by C. R. Jane
I was nearly done when Jeremy came out from the kitchen swinging his keys. "You're sure you don't want that ride?" He gave me a cheeky smirk and I arched an eyebrow at him silently. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Liss." He sauntered over, cupped my cheek, and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes and swallowed the choked sob that threatened to escape. He knew the kiss to the forehead was Luca's signature move, and while he was well-intentioned, I nearly broke apart. It was the closest I'd let anyone get since the funeral. I stepped back slowly, and he tipped my chin up toward his face. I knew he could see the tears swimming in my eyes, and he swiped the pad of his thumb across my cheekbone, yet the tender touch didn't elicit any romantic feelings. "Call me if you need me. For anything." I knew he wanted me to stop him as he walked out the door. He wanted me to need him, but needing someone was dangerous. It meant getting hurt.
When I was done for the night, I stepped outside, and the humidity in the air settled over me like a thick blanket. Pulling the door to the diner closed behind me, I grumbled about how my hair was sticking to my neck as I keyed the lock and bolted the door. The small building stood in the center of a large parking lot. Chrome lined the top of the structure giving it that throwback look to a diner from the nineteen forties. A strip of pink neon ran under the chrome, adding a retro vibe that customers seemed to like. Since the restaurant was open late on Friday nights, I'd chosen to park my car under the flickering neon sign that advertised the restaurant, taking the small protection the light provided. The soft glow of the sign offered measured comfort in the otherwise inky black night, and I fumbled with my keys, hooking them between my fingers like weapons the way that Luca taught me. I could still hear his voice in my head as he ran me through the necessary steps I may need someday to protect myself.
"Always aim for the eyes. If you're attacked, attack back before asking questions. If you pause, it could be your life. Instead, open your mind and gather as much information as possible to assess once you're safe again." He'd drilled me over and over again in the Mariner's backyard shortly before he died, and now I couldn't help but worry that his impromptu defense lessons had something to do with his death. Had he felt unsafe the way I did now before he'd died? I blinked back tears as I squeezed my fist, letting the bite of cool metal dig into my palm. His death was still ruled a mystery-an unsolved case with no motive and no suspects. My heart ached in my chest, but I suppressed the brokenness inside and stayed focused, just the way he'd taught me.
Momentarily, I regretted not taking Jeremy up on his offer, or at least asking him to stay and walk me to my car, but then I reminded myself I was on my own now and needed to learn to take care of myself. You're walking twenty feet to your car, Liss. Stop freaking out.
I stepped into the parking lot. My heart pounded as I hurried the dozen paces to where I'd parked, but long before I'd ever reached the car, the hair on my back of my neck was once again standing on end. I bit my tongue, drawing blood as I breathed through my growing fear.Unlock the door. Get in. Lock the door. I repeated my mantra as I reached the red four-door sedan and clicked the appropriate button on my key fob.
As I pulled the door open, the caw of a crow startled me, making me jump. Peering upward, I saw the black creature with beady eyes sitting on the sign, tilting his head to and fro in typical bird-like fashion.
"You again." I glared at the crow as the copper taste of blood filled my mouth. I'd bitten myself hard when he'd scared the shit out of me, and I swallowed down the blood welling from the new wound, the metallic taste of it a tang on the back of my tongue. "Shoo." I dismissed it, but it simply cocked its head, studying me in an eerie display. Shivers raced down my arms and suddenly the chorus of chirping crickets that had been singing their nightly melody grew quiet. Adrenaline and fear bolted through my veins and I swung quickly into the car, slamming the door shut and locking it. Starting the ignition, I threw the car into reverse then drive as I bolted out of the parking lot as fast as I safely could. My living quarters weren't far away, but I chose to drive around town until I felt my pulse return to normal and the feeling of danger had passed. My panic attacks were getting worse, as were my episodes, and while I felt like I was probably going crazy, I was pretty fucking sure that crow had been following me since the day of Luca's funeral. I still remembered his jarring caws during the burial.
Finally pulling up outside the rundown two-story house, I steered the car to the far side of the detached garage, parking in the overgrown foliage that was my deemed spot. The home was old and nearly falling apart with faded white paint and a sagging roofline that gave the house an unsettling appearance. The adjacent garage next door wasn't much better, but it was where I called home. Climbing the rickety wooden stairs on the side of the building, I let myself into the upstairs studio apartment and flicked the dim lights on. Silence was all that greeted me as I entered and closed the door behind me, making sure the deadbolt locked into place.
Kicking off my shoes and leaving my things at the front door, I trudged to the twin sized mattress that sat on the bare wooden floor in one corner of the open room, and I dropped onto the bed. I curled up on the pillow and hugged one of Luca's sweatshirts close to my chest. I wanted to cry, but my body was worn out. Instead, I slid my hand under my pillow, resting my palm on the manilla file folder I'd stashed there. It contained all the information the police had on Luca's case. A little flirting with one of the young deputies had garnered me the file, and I'd read the case at least a hundred times. The silence in the apartment was an echo all its own, and I shut my eyes, too exhausted to emotionally invest in anything else for the evening. I needed a restful night's sleep, and I tried to clear my mind in hopes of one blissful night free of dreams.
However, as I faded from consciousness, I could already feel the nightmares pricking at the darkness of slumber that mercilessly dragged me under.
Chapter Two
Josiah
I checked the reflection in the tall pilsner glass I held in my hand for a third time, triple checking the shadowed image of a man leaning against the wall near the doorway of the bar I was trying to relax in. The balls on this guy-not even letting a man relax to lick his wounds in peace. However, I shouldn't have expected anything less from the suits. Even in the dim reflection, I could make out his trench coat, though the low brim of his fedora shielded me from getting a read on his face. Not that it mattered. One suit was pretty much the same as the next.
It didn't escape my notice that he kept himself in plain sight-as if he were waiting for me to turn around and cry mercy. I smirked and then tipped the nearly full glass of beer back, taking a long, healthy swig. Before I'd even stood, I felt a familiar pressure in my head and closed my eyes, allowing the link I had with my twin brother to open. As young warlocks, we'd perfected a spell that had mentally linked us, and I heard his voice inside my mind as he spoke urgently.
Josiah! Where the fuck are you? I've got suits on my tail. Falcon wants me to bring 'em in, Maxon relayed with a hint of annoyance.
Fuck. How the hell did they get the jump on both of us? Their attacks were getting worse and more frequent, and the fact that they were organizing was not a good sign. We'd need to talk to Falcon about this.
Nonchalantly, I held up my beer, swishing the amber liquid as though inspecting the drink while I tried to see if there were any other suits in the bar that I'd missed earlier. Great. I spotted one more lounging in the corner.
Got two, myself. I'll take care of them and then head your way. Where are you? The city of Raven River was large and I had no inkling as to what Maxon's plans had been tonight. I let the question fly along our mental connection as I downed another sip of my beverage, frustrated at the interruption to a
night that was supposed to help ease the pain I'd been feeling.
Meet me at Washington and Third. I'll lead them there. And, Jos… be careful. The added warning from Maxon hit home a little too closely, and I cleared my throat while I dispelled my emotions on the subject. I felt his presence fade into the background of my mind and knew it was time to make a move.
The popular downtown establishment was crowded this evening, and patrons filled every available booth and barstool. The wooden floor was beat to hell from years of heavy occupancy and I let the red vinyl stool I sat upon scrap against it as I stood, digging a few bills from my pocket and tossing them onto the shining black bartop. The tall shelves behind the bar held nearly every liquor imaginable, but it was the mirrored trim that lined the top of them that allowed me to get a better visual as I stood, narrowing in on the two men who were intent on ruining my evening. The fleeting look alerted me that the suit by the door had straightened, his eyes clearly tracking my movement.
I took off toward the back of the bar. The Tipsy Cow had two additional exits other than the front door, one for customers and one for staff. Darting into the kitchen, I sidestepped the cooks who were busy preparing appetizers for hungry customers and made a beeline for the flat metal door that opened into a side alley.
Following the line of the alley to the back of the building, I glanced around to make sure I was alone and quickly summoned a spell. I pressed my hands together and closed my eyes before I chanted the words I needed, the magic I had within flowing toward the surface.
"Dra-ga-na." The softly spoken syllables rolled off my tongue, and the magic pulsed between my palms. Separating them, I chanted as the magic bolts grew and sizzled. I peered around the corner of the alleyway and saw the two suits from inside along with an additional one they must have had covering the back entrance.
The one from the doorway lifted his arm and spoke into a watch. "In pursuit of the third target."
Third? Shit. Tonight was meant to be a massacre.
I reached for the connection with my brother. Maxon, I called mentally.It's a cou! They've got targets on at least three of us.
While I waited for an answer, I exhaled a breath, narrowed my eyes, and let the magic bolts fly from my hands. I held out a hand and tweaked the trajectory until each bolt landed its mark perfectly, spearing the trenchcoat-clad men without hesitation. Unaware of my presence, they had no time to level a return attack, and each one fell to the ground in a heap. I hated killing, but when the fight was brought to your own doorstep, there was little choice in the matter.
Gathering another wave of magic, I waved a hand in front of me, clearing the mess away-bodies and all-in seconds with a simple command.
Seven. I heard the strangled voice of my brother ring through my mind, and I froze.
Seven what? I was already moving, my feet hitting the asphalt in steady thuds as I ran. Dread was a heavy feeling, and I flew as fast as I could down the sidewalks, not worrying about the odd looks I was getting from the few pedestrians who were out at this time of night.
I've got seven suits on me. A sniper and a few on the ground. I need backup! Every time I try to make a move, the bastard on the roof takes a shot! I could hear the labor of his breathing in his words, and I double checked the street signs as I took a sharp left and then a right, weaving through downtown until I could hear the sound of a battle ensuing just up ahead. I changed direction, slipping into another alleyway that would bring me into the fight from the opposite side. If my projection was correct, I would enter the brawl from behind enemy lines, giving us the upper hand in the battle that had been waged against us. Every second counted when the suits showed up. They were in our fucking territory, and they were about to regret that decision.
As one of the strongest supernatural groups so far, we were constantly a target in the war against supernaturals, and each strike against us was getting more powerful and more lethal. The yawning ache in my chest throbbed, reminding me of our recent loss. It felt as though a part of my own body had been severed, and while I'd never met the member of our team that had been taken out, it didn't make his loss any easier to bear.
I wouldn't lose another one of my brothers-and definitely not myactual brother. That was for damn certain, and I pushed myself harder as I propelled down the alleyway. Tall brick buildings rose high on either side of me with barely enough room to maneuver, and with a calculated jump, I used my momentum to launch off one brick wall, flying toward the other as I grabbed the cool, black metal of a fire escape. Pulling myself up and over the railing, I ascended the stairs as quietly as possible. When I reached the top, I laid down and peered over the top step, taking stock of the roof-line.
The top of the apartment building was black with protruding vents and an access door that led inside. However, all that mattered was the suit with the sniper rifle in the far corner of the building, his gun set up on a tripod that allowed him a steady, deadly shot. I knew better than to think the gun held real bullets. Inside the chamber was something much more lethal. Siphoned magic. The supernatural weapons had sprung up a few months ago, their appearance a game changer against strong supernaturals like my brother and me who wielded magic.
I could feel the buzz of a ward cast over this part of the city, built to keep the humans blessedly unaware of the magical war going on right outside their doors-but I wasn't human, and I instantly recognized it as my brother's work. Dark businesses lined the streets in this part of town, all closed for the night. Streetlamps and neon signs were the only illumination other than the slivered moonlight that shone down on the tall buildings of the city.
A red light flashed and a corresponding boom sounded, the ground and surrounding buildings shaking from the impact of my brother's spell. I held my hands up, one palm facing toward the sky with the other hovering above it facing the ground, and I called upon the magic flowing in my veins.
"Na-o-raut," I chanted as the magic pulsed between my palms, swirling into a glowing green ball. The energy built as my chanting continued, and when I was satisfied with the strength of the attack I was about to level on the enemy, I dove from my hiding place.
Spinning around, the sniper leveled his gun on me with unsteady hands. The arrogant fucker wasn't expecting me, and I grinned sardonically as I threw the swelling circle of magic in his direction.
"Sa-va." I let the command fly off my tongue and watched the spell detonate. Just before it made contact, sizzling him into nothing, he fired a shot. I dodged the blast, catching the edges of the sparking magic he'd attacked me with. Holy hell but that hurt. I reached up and touched the open wound, my fingers coming away coated with blood.
I gritted my teeth and waved a hand, cleaning up the mess on the rooftop and setting things back to normal for the humans.
My attack had alerted my brother of my presence as much as our mental connection had, and I saw the corresponding attacks he leveled on the remaining threat below as I stepped up to the edge of the five-story building.
My arm was starting to go numb from the hit, but I summoned enough strength to cast a spell that would lower me to the ground as I stepped off the edge, free falling for an exhilarating minute before the magic wrapped around me and set me carefully onto the street behind the fray.
Maxon and I were so in tune with each other that we didn't even need to speak. Whether that was a testament to our mind link or solely based on our 'twinetics'-as I liked to call it-I wasn't sure, but in times like these, I never questioned how in sync we were with one another.
Calling forth a fire spell, Maxon and I let the magic fly, attacking from the front and back of the enemy.
The men on the fringes scrambled, running for cover while their com
rades rolled around on the ground and tried to put out the magical fire that was burning up their crisp jackets. I started forward, seeing my brother doing the same from the opposite end of the street. Orders were orders, and these men were now our prisoners.
As I neared the panicked men, I tried to lift my injured arm, only to find it unresponsive. Inconvenient. I needed to make it home and get Lincoln to fix it. Using the other hand, I recalled my spell.
"In-naus." The green fire retreated, drawing back into my body as easily as it had been formed.
"So, that's your idea of an entrance, huh? Another minute and I could have been barbequed." Maxon breathed heavily, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the fallen suits.
"I highly doubt that. You're the second most powerful warlock in this city." I grinned, trying to cross my arms over my chest and failing. Maxon didn't notice my predicament, but he did arch one of his eyebrows in my direction.
"Counting yourself above me, are you little brother?" He stressed the word 'little,' knowing it would grate on my nerves.
"By two flippin' minutes," I grumbled, and gave up trying to use the hurt arm. Being incapacitated was bloody annoying. One of the men on the ground moaned in pain and I rounded back to the topic of the evening. "So, Falc wants these men?" I looked down at the three heaving agents littering the street; they were a little worse for wear. The magical fire had left their suit coats in tatters, but any actual burns they'd sustained were minor injuries. I kicked their large black guns out of reach, sneering at them in disgust. The weapons were dangerous. Somehow, the suits had figured out a way to harness magic, using our own abilities against us. For a group who hated supernaturals, they sure valued our particular sets of skills. The only thing worse than death was being taken prisoner by their organization. If that happened, I had a feeling you'd pray for death. The horror stories had stemmed from somewhere.