by Ciara Graves
It was all the time she needed to draw her arm back, and with a furious yell, she rammed her fist toward my heart.
I staggered away, confused, when a sharp point pierced my flesh, a hair away from staking me.
I let her go and carefully backed off.
She gained her footing, spitting blood from her mouth as she scooped up her short sword.
“It didn’t have to end this way,” she said as she stalked toward me.
I continued to walk backward.
“It’s not going to end at all, not tonight.” I reached up, but the wooden stake with a silver core was embedded too close to my heart for me to safely remove it. “I’ll be seeing you again, Seneca. You can count on that. And next time it won’t be a draw.”
She raised her blade as if to finish me off, but I blurred away, not giving her a chance. Her angry scream followed me for a mile or so, until I was too far away to hear it.
An hour later, I staggered up the front steps of the mansion then collapsed, keeping a tight grip on the stake’s hilt.
“Shit,” Shane snapped. “We need help out here!”
“I’m fine, just get me inside,” I argued through gritted teeth. The pain had caught up with me along the way, and I grimaced with every small movement I made.
Shane put his arm under my shoulders and together we managed to get into the mansion and to the hall. He sat me down in a chair then examined the stake stuck in my chest. “You want me to yank it out?”
“No, I want it to stay in there for the next few hours as it inches closer to my heart.” I bared my fangs, hissing viciously as his brows shot up to his hairline.
“Man, someone’s touchy,” he mumbled. “I warned you before you left this would happen. You should’ve listened to me.”
“I couldn’t kill her.”
“Yeah, got that from the stake sticking out of your chest.” He grabbed hold of it. “Count of three. Ready?”
I nodded, bracing for the pain.
“One—”
I yelled hoarsely as he yanked it out a split second later and tossed the foul weapon on the table. “I hate you.”
“I know,” he replied. “You should heal now.”
I pressed my hand to the bleeding wound, feeling it closing already. “She has fae rings,” I told him. “Three of them right there on her hand. I can’t kill her.”
“Rudarius will want her if she has rings.”
I eyed him closely.
He tilted his head just enough for the message to get across.
Out of all my years spent with Rudarius in his coven, there was a single vampire I trusted with almost all my planning. I had been the one to turn him, just as I had Christian, and he swore loyalty to me and only me. But one vampire on my side would never be enough to take on Rudarius. We would need an army of our own, or enough fae dust and rings to be able to take him down for good.
“Yes, he will,” I finally agreed. “We need to keep eyes on her at all times.”
“I’ll see it done.”
“Good.” It would be a few days, I assumed, before Taylor and his team came back with news on other fae with rings in the area.
I cared little for who else they found.
Seneca made it personal tonight when she nearly staked me through the heart, something no one else had ever gotten close to doing.
I would let Rudarius have the other fae. I would take the rings from Seneca and drain her blood until I had enough dust to bring down Rudarius and his reign of terror.
If he was able to start his war and take over the fae kingdoms, he would become unstoppable.
Time was short, very short, to stop him.
Seneca would be collateral damage once I was finished with her.
Chapter 5
Seneca
“What the devil happened to you?”
“Save it, alright?” I muttered to Owen as I stepped into the cottage. My face throbbed, along with my ribs and the wound on my shoulder. All I wanted to do was sit down. “Lexi, is she here?”
“Right here.” She gasped as she poked her head around Owen. “Seneca, your face.”
“Thanks, kid.” I sighed and sat down on the couch, holding my face. “You alright?’
“I’m fine. Who was that guy?”
I mulled over whether to tell Owen the truth, but there was no point in hiding it from him. Begging him with my eyes not to make a big deal out of it, I said, “Draven.”
Owen growled but didn’t say anything. I assumed because of Lexi.
“Can you make sure she gets home tonight?” I asked him. “I’m going to go lick my wounds.”
“You need to call the Feds and report this.”
“Contract killer, remember? They won’t care, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll do it later.” I held out my hand.
He pulled me to my feet, scowling when I winced and limped away.
“Stay in your house tonight,” I told Lexi. “You call me if your mom gives you any more shit this week.”
Her face said she wouldn’t, but she nodded and gave me a hug.
I winced through the pain and then she hurried for the door.
Owen promised he’d be right back and kissed my forehead then left with her.
I sagged in relief to have them both gone, then tugged off my torn and bloody shirt, leaving it on the floor since it was ruined, then walked for the bathroom to take a shower. My face was a grisly mess of blood, and I would have a few good bruises in the morning. My sides were red from where Draven nailed me, and I had a good slash wound at my shoulder. He hadn’t fought with solid silver or iron blades, at least, so the wound would heal fast enough. The hot water stung, so I washed quickly, towel-dried, and went to find comfy clothes to put on for the rest of the night.
I was just sitting back down on the couch when Owen came back.
“You want some ice?”
“For which pain?” I asked, eyes closed.
He grunted in reply.
“What? I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“Debatable.” His heavy steps moved away, and I heard the freezer open, close, then he was moving back to me. A cold pack pressed to my face, and I took it from him.
“Still want to keep spying on Draven now that he’s tried to kill you?”
“With any luck, he won’t be a problem anymore.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I staked him very near, if not directly in, his heart. He could be dead in a ditch somewhere.” My luck was never that great, but it was a nice thought all the same, instead of Draven coming back to finish the fight he started. I lowered the ice pack and opened my eyes. The right one was beginning to swell, so it was hard to see. “I’m not sure what he was after though.”
“Your life.” Owen pointed to the ice pack. “Keep that on your face.”
“What, you don’t think I’m pretty all bruised up?” I teased, but his scowl only deepened. I replaced the ice pack. “There. Happy?”
“No. I knew I should’ve gone with you both tonight.”
“You had business to take care of. You can’t always be here, I know that.”
“Not the point. He could have killed you.”
“You doubt my fighting skills that much? Did you forget who trained me?” I rarely talked about Macron and Owen’s brow shot up to his hairline. “What?”
“That’s the second time in three days you’ve mentioned him.”
“And?”
“And it’s curious, that’s all. Your nightmares. Are they about that day?”
“Which one?” I grumbled, shutting my eyes again.
The day Macron rescued me from Rudarius was etched in my mind as one of the bloodiest in my memory. He slaughtered ten vampires to get me out of there and took on the head of the coven himself. The fight had been brutal. Even to this day, I had no real idea of how we got out of there alive.
For several days after, I expected Macron to die from his wounds, but eventually, he recovered.
The se
cond memory I would never forget was watching him walk out the front door of our cabin in the mountains. He said nothing to me, didn’t even look at me. Just up and walked away.
And never came back.
I hadn’t told Owen I’d been seeing my old savior and mentor, not wanting to complicate an already delicate situation with Draven being so close to Rudarius. Owen was already more protective than usual, and it grated on my nerves.
“What aren’t you telling me? And don’t say nothing.”
I lowered the ice pack again, the swelling lessening as my vampire side worked at healing my face. “I’ve been seeing Macron.”
“In your dreams?”
“Not exactly. I thought I saw him at the club the other night. Then in the mirror when I was making breakfast for Lexi. Heard him that time, too. Like he was standing right behind me.”
“What did he say?”
“Just my name, but his lips were moving like he was trying to tell me something.” I rubbed a hand down my face then stopped when it hurt. “I’m sure it’s nothing, just memories getting stirred up, as you said.”
I waited for him to agree with me, but he sat there in silence, not meeting my gaze.
“Something you’re not telling me?” I asked, shifting on the couch, so I faced him. “Owen?”
“No, of course not. It’s just you don’t know what happened to him. If he’s alive or dead. Guess there’s always a chance he’s reaching out to you.”
“Alive or dead. That’s the question. He’s a powerful mage. I wouldn’t put it past him to reach out from beyond the grave just to tick me off some more.” I hunkered down lower in the couch, putting my feet up on the coffee table. “Never mind. As I said, I’m sure it’s nothing. And even if it is something, I don’t need to worry about it right now. Too much other shit going on.”
“Like Draven.”
“I know that tone. Don’t start with me.”
“I don’t have a tone,” he argued.
“You do. It’s the I’m going to stick around and watch over you day and night because I’m worried my girlfriend is going to get herself killed tone.” I got up and limped into the kitchen, ignoring his worried growls that were following me. My stomach rumbled, and I dug around in the fridge for the leftover steak.
“Think I have every right to watch over you.”
“You do, but it’s annoying. Can we not have this argument again?” I pleaded as I popped the container in the microwave. “It’s late, I’m tired, in pain, and have to figure out what I’m going to do about the killer who wants me dead.”
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Never said it was going to,” I pointed out. “Just being honest.”
“You need to call the Feds and tell them to hire someone else.”
“They won’t care. I’m nothing to them, remember?”
“You are to me.” He pulled his cell from his pocket and moved his thumb over the screen, a determined look in his eyes that I did not like.
“What are you doing?” I demanded when he held the phone to his ear.
“Calling in a favor.”
“Don’t you dare.” I tried to snatch the phone from him, but he was too tall, and he simply turned away from me. I jumped up, wincing at the pain it caused in my ribs, but I was not going to be that girl whose boyfriend made a call on her behalf to take care of her business.
I pinched the back of his arm, and he whirled around with a glare.
“Hang up, right now.”
“No,” he replied. “Tim? It’s Owen. I need you to—what are you doing!”
I had climbed onto his back and yanked the cell away.
“He’ll call you back in a month,” I told Tim then hung up and got off Owen’s back. “You can have this back when you leave or if you swear not to do that again.”
“I am trying to help you.”
“And I’ve told you time, and again, I don’t need it. When are you going to listen to me?”
“Maybe when you’re not being attacked by a killer.”
I set his phone down on the counter, glaring at him. “It’s my job. I’m always going to be attacked by killers and thieves, and whatever other shitty beings I go after. It’s what I do.”
“I can’t sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”
“Do what?”
“Throw yourself in the line of fire like your life means nothing.” He slashed his hand angrily through the air as he said it. “Watch you tear yourself apart because you can’t let go of your past and move on. I know why you take the dangerous cases and don’t feed me that bullshit line of the pay being better. You don’t need it.” He ran a hand over his face as he paced away from me then back. “It’s like you need the danger in your life. The edge. Is that what this is all about now for you? Laughing at death in the face? Seeing how far you can push yourself before you crack?”
My lips parted at hearing those words coming out of his mouth. How long had he been onto me?
“You make it sound like I want to die,” I whispered.
“Do you? Because from where I stand, sometimes that’s what it feels like.”
“No, it’s just…” I blew out a breath and crossed my arms.
“It’s just what, Sen?”
“I don’t know, alright? I’m scared,” I admitted, surprising us both.
He flinched backward. “Of what? Draven?”
“What? No, not him.” I tugged down my sweatshirt, just needing to do something with my hands. This was exactly the conversation I longed to avoid, and now I was thrown right in the center of it. “Of this. You and me and this life. Of what you want from me and with me. And you’re right. I can’t let go of the past, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. But that’s not good enough for you. Never is.”
“When have I ever told you that?”
“You don’t have to. It’s how it is.”
“Seneca,” he breathed as he pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on my head. “You deserve to be happy, to have a good life.”
“I know,” I mumbled against his chest.
“Do you really? I’m doing everything I can to be here for you and support you, keep you safe, but I don’t know what else to do to make you see I want to be with you.”
I hugged him tighter, unable to tell the truth that needed to be said.
Owen saw me as the woman I could be if I simply let go and moved on with my life. If I let him be protective and embraced his help all the time. If I followed his suggestions and opened a café or a flower shop. I saw that version of me, saw her happy and smiling. Saw a brilliant light in her eyes. She was a faraway dream I would never reach. Part of me never wanted to.
My dark past made me who I was. Strong, fierce, independent. I was a fighter, and the notion of setting that piece of me aside forever was what really scared me.
Owen could say all he wanted he would be here with me, but I couldn’t promise that I would be there for him. I tried, I really did, but there were times when I missed being on my own. I had grown accustomed to coming back to an empty home, nursing my wounds, and waiting for the next phone call to come around. There’d been no attachments to anyone. Life was dangerous, but it was simple. The whirlwind of emotions grew tangled inside of me, and I longed to be alone to sort them out.
“You don’t have to do anything else,” I said as I lifted my gaze to meet his. “I just need more time, that’s all.”
“I think what you need is time away from this life,” he replied. “Let me take you to meet my family, leave Madwich for a week. It’ll give you a chance to heal and clear your head.”
That was the last thing I wanted. Especially when Draven was probably out there plotting how to kill me. Or maybe he didn't want to kill me anymore. The way he looked at my rings said he wanted them for a reason. He was up to something. Which meant Rudarius was, too. I should be working on tracking him down first thing tomorrow. As well as contacting Agent Williams to let him know the
terms of our agreement would have to change.
Owen tucked my hair behind my ears and kissed my forehead. “What do you say?”
If I said no, it would hurt him, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. “You sure your family won’t mind us stopping by at the last minute?”
“No. I’m pretty sure they’d be thrilled to have you around. Finally get to meet you.”
Wonderful. I’d get to meet his perfect, ecstatic family. There would be questions, so many questions and I’d have to find a way to screw a smile on my face for the entire time we were there. “Sounds perfect,” I lied.
He grinned. “It’ll be good for you, you’ll see. Might even stop your nightmares.”
That I doubted. I paused at the way he said the first part, though, wondering if he was up to something else, instead of simply wanting me to take time off.
He reached around me for his cell, telling me he was going to call his mother and give her a heads up, nothing more.
I let him do it, taking my steak out of the microwave, and eating it standing in the kitchen. When I finished, he was still on the phone in the living room. I wandered out back into my garden to give him some privacy.
The colorful orbs floated toward me, shimmering in the darkness.
I ran my fingers along the rose petals then picked one to twirl between my fingers.
The orbs glittered against the gemstones on my fingers, and I closed my eyes, running through the fight with Draven again. His whole demeanor shifted after he saw my rings. There’d been a glint in his eyes, one that reminded me of myself. The thought didn’t sit well with me, but it was true. I knew very little about Draven except for what the Feds handed me and what I saw. None of it gave me a good clear image of who he was, aside from being involved in the dust trade. The Feds’ info had only been enough to know what coven he belonged to and where I’d be most likely to find him hanging around.
The longer I pictured the vampire’s face, the more details I remembered. His bright blue eyes after they shifted from red at the end of our fight. The scar that ran along the right side of his jaw, a testament to who he was before he was turned. And he was a freaking good fighter. Quick. Those daggers had been deadly. I’d barely been able to keep up.