by Unknown
“You lying little bastard,” she repeated before she gave her gift a sliver of room to maneuver.
It flung itself against the restraint she held firmly in place, suddenly accustomed to the freedom she had been giving it of late. When it failed to win by force, she felt it work to beguile her, as though her gift could convince her to allow it to drain them all to the point of death, but they both knew who would control the situation. After a short internal battle, it settled down and took her orders. Her gift turned and did what she thought she would never ask it to do.
It took from Carl.
One second three fae were standing around the workbench considering how to kill her, the next Carl was collapsed on the floor unconscious and the other two were dead, smoke rising from their bodies. It didn’t take long for electricity to pass from Carl’s body to Sam and from her to them.
Blink and you’d missed it, Sam thought as she stared up at the cracked ceiling of the warehouse.
No more than a minute passed before the door leading to the main street burst open again and Jason and Breena barged in.
“You’re late,” Sam said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Slowly, she rolled her head to look at them. They were both stopped just beyond the threshold, taking in the destroyed warehouse—the broken windows, the shattered figurines, the water dripping off of the workbenches, the dead bodies, and Sam laying atop a workbench in the midst of it all looking as though she was a sacrifice to the gods, or had survived a war. And she had, in more ways than one.
Jason was the first to move. He raced to Sam’s side, stripping out of his winter jacket and laying it across Sam’s body. Next he removed his lumberjack-style plaid button-up shirt, tearing it into pieces with unusual strength and using the strips to bandage her shoulder and ankle. Sam cried out as the rough fabric rubbed against her burned flesh.
Breena appeared at her side and took her hand, gripping it with the strength of a werewolf until her grip produced its own pain.
“What took you so long?” asked Sam when Jason finished with his field dressings.
“Jason was in the courtyard when the feds lost it,” Breena said. “I had to fight my way to him.”
Sam rolled her head over to give the mage another look. Sure enough, his arm was bandaged with fresh, sterile-looking bandaging. A couple fancy-looking white strips held a cut on his forehead closed. Sam glanced at Breena and spotted a mostly healed gash running down her face. Werewolves healed nearly as fast as vampires. Most likely Breena hadn’t even received first aid from the feds, assuming that was where Jason received his bandaging.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“A-okay, Void,” he said, using her title as though it might be a term of endearment.
For once, it didn’t bother her. After all, her being a Void had saved her life. No one else could have taken on so many all by themselves and lived to tell the tale.
“No more than a graze,” Jason added, nodding toward his bandaged arm when she didn’t smile.
“Are there any vampires left?” Sam asked, thinking of Heywood and her indebted life.
Breena scratched the back of neck. “A few, but not many. The feds didn’t fare well either.”
Sam frowned, the expression pulling at the various scrapes on her face.
“We need to hurry and get out of here. The feds have called in the National Guard,” Jason explained.
A groan interrupted their conversation. Jason turned to where Carl lay in a heap, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him to his feet. Careful not to bump her ankle, Sam pushed herself into a sitting position. Carl stared at the ground, refusing to look her in the eye.
“Carl,” Jason said, a menacing tone in his voice indicating he already had a pretty good idea as to why Carl might be present.
“Carl,” said Sam before Jason could continue. “You come with us. Jason, will you help me?”
“Sure. Breena?”
The werewolf grabbed Carl, pinning his hands behind his back as roughly as she could. Carl groaned, his head lolling from one side to the other. She led him out the door while Jason put his jacket back on and gently scooped Sam up into his arms.
“Your injury,” Sam said, nodding to his bandaged arm.
“Just a scratch,” Jason repeated.
She allowed him to know his own limitations. Besides, she wasn’t up to walking to the door, much less to Heywood’s house.
They reached the door and Sam gasped. Even by the dim light of the large moon, she could see that the courtyard was a wash of bodies. The vampire bodies—waiting upon the rays of the sun to turn to dust—were mixed with the bodies of the human FMB officers. Fresh soldiers poured in as the National Guard took over the Reservation.
“See all this?” Sam said to Carl.
She glanced at her old friend and noticed that he was still looking at the ground.
“Look at it,” she ordered in the sternest voice she could muster in her exhaustion.
When he didn’t obey, Breena grabbed his chin and jerked his head to force his eyes upon the massacre.
“All this,” continued Sam. “All this is because of your group’s scheme. All these lives are on your shoulders. All the fae you guys killed, all those that died at my hands tonight, are nothing compared the mass of dead humans out here, never mind the vampires you wanted to kill. All these men won’t go home tonight. Each one represents a wife who will wake up in the morning to learn that she is a widow; children whose daddy will never come home again. All these innocent lives destroyed tonight are all on you. The blood stains on your hands are permanent.”
Suddenly Carl wrenched free of Breena’s hands. He stumbled a few paces away, fell to his knees, and began to vomit. When he finished, he turned to look at her over his shoulder.
“Will you tell them?” he asked.
“No,” Sam said. “Living with your guilt is a far worse punishment than anything the feds could come up with, but you and me, we’re through. You go home and destroy every piece of illegal tech. I’ll be by in a few days to see that you have.”
He nodded and ran off.
“Take me to Heywood’s, please,” she said, laying her head on Jason’s broad shoulder.
He started to walk, Breena at his side.
“You’re coming to my place,” Jason said after the first couple steps.
Sam opened her mouth to protest, but Jason continued before she could figure out how to argue.
“You need my healing spells, and as of this moment I am taking you as my apprentice. Besides, Heywood is dead. Whatever your debt to him was, it’s over. Breena will go collect your stuff from his house.”
Breena nodded vigorously before scurrying off.
Sam tucked his two declarations away to consider later. She didn’t have the energy to worry over what either of them meant.
It wasn’t long before Jason stopped outside his studio apartment and, using the hand under her knees, opened his door. He kicked it out of the way and ducked inside. Jason set her down on something soft before flicking the light on. Sam flinched under the stark light of the single bulb.
She sat on his bed. His place wasn’t much—little more than her bedroom had been back in her parent’s apartment, with a small extension for a kitchenette and a little dining room table. The table was tucked into a corner with only two chairs—just enough for him and Amber.
“Now let’s take a look at those wounds,” Jason said as he pulled an enormous plastic tool case out from under his bed and flipped it open.
Rather than being filled with hammers and spanners, the little crevices were filled with small glass vials of liquids and large pouches of herbs. He began organizing his supplies before his eyes flicked up to where she sat huddled on his mattress.
“I’m going to need you to strip down a little.”
Sam shivered, the movement causing her to wince as she remembered her broken ribs. In the heat of battle she had mostly forgotten the wounds of her original figh
t. Jason’s quick eyes caught the movement.
He turned back to the tiny heater and flipped it on. It wouldn’t do much, but it would help.
“I know it’s cold, but I need to see the damage done. I’m sorry. I know this is embarrassing…” he added, trailing off as his face flushed red.
Sam shrugged, stopping when the movement shifted her ribs and shoulders.
“I’m not embarrassed. Just cold. I’ll need your help,” she added when she first began to get the wet and torn shirt off.
“Let me just cut it off.”
At first Sam prepared to argue but quickly thought better of it. The shirt and jeans were ruined thanks to the cougar and the acid. With the help of some seriously heavy-duty scissors, Jason cut through the denim of her jeans. He was just shifting to the lighter fabric of her shirt when the door swung open, sending a frigid blast of cold air into the small apartment. Amber stood in the doorway, taking in her pants-less friend and her boyfriend.
Had Sam been in better shape, she might have been embarrassed. Jason glanced between Sam and Amber and blushed before waving Amber in. She stepped forward and slammed the door shut. Sam heard Jason’s neighbor curse and the springs of his or her bed creak as they found a new comfortable position in bed.
“What the hell?” demanded Amber, cursing for the first time in Sam’s memory.
“She’s hurt,” Jason said, his blush fading as an angry scowl spread across his features. “It’s a long story. I’m tending to her wounds. Now, are you going to help?”
Sam lounged back against Jason’s pillows, absently noting his scent on the fabric. She was too tired and cold to care how their lover’s quarrel ended.
Amber glared at Jason for a moment before stalking forward and kneeling beside the bed. Jason wisely handed her the scissors.
“Get her shirt off while I get my supplies organized,” he said and turned away.
“What happened to you?” Amber grumbled.
Sam spent the next few minutes explaining about Carl and the attacks while Amber took her precious time cutting away at the wet fabric of her shirt. Mostly, though, Amber stared at Sam’s bruised and cut face, taking in her story.
“You’re not joking, are you?” Amber finally asked.
Sam carefully shook her aching head.
“He really did all that?”
“Yes.”
“I saw the aftermath. He basically confessed to it all in front of me,” Jason said. “Now get that wet fabric off of her before she dies of hypothermia.”
Amber went back to work, gasping as she pealed the fabric away from Sam’s black and blue chest. Even Sam was amazed at the bruises marring her features.
“Ouch,” Sam said unnecessarily.
Before they could do anything, the door swung open and Breena slipped in, a bag of Sam’s clothing slung over her shoulder. She shut the door amid their protests and gaped at Sam’s wounds.
“Damn girl,” Breena said after an appreciative whistle.
“You forget,” Jason growled. “She’s not a werewolf. These won’t be healed in a matter of hours.”
Breena dropped the bag and chewed on her lip, contrition apparent on her features.
“Let’s get you taken care of,” Jason said, turning away from Breena.
Some hours later, Sam lay across Jason’s bed, her sweat darkening his off-white sheets. Her body was a swath of bandages and the small room smelled of noxious herbs. Amber sat on the tool box at Sam’s side, one hand lightly griping Sam’s bandaged fingers and the other near her mouth, allowing Amber to chew on her nails in a nervous habit.
“I could cut the tension in here with a knife,” Sam croaked, not recognizing her own voice.
“Sam,” Breena cried, ignoring her work in the kitchenette and flinging herself toward the bed.
Jason grabbed her before she could embrace Sam. Breena gave them all a sheepish grin before slinking back to the kitchen.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“You passed out,” said Amber from her place on the tool box.
“Probably for the best,” murmured Jason as he bent over his patient and examined the bandages. “You got pretty banged up.”
Sam didn’t respond as she thought back over the painful examination and the spells he had performed on her. Her mind trailed back to the journey from the warehouse.
“Someone said Heywood had died in the attack?” she asked.
Breena nodded from her safe spot in the kitchenette.
“Weird thing was,” she said from behind her cup of tea, “he was already ash.”
“Even though it was nighttime?” asked Amber, a frown pulling at her delicate eyebrows.
Sam felt her own frown pulling on her features. She smoothed her face out into a blank stare, refusing to give away her own thoughts. If she did, they would know, and if they knew, then Roman’s life would be at stake.
She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the mage had come to her rescue. She let out a soft sigh. Heywood was dead. She was safe from his threats and machinations. Amber was safe, and, in his own way, so was Carl. She was safe from Reynolds and the fear that Heywood would force her into an inappropriate relationship with the fed. And it was all thanks to Roman.
A hot tear of relief and thanksgiving escaped a lid and rolled down her temple to mix with her dirty and matted hair.
“Are you in pain?” Jason asked, noticing the tears.
“Y-yes,” she lied.
His hands hovered over her body and he chanted in the language she had grown to associate with the mages. To her surprise, the pain she hadn’t realized she had been feeling eased from her body. A bliss settled into her limbs, making her feel as though she were floating a few inches above the mattress.
Her head rolled to the side and she spotted the bag.
“You brought my clothing,” Sam said unnecessarily.
“Yep,” replied Breena, still tucked into the kitchenette.
Good, thought Sam as dreamland began to tug on her consciousness. Tomorrow I’ll get my hair cut and do laundry.
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Works by Charissa Dufour
The Series that Just Plain Sucks
Life Sucks (Prequel short story) http://amzn.to/1NJnlLy
Sucked In (Book 1) (Sneak Peek to follow) http://amzn.to/1OoIwGV
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The Dothan Chronicles
Bought (Prequel short story) http://amzn.to/1OsWKpU
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Alone (Book 3) http://amzn.to/1OsXDP3
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The Void Series
Cornered Magic (Book 1) http://amzn.to/1OufDZk
Misguided Allies (Book 2)
The Echoes of Sol Series
Trust and Treachery (Book 1) http://amzn.to/1OoTN6l
Broken and Hunted (Book 2) Coming Summer 2016
Sneak Peek at Sucked In
Chapter One
…Audrey leaned forward, his intoxicating smell filling her lungs and making her head spin. She knew she should be afraid. But she couldn’t make herself feel what she didn’t feel, just as she couldn’t drive away the feeling of love that welled up inside her. Just like she knew she should be afraid, she knew she shouldn’t love him. After all, he was a vampire.
But it was too much!
> He was too handsome, too brilliant, too talented for her to not love him. Any woman that knew him like she did would love him tobaca;aoivnakd;ahvna;shcOIenfw
“Muffler!” I shrieked as my ridiculous gray cat sauntered across my keyboard. Instead of scurrying away, he turned to look at me, planting his behind right on the D key. A sudden paragraph of Ds sprouted on my flickering screen. I rolled my eyes, lifted the cat off my desk, and stood up. Instantly, his chest began rumbling with a purr I was sure could be heard in the next apartment. With a sigh, I dropped him on the floor. I had been in the zone—which, of course, meant I needed to be interrupted.
I was right.
A recognizable ratta-tat-tat filled my apartment.
“Two bits,” I called out by way of acknowledgment, nudging a still rumbling Muffler from my legs where he was making intense circle-eights. Jordan, my best friend, entered.
“Writing?” he asked, glancing at the screen. His blond brows furrowed as he noticed Muffler's contribution.
“Cat,” I explained.
“Ah.” Without asking, he moved into my closet of a kitchen and began rummaging through the ancient fridge. He pulled out a soda; it was still a little early for beer. I ignored him and walked back to my computer, which was tucked into the far corner of my studio apartment. Jordan dropped onto my bed, which often acted as a couch, and cracked open the can of Mountain Dew.
“So what are you up to?” I asked, as I stood in the small space between my computer desk and my bed. I was used to Jordan stopping by randomly, but this felt different.
“Well…” He hesitated. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?” I asked, flopping into my desk chair and taking a decidedly relaxed pose.
Jordan was clearly upset and I wanted to make him feel at ease. He took a long swig of his soda in an effort to buy himself some time. I waited patiently. There weren’t many people for whom I would be patient, but he was one of them.