed.
"Empty. Dammit." Theresa sighed with disappointment.
"For now." Justine stepped into the elevator. "Keep close to Mona."
"You got it, sista." Theresa saluted her as the elevator door closed.
Justine pressed the lobby button, then went down on one knee, gun aimed at the doors, primed and ready.
Whatever had grabbed Xavier probably knew she was coming, and they would be ready.
Well, so was she.
Chapter Twenty-One
As the elevator doors began to open, Justine saw the shadow of someone waiting, inches from the opening.
She raised the gun, her finger tightening on the trigger as the doors parted—
A little old lady from the third floor was standing right in front of her.
Shit. Justine quickly averted her gun, barely checking her reflex to shoot in time.
The old lady didn't seem to notice the gun. She just waddled right into the elevator, waggling a crooked finger at Justine. "Drug addicts. Despicable. Prostitution will be next."
"What?" Justine hid the gun behind her back and edged past the woman, trying to catch a glimpse of what was waiting for her in the lobby. From her angle, she couldn't see anything except the empty lobby.
The woman pointed her purse toward the front door. "Gang war. Go back upstairs and lock your doors before society destroys all of us. I'm going to go donate money to Reverend Munsey on the Hail to the Heavens cable network. Get him to say a prayer for us."
"Um, okay. Good luck." Justine stepped out of the elevator and let the doors slide shut behind her, keeping her back against the doors as she looked around.
She was alone.
Even Xavier wasn't there.
The security desk was a splintered mess on the floor.
The mailroom door was closed. It was the only place someone could be hiding.
"Hello? Xavier? Are you here?" she called out as she edged toward the mailroom.
The front door opened. "May I suggest you return to your condo and don't answer the door for a short while?"
At the sound of Derek's voice, Justine's heart lifted. She turned, letting the gun drop to her side. "Derek?"
He shoved the heavy front door out of his way and stepped into the lobby. "I really mean it," he said, with surprising urgency. "You need to go back upstairs."
Gone was the billionaire exec appearance. His jacket and tie were missing, his shirt was torn, and there was a raw red mark on his right cheek. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was messed up. He looked rugged, masculine and oh-so-hot. A designer suit guy and a warrior? Yum, yum. Her belly tightened and she had to order herself not to look at the curve of his bicep peeking through his ripped sleeve. Focus on splintered desks. "What happened to you?"
He lurched to a stop, as if it took all his effort to keep from moving forward. "Exactly how well do you know Xavier?"
"I don't. He's the doorman. Why?"
Derek scowled and took a reluctant step toward the remains of the desk. "Have you noticed he can make people do things merely by suggesting it to them?" He took another step, then turned around and grabbed hold of the front door, as if something was pulling him across the lobby and he was trying to fight it.
"What are you talking about?" She watched Derek's erratic movements and the hair on her arms began to prickle.
"Do you remember when I fell asleep in the lobby the other day? He told me to take a nap." He jerked back from the door, and one hand slipped free. He cursed and tightened his grip on the door with his other hand, muttering some not-so-complimentary remarks about Xavier.
"You're certain he made you fall asleep?" She'd heard of people with the power of suggestion, but had never met one. Or maybe she had, apparently. The ones of lesser power could influence only humans, but the really good ones supposedly could manipulate even Otherworld beings. They were considered highly dangerous, because if they were really good, you didn't even realize you were being influenced until it was too late. Combine a strong power of suggestion with a twisted sense of humor or something darker, and, well, it could get ugly.
"Yes. He seems to use those powers to protect you. He convinces people they don't want to bother you." His voice was strained, his biceps bulging with the effort of hanging onto the door, even as he pulled against it.
Well, no wonder Xavier was so effective at his job. "Obviously, it's a good career choice for him." She watched Derek's fingers sliding off the door, and felt her adrenaline kick in as his hand flew off the door and he spun toward her with a grunt of aggravation.
"He's not merely a doorman." His brow furrowed and his jaw flexing, he worked his way across the room toward the desk, his path uneven and crooked, as if he was being yanked and he was fighting it. "I think he's here because you're here. I thought he was supposed to keep you safe. After all, he tried to kill me last time I was here. But tonight, he was different."
"Different how?" She watched as Derek reached the splintered desk and began kicking the boards aside in a frenzy. He was uncoordinated and his face was wrenched as if he was in pain. "What's wrong with you?"
He cursed, then bent toward the pile of rubble. "Tonight, when I walked in, he told me to kill you. Immediately and without mercy."
She jerked the gun up and aimed it at his chest. "Why would he do that?" The barrel wavered slightly, and she had to use a second hand to keep it aimed at his heart.
Derek shoved aside several pieces of wood to get to a long sword, which glittered as he picked it up. "That's really not our major concern at the moment."
She sucked in her breath and took a step back from the one thing that could actually kill her. "Where'd you get that?"
He took a practice swing, like a batter warming up in the on-deck circle. "After he suggested I kill you, he gave me this. He said the only way to get the job done was to behead you."
She tightened her fingers around her gun and willed her hands to be steady even as the nose kept wanting to dip away from Derek. Dammit. This was not the time for her to lose her nerve for the first time since she'd become Guardian. "Derek." She kept her voice calm. "What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to kill you." He slapped the blade against his thigh in visible aggravation.
She moved toward the middle of the lobby, so she had room to maneuver. Her heart was racing, and she couldn't take her gaze off the lethal weapon as he sliced through the air with it. "I thought you were going to think about it."
He took another cut. "I did. I came up with an excellent plan that I need your help with. I have no intention of killing you yet. Unfortunately, your doorman has other ideas."
She kept the gun aimed at his chest, keeping a safe distance between them as he advanced on her. "Where's Xavier?"
"Unconscious in the middle of the street. I tried to convince him to rescind his suggestion, but he's a stubborn bastard." Derek's eyes flicked to her neck and then to his blade.
She eased her feet apart and raised the gun, her blood thundering in her ears. "So, that's how the desk got broken?"
"Mmm hmm." He swung the sword thoughtfully, studying it with interest. "Quincy would be so interested in this. I bet there's a math equation to describe the perfectly balanced sword. It flows quite nicely through the air." He held it in a ready position and fixed his gaze on her. "I have to kill you now, but I'll do my best to allow you to get in a blow that will temporarily disable me. I expect his suggestion will wear off, and then we can have a civilized discussion."
"Temporarily disable? All I have is a gun."
Tension flickered across his face. "I'm trusting you on this. I'll fight the compulsion and give you a chance to knock me out or something. Don't try to kill me. I know you may have to ultimately, there will be plenty of opportunity for it later." He lunged and swung, and she barely dodged it in time. Got a nick on her shoulder, but nothing serious. Yet.
"Where'd you learn how to use a sword? You're very good with it." She spun around, keeping out of his reach, the gun trained on his heart. Steady and unwavering.
"Again, irrelevant at the moment. Can't you focus?" He moved slowly, circling her, his eyes fixated on her neck. "I don't know how long I'll be able to fight this off. Knock me out, already, will you?"
"How? If I get close enough to hit you, you'll cut my head off." He lunged again, and she dodged out of the way as the blow veered off to the right at the last second. It was a precise swing, lethal and perfect for beheading. "Derek, I'm really sorry. You're too dangerous. I have to kill you."
He scowled at her. "You realize that if we don't find a way to end this Curse, LaValle men will keep coming after you until one of them finally succeeds, don't you? It's not just me you need to worry about."
Her gun wavered again. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Think quickly, my dear. I have seven nephews." And with that, he lunged for her again, and she knew instantly it would be a death blow.
She cursed as the gun barrel dropped ever so slightly, but she didn't hesitate. She pulled the trigger and the bullet thudded into his gut.
The sword clattered to the floor. He dropped to his knees, clutched his belly, already oozing with the bright red of fresh blood. "You call that temporarily disabled?" And then he fell to the ground, unconscious in a puddle of his own blood.
And to think she hated her job. Go figure.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ten minutes later, Justine was about to make a decision that could destroy everything. It was a decision she'd never thought she'd be remotely tempted to make. But here she was, staring down at Derek's bleeding-out body, seriously considering making him immortal to save his life.
"You can't give him a drink from Mona." Theresa was lying on the kitchen floor next to Derek's body, her head resting against his cheek. "You're supposed to kill him, not break rules to save him." She snuffled against his neck. "My poor pretzel king. I'll miss him and his pretzels so much."
Justine chewed her lower lip as Derek bled all over the tile, a pool of blood spreading out beneath his hips. The thought of him dying made her throat tighten. Dammit. She didn't want him to die. And it wasn't just that she wasn't all that fond of murder in general. It was that it was Derek. He'd worked so hard to give her the chance to stop him. He made her smile. He made her feel beautiful. He made her feel like she was worth something, a gift that she would never have expected from him, or anyone. "If I don't give him a drink, he'll die."
"You should have thought of that before you shot him. You think they'll have to close Vic's pretzels down? I mean, he was the creative genius behind it, right?" Theresa muttered an epithet. "So unfair. How am I supposed to survive without those pretzels?"
Justine laid her hand on his chest, slipping it under his shirt. His body was still warm, but barely. "But what about the Curse? One of the LaValle men will eventually succeed." She shook her head. "I can't risk it. I have to keep Mona safe." She met Theresa's weepy gaze. "I have to keep him alive so we can break the Curse." And because she wanted desperately for him to live. It was her bullet in his stomach. Hers. Killing Carl hadn't been fantastic, but she hadn't felt guilty about it. He'd deserved it.
Derek didn't.
The dragon sat up. "No way, girlfriend. Bad choice. Even for pretzels, it's not worth it!"
"It's the only option." Justine leapt up, ran over to Mona, and poured a cup of espresso. "One drink won't make him immortal."
"It's still highly forbidden. And after that whole Carl thing where you made him your successor, you're really not supposed to be making this kind of decision without getting prior authorization." Theresa's tail was flicking, and her pupils were narrowed in her golden eyes as she stood up.
"Prior authorization takes years, and Derek's going to die in about one minute." She knelt next to him, closed her eyes for a moment while she tried to clear her mind of all emotion. Logic only. Am I making the right decision? Everything inside her screamed that she had to save him. For Mona. For him. For her. For all of it. But if she did…God, the rules she was breaking was enough to get her completely screwed for all eternity, as well as her mom. "Theresa?"
"Okay, let's look at this rationally." Theresa crouched beside her. "The fact you haven't slept with him yet and are still planning to kill him when the whole Curse thing is over does lend credence to your claim that it's purely about Mona's safety, even if it is highly forbidden. And yes, the fact that other LaValles will come after you if you don't fix this is legit. But I don't like it, babe. Even for the pretzels."
Derek's body jerked and seized, and Justine knew he was near the end.
Her time was up. She had to decide right now.
Theresa looked at her. "Well?"
"I'm doing it."
"Yeah!" Theresa gave a fist pump. "I'm so glad!"
Justine grinned. "Me too." She grabbed his head, opened his mouth, and poured the steaming espresso down his throat. Her hand was shaking so much she barely managed to hold onto the cup.
Theresa steadied Justine's hand with a claw. "Easy, girlfriend! You're going to give his esophagus third-degree burns."
"He'll heal." If she'd done it in time, he'd heal all his wounds. She poured the last bit of steaming coffee over the oozing hole in his gut, then grabbed a pair of needle nose pliers and poked them into the hole in his stomach. She wiggled them around until she found the bullet, then pulled it out. God, she hated blood.
She tossed the bullet on the floor, where it hit with a clank, and rolled to a stop, then she leaned back on her heels and waited, her chest tight. "Is it just me, or is it really difficult to breathe in here?"
"It's just you." Theresa's nose was inches from Derek's face, her gaze unblinking. "Come on, Pretzel King. You can do it."
Justine touched Derek's skin. It was cooler than it had been. He was too still, too pale, and his breath was so shallow she could barely see his chest move. Blood was oozing freely from his belly, stirred up by her fishing around in there. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"He's too far gone. He needs more," Theresa said.
"But that'll be two drinks." Two drinks would make him almost immortal. Not quite, but too damn close.
Theresa sat up and leveled a stare at Justine, her claw resting on Derek's shoulder. "You've
already broken the rules. You might as well do it again, revive him, and prove that you did it for the right reasons. If he dies now, you have no proof that saving him was the right choice. You'd just look like you wimped out."
"He'll be so much harder to kill." He'd been so skilled with that sword. Giving him a dose of immortality could seriously affect her odds.
"It didn't stop you with Carl."
"Yeah, but I was mad at him, and he wasn't exactly a competent opponent." She laid the back of her hand against Derek's face. Too cold.
"Do it, girl."
She met Theresa's determined gaze, and her heart leapt with resolution. "Okay." She jumped to her feet and ran over to Mona to fill the cup again. "Why did this happen?"
"Because you put a bullet in his gut." Theresa leaned back on her haunches, her gold hoop earrings swaying with the movement. "Haven't you ever heard of a kneecap? Or a shoulder?"
Justine pulled his head on her lap and poured more of the espresso down his throat, stroking his neck to get him to swallow. "I've been trained to kill, not maim." She hadn't even thought of a kneecap. Idiot!
She poured the rest of the boiling hot espresso over his belly, then set the cup on the floor.
They waited.
No response.
"He needs more." Theresa was standing now, pacing restlessly as she watched Derek.
"No way. Three drinks would make him completely immortal. There's no way we'd be able to explain that." Why wouldn't he revive? It wasn't supposed to end like this.
"I know. I just thought I'd point out that it was an option." Theresa ran to the freezer and pulled out a Vic's pretzel, carried it back to Derek, and set it on his chest. "A memorial to our Pretzel King."
Justine swatted the pretzel away. "He's not dead yet! Cut that out!" She laid her hands on his cheeks and leaned over him. "Come on, Derek," she whispered. "Don't die on me. Not yet."
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