by Alisa Woods
“Pennies, what the fuck is going on?” Zane ground out. It was a legit question—and should put Arrow and everyone else on high alert. The party was already half over here in the control tower, and Zane was early. Pennies didn’t expect him for this part. Didn’t want him for this—a few quick murders to make the train shipment go according to plan. At least Arrow hadn’t been early. Zane couldn’t be sure if the dead operators were undercover agents or not.
“Ah, yes, incubus…” Pennies waved him over. He’d ditched the metallic hedgehog jacket for a more understated riveted one. “No need for your Talent with these ones. Pawel was annoyed as well.”
“I could have used the target practice,” his brother grumbled. He was more twitchy than usual—his left eyelid spasming rhythmically—and he wore the same style of riveted jacket as his brother. Berzerker lurked at the side of the control room, which consisted of a bunch of lit up panels displaying a map of the yard, and a bank of switches and screens that must do the controlling.
Zane scowled. “How are you going to control the shipment if all the operators are dead?” He was speaking mostly for the mics. And hoping none of the dead were agents—not that having dead train operators was any better.
Pennies smirked. “Brought my own crew.” And he had. One of Pennies’ men was busy tapping away at the screens while two more were standing around the cramped control room—probably only twenty foot on a side—weapons out, like they were ready for more train company personnel to storm the tower. There was only one way in, and it was behind Zane’s and Ever’s backs. Then Pennies finally caught sight of Ever tucked behind him. “You brought the witch. Excellent. Let Anton take her away—”
Zane pulled Ever closer. She cowered up against him. “You promised me another.”
Pennies sighed his impatience but waved at Anton. “Bring her up.”
Zane had to step further into the room to let Anton slip behind him and out the door. Ever scuttled along with him, carefully avoiding the pool of blood slowly seeping across the carpet toward her feet. Pennies beckoned him over, his impatience growing. Zane didn’t want to get that close—no, he didn’t want Ever that close to Pennies—but there was no avoiding it without bringing everything to a head right now. So Zane trooped the two of them around the bodies lying on the floor and joined Pennies next to the bank of controls. From there, he could see out over the forest of train cars, all lined up under the mist and the spotlights like a huge mechanical centipede chopped into parts.
“This is the beginning, incubus.” Pennies was looking out over the trains. Zane couldn’t tell which he might be referring to. He glanced at the guy controlling the panels, but he was all over, routing and re-routing rail cars across the map. Ever tucked up closer to him. He shifted to slip his arm protectively around her.
“There’s something special about this shipment,” Zane probed, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. But Pennies had that hazy look of ambition and “destiny” he’d had at the previous shipment/heist job.
“Very special.” Pennies smirked. “Just like you, incubus. Consolidating the Chicago drug market was child’s play compared to what I have planned. And you’ll be a part of it all. Your Talent will never be appreciated by the adepts. They don’t understand you—your needs—like I do. They can’t give you what I can.”
Ever coughed into his side. Zane struggled not to react, but it drew Pennies’ attention.
He smiled. “I see you’ve gotten good use out of this one. But the papers are worried about her. She’s a liability. Besides, I’ve got another purpose for this scion of the Family Strange.”
“I want her back when you’re done.” Maybe Pennies would spell out his plans—
“Attached, are we?” Pennies gave him a pinched look.
Fuck. “She’s got a capacity that others lack. It’s almost endless.” It wasn’t hard to let some of the hunger leak into his voice. It was always there, waiting.
A more sympathetic expression took hold of Pennies. “I’m sorry to take your favorite toy, incubus.” He licked his lips and leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Look, you’ll have all the powerful witches you want when we’re done here. Any kind you like.”
Zane gave him a skeptical look. “How?” What the fuck was Pennies talking about?
“This shipment.” Pennies’ eyes took on a maniacal gleam. “When it gets to where it needs to go, the adepts will come crawling to us. These enhancers are like nothing you’ve seen, incubus. They create adepts. Do you understand what I’m saying? You can take any simple or charmer you’ve got a taste for, and you can turn them into your fancy, high-powered witch here.” He gave a disgusted look to Ever. “When everyone has magick, there’ll be nothing special about her kind anymore.” To Zane, he said, “And you and I, my friend, will be at the top of the heap. As we were destined to be all along. You’ll have an unlimited supply to feed with no one to stop you.”
Was Pennies insane? Had he finally started taking his own drugs? “You’re going to create adepts?” His skepticism was full strength.
“Create them. Control them.” The mania was inching up Pennies’ voice. “This is everything, my dark friend.”
“What kind of drugs are these?” Zane let a little wonder into his voice because… what if Pennies wasn’t high or stupid or just crazy? The man was too coldly ambitious to boast about things that had no basis in fact.
“The kind that change the world.” Pennies said it softly. Then he peered over Zane’s shoulder. “Bring her in!”
Zane twisted and shuffled Ever around so she could see as well—she was glued to his side. Anton had returned with the girl. She had long brown hair and luminous brown eyes, just like Ever, but she was really young—under twenty—and she didn’t have Ever’s high-class beauty. In fact, she looked like she’d already survived an incubus attack—hollowed out cheeks and eyes and a skittish, scared look in her eyes. Zane sensed she was a low-skilled charmer—some superficial healing magick. If Pennies had wanted to find him a substitute for the girl he’d supposedly been draining in his apartment for two days, this was a close score.
Ever sucked in air and clutched at his side, harder than before. He peered down at her—her eyes had gone wide. She shook her head no. Zane looked back to the girl. What was she trying to say?
Then the girl saw Ever tucked under his arm. “Ms. Strange!” she cried. “Not you too!”
The fuck?
Ever straightened. “Willow!” she gasped, pained and breathless. Then she threw a pointed look at Zane.
Willow. The CharmCare girl Ever said had gone missing from the morgue. Holy shit… Pennies was trafficking one of the overdose cases! Bingo. They had him.
“Ah, you know each other,” Pennies sneered. “How cozy.” He roughly beckoned Anton, who gripped Willow by the arm and dragged her closer. “Take the Strange witch to the hospital with the others—”
“Wait.” Zane’s brain was spinning. The hospital? The others? Pennies was hip-deep in this, and Zane was so close to breaking the whole thing wide open. He had to stall… “I want them both.”
“Don’t get greedy, incubus.” He was pissed.
“No, I mean…” Zane was floundering, looking between Ever’s panicked expression and the girl, Willow’s, freaked-out one. He couldn’t save them both—could he? “They know each other,” he rushed out to Pennies. “There’s a bond. A friendship. I can… taste it. Having them both would be…” He tried to steel his expression into hardness as he stared down Pennies. “Special.”
“Too fucking bad.” Pennies wasn’t impressed. “I need the Strange witch. You’ll just have to make do.” He grabbed hold of Ever’s arm and yanked her free of Zane’s hold. And he had to let her go… because Pennies was fucking pissed and not taking any more of Zane’s shit. Pennies jerked his head in Anton’s direction, who marched Willow up to Zane and shoved her into his chest. He caught her to keep her from falling, but his gaze was locked on Ever’s terrified expression. She was fighting—weakly—
against Pennies’ hold, which was just cranking up his anger.
He grabbed hold of her hair and bent her head back. “Do you want to fight me, witch? Because I can kill you here if you’d like.”
Ever froze. Her eyes were wide, staring, but not at Pennies. At Zane.
Waiting for him.
Trusting him.
Fuck. He would have to take everyone down. Every last one in the room. And that would be it. The shipment—gone. The “others” Pennies was holding—lost. It was that or Ever’s life. Or whatever horror Pennies had in store for her.
Zane reached out simultaneously to every mind in the room—everyone except Ever’s and Willow’s. Pennies, Anton, Berzerker, the three other thugs. And he unleashed his full Talent on them all. He braced for the whiplash—the full smack of magick let loose by feeding on them all—and it hit fast. But then a beat later, something else… something bouncing back…
He had no time to react.
No time to stop.
The spell hit him full-force… and dropped him to the floor.
As he convulsed under it, a thousand erotic images ripping through his mind, clouding it, draining it, spilling magick out into the background like he was a fly trapped on an electrified grid, zapped of every living essence… the tiny shred of his mind that could still think, still hold a conscious thought, had just a singular one.
Irony.
The deep, dark irony of an incubus being destroyed by a sex spell.
Chapter Ten
“No!” Ever gasped.
Zane! She kept his name inside as she clamped both hands to her mouth.
What was happening? Zane had fallen to the floor. Writhing. Willow had cried out, too, stumbling back from Zane just before he fell. The men all around them had let out short curses, but now Pennies was raking his hand through his hair and stalking over to where Zane convulsed on the floor of the control tower.
Zane’s face… it was quickly graying. Hollowing out. His eyes were wild, wide, and unseeing. He looked like the vision of her under his glamour—the horrible one he’d painted with mental magick. Only now, it was real. On him.
Ever splayed out her hands, fingers twitching, gathering magick. No one was watching her, but everyone had guns. And Willow was dead-center in the cramped room, and Zane was dying before her… they would almost certainly get caught in the crossfire, even if she managed to take out one or more of Pennies’ crew out…
She needed help.
Ever closed her fists. “What are you doing to him?” she said loud enough for the mics while trying not to attract too much attention. Pennies just snorted in her direction then knelt down by Zane’s flailing body. The convulsions were slowing… he’s dying. Ever could hardly breathe. Where was the FBI?
“Such a pity.” Pennies shook his head as he peered down at Zane, tormented and graying. “Never get greedy, my friend. It never ends well.” He stood and said to the twitchy man next to him, the one Zane had said was Pennies’ brother. “So, it worked.”
“Mirror spell.” His brother nodded jerkily then gestured like something was bouncing off his forehead back to Zane. “Bam! Real magick. I didn’t know for sure… but it worked.”
“You okay?” Pennies peered at him. The man had a nervous tick like something wasn’t quite right.
“Same as before.”
Pennies nodded. “So the spell’s intact?”
“I think so.”
Then Pennies shook his head ruefully down at Zane. “Did you think I was stupid, incubus?” Zane was barely moving now. “Did you think I wouldn’t have a plan to protect myself from the most twisted of all adepts?” He sighed, then said to his brother. “Such a waste.”
His brother shrugged.
Ever kept holding her breath, but the FBI wasn’t coming. She splayed her hands again, gathering magick with her finger motions, subtly, hands still at her sides, nothing to gather anyone’s attention. There were too many of Pennies’ crew. Everyone was too close. There were no good options here, but she couldn’t do nothing and watch Zane die.
“All right, line it up.” Pennies gestured to the guy who had been tapping away at the control panel before.
He swiped at a few things then said, “All ready, boss.”
“Good.” He turned to the one he called Anton—the one who had manhandled Willow into the room. “Take the women and—” He cut off and froze, listening. There had been some sound from the stairwell. Pennies held up a hand for silence. His men already had their weapons out, except for Anton, who drew his, and Pawel who just focused on the still-open door, like everyone else. Pennies lifted his chin to Pawel…
A click came from outside the door—
And suddenly something small tumbled into the room.
FLASH. A blinding light filled the room, then a bang followed—Ever reflexively let loose with a defensive shield of pure magick. That pulsed away some of the gas—smoke bomb, her brain told her as she dropped into a crouch.
“FBI! Hands up! No magick! On the floor! Get down!” The yelling was still outside the door, but boots were pounding. Pennies was shouting. Willow was shrieking. Everything was chaos, but Ever was still blinded by the flash bomb. She crouched and gathered more magick, but she couldn’t attack if she couldn’t see.
Then someone breached the door, a gun went off, Ever reflexively threw out another shield. More screaming and chaos, but her vision started to come back. Just shapes moving through the darkness, but it was enough to see Pennies had a hold of Willow, a gun to her head, while his men were fighting hand-to-hand with several black-clad people—agents in body gear?—and Zane was still on the floor. If Ever could just take out one or two… she gathered twin balls of energy, rough and fast and hurled them into the fight. The one aimed for Pennies’ back landed, making him cry out and drop his hold on Willow. The other was meant for Pawel, but it missed and fried the control panel instead. He whipped his head to her. Her vision was still blurry, but there was no mistaking the sudden brilliant blue magick gathering around his hands like miniature maelstroms, ten times brighter than any magick she’d ever seen.
Oh shit. She barely conjured a shield in time.
Pawel’s magick was a ten-point lightning strike on everything in the room… including her. It threw her back against the map panel, adding stars to her already blurry vision as her head slammed against the glass. She dropped to the floor, and for a moment, she couldn’t move. She just stared dazedly, her cheek smashed against the carpet, as Pennies, Pawel, and his men stepped over bodies. The train operators they killed before. The FBI agents who’d tried to come to their rescue only to be taken out by Pawel’s insane magick. And Zane…
She watched as Pennies and his men filed out, dragging Willow with them. Their boots clanged down the steps. They’d left her—did they think she was dead? But she wasn’t. And neither was Zane, not yet. His muted moan was the only sound left in the room. Ever tried to stand, but her limbs weren’t working right, so she just crawled, hands cramped into claws, across the floor toward him.
He looked like death.
He couldn’t see her, lost in whatever agony was gripping him. She only knew he was alive by the horrible sound he made. Tears clouded her vision, which was finally coming back, even with the black spots and stars crowding the edges. Magick crackled along her skin, surging because of her panicky draw on it before, hot and alive like it always was. Too much. But she didn’t have any healing magick, just field magick, defensive spells, and a couple other things of absolutely no use to an incubus dying of some spell draining the life out of him.
Ever blinked away the tears. Mirror spell. That’s what they’d called it. Somehow, they’d turned his magick back on him. The Art of healing was half mental magick—that was how the delicate operations in her research hospitals were performed, even down to the molecular level. A blend of mental reaching out and finely-tuned chemical, electrical, and fluid field-magick manipulations. Ever was never any good at it—that gene of the Strange famil
y had passed her by in favor of raw power—but Zane was incubus. He was a natural attractor. He was built to pull raw energy out of people. He just needed to turn on the tap by revving up their sexual selves, opening the spigot wide for him to feed.
And Ever had been cursed with one hell of a tap.
She leaned over him. “Zane!” Her voice was raw from the gas. He didn’t respond. He was hardly moving. Hardly breathing. She spoke directly into his ear, her cheek rubbing against the bristle of his. “Zane, come back. You need to come back.” Suddenly, the tears were fighting to come out, stinging the backs of her eyes, and not just from the gas hanging in the air. She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his.
Nothing. Not a movement. Not even a breath.
No. She couldn’t be too late with this. “Zane,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him again. “Zane, please.” The tears were wetting her cheeks and dripping onto his. She was crying and begging and sloppily pressing her lips to him, but it was like kissing a corpse. This was the least sexual thing ever… and he fed on sensual energy. He hadn’t even touched her before, when he’d used his Talent on her, but back then he’d been awake. Now he was… she didn’t know. She closed her eyes and lay her cheek against his again. In her mind, she imagined the night before, in his apartment, when he stumbled in drunk on sex magick, gazing at her with those deep brown eyes, lips parted, clearly holding back but devouring her with his eyes… “You should have kissed me,” she breathed. “I wouldn’t have said no.” And then in her mind’s eye, he did. He slipped those strong arms around her and held her against that muscular body, and he consumed her with as much unrestrained passion as there was in his eyes. It was hot. He was hot. And in real life, her breath shuddered out of her, bathing his cheek… she pulled back to look at him, hovering close, ready to follow with a real kiss…
He sucked in air.
Before she could even smile, he was on her. His lips surged up to meet hers, his hands suddenly trapped her against him as he came alive, lifting them both up and then rolling her over, pinning her underneath him. His kiss became ravenous, his tongue invading her mouth, his body an immovable weight on top of hers. Then the magick. A trickle drained from her at first, but she opened herself to it, willed it to gush into him, and it became a flood. His hands pinned her arms to the floor, his mouth all over her face now, hungering and nipping, licking and kissing. Her mouth hung open with it, her entire body alive with the electric charge of his lust. His breath was hot puffs against her skin. His body was hard against hers. And the magick wasn’t draining from her—it was flowing through her. Before, when he attacked her, she’d fought it—consciously or subconsciously, she couldn’t be sure—but she resisted. And that resistance meant she was all bristle and charge and impedance. She’d tried to stop the flow of magick between them. But now, giving herself over to it, wide open to his deep and hungering need, she was like a pipeline direct into the wild magick around them. She could feel it gather around her, rush through her, and flow into him, feeding him.
