by AJ Renee
Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wondered what her body would look like when the police found her. The dream with the snapping teeth flashed into her mind before her mother’s face replaced it.
How Brandy was sure the woman was her mother she didn’t know. When she was a child, she had seen pictures of her mother. Her father had kept one in his bedroom, but she rarely went in. Over the years, they’d stopped asking their dad for the photo albums. Maybe the woman in the flowing white dress was merely an angel awaiting her soul. The fact her brothers would have to bury her, so soon after their father, pushed aside the garbled mess of her thoughts and images.
Anger and frustration swirled in her chest. “No!” she yelled. She couldn’t put them through that again.
Her eyes opened when a loud crash sounded, and she wished she’d kept them closed. The thing was a foot away, and his eyes met hers. Pure terror consumed her as she looked away before screaming again.
His laugh was more animalistic as he shed the remaining façade he wore. “Scream, hag. No one’s going to save you. I should take you to my den and take my time filet—”
The thing flew across the street, and she fell hard to the ground. She didn’t care that her knees ached with the impact. Somehow, she’d been freed from his hold, and she was relieved. Brandy looked away from the slumped form when she noticed a dark figure approaching.
A glint in the night caught her eye, and she watched with a mix of horror and relief as the newcomer plunged a dagger into the thing’s chest. A howl pierced her ears a moment before Mr. Suit burst into flames.
Brandy jumped to her feet when her rescuer faced her. She wasn’t sure if he was her savior or if she was about to be sacrificed to the next highest bidder. Now that she knew some things did go bump in the night, she wasn’t willing to stick around.
Reaching back, her fingertips found the wall, and she guided herself to the left. If she hadn’t completely lost her bearings, Brandy figured she was about two blocks from her apartment building. Thankfully, she wasn’t wearing heels tonight and planned on booking it out of there. Although, she didn’t know how talented Thing Two was at running.
If only she could get a head start, like a meteorite striking it. Allowing her eyes to leave the form, she searched the area for something that could help her. Brandy spotted her purse, but it was in the opposite direction she needed to go. She would worry about canceling credit cards and her phone later, if she could only get to her place in one piece. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything but surviving the absurd night, not after everything she’d experienced in the last fifteen minutes.
Thing Two took a step toward her and scanned the area around them. She took it as her cue to move a bit faster. Her brass knuckles lay at the bottom of her purse and could have helped right then. Brandy imagined the thud of her purse hitting it square in the jaw so she could sprint to safety. No sooner after envisioning it did she watch her purse come off the ground and fly toward the creature.
Except instead of running like planned, she stood frozen, staring, as the purse never made contact. She didn’t know how it had happened. One moment, the image flashed in her mind, and the next, the purse had soared toward Thing Two.
Thing Two lowered the purse after catching it, and she didn’t miss the scowl on his face. His face was human, not that it couldn’t change, based on what she witnessed with Thing One.
“Is this the thanks I get for saving you?” Thing Two asked. The low timbre of his voice made her want to get a better look.
“What?” she whispered instead of fleeing.
“Why didn’t you slay him? It was a tubar. A human could do it easily enough.”
Thing Two had lost his mind. “What?” she repeated.
He stopped in his tracks, halfway between her and where he killed Thing One. A strange expression flashed briefly across his face before he cocked his head to the side and glanced around. He raised a hand in her direction, his palm facing her, but dropped it.
“That thing I just slayed? It was a tubar. A low-level demon?” He chastised her as he stepped closer. “In the last week, I’ve sent seventeen of them back to hell.”
“How did you know to come here?” she asked, continuing the ludicrous conversation. Demon? Slaying? Tubar?
He stopped a few feet from her. “I sensed your magic first and then I smelled the tubar. Why didn’t you use your magic?”
“Magic? I don’t have magic. Magic doesn’t exist.”
“For the love of the goddess. Don’t sit here and tell me magic doesn’t exist after you watched me get rid of that thing. And might I remind you, you threw your purse at me.”
She slowly shook her head. “I didn’t throw my purse.”
“Oh, yeah? And I suppose your skin isn’t all tingly either?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He had a broad chest, she noted, and some fine-looking arms did the covering. She wondered what he was. Could he possibly be a human? How did he know about the tingling? What on earth was happening?
“No…” she lied.
“How old are you?”
Her brows pulled together as she stared at him a moment. She’d guess he was in his mid to late twenties. “Why?”
His eyes moved up and down her body, taking an extra-long second over her breasts. “You’re too old to be a charmling,” he said, more to himself than her.
“Hey!” she said with outrage. She wasn’t old by any means.
He continued like she hadn’t spoken. “You obviously have no idea what I’m talking about. Now that I think about it, you’re damn lucky the tubar didn’t filet you.”
“No, I don’t have any clue what you’re talking about. I was walking home when that thing jumped me,” she said, ignoring the visual of being fileted alive.
He ran his hand over the back of his neck. A frustrated grunt escaped his lips. “No one trained you? You’re weak and unprotected. If I hadn’t come along, you’d be dead.”
This guy may have saved her, but right now, Brandy wanted to shove her thank-you up his ass. Sure, she was grateful for his impeccable timing, but she didn’t need his condescending tone. Feeling more confident he wasn’t going to hurt her, she walked toward him on unsteady legs.
She put out her arm and wiggled her fingers, asking him without words to hand over her purse. “While I’d love to stick around and be insulted some more, I need alcohol to forget this night ever happened.”
She grabbed her purse like a petulant teenager and turned to leave. His next words stopped her and sent goose bumps down her body.
“Good luck with that… Look, there will be more. You need to control your new powers so you can defend yourself. I’m not sure what’s going on, but there is a shit ton of tubars and worse wandering Helmond.”
Brandy turned to see if he was being serious but found herself alone for the first time in twenty minutes. No tubar and no whatever the man was.
Chapter 4
Ryan stepped away from the infuriating woman. She spun around looking for him before releasing a frustrated sigh.
“Jerk,” she muttered, unaware of his presence.
He should turn in the opposite direction and forget this night ever happened. Only, he couldn’t. The witch—if he could even call her one—didn’t know the dangers lurking in the night.
She was rather lucky he’d followed her magic. If he hadn’t come along, she would be dead. Another meal for another demon.
He maintained his distance and followed her. The sway of her hips mesmerized him as she walked down the dimly lit sidewalk. Ryan forced his eyes away from the attractive woman. He did not need the complications she would bring into his life. After making sure she got to wherever she was going, he would walk away and never see her again.
At least now he understood one of the reasons the activity in the neighborhood had gone up. Demons were stupid creatures—well, that was not entirely true. Tubars weren’t the brightest, but you couldn’t discount them for it. They were ruthl
ess and took immense pleasure in torturing their victims.
She scanned her surroundings and sped to a slow jog. The woman may be uneducated in their world, but she wasn’t stupid either. A familiar growl rang out nearby, and she picked up her pace, running to the door of the building rather quickly.
Ryan didn’t know if she knew what it was, but he did. “She’s not my problem,” he whispered as she made it inside. What was his problem was the creature a block over who wouldn’t see him coming.
For the second time that night where she was concerned, he wanted to do one thing and his body did another. He stared at the names on the walls and picked one.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I have a special delivery of flowers from Mia’s Flowers.”
Buzz.
Ryan shook his head as he pulled open the door. People were too trusting. Closing his eyes, he said a quick spell and followed her trail. When he reached her floor, he was able to find her apartment before the magic disappeared.
Like the creeper he was turning into, he bent his head and put his ear to the door. He listened to her move around the apartment. He heard her speaking, either to herself or someone on the phone. Before he could reach out farther, an apartment door opened. Ryan crouched and pretended to tie his shoe before walking down the hall.
Using his magic, he verified there weren’t any immediate threats to her safety. Once he was out of excuses, he exited the building and went in search of the creature he’d heard. He needed to expend his frustration, and there was no better way than to eliminate another threat.
Moving down the street, the hum running along his skin intensified as it always did with magical beings and creatures. A low snarl caused his hands to ball before he released the tension. Once he was sure no unsuspecting human would follow him onto the deserted road, he turned onto it and faced the four-legged beast. Its eyes glowed brightly, saliva dripping off its muzzle.
“You know you’re not welcome here,” he told the catulus.
A rumble of a growl slipped free before it snapped its teeth at Ryan in answer. Its black matted fur stood on its back, and it took slow deliberate steps with its meaty paws. For a puppy, the damn thing was large.
“I’m not sure who you’re reporting to, but they’re not getting an update,” Ryan said with a shrug before it crouched back and leapt at him. Ryan shifted to the side and used his powers to pound the hellhound puppy into the asphalt.
A yelp slipped from the beast before it rolled over and pushed onto its paws. Its eyes glowed, anger driving it to hit Ryan once again. Countering each feral strike with a spell, Ryan shifted and turned. His heart beat wildly as he realized the pup was stronger than he’d assumed. Sweat rolled down Ryan’s spine as his blade sliced into the hound’s shoulder.
Needing to end the fight before he tired and made a mistake, Ryan took advantage of its wounded state and flicked two fingers. Its neck snapped with a loud crunch. The catulus dropped to the ground in a heap, but Ryan knew better than to assume it was dead.
After conjuring an axe from his apartment, Ryan swung it with all his weight and struck the catulus in the neck, separating its head from its body.
“Maxima ignis!” The catulus and the blood soaking its decapitated body ignited into a searing flame before burning out a second later.
After cleaning any remnants of the demon pup or their fight, Ryan forced himself to go to his apartment above the gym. It wasn’t a large place, but it fit his lifestyle. No muss, no fuss.
Her chocolate-brown eyes filled his mind, and he could not shake the need to protect her. If he weren’t so lost in thought, he would have sensed him. The strike came quickly, Ryan’s head flying back with the force of the punch.
“Mother f—” Ryan swallowed the curse. Running his tongue along his lip, he tasted the metallic liquid, confirming the blow split his skin open.
He did not have surprise or speed on his side, but he had skill. Ryan fought back as images of the woman flooded his mind. If he hadn’t been there, she would be dead. The feelings which hit him with that morsel of truth caused him to strike back with a combination of hits to the face and torso. The ass who’d caught him off guard staggered back with surprise.
Like a man possessed, he blocked each hit and snuck in a few of his own. Ryan hit him in the face and torso, using all his weight in each strike. With a flick, Ryan raised him off the ground and pinned him to the brick wall.
His eyes glowed, and a growl tore through the night. “Enough!”
Ryan snapped out of it, and his eyes widened at the sight. Panting from the exertion, he stepped back and released his opponent.
The man dropped into a crouch, and his eyes glowed. “Seriously?”
“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Ryan said, stretching his fingers. He did not have to look at his hands to know they were red and cut up. “You caught me off guard.”
“I usually do,” Peter, his longtime friend, said as he cracked his neck. “You know the rules, dipshit. No magic and no change.”
Ryan grabbed the back of his neck and stared at the darkened sky. “I know! I said I was sorry!”
“What the hell is the matter with you anyhow?” Peter asked.
They walked up the stairs to Ryan’s apartment. “All that activity we’ve been noticing?”
Peter grunted and followed him inside.
Ryan avoided Peter’s eyes as he grabbed them both a bottle of water. “I think I figured out who’s at the root of it all.”
This got Peter’s attention, and he leaned against the counter. “So? You going to tell me who it is, or are we going to paint each other’s nails?”
“It’s the girl from the coffee shop,” Ryan muttered and rubbed his face, exhaustion starting to settle over him. With his eyes shut, he could see her face and the fear that had clawed at her.
“What girl?” Peter asked and scratched his stomach.
Ryan leaned his elbows on the counter and stared at his friend.
“Oh…” Peter whispered before a shit-eating grin filled his face. “The plot thickens, my friend.”
Chapter 5
Brandy poured herself another shot and drank it.
It was the fifth one since she had returned home after running the short distance to her apartment. Somehow, she wasn’t tipsy, let alone drunk. She raised the bottle of tequila to her nose and smelled it.
“It smells like tequila…” she muttered.
The man’s words played on repeat in her mind. She wanted to write him off as some nut, but her gut wouldn’t let her believe it. How did he know about the tingling? How did he know what that thing was? How did plunging a knife into that thing not leave a body or even a scorch mark from the flames?
There was no logical explanation for any of her questions. Each question only spurned more. He had called her a charmling. What the hell was that?
Brandy unlocked her phone and typed the word into the browser. After a few minutes, she was left more frustrated. The only results she could find brought up images to a kid cartoon.
When she woke up that morning, she had only heard of powers and magic spoken about in movies and the Salem Witch Trials. Now, some man was warning her to control her powers, so she wouldn’t get fileted by a “tubar.”
Brandy drank from the bottle, skipping the small glass entirely. She drank deeply, placed the bottle next to her, and leaned against the counter. She rubbed her hands over her face before gathering her long hair and sighing loudly.
Good luck with that… His words popped into her mind as she stared at the little bit of liquor left in the bottle.
“What the hell is going on?” she whispered after noting her still-sober state. “What if he wasn’t lying?”
Her heart beat faster at the thought. She released her hair and rubbed her palms down her jeans. The incessant tingling didn’t seem to budge. If anything, it only bothered her less.
Brandy thought back to all the weird objects moving and her fight with Greg. She couldn’t deny it
had all started after her birthday. It also happened when she was pissed or scared, two emotions she seemed to be experiencing quite a bit since her birthday dinner.
A knock sounded at her door, and she jumped. Hyped up on leftover adrenaline, she stared at the door as her body warmed. The tingling along her skin began pulsing, and the shot glass on the counter flew before shattering on the tile.
“Brandy? You home?” her neighbor called through the door. “Are you okay?”
Air gushed from her, and with it went the instant fear she felt. Careful to not step on the glass, she hurried to the door, her heart thumping against her ribs. She looked out the peep hole to make sure it was Kristen and not something who had assumed her voice.
“Could they do that?” she whispered to herself.
With a shake of her head, she sent the thought away and undid the chain and locks to her door. “Hey,” she said.
Kristen took her in, tipping her head to the side. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?” Brandy asked and glanced down the hall.
“Girl, you don’t sound okay.”
She forced a smile. “I’m good. What’s up?”
“Did I hear something break a second ago?” Kristen asked, rising to her toes and peering around her.
“Yeah, I was drying a shot glass from the other night and it slipped. I’m good.” Brandy stepped back and started shutting the door.
Kristen put her hand on it. “Wait!”
“Yeah?”
“When I got home, they were trying to deliver this to you,” Kristen said and handed Brandy a small box she hadn’t noticed. “They said it was the last attempt, so I said I was you.”
“Thanks, you’re the best.” Brandy grabbed the package and waved back at Kristen before shutting the door.
She wasn’t expecting anything but figured it could be a gift from someone in the family. They were the only ones to ever make a big deal of birthdays. Not ever in the time she and Greg dated had they bought each other birthday gifts. They always preferred going out and doing things together, until this year it seemed.
