by Tania Hutley
The medic doesn’t say anything. Her expression is wary and her face pale, but she doesn’t look injured.
Xander takes my hand and tugs me away. “Come on, Saffy.”
He was healed while my body is still aching and exhausted, but adrenaline is pumping through me, so when he starts to run, I manage to keep up.
We race down the street, then duck through a narrow alleyway and take a short cut through an abandoned lot. “Where are we going?” I pant.
Xander slows. “Away from here. We need to find somewhere to plan our next move and figure out how to stop the demon.”
He helps me over the wire fence at the back of the lot, and we jog along somebody’s driveway before emerging onto another quiet industrial street, then turn onto a narrow one-way alley that runs behind a large brick building. It has cars parked tightly down one side.
“Stop,” I gasp, pressing my side where a stitch is starting. “I think I know where we should go.”
“We can’t go back to either of our homes.” Xander is breathing almost as hard as I am. When he stops, I lean against the side of the nearest car to catch my breath. I’m beat. Using that much magic really took it out of me.
“I know a quiet place where they won’t find us.” I hold out one unsteady hand. “Give me your phone and I’ll call Jess. She’ll drive us there.” I really wanted to keep my roommate out of all this, but it’s gone too far for that. For all I know, the police will question her. If she’s going to find out I’m on the run, I’d rather tell her myself.
He tugs his phone out and gives it to me, but Jess’s phone goes straight to voicemail. “She must be at band practice.” I hand his phone back with a curse. “She never hears her phone when she’s drumming, and their practice sessions go for hours.”
Xander eyes the car I’m leaning against. “We’ll have to take a car, but let’s find one that’s been left unlocked. Smashing a window to get in will make too much noise and call attention to us.”
I raise my eyebrows as he walks to the next car and tries the handle. “I didn’t figure you for a law breaker.”
“I’ll do just about anything if there’s a chance we can keep that jackal-headed demon from killing again.” His voice is grim, his expression determined. It’s easy to see why he’s the youngest detective on the force. He’s like Eliot Ness bringing down Al Capone. Or like a pit bull with its teeth sunk into flesh. At the thought, the skin on my leg prickles where the Rottweiler got me and I wince in remembered pain. I definitely prefer thinking of him as Eliot Ness.
“Besides, we’ll just borrow the car,” adds Xander. “The owner will get it back undamaged.”
“You already convinced me.” I keep pace with him and try the passenger-side doors while he tests the ones on the driver’s side. The door of a beaten-up Ford opens, and I grin. “Bingo.”
Xander pulls the wires out of the dashboard like a pro, and within a minute or two he gets the car started.
While he drives, I keep my ears peeled for sirens. I’ve never been on the run from the law before. There must be a warrant out for our arrest, and now we’ve stolen a car as well. Just another crime to add to my rap sheet, as Xander’s mother would say.
“Turn right here,” I direct him, pretending confidence. Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out where we are and how to get onto the freeway.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“Turkey Point. Near the water.”
“What’s there?”
“A house that’ll be deserted.” I shoot him a glance. “You ready to add a little B and E to your list of crimes?”
He shrugs, but his expression is stony and I immediately regret joking about it. He’s got a lot to lose. Though, come to think of it, he’s already lost everything. Stealing the ambulance and evading capture will have sealed his fate, career-wise.
“Whose place is it?” he asks.
“A client of mine. And we don’t have to break into his home. He has a boat house out the back we can stay in. This time of year, he won’t be there.”
We drive in silence while my adrenaline fades and exhaustion takes its place. I keep seeing Amber, limp and bloody on the floor, with a terrible beast standing over her.
“If that thing didn’t have a jackal’s head, it could have almost been a regular man,” Xandar says in a musing tone. His mind is obviously going to the same place mine is. In fact, I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to think of anything other than our experiences today.
“I guess this is all in a day’s work for you?” I ask. “You must see horrible things on the job all the time. And you’re probably used to being in mortal danger.”
“Oh yeah.” He shoots me a sideways glance. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen a jackal-headed demon eating a person’s heart. Or been beaten by levitating rocks. All in a day’s work for sure. I could barely hold in my yawns.”
“But you must have dealt with grisly deaths before. And serial killers? Criminals shooting at you?”
He sucks in a breath, lifting one hand from the wheel to drag it through his hair. “Sure, I’ve seen some bad things. But never anything like this.”
I close my eyes. What little strength I had left has drained away, leaving me limp. Exhaustion has settled into my bones, so I’m relieved when we arrive at Turkey Point.
I give Xander directions to the large house by the water where I worked last summer. The sun is setting as we park the car out of sight from the road, then walk cautiously around the back of my client’s palatial house. The curtains are drawn and the one window we can see through shows no vehicles in the four-car garage.
“Looks empty,” I say with a relieved sigh. “The boat house is this way.” I limp toward the two-storied cedar and steel building. It extends over the lapping water, with a boat ramp leading down from the big double doors right into the sea. I search for the fake rock near the door of the boat house, and slide it open to find the key.
“Not smart leaving the key in something obvious like that,” says Xander, shaking his head.
“Lucky for us. I didn’t want to have to break in.”
“You said this place belongs to your client?”
“See that rock wall?” I point to the high wall that runs the entire length of the long driveway. “That’s my work. Took me a few weeks to build it, and he let me sleep in the boat house so I didn’t have to commute.”
“You did that?” He lets out a low whistle. “I had no idea. It looks like it’d take a lot of hard work and a whole lot of skill.”
“Like a giant, 3-D jigsaw puzzle.”
“More like a work of art.”
I shoot him a pleased look as I unlock the boat house door. It opens onto a storage area where a sleek, expensive black jet boat takes pride of place. A couple of kayaks are attached to racks on the far wall, and a wind surfer leans in the corner. Water skis are stored ready for use, along with lifejackets and everything else a rich thrill-seeker might need.
“Nice,” says Xander, running his hand along the side of the jet boat. “Your client must have quite a bit of money. What does he do?”
“Drug dealer.”
“What?”
I manage a tired grin. “Or maybe a banker. I never asked him. Living quarters are upstairs.” I lead the way up to the living space with a double bed and couch, a bathroom, and small kitchen. A balcony on one side has a stunning view over the water, and the windows at the other side look back to the main house. It’s pretty and full of light, and I hope the bed is as comfortable as I remember.
“The bathroom’s through there,” I tell Xander. “I can’t wait to take a shower.” I desperately need to get the grime off, but instead of heading for the bathroom, I collapse onto the bed, too tired to worry about getting it dirty. Everything hurts. This must be what cheese feels like once it’s been through a grater.
Xander prowls around the small room, peering out the windows, opening the fridge to check its contents, looking in cupboards and
generally taking stock.
“Find anything interesting?” I ask, working the elastic hair bands out of my hair before lying with only my still-booted feet off the edge of the bed.
“There’s enough canned food for us to make a meal.” He shakes his head, his lips pressed together. “But I don’t like staying in someone’s house or taking their food. It feels wrong.”
“It’s not his main house. And if I’d had a chance to ask him, I’m sure Malcolm would let us stay. He’s a nice guy. Generous.”
“How close a friend is he?” asks Xander, the question a little too casual.
I throw one arm across my eyes, enjoying the thought that Xander might be a little jealous.
“As well as that stone wall down the driveway, he wanted lots of stonework in the main house. I worked here on and off for about three months.”
The bed moves and I peek out from under my arm to see Xander sitting next to me. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Just moved rocks for him. Never saw him naked. Does that about cover it?”
Instead of answering, he unlaces my boots and works them off my feet for me. As comfortable as they are, after all the running around we’ve done today, it’s a relief when they come off.
“Thanks,” I say, hoping my socks don’t smell. I really should get up and have a shower.
Xander kicks off his own shoes and lies beside me with a sigh. “I’ll just lie here for a minute before I go and wash up. You can take the bed tonight, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I wave a hand, my eyes closing. They feel like they’re made of lead. “The couch is tiny. You can sleep here. I’m too exhausted to stay awake a second longer.”
“I’m tired too. It’s an after-effect of shock. Exhaustion is normal.”
“We’ll probably both have horrible demon nightmares.” I’m already almost asleep, so the words come out in a mumble.
Xander rolls onto his side. My hand is resting on my stomach, and he covers it with his own. “If you have a bad dream, I’ll wake you. You do the same.”
Something about the gentle tone of his voice makes my throat feel tight. I lie still with his hand on mine until his breathing becomes deep and even. He takes up more than his share of the bed, but I don’t complain. There’s something about having his bulk next to me, especially after a day like today, that makes me want to move closer to his warmth.
I fall asleep listening to the sound of his breathing.
Twenty-Three
I wake slowly, warm and comfortable, snuggled into Xander’s side. My face is pressed into his shoulder, and his breath is on my forehead. The grittiness on my skin reminds me I didn’t get around to taking a shower last night. Somehow, even after all the dirt, sweat, and blood of yesterday, Xander still smells good.
A blanket is over us and I’m fully dressed. Xander isn’t. At some point in the night, he must have taken off his torn T-shirt. The blanket is pulled up to his torso, but his shoulders are bare.
My gaze lingers on the arm that’s on top of the blanket, admiring the defined sections of muscle and the ridges between them. Not much of his chest is visible, but what I can see is just as impressive. I lick my lips. It’s been a long, long time since I woke up next to anyone. And never anyone with a body like Xander’s.
His face isn’t bad either. I lift my eyes to admire his chiseled features, only to find him gazing at me with amused eyes.
“Seen enough?” he asks with laughter in his voice.
My face warms, but I keep my gaze steady. “I can’t be certain,” I muse softly. “There’s a lot of you I haven’t seen yet.”
Heat flashes in his eyes and he leans into me. His lips find mine, searching and soft.
As soon as our lips touch, the events of the last few days drop away.
It feels incredible. Not just the fact that I’m able to push all the worry and pain away, but he feels incredible. The way his lips move against mine, the way his hand runs up my arm. He’s real, and warm, and hard in all the right places. Life instead of death. Pleasure instead of pain. He’s everything I’ve been craving. Exactly what I need.
His mouth explores mine, gently at first, then our kiss becomes deeper. My body reacts with an intensity that shocks me. Pure lust pools inside me. And when I run my hand over his muscles, relishing their bulk, it only gets stronger.
He runs one hand into my hair and down my neck. Everywhere he touches, I want more. I need his hands on me. His mouth to taste me. I want him to touch me everywhere.
But when Xander knocks his hand against one of the cuts on my arm, I draw in a sharp breath.
He pulls away, frowning at my gauze-covered wound. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.” I swallow, trying to calm the wild beating of my heart. Common sense is fighting its way through the blind lust I’d all but given in to. I wish I could lose myself in his arms and forget about everything. But I can’t. Not when that thing is out there killing people and we’re the only people who’ve seen it.
Xander is watching my face and my change of mood must be obvious, because he pulls back a little more and sits up. When the blanket falls right off, the sight of his entire torso makes me wish harder than ever that we could stay in bed.
“We should come up with a plan.” His voice is rough.
I drag in a breath, forcing myself to sit up too, rather than reach for him again. “The list of witches the demon will target next is getting smaller. It has archivist magic, plant magic, and earth magic. If I’m right and Magnus is the witch under Jeqabeel’s control, it has his water magic too.”
“We’ll ask your uncle to warn everyone in your community. Not just the people we’re assuming will be targeted, but everyone with magic. In case the council members are too well protected now, and the demon switches to an easier target.”
“There’s one other lead to follow up,” I add. “Trainwreck’d. The nightclub where that mundane went who was doing magic. That’s too suspicious to ignore.”
He nods. “Let’s talk to your uncle today, then head to the nightclub tonight, when it opens.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I give a soft sigh, hating to close the door on what we started. But what else can I do? “You want to have the first shower, or shall I?”
He puts his hand on the blanket over my leg. “Saffy.” His expression is serious but his eyes are soft. “I want to tell you that I—”
His phone rings, cutting him off. He gets up to grab it from the bedside table, checks the screen, scowls, then hits the button to send it straight to voicemail.
“I’ll have first shower, seeing as I’m up,” he says. “But I’ll be quick.”
He stretches, and the fact that he’s only wearing jeans makes the action difficult to look away from. He really is a work of art. I curse under my breath. What had he been about to say before the call interrupted him? That he wanted to pick up where we left off when all this was over? Or that he was already regretting kissing me?
Instead of asking what I really want to know I ask, “Who was calling you?”
“My mother.”
“You two don’t get on?” It’s a silly question. That much was obvious when she turned up outside the library.
“She’s ambitious. I am too, in my own way, but nothing’s ever enough for her. She’s relentless.”
“She didn’t seem to like me much.” I comb my fingers through my hair, as though that’s going to make the slightest difference to my disheveled state. “Not happy about you spending time with a fugitive, huh?”
“Not overjoyed.” He heads to the bathroom.
“Can I use your phone to call my uncle?” I ask as the door shuts.
“Sure.”
Uncle Ray doesn’t answer, but I leave a long message on his voicemail, relating all we’ve learned and asking him to pass the information on to the other council members. I also tell him to be careful about who he trusts.
I don’t come right out and name Magnus, not in so many words
, but I’m sure he’ll figure out who I mean. My uncle’s pretty smart.
Getting up is difficult, because all my cuts and bruises hurt like hell. My muscles protest, and my bones ache. Shame my animal magic didn’t heal both of us.
When it’s my turn for a shower, the hot water stings, but it feels good too. Less good is putting my filthy jeans and T-shirt back on. If I’d had a crystal ball, I would have left myself some clean clothes last time I stayed here.
“Breakfast?” asks Xander, when I’m out of the shower, my hair back in its usual pigtails. “There are two delicious options on today’s menu. Either dry cornflakes, or canned spaghetti. Which takes your fancy?”
“Tough choice.” My stomach rumbles so loudly, we both laugh. We fell asleep without eating last night, and I’m suddenly starving. “If we’re going to visit my uncle, I vote we stop for coffee and bagels on the way. But in the meantime, dry cereal might fill the gap.”
He pours us a couple of glasses of water to go with our breakfast, and we sit down at the little table to eat.
“Did you always want to be a detective?” I ask, swallowing a mouthful of cornflakes with an effort.
“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a musician. My dad loved music and he taught me to play guitar. We used to make up our own songs. But then he started going deaf. Brain tumor. Not being able to hear music was the toughest part for him.”
“He was a Frank Sinatra fan?” I ask, connecting the dots.
“The biggest.”
So that’s why Xander likes old music. Suddenly I feel bad for hassling him so much about it. “I guess he died?”
He nods. “I was thirteen.”
“That’s tough.”
“Not as tough as having both your parents killed and then being accused of their murder,” he says softly.
I look up from my corn flakes and my eyes lock with Xander’s. “Death is always tough.” Suddenly the cornflakes are even harder to swallow. Too many people have been killed by the demon. I can’t bear the thought it might kill again.
