by Cecy Robson
I straighten. “Jane, that’s enough.”
She ignores me and reaches for the safety pin holding up the old guy’s pants. Jane, in addition to being loose-skinned and persnickety, is evidently horny as hell.
Lightning crashes in the distance and roars accompany the thunder. Cathasach, now whole, stalks out from a smaller cluster of Cù-Sìth, freezing in place as his glowing red gaze fixes on me.
With a howl and another roll of thunder, he calls the entire pack.
“Jane, they’re coming.” I shake her shoulder. “Jane!”
Her liver spotted hands stop their exploration of the man’s deep south. I love Jane and am thrilled to pieces she got some. That said, ew.
Stevie slams on the accelerator, propelling us forward. The man gave chase, his plaid pants down to his ankles, his little dog barking after him, and his male parts dangling to his knees.
“Jesus Christ,” Stevie spits out.
We careen over the corner as my little priestess’s head splits in half and five slithering snake heads pour out.
The tails remain attached to Jane’s torso, her tiny legs bouncing with every pothole Stevie runs over. The snakes writhe, thickening and lengthening, and their forked tongues flicking with anticipation of their coiling bodies ready to strike.
“Will the ward keep us hidden?” Stevie asks. He hasn’t noticed the snakes yet and continues to gag.
“No,” I reply, glancing around. “Nothing is working.”
My magic sparks in and out, blinking the car from fuchsia back to red. Jolts of pain shoot down my arm in wicked pulls. Overusing my magic is keeping me from healing and my body’s need to heal is draining my magic.
I withdraw the power surrounding Mamacita, hoping to hang on to my reserves. Ominous clouds roll in from the west and east, cresting and descending on us in a monstrous wave.
“Give me the knives!”
Stevie drops the knives that remain beside me, his awkward movements causing the car to swerve. One of the snakes slinks between the seats and into the front, sliding across Stevie’s lap.
Stevie doesn’t take it well. “AHHHHHH!”
He loses control of Mamacita and we bounce off a guardrail. I land on top of him and wrench the steering wheel, moving us back to the center of the road. “Stevie, it’s just Jane,” I insist.
He yells some more when the snake circles his neck and licks his ear. By some miracle he keeps the car on the road as the pack falls upon us.
I fling the knives at random. There’s no strategy, I’m merely trying to keep us alive. My weakening magic burns the Cù-Sìth. Fire catches on their materializing bodies, singeing their fur, but failing to fully ignite them.
I wasted too much energy at the house and now we’re paying for it. The hounds advance, reaching for me and Stevie.
With a chorus of hisses that chill my spine, Jane’s snakes attack. They spit poison and fire, blinding and burning them with the might of Jane’s Ancient magic. The hounds retaliate, biting the serpents’ heads and tearing them from their bodies.
Bitches don’t know when you sever a Hydra’s head, two more grew in its place.
The snakes double, quadruple, octuple, shooting more hissing heads from their sliced necks. They protect Stevie as I beat back the circling hounds with my whip.
Poor Stevie races along the desolate highway, his skin blanched with fear, but his features determined to survive.
Too bad only Death remains in sight.
The muscles of my injured arm scream as I lash out against the hounds. My fingers clenching the windshield grow numb and slick. I’m almost done and I’m losing strength fast when Cathasach lands on the hood of the car.
His long, matted hair streams behind his human form as he rises from a deep crouch, his fiery eyes flashing and beckoning me forward.
“Oh, come on,” I say.
I crack my whip in his direction, screaming and forcing my remaining power across its length. To my horror, the pink light fades before reaching the tip.
Cathasach snatches the end and yanks me to him, my body smacking hard against his chest. He clutches me tighter, baring his teeth inches from my face. I thrash, trying to break free and calling magic that no longer comes.
“Get off her,” Stevie yells. “Jane. Jane help!”
Jane can’t. The hounds pile on Mamacita at once, smothering Jane and the snakes.
Cathasach’s tongue circles my mouth in grotesque licks. I jerk my head from side to side, but there’s no escaping him.
The air snaps with azure light and Ryker appears, battered and bruised from battle. He wrenches Cathasach by his hair and drives a dagger deep into his throat. Cathasach laughs, choking on his spewing blood. He shoves me away and I fall off the side of the racing car.
My skull crunches and sound explodes in my ears as the world spins. Asphalt pummels and rakes my body. I roll to a stop, briefly aware of the darkness suffocating me when bloody fangs wrap around my throat.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I sit up with a jolt, disoriented and terrified, my throat so dry I can’t scream.
“Liv, Livvie―It’s okay. You’re safe!”
I gape at Stevie with feral eyes, my breathing ragged and pained. I’m in Ryker’s apartment, back in the guestroom I slept in.
Stevie claims I’m safe. Tell that to the rest of me. I clutch bed linens as if they can protect me from the next attack. The next strike. The next attack of Cathasach.
My vision gradually adjusts to the darkness. The only light dwindles in from the window, offering a gentle glow in an otherwise gloomy room. I release the balled clump of sheets carefully, my fingers throbbing from how hard I’ve held by bleak protection.
My muddled thoughts spin. I can’t decipher whether the assault from the Cù-Sìth was a horrid dream or a very real nightmare. As I inch toward the bed, every aching muscle demanding attention proves no dream is this physically traumatic.
I cough a few times, letting my bewilderment and reality battle it out. The coughs turn into chokes that hurt and make me grimace.
Stevie passes me a glass of ice water. “Here, Livvie. Take a drink.”
I sip the cool liquid between coughs, giving my battered nerves time to settle. I finish the water and take the next glass Stevie fills, still confused about what happened and still very much in pain.
The cold water offers only a small reprieve. Heat rages over my skin and sweat plasters my rainbow locks to my face. I scratch at my neck, feeling itchy, only to pause when i find it bandaged.
“Can I take this off?” My voice is raspy and indiscernible.
Somehow, Stevie understands. He glances over his shoulder. If my lungs had any strength left, I’d gasp.
Ryker sits in a cushioned leather chair near the foot of the bed. The sleeves of his black dress shirt are rolled to his forearms and neat dark slacks cover his legs. Had he a pen and a legal pad, he’d resemble the man I once knew only as an attorney.
For flicker in time, I wish that’s all he was, a young associate on his way to making junior partner. Except an attorney couldn’t have saved me from creatures who want me dead nor from myself. Soul eating aside, Ryker is the best man I know. The awareness brims my eyes with tears.
“You saved me, again,” I say. “Didn’t you?”
Ryker keeps his head lowered and his muscular forearms over his thighs. He doesn’t answer and won’t look at me.
I can’t be sure I don’t deserve it.
“Can I help Liv take off that bandage?” Stevie asks. At Ryker’s nod, Stevie stands and tugs at the tape fixed to my throat.
I pull away when it feels like my skin is tearing away. “It’s all right, Stevie. I’ll take care of it.”
I peel off the dressing, blatantly slow. The tape has adhered to the tiny hairs and is refusing to give them up without a fight. It’s my first clue that I was out a long time.
Stevie takes the wads of bandages when I finally finish. “Thank you,” I whisper. My fingers smooth
over the rough surface where the puncture wounds have scabbed over. They still hurt. The wounds still hurt as if fresh.
My hands travel to my face. My throat wasn’t the only part of me brutalized. Bandages cover almost every inch of me. I unroll the gauze wrapped around my head, gaping at the amount of dark blood staining it. “How long have I been out?”
Stevie plays with spikes on his dog collar, taking his time to answer. “Four days.” He glances behind him. “Ryker let go of Cathasach when he threw you off the car. Jane’s snakes wrapped around me and she transported me out.” He scoffs. “She would’ve done it sooner, but she can only transport one being at a time. The farther she goes, the more it drains her. And we needed to go pretty damn far for the hounds not to find us.”
“She also expended a lot of energy as the Hydra,” I add quietly.
“Yeah. Those things were all over her. She barely got free enough to help me.” He shrugs as if trying not to think too much about the incident. I can’t blame him. “She took us to Flushing where Bill and Dad were waiting. Jane called them when she realized we were in trouble.”
A small black snake slithers beneath the crack in the door. It inches up Stevie’s leg and around his waist. He smiles, watching it climb and allowing it to coil around his shoulders. I recognize it as one of Jane’s.
“Hey, girl,” Stevie says when she flicks her tongue. He strokes her head with his finger. “This is Daisy. She hung out after Jane morphed back. Jane says she likes me and that I can keep her. She’s just a baby and I think she got scared when the fight broke out.”
“That’s understandable,” I mutter.
Stevie’s smile fades. “Liv, even with our talismans, they could see me and Jane. How is that possible? And how did they get through Jane’s wards like they did? Are they evolving?”
I pull another bandage from my shoulder. “I think they are.”
“No,” Ryker says. “Not this fast.”
My head angles in Ryker’s direction. It’s the first time he’s spoken, and he still won’t look at me. I crumple the bandage and add it to the growing pile beside me. I don’t want him angry with me and hate the tension between us. That doesn’t mean I’m not to blame for our troubles.
I embarrassed him by watching him eat. I realize it now. When he approached me the next day, instead of speaking to him―instead of telling him I don’t think less of him―I didn’t speak at all. I let him believe he’s the monster he claims to be.
Ryker feeds on souls. I knew that before accepting this gig. Seeing it shouldn’t have changed my opinion of the man who’s been kind, faithful, and a friend, a man who suffers and begs me for mercy.
I rub my face, wanting to slap myself instead of merely dabbing away the tear that releases. “Stevie, can you give us a minute?”
Stevie pets the snake circling his arm, oblivious to my girly emotions. “Only if you promise Jane will never hook-up in front of me again. Seriously, Liv, that was some messed up shit. I mean, the old guy’s balls bounced to his toes.”
“It kept us alive,” I offer in way of an apology. I don’t remind him that ball bouncing or not, I’d do it again.
I pour water from the pitcher and refill my glass, taking my time to give Stevie a chance to leave. As the door shuts behind him, I return the pitcher and glass to the nightstand and slip my legs from beneath the covers.
My spine stiffens when I realize I’m wearing one of my skimpy nighties. I purchased a slew of these silky things to help me feel sexy and to incite the desire I always seemed to lack.
They never did work. Nothing I tried work.
Looking at the male waiting for me, I realize only one thing ever had.
I scan the room. There’s nothing more I need than to abandon the confines of my sweat-soaked sheets and dark environment. Still, I don’t dare expose myself further, though in a way, I’m ready to.
Bruises and scrapes form odd patterns along my legs and arms. Four days. That’s how long I was unconscious. I suppose if my body weren’t occupied healing my crushed skull, my lesser injuries would have mended by now.
My focus gradually falls on the footboard. Whoever dressed me left the matching robe draped over the edge. I stand and place the robe around me. My legs are wobbly and I’m lightheaded. I try not to show it and sit at the foot of bed.
I cross my legs, ignoring the pain, and reach for Ryker’s hands which pains me for reasons that have nothing to do with my injuries.
“Hi,” I say.
Ryker tenses as my hands slide over his. Slowly, he turns his palms, allowing me to link our fingers. My hands practically disappear within his and yet within a grip that can easily kill me, all I sense is kindness.
His tenderness should ease my worry and the tension between us. Knowing what I need to say, all it offers is a moment of reprieve. “I’m sorry about the other day.” My tone is barely above a whisper, my throat aching with more than thirst.
Ryker sighs. He releases me and walks to the window, his full attention on the Hudson and far away from me. “You almost died,” he says. “Why would you apologize for such a thing?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
He turns and cocks his head, his brows drawn tight.
I meander to his side, stopping just a few feet in front of him. “I’m talking about watching you eat. I shouldn’t have, and just left you in peace.”
“Peace,” he states, his tone flat.
His features are more stone than flesh. I’m saying all the wrong things. But I need to make things right. “I was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
His comment takes me aback. But if he means to frighten me or shove this conversation aside, it’s not happening. “No,” I admit. “Just like I know you didn’t either.”
“Really?” His large form stiffens further. “Don’t lie to me, Olivia. You saw how much I wanted that meal just as I saw your disgust when I finished.”
“It wasn’t disgust.” It was pity for how he exists, but I won’t admit it. “You were hungry,” I say. “I saw how much you were hurting. I know it was necessary.”
He laughs without humor. “It’s not so simple, Olivia. I not only craved that meal, I relished every morsel, down to the last.”
“I would have, too, if I were hungry,” I reply, sticking to my guns. His ice blue gaze turns dangerously cold. He didn’t like the comparison. “You need souls like I need food.”
“Does your food beg you not to kill it or scream when you ingest it?”
Something in me snaps. Ryker is furious―furious for what he is, how he lives, and how I saw him. But none of it is his fault. He never asked to become the Ankou. He was a foolish young man, like all young men are and he paid an unimaginable price.
I glare at him through impending tears. “Don’t you dare berate yourself.” I close the distance between us. “You once told me you only find deserving souls to feast from, and you’re right. They deserve what happens to them and Don Fleycher was no exception.” His scowl sharpens when I name his victim. It doesn’t stop me from gripping his arm. “You derive pleasure from eating. I get it and it makes total sense. It also makes sense why it haunts you. I’m just sorry that it does. My stars, Ryker, I’m so sorry.”
Ryker works his jaw, struggling to speak in the silence that followed. “You speak of peace.” He waits for my nod. “The only peace I’ll find is when you grant me mine.”
“Don’t do this,” I plead.
“Don’t do what?” he growls, looming over me. “Did you think I changed my mind? Seeing me feast through your eyes only solidified my decision.” His expression shatters. “I want to die, Olivia. I want to end this madness. Kill the monster I’ve become, and I shall find my peace.”
Ryker’s anguish tears at my soul. I bury my face in my hands and sob. He stands there, watching me and letting me cry.
After what seems like forever, his strong arms find my waist and he gathe
rs me to him. Ryker bows his head and whispers in my hair, “Save your tears, beag tuar ceatha. If I mean anything to you, you’ll stay true to your word.”
As the grief spills into his voice, I realize I hadn’t cried alone.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It takes me a long time to move after Ryker leaves. He endures and bleeds guilt every time he takes a breath, and because of it, he’s asking me to be a real friend and end his pain. Seeing how he exists; I’d want the same.
I don’t know when it will happen, but it will. I owe him as much.
I shower and make my bed with fresh linens, moving as fast as I can so I can get back to Ryker.
My steps are quick as I pass Stevie’s room. He’s singing, rather badly, to something too loud and too volatile for his own good. Still, he’s enjoying himself as only Stevie can.
The quiet motor from the treadmill beckons me to the lower level. I’m wearing a cashmere white sweater and dark jeans accessorized with knee-high pink boots. My bruised body begged for sweats. I didn’t oblige. I need to feel more like myself and myself demands a little pink and a touch of style.
The heels of my boots clink and clank against the metal staircase. Ryker speeds along in basketball shorts and a gray T-shirt, his back to me. I don’t have to tell him I’m here. He knew from the moment I reached the first step.
He slows the treadmill and bounces off before I’m halfway across the room, grabbing a towel from the rack to wipe his face. As he nears me, he lowers the towel, pausing to take me in. “Going out?”
I laugh despite the strain thickening the air between us. “I thought I’d go dancing, meet a cute guy, and bring him back here. You don’t mind, do you?”
His scowl informs me he very much does mind and that someone will die if I do.
Alrighty then. I cross my arms. “We need to talk about what happened at the beach house.” Anything is better than talks of him dying and me killing him.
“You almost died.”
I kick at the floor with my boot. “I know,” I reply. “Believe me, I wasn’t trying to.”