Deadline (Blood Trails Book 1)

by Jennifer Blackstream

  She’d probably never suffered a wound she hadn’t been able to heal immediately. I noted idly that she should put pressure on the wounds or she would bleed out. I didn’t say it out loud, though.

  Bad witch.

  Smart witch.

  “She seems to have developed a way to resist me,” Flint murmured. He smiled. “A little. I’m certain some alone time will allow me to figure out a way around that.”

  “I don’t know why he hired me,” I said, frustration and pain tightening my voice. “I swear, I have no idea.”

  Flint studied me now, that strange glitter in his brown eyes. “We have time to figure it out.” He looked back to Dabria. “You have your guarantee for freedom and your sister’s legacy. Give me your oath to teleport us somewhere neutral, and I will allow you your spell. Don’t try anything. I daresay our witch will know if you’re attempting a different spell, and I don’t think she’s likely to keep your secret.”

  “Agreed,” Dabria growled. She shot me a look of pure hatred that made me pray she'd never find me alone.

  Dabria drew the teleportation spell in the air, tracing complicated lines, the furrow between her brow a combination of concentration and pain. I held my breath, watching for the last line. Waiting to have my suspicion—my fervent hopes—confirmed.

  “Lanuae magicae.”

  Nothing happened.

  I almost fainted dead away in relief.

  “Well?” Flint said, his voice cold.

  Dabria stared at her hands. She drew the spell again, faster this time. “Lanuae magicae!”

  Nothing.

  “It’s not working,” she sputtered.

  Flint pointed the gun at her shoulder, his finger tensing to pull the trigger. Dabria cowered back, but rage filled her features.

  “I’m trying!” she screamed. “It’s not working! I swear.”

  “Don’t lie to me, sorceress.”

  I didn’t realize I was smiling until Flint noticed me. He turned the gun to me.

  “What have you done, little witchling?” he asked softly.

  A soft mechanical whir preceded the thud of the door hitting the wall as it was thrust open. Time slowed down, moved at a crawl. I had plenty of time to see Andy stride into the room, gun raised, eyes taking in the scene with practiced speed and efficiency. I watched him register Flint’s gun, note it was aimed at me. Saw him take in Isai’s dead body, Dabria curled up on the floor, the epitome of feminine helplessness as she wailed over her injuries for the benefit of her new audience.

  She was pointing at Flint and screaming, but I couldn’t hear what she said. All I heard was the pop of Flint’s gun. My hand was in the air, fingers moving in a spell that wouldn’t work, a shield spell that would never activate under Arianne’s wards.

  Andy jerked back, and I screamed.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Andy!”

  Pain seared my arms with every brush of tattered sleeves against burned flesh. Even the air hurt, grating over the ruined skin like steel wool. I ignored all of it and scrambled over the soggy remains of the bed to get to Andy where he’d collapsed on the floor, propped up with one arm. He kept his gun trained on Flint, and I was vaguely aware that the leannan sidhe was lying on the floor, unmoving.

  “Andy,” I gasped, reaching for his chest, searching for blood, some clue where he was hit. “Are you—”

  “Get out of the way!” He arched his body to keep me from blocking his line of sight.

  I glanced back at the fey then at Dabria. Both of them were unconscious. Or…asleep. A heavy presence drew my attention to the doorway, and my chest tightened.

  Arianne stood there, her arms stiff at her sides. Rage burned in her eyes, so bright that I flinched and looked away. She’d already taken in the scene, the gun, the dead wizard, the black remains of what had once been a queen-sized bed. She took a step inside, and the carpet squelched under her feet.

  Andy grunted, and it was only then I realized I’d grabbed his arm, was clinging to him as if the human could somehow protect me from the furious sorceress. I made a mental note to make sure I left with him.

  “He’s asleep. I…put a spell on him. And her,” I added.

  I doubted my feeble attempt to hide Arianne’s true nature from the FBI would do anything to repair our…less-than-friendly relationship, but it was the least I could do after bringing my mess to her hotel. Even with Anton’s money, I didn’t think I could afford a thank-you gift that would head off the feud I could feel blossoming between us.

  Andy didn’t take his eyes off Flint, just pulled his arm free of my grip so he could stand. He moved as if he were in pain, but still a lot better than I’d have expected after taking a bullet to the chest. He approached Flint with slow, careful steps and kicked the gun away from his limp hand. Only when he’d retrieved the weapon did he speak.

  “You spelled him asleep?”

  I didn’t meet Arianne’s eyes. “Yes. Why aren’t you dead?”

  The last sentence could have been phrased better, but my arms hurt and I didn’t have the energy to be polite.

  Andy’s mouth quirked. “I told you, I’m wearing my vest.” He met my eyes. “Bullets are the last thing you’re worried about, huh?”

  I scowled. “He’s an anomaly.” I wanted to add that if Arianne’s wards hadn’t been up, his vest wouldn’t have saved him from what Flint could have done. But I was reasonably sure revealing Arianne’s true nature would sign my death warrant, so I refrained.

  “Check on the woman,” Andy said, lowering his weapon.

  I leaned over Dabria and felt for her pulse, but I didn’t need to. Arianne had erred on the side of caution and cast a sleep spell on both the sorceress and the fey. A teeny part of me hoped that the reason I wasn’t asleep as well was because she trusted me to explain things to Andy, to make sure nothing I’d brought her did any permanent or lasting harm to her reputation or her hotel. It wouldn’t go well for me if I failed.

  I glanced up at the sorceress, letting my question show in my eyes. She nodded, once. I drew a spell over Dabria, sending a pulse of healing to close the worst of her wounds. The magic flared to life, confirming the wards were lowered once again. I wasn’t strong enough to completely heal two bullet wounds, but she wouldn’t bleed out. I wanted to inspect the injuries more carefully, but I couldn’t with Andy in the room. Not unless I wanted to complicate matters.

  Another spell mended the bullet holes in her dress, but the bloodstains were still damp. The black material didn’t show the blood, but her palms were crimson where she’d touched her legs.

  I need a potion, fast. I fumbled in my bag.

  After I pulled out a miniature figure of Batman, a handful of mini 3 Musketeers bars, and another ball of twisty ties, Arianne let out a sound of disgust. She stalked close enough to touch Dabria with the toe of her violet shoe. Power flowed over the sleeping sorceress’ clothes, and the bloodstains vanished, leaving both Dabria and her clothes as good as new.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled.

  “Witchling,” Arianne muttered.

  “She’s fine,” I said, blushing.

  Andy finished cuffing Flint and knelt by Isai’s body, careful not to put his knee in the thick pool of blood surrounding the dead wizard. “Did he shoot this guy?” he asked, inclining his head from Flint to Isai.

  I nodded. Andy scanned the room, that serious stare taking in every detail, seeing more than I would. Then he looked at Arianne. I noticed the sorceress managed a convincing facade of horrified confusion.

  “I’ve got things under control here, Ms. Monet,” he said. “Thank you for your help."

  Arianne nodded. “Let me know if I can be of further assistance.”

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Andy fixed me with a severe look. “Start talking.”

  I cleared my throat. The pain in my arms ate at my attention span, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the throbbing in my blistered flesh. It was getting hard to breathe, and I realized I wa
s going into shock again.

  Andy stared down at my arms as if just noticing them. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

  “Fire,” I said, trying not to choke on my tongue. I started to cast another healing spell, but my hands shook too badly, and the pain filled my head with cotton. I couldn’t concentrate. I choked on a sob and gestured to my pouch. “I have something for the burns…?”

  Andy nodded. “Go ahead.”

  I scooted to sit with my back against the nearest wall, not at all sure I wouldn’t pass out if I tried to keep sitting up of my own accord. I bumped into Dabria as I passed, too hurt to be graceful. I wasn’t worried about waking her, or Flint. Arianne was powerful, and I had no doubt that when she spelled someone to sleep, they slept. I’d check to see what spell she’d used in a minute, but for now, I needed that healing potion.

  The enchanted pouch felt no such sense of urgency. By the time my hand brushed against the thick glass bottle of the right potion, I was crying, biting my lip to keep from breaking down into those body-racking sobs that only ever seemed to end in a fitful sleep.

  Someone took the bottle from my shaking hand, and I watched Andy’s strong fingers pull the stopper free. He held it over my arm, and I jerked my head up and down in what I hoped looked like a nod. He poured it over my arms and the tears flowed faster, harder. Cool, sweet relief washed over my ruined flesh, easing the heat, soothing the tortured skin.

  I wasn’t sure if it was the whole situation being over, or if it was having Andy administer first aid with a potion like I was a child with a skinned knee, but I crumbled. I sobbed, those big, ugly sobs that could turn even the most beautiful woman into a splotchy, red-faced mess. A tissue appeared in front of me, and I accepted it with gratitude if not grace, blowing my nose like a cartoon character.

  Andy just let me cry. He didn’t say anything, didn’t touch me. I thought at one point I heard him on his phone, talking about an ambulance and evidence. It didn’t matter. Dabria and Flint weren’t human, and the human justice system wasn’t equipped to handle them. Even if it was, I didn’t think Anton would give up his pound of flesh. And he’d find out soon, somehow. If he didn’t already know.

  For some reason, that made me cry harder.

  Eventually, I ran out of tears. Mentally and physically exhausted, I lay there against the wall. Andy cleared his throat after a few minutes, and I lolled my head to the side so I could meet his eyes.

  “It wasn’t exactly like Harry Potter,” I joked. My voice was squeaky and hoarse from all the crying.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

  “What. Happened?”

  I frowned and opened my eyes, surprised by the hard tone in his voice. He was still there, kneeling beside me, but the sympathy I’d thought I’d seen in his face was gone. If not gone, then in the background. Somewhere behind the determination. And the anger.

  “I told you.” I cleared my throat when my voice came out too thick. “I was hired to find a thief.” I pointed to Isai. “He’s the original thief.” I moved my finger toward Dabria. “She stole it from him.” I jabbed my finger in Flint’s direction. “He wanted to take it from her.”

  “And what did they steal?”

  I looked away, leaning harder against the wall. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “And you won’t tell me who it was stolen from.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Not won’t. Can’t.”

  The sound of knuckles cracking broke the silence as Andy pressed his fist into the floor.

  “All right,” he said, his voice tight with forced calm. “Can you tell me what they are? I assume they aren’t human.”

  “Wizard, sorceress, sidhe.” I gestured at each in turn.

  “He’s a she? So…a transgender person?”

  “Not s-h-e. S-i-d-h-e. It’s Gaelic. He’s a fey.”

  A soft scribbling snagged my attention, and I caught Andy writing in a little notebook. It almost made me smile. Almost.

  “I’m taking them all in,” he said, putting the pen and notebook in his pocket. “What precautions do I need to take?”

  I stared at him, shoving myself into a sitting position and regretting it as the room spun around me. I leaned back against the wall, but shook my head with as much vigor as I could manage. “You can’t take them in. You said it yourself, they’re not human. You can’t put them in a human prison.”

  Andy’s jaw hardened. “They broke human laws.”

  I bristled at the insinuation. “Not just human laws. The Otherworld has laws too. And that doesn’t change the fact that your justice system isn’t equipped to handle them.”

  “You said he’s fey, right? Won’t cold iron keep him locked up?”

  He’d done his research. I wondered if he’d gone the internet route or actually taken the time to find the proper books. Books were always more reliable.

  I hesitated then nodded. “It will make it harder for him to use his abilities, yes. But not impossible. He’ll still be a danger to everyone around him.”

  “Then I’ll put him in solitary.”

  I shook my head again. “Andy—”

  “What about her?” He pointed to Dabria.

  As if sensing she was being discussed, Dabria moaned and shifted on the floor. I smacked my hands on the wet carpet, shoved myself into a higher sitting position, readying my magic. Dabria’s breathing evened out and she remained still. Heart pounding, I glanced at Andy. “Do you know how long it’s been since you first came in?”

  He frowned. “Not that long.”

  Not a helpful answer. I extended my senses, feeling for the spell Arianne had laid over the sorceress and the fey. Purple energy shrouded them in a cocoon, but the color was pale, a light lavender. The spell was nearing the end of its duration.

  “They’ll wake up soon. You need to let them go.”

  Andy gaped at me as though I’d suggested we change our names to Mickey and Minnie and move to Disneyland. “You have to be kidding me. You told me they’re both thieves. He’s a murderer.”

  “Taking her in would be an exercise in futility. She could teleport out of there as soon as she regains consciousness. And him?” I shook my head. “Iron or no iron, you don’t want to know what he’s capable of.”

  “I have a dead body in this hotel room,” Andy said, his voice rising with his temper. “I’ve already called it in. A team will be here any minute.”

  I struggled to my feet, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him with me. “We need to leave now. You can meet the team downstairs, stall them. With any luck, by the time you make it up here, they’ll be gone.”

  Andy pulled away from me, his mouth set in a tight line. “Isn’t there anyway to keep them from doing magic?”

  I stared at him and opened my mouth before I even knew what I’d say. Flint stirred, and my heart skipped a beat. “I’m not that powerful,” I told him, my voice strained. “We need to get out.”

  In response, Andy drew his gun and put his back to the wall so he could keep both sleeping suspects in sight. “Is the wizard really dead?” he asked, his voice calm.

  I looked at Isai. His face was pale, his body still. The hole in his forehead was small, a sharp contrast to the puddle of his own blood forming a macabre halo around him. The liquid was so thick and so dark that it was nearly black. He was lying close enough to the bed that most of his suit had burned to ashes.

  “Yes, he’s really dead.” Whether he stays dead or not is another matter.

  “Yes, he’s really dead, but…what?”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You sound like there's more. A condition. He’s dead, but…?”

  Damn him and his perceptiveness. “He is dead. But there have been stories of dead wizards coming back.”

  Andy’s throat worked as he swallowed, but it wasn’t fear. It was anger. “How?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I'm not even sure the stories are rea
l or if it’s just something wizards claim to make people more afraid to kill them. There’s a theory they can use their death curse to fuel a prepared resurrection spell, or they make pacts with necromancers, or—”

  I was babbling now, and Andy cut me off with a sharp jerk of his hand. “Enough. I get it, you don’t know.”

  That hurt. Bad enough to be called a witchling by people powerful enough to kill me with the same effort required to swat a fly, but to have a human say it—a human who was supposed to be my friend… I gritted my teeth. “No one can know. Not for sure.”

  Andy’s phone rang, and he answered it without taking his eyes off the suspects. “Room 703.”

  “You can’t take them in!” I protested. “Haven’t you been listening?”

  He hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. “I can and I am. He killed someone,”—he pointed to Flint—“and he shot me.” He glared at Dabria. “I don’t know how I’ll prove she tortured you and robbed someone you won’t name of something you won’t describe, but I’ll worry about that when I get her in interrogation.”

  I stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not?”

  I hardened my jaw and stared down at my clothes, giving myself a few seconds to think. With a few gestures and a whispered word, I mended my ruined shirt. The sleeves closed over my healed arms, hiding the pink skin that had borne third degree burns a few minutes ago. I looked up at Andy, noting the way his eye twitched.

  A knock announced Arianne’s arrival with two men and two women, all wearing EMS uniforms. The sorceress didn’t make eye contact as she strode farther into the room than I knew she was supposed to. I thought I was the only one who noticed her hands moving, heard her whisper the same sleep spell as before. I didn’t need my magic senses to tell me she’d renewed the slumber enchantment on Flint and Dabria.

  For what good it would do.

  Andy spoke to the medical personnel, probably making up some story about why the two suspects were unconscious. They nodded and loaded Flint and Dabria onto two stretchers, one at a time. The room wasn’t very large, and they had to pay attention so they didn’t run the gurney over the dead wizard, but they managed with impressive efficiency. I stayed out of the way, standing next to the wall beside the chair Dabria had sat in when she’d questioned me, sipping her tea while her pain spell tried to turn my nerves into origami. When the medics were ready to wheel her body out of the room, Andy stepped out of the way, putting him right beside me.