The real question was, did I trust her more than I hated magic?
Or did I trust magic more than her?
“What’s the price of the blood oath?”
She didn’t even blink. “Whatever you ask of it, you also have to give. So, in this case, if you want truth, I’ll also be allowed to ask for truth. If either of us lies, it kills us both.”
Motherfucker.
Of course it would have a built-in equalizer. How fucking convenient.
I’d have my answers, but only if I were willing to offer up my own truths.
“If what you say is true, you have no intention of leaving at any point, do you?”
“Nope,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Even if you try to make me. I told you, I don’t want to die, and the only way that’s going to happen is if I stick around with you.”
Fuck me.
“You know, all of this would be a lot simpler if I just shot you.”
I pulled one of my guns out of my holster, weighing it in my hand. She lifted her eyebrows in question, but she didn’t look afraid.
“You won’t,” she said, then shrugged and went back to eating her sandwich.
“What makes you so sure?”
She gave me a dubious look and set her sandwich back down. Nathalie walked around the kitchen, reaching up to brush the crumbs from the side of her mouth as she did so.
“If I wasn’t confident in my ability, I wouldn’t be here,” she started, coming to stand directly in front of me. She reached out with narrow fingers and curled my own around the handle of the gun.
I squinted, not sure where this was going. Then she lifted that hand and pressed the end of the barrel to her forehead.
I’d thought she was smart.
I was starting to wonder if I should have questioned if she was crazy.
“You truly believe that I won’t shoot you,” I said softly.
“If you’re going to, get it over with. If you want the blood oath, fine, let’s do this. But we’re more likely to die from you not trusting me when we both need you to. So make up your mind, Piper.” She released the barrel and lowered her arms, letting me hold the gun aimed at her forehead.
We stood there, staring at each other.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say part of me was tempted to just do it. If she truly planned on sticking around, there was no way she wouldn’t eventually find out the truth. Not to mention the complications of having a partner with me for the foreseeable future. I’d worked alone for so long now that I no longer knew what it was like to work with someone.
But something stopped me.
She stood up to Ronan and said no. Whatever her reasons, no hired help would do that. And if I were being honest with myself, I was pretty sure she was telling the truth this time.
I re-holstered the gun.
“The rules still stand. You get one shot to fuck up and then I end you.”
“Glad to know this changed nothing,” she noted dryly.
Whatever I was going to say was cut off as a knock came at the door.
We both stilled, exchanging a cautious glance.
“I’m going to answer the door,” I said, speaking quietly. “Get behind the island and don’t use magic offensively, even if you’re in danger.”
“You got it,” Nathalie said, going to stand back behind the kitchen counter. She took another bite of her sandwich, waving me on when I gave her a peeved look.
I shook my head and walked silently to the door, careful to avoid the floorboard that creaks. My better hearing was picking up on the sounds of breathing coming from the hallway.
It was too erratic to be only one person.
I leaned forward, hovering over the eyehole into the hallway.
The barrel of a gun stared me down on the other side.
I barely had time to jump away from the door before a shot went off, followed by an explosion.
Flames consumed the front entrance to my apartment. I pulled myself up onto my elbows and then rolled onto my side.
Three bodies lay dead outside.
Hitmen.
I recognized one of them as Ronny. His face was angled to the side and blood dripped from his ears and nose. Silver shards stuck out from his face. The explosive bomb I had rigged to my door did its job.
I swallowed hard.
“I take it these are the assassins you were expecting?” Nathalie asked, her voice sounding too close to be coming from the kitchen. I glanced over my shoulder to see her standing only two feet away, face grim as she stared at the dead men. Or what was left of them.
“You would be correct.”
I got to my feet and approached the three.
Anders knew my record, which meant my boss did as well. This wasn’t a true hit. They expected me to kill these men. That’s why they sent Ronny. I liked him. Not romantically, but still more than I should have. Enough that I had to hide the wince every time my eyes grazed over his prone form.
This was a warning.
My time was up.
There was now a price on my head.
14
“We need to get out of here,” I said, turning away from the gaping hole where my front door should have been. Good thing I hadn’t paid the electric bill this week. “If my boss gave the order, Anders won’t have any qualms about handing out this address. We probably don’t have more than an hour before bounty hunters will be crawling all over the place.”
I was already starting for my room when Nathalie put her hand on my arm.
Before I could get annoyed, she said, “What do you need me to do?”
I looked her over. A decade of prejudice warring against the unyielding loyalty she’d given me. Loyalty I didn’t deserve.
“In my room under the bed there’s a backpack and a duffel bag already packed. Grab them both, we need to be out of here in the next five.”
She nodded once and went to grab the packs. I took a deep breath and turned for the second room. The one I avoided more than I should.
The handle turned easily, and the door swung open without much effort at all. It was clean to the point of almost sterile. Light blue walls with faded paint and a chipped white dresser with a twin bed were the only things giving it life. That and the twenty-three-year-old woman sleeping in it.
Her long brown hair splayed across the pillow in perfect, even waves. She never rolled or turned, so it stayed that way. Grease clung to the roots around her scalp from too long between washings. Her pale skin was even and smooth, but dry and unnaturally white from not seeing the light of day in so long. Her eyes were closed. Peaceful. A necklace hung from her neck, the thin silver chain unbreakable. It held a singular stone over the hollow of her throat that pulsed faintly. The magic in it was all that kept her alive. It prevented her body from wasting away and muscle atrophy from kicking in.
Guilt ate at me as I grabbed clothes out of the dresser. I knelt before her and pushed the sheet back, then dressed her in the most clinical way possible. I’d done this for long enough that it was almost second nature to take care of her in this way. To manipulate her limbs like that of a doll. To dress and clean and carry her because she couldn’t do any of that for herself anymore.
I was just finishing braiding her hair when a quiet voice at the door said, “I got the bags.”
“Good,” I said, focusing on picking up the limp body before me. She was heavier than she used to be, and lighter than she should be. I stood up, and whatever Nathalie thought, it didn’t show on her face. “Let’s go.”
She nodded once, and we were off.
I didn’t glance at the dead bodies as I stepped over them. I didn’t look back at the place I’d called home for as long as I could remember. I held the unconscious girl to my chest and carried on.
As we descended the steps, Nathalie said, “I get the feeling that we’re not just venturing out. Do you have a place in mind?”
“I do.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where,”
she continued nonchalantly as I stepped off the stairwell. Instead of walking out the front door, I turned to a metal door with peeling gray paint and a rusted handle.
“You’ll see if we manage to get there without dying.”
I adjusted my grip to lean into the door and used my elbow to turn the lever. It squeaked, echoing up the corridor. Nathalie looked up, but no one opened their door to look. I kicked back and the metal frame resisted but failed as I freed the lock from the latch. It opened and hit the wall behind it with a bang. Fluorescent lights flickered, trying to power on and illuminate the underground parking garage. Nathalie peered through the doorway, then gave me a questioning look.
Instead of answering, I started down one of the rows. The door screeched as it closed behind us. Nathalie’s footsteps followed softly at my heels.
“Nice place you got here,” she said slowly.
While it was filled with cars, they were mostly trashed and outdated. Windows were shattered. Tires slashed. Words had been spray-painted on the scratched and dented metal. What survived the collapse of the American government and subsequent Magic Wars didn’t survive the years of wear and tear that followed. While some factories that made cars still existed, they were few and far between—not to mention expensive.
We’d reverted back to a time when vehicles were a luxury for the filthy rich, or those lucky enough to have one still running from before the wars. Like me.
I came to a stop at the end of the parking garage, in front of a beat-up Honda Civic. The tires were deflated or missing. The windows smashed. The leather interior ripped open and center console was destroyed. On the outside, the once cobalt blue paint was scratched and had been spray-painted over to read: Oppress the Oppressors. It was one mantra that had become popular during the Magic Wars, and a mindset that led to the downfall of humans being in power, despite their greater numbers.
I laid the girl in my arms on the trunk and then got on one knee to reach under the bumper. “What are you—” Nathalie started right as I found what I was looking for. I pressed each of my fingers to the cloaking device, going in a specific order and waiting three seconds in between. At the end of the sequence, the illusion dropped to reveal an old but well-maintained car. I stood up and went around to open the side door. The scent of pine faintly drifted over me. When I went back to pick up the girl, Nathalie gave me an appraising look.
“You hate magic,” she said. Something squirmed inside me, but I ignored it as I carried the unconscious girl to the backseat and then buckled her in. Nathalie came to stand beside me. “But you use it sometimes.”
“You got a point?” I asked sharply, testing the resistance on the seatbelt before standing back up and closing the door.
“More that I’m confused. For someone that distrusts it so much, you seem to use it whenever you need it. I can’t tell if that makes you a hypocrite, or if it just means you don’t truly distrust it—you distrust the people who use it.”
“Get in the car,” I said, extending a hand and motioning to the duffel bag she had hanging at her side. Nathalie frowned, but lifted the strap over one shoulder and extended it.
I walked around to the driver’s side and opened the back door, tossing the bag in the seat. I rifled through it, grabbing the set of keys, then closed it up and slammed the back door shut behind me. Nathalie was already in the passenger seat when I climbed in the front. She said nothing as I stuck the keys in the ignition and the engine turned over. After two tries, it spluttered to life. I breathed a tight sigh of relief and backed out of the spot.
It had been a while since I’d driven. My understanding of the controls was amateur at best, given I was never really well acquainted with it. My parents had said that kids would learn to drive at sixteen and they often have their own cars.
When I was sixteen, my parents were murdered, and the world had already gone to shit. This was their car, and it was really pure dumb luck that it was still running.
I pulled up to the gate of the parking garage. It had stopped working years ago when the rioting got so bad the residents were concerned they’d bring the building down. Someone smashed the receiver box, and since then, the only way to open it was manually.
I put the car in park. “I need you to get out and open the gate.”
“I’d ask if you’re going to drive off without me, but I suspect you’d probably give me the same answer either way.”
My lips twitched. A grin threatening to break through.
Nathalie got out of the car and went to hoist the gate up. It took her the better part of a minute to even lift it high enough the car could get underneath. I slowly rolled onto the street and stopped before turning.
She slipped out from under the gate.
The heavy metal hit the pavement with a loud crack.
Heads turned, and I shot them a cool look as I waited the ten seconds for her to run back to the passenger side and hop in. The door wasn’t even closed before I started driving.
Only when a few minutes had passed—and I still didn’t see any sign of someone following us—did I relax enough to speak. “I’m not sure whether or not I’m a hypocrite. I hate magic, but because of the world we live in, sometimes I’m forced to use it—and I hate that too. But when the choice is between dying or using it, I’ll choose to live.”
I sensed Nathalie’s eyes watching me, but I kept my own on the road. It was hard enough to drive even when I was paying full attention.
“Why do you hate it?” she asked.
I couldn’t help looking in the rearview mirror at the unconscious girl.
She was a woman now, but in my mind, she’d always be a girl.
“All magic has a price, and some of us don’t want to pay it,” I said. It was the same thing I’d told Anders a week ago.
“All that really means is you paid too much,” Nathalie replied, leaning against the passenger window. “What’s her name?”
“What?”
“The girl in the back,” she said, motioning behind us.
I pressed my lips together.
“Seriously? You can be exasperating sometimes,” she said, shaking her head.
“I could still shoot you,” I reminded her. She snorted, and I frowned.
“We both know you won’t. I gave you the chance, and you didn’t take it. You’re stuck with me,” she said. I wrinkled my nose at that, flipping the turn signal on to get on the highway.
“Like fungus,” I muttered.
Nathalie snorted again, running her hand over her mouth to cover her grin.
“I think you like me.”
“You can be useful,” I said. Her expression turned sour.
“Come on. Is it really that hard to admit?” she said, jesting. “Piper Fallon, witch hunter extraordinaire, likes a witch?”
Whatever traces of a grin I might have been fighting faded as I murmured, “Yes.”
Nathalie leaned back, crossing her arms. “Why?” she asked, also turning serious. She didn’t seem offended by my small truth, just curious.
“Because . . .” I breathed. “Witches took everything from me.”
15
Nathalie blinked. Her lips parted. I focused on the road, a grim set to my jaw.
“When you say everything—”
“I mean everything,” I cut in, my voice hard. She wrinkled her nose and seemed to think on that while I drove.
After a few minutes, she said, “Well that just sucks.”
Going against everything I knew about driving, I looked away from the road. Her face was sincere, even if her words weren’t the usual standard party line I’d heard.
I’m sorry for your loss.
My condolences.
Not all witches are bad.
The list of things I’d heard over the years went on and on, each one more infuriating than the last. But I could honestly say that no one had dared to just call it like it was.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, turning back to the road. “It does suck.” I had to je
rk us back between the lanes, and if Nathalie had thoughts about my driving, she smartly kept them to herself.
We drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence. It wasn’t exactly far where we were going; just far enough to put some distance between us and the people hunting us. Far enough that I could think without my door being blown off.
I pulled off the mostly deserted highway. Two rights and a left put us on a poorly paved back road. I followed it down till the pavement crumbled and then kept driving. At the end of the line, a dirt road took off into the woods where a somewhat kept driveway used to be. Branches scratched the top of the car as I slowed to a crawl, knowing where to drive only from memory. Vines and grass had grown where there used to be dirt. Trees towered on either side of the long drive. We pushed through the worst of it, and when it was only dead grass between us and the cabin, I parked and cut the engine.
Cities weren’t as loud as they’d once been. New Chicago certainly wasn’t. While the wind still blew, the lack of sirens, fewer vehicles, and fewer people made it quieter. Seedier.
Still, it was nothing like being in the true wilderness. The sun peeked through breaks in the canopy, and the birds chirped as I stepped out of the old Honda.
Memories from the last time I was at the cabin danced in front of my eyes.
It had been the summer before I turned sixteen.
“You okay?” Nathalie asked, coming to stand beside me.
I took a deep breath and turned away from those memories. It was the past, and it needed to stay there. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
I opened the back door and threw the duffel bag over one shoulder, and then went around to the other side to grab the unconscious woman. Her head lolled against my shoulder as I carried her toward the cabin. The steps creaked under my boots, but they held firm as I climbed up to the wraparound porch.
This house didn’t have any kind of magical lock, and the shitty turnkey one it had we’d never bothered with. With magic in the world, my father didn’t see the point in locking it. If someone wanted to get in, they would. And anyone else could just smash the windows or break down the door. It was better to keep it open and hope they took whatever they were after, leaving the place without destroying it.
Touched by Fire: Magic Wars (Demons of New Chicago Book 1) Page 10