Dead Ringer (The Journals of Octavia Hollows #5)

by Stacey Rourke

  A gruesome sensory extravaganza followed. His jaw slid back into place with a slurp. The bones of his arm mended themselves in a series of snaps and pops. Even his shattered nose sprang back into shape.

  “I didn’t touch him… did I?” I peered down at my hands, half expecting to see vines of emerald energy snaking from my fingertips. Nothing. “If it wasn’t me—”

  My head snapped in the direction of the farmyard creature that had most definitely touched the corpse. “Was it you? Are you, like, a necro-piggy-mancer now? Because, I’m not going to lie, that would be awesome.”

  Impassively blinking in my direction, Bacon’s only response was to scratch his ear with his back hoof.

  Undead Reid, however, rolled onto his side and sucked in air with a desperate gasp.

  “Maybe, since embracing the siren side of me, I can do it without making actual contact?” I asked my hands, “That’s going to make certain aspects of my life more difficult.”

  With a groan, Reid pushed himself up onto one elbow. His head hung to his chest, like he was nursing a hell of a hangover. He saw Bacon first, and instantly spun in search of me.

  The words I’d spoken countless times began to form on my lips. You were dead. I brought you back. You’re welcome. But, for the first time, I wasn’t entirely sure I deserved the credit.

  Keeping with the theme of my not knowing what the hell was going on, Reid’s reaction was far from typical. “What did you see?”

  I knew I should answer, throw the recently resurrected a friggin’ bone, but my attentions were stolen by something I found far more vexing. “Your eyes… they aren’t silver.”

  Reid flinched; his forehead creased in confusion. “They never were. But thanks for noticing. Now, how about you answer my question? How long have you been here?”

  Dragging my tongue over my top teeth, I hitched one brow in challenge. “Since the moment you told me to leave. Dickhead move, by the way.”

  Mouth falling open, his eyes bulged. “So… you saw…”

  “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” I shrugged.

  Goddess bless that boy, he glanced down to make sure his boy parts were covered. Finding they were left him even more perplexed.

  “I… came back from the dead,” he admitted, gaze scouring my face for a reaction.

  “Oh, good, you know! That makes this so much easier! Hey, did you happen to notice a green light as you came around? That’s normally a part of this, but it seems my magical special effects are on the fritz.”

  Scooting his legs off the side of the bench, he planted his feet on the floor. Rising to his full height, his arms drooped at his sides. “You have magic?”

  “I’m a necromancer,” I stated, in what felt like the most awkward rollcall ever. “I think, without meaning to, I brought you back from the dead. And you were very much in the past tense.”

  Undoing the tie of his ponytail, Reid let his hair explode out in a wild disarray. “You didn’t do this.” His tone was flat and unfeeling.

  Pushing off the bench, he rose on wobbly legs and stumbled to the mirror hung over the folding table. Grabbing the jar of Vaseline I left there, he smeared it over his face and used a dirty t-shirt from his bag to wipe away the blood.

  The scars.

  The tainted touch of death that emanated from him, now more powerful than ever.

  I misread the entire situation.

  “You can’t be killed.”

  His chin tipped in my direction. “Not for lack of trying.”

  Swallowing hard, I forced out the sour words I’d been asked countless times, hating how they tasted on my tongue. “What… are you?”

  Letting his forehead fall against the mirror, the strands of his hair left bloody streaks on the glass. “I don’t know. My dad died before I was born, and my mother always said she would tell me ‘when I was old enough.’ Breast cancer denied her that opportunity. I found my way into the ring because I’m big and quick… and it’s what my dad did. I guess it was my way of feeling close to him. It was after one incredibly grisly fight that I realized I couldn’t be hurt—at least not in a lasting way. A few less than upstanding people figured it out, and showed me how to capitalize on it. I work my way up the boards, fighting one guy after another in an undefeated streak. Then, when I land those big-ticket fights, my team and I bet against me under an alias. It’s been easy enough, considering nobody can take a fall like me. Then, we collect the money and I move on to start the cycle all over.”

  Rapidly blinking, I tried to find the right words for the plethora of feelings whirling through my mind.

  Turning his back to the mirror, he rested his shoulder blades against it. “I know. Sad, right?”

  “No,” I stated, gaining more resolve as I uttered it a second time. “No! It’s not sad. It’s stupid. You don’t like getting beaten to a pulp? Then don’t do it! Want to know another vocation you could try out where you don’t have to get your ass beat? Literally, any of them. Any other thing on the entire fucking planet! Flip burgers. Deliver pizzas. Hell, look at you! Take your shirt off and grind to a Ginuwine song. Women will throw money at you! And yes, I see that look on your face right now. Don’t you dare smile, that was not meant to be flirty. I’m too pissed at your particular brand of stupid to flirt with you.”

  Hands raised in retreat, he tried unsuccessfully to fight off a smirk.

  The door creaked open, allowing a flood of noises to rush in. “No, he’s going to be fine! Thanks for your concern. It looked way worse than it was.” Shutting the door, Jack turned and immediately dropped the handful of first-aid supplies he was holding. “Holy fucken-fuck! You’re alive!”

  I’m sure he needed a beat to embrace the gushing relief that he didn’t have to figure out where to bury a body. Unfortunately for him, that was a mercy I intended to grant. “And you! You went along with this asinine plan to make a few bucks? Stormie was right! She’s married to a moron!”

  Closing the distance between us in a blink, his chest rising and falling in frantic heaves, Jack barely held his rage in check. “Is that the kind of man you think I am?” he roared, spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth. “You think I give a rat’s ass about the money? Especially when I’ve watched that boy die not once, but twice now?”

  “I did!” I yelled back, matching the volume of his voice, but nowhere near the intensity. “Until… you got hopping mad over it. Now I think I’ve made a horrible miscalculation.”

  “You’re God damned right you did!” Jack growled. Shoulders hunched, he paced the length of the room. “By all the laws of nature, that boy should be dead. I swear on the bible, it was a higher power saving me from the wrath of my own wife that brought him back. I was ready to walk after the first time! No amount of money was worth the ass-whooping he took.” Planting his feet, he glared Reid’s way, arms akimbo, and fists clenched as if he was ready to beat some sense into him. “But, no. He insisted on coming back. See, he won that last fight by a TKO. This one… this one he swore would be his big payday, and he just couldn’t let it go. I came here to keep the dumb bastard alive.”

  Combing his fingers through blood-encrusted hair, Reid twisted it back into a bun. Sorrow sharpened his features, clouds of regret darkening his gaze. “I’m sorry I got you both mixed up in my bullshit. I’ll move on come morning, you have my word.”

  Raging fury simmering down to smoldering embers, Jack deflated. “No one is sayin’ that, son. We just don't want to see you get hurt… again.”

  Striding to Reid’s side, I leaned against the wall beside him and crossed my legs at the ankle. “Plus, if you leave, then what? More of the same routine that obviously—and rightfully—makes you miserable?”

  He let his head fall back, thumping against the mirror. “I don’t have any other options. The only people who could tell me what I need to know to truly change things are dead.”

  Dropping my voice, I whispered for his ears only, “Did you miss my whole introduction earlier? Death has never sto
pped me before.”

  Chapter Five

  “Before we start this, I feel I should warn you that I’m really bad at spells. Like, shockingly so. I can bring the dead back to life, easy peasy. But incantations? Not my forte.” Back in the office that had become my temporary home, I unclipped Bacon’s carrier from around my waist and let it fall to the floor in a heap.

  Jack had gone home for the night, eager to report back to Stormie that everything was hunky-dory, when it most definitely wasn’t. Thankfully, it gave me and Reid the privacy we needed for whatever debacle I was about to unleash.

  If I could get Reid to focus. “Uh… Reid?”

  Settled on the edge of my cot, he was snout to nose with Bacon, giving my little ham sandwich a good scratch behind the ears.

  “Reee-eid?” I tried again in a sing-song voice.

  Head snapping up, almond-shaped eyes framed by a forest of lashes blinked in my direction. “Sorry! I just… don’t know how you get anything done with him around. He’s legit the cutest thing ever.”

  “You’re a pretty big dude. You sure you’re not just hungry?”

  Easing Bacon to the floor, Reid flopped onto his back. Cot springs squeaking under his weight, he threw one arm over his eyes. “I can assure you, I don’t want to eat your pig.”

  “If that was a euphemism, it would be really insulting,” I muttered under my breath as I scratched out a rough spell on a scrap piece of paper.

  Rolling onto his side, Reid hitched one eyebrow in mischievous interest. “Oh, yeah? A euphemism for what, exactly?”

  My mouth opened to form one of a million sexual innuendos, all of which fell out of my head when I glanced his way.

  Hair free from its tie, it fell across his muscular shoulders in messy waves. I wasn’t a long hair gal. I liked my guys trimmed and shaved. But something about his rough-neck, god of testosterone look was working for me in a major way. Then again, maybe it was the fact that my no-no square hadn’t entertained a visitor in damn near two years.

  I didn’t realize I was staring at Reid, mouth agape, until he dipped his head to catch my eye-line. “Octavia?” A small smile tugged at the corners of his bow-shaped lips. “You were saying?”

  Swallowing hard, I forced a tight smile. “I honestly don’t remember.” Shaking off the embarrassing moment, I turned back to the paper. “But the spell, let’s get back to that. If I do it right, it should give us answers about your past. If not, hell, I don’t know. We’ll go to the cemetery where they’re buried, and I’ll wake ‘em up for a quick conversation.”

  Pushing off the mattress, Reid sat up and cringed. “Mom’s been dead for twelve years. Please don’t do that.”

  “Then let’s hope option A works.” Clearing my throat, I tried to decipher my chicken-scratch writing. “Goddess of light, I beseech thee. Before your power, I take a knee. Show us the truth, answer us why; no matter what happens, this dude can’t die.”

  Shoulders sagging, Reid peered up at me from under his brow. “Seriously? That’s your spell? That was damned near offensive.”

  “Shut up.” I swatted at the air between us, as if batting the words away. “It’s starting.”

  Images swirled around me in a dizzying blur. All I could do was throw myself into its eddying current and pray not to get sucked under.

  A man in an underground fighting ring.

  A lucky punch landed with a pair of silver knuckles.

  The flash of fang and fur.

  A panicked crowd with a vendetta seeking retribution.

  A pregnant woman left alone and scared.

  Wards put in place to protect a young life.

  All in all, it seemed the spell was going according to plan, until—

  Reid’s hands dragging through my hair, his body molding to mine.

  Flesh on flesh, my hips grinding against him.

  Lips parting with a gasp.

  Kisses teasing down my neck.

  The swell of his arousal pressing against my inner thigh.

  My body aching for every inch of him.

  Stumbling back, I felt heat rush to my face in my struggle to figure out what the hell a vision like that could mean. Elba was my goal. This whole trek was to resurrect him. Why was I having dirty visions about some pretty boy boxer?

  “You okay?” Leaning forward, Reid rested his elbows on his knees. “You just went sheet white.”

  “I’m fine. Totally fine. I told you, my spells rarely work. This was nothing nude—new! Nothing new!” Quickly fixing the faux pas did nothing to make it less uncomfortable.

  “So?” His eyebrows raised in expectation. “What did you see?”

  “See?” Hearing my voice come out as a high-pitched squeak, I fought my way back to a normal cadence. “I didn’t see anything. I mean, it’s not like I was looking.”

  “Wasn’t that the whole point of this little ritual?” Reid’s head tilted in confusion.

  “What? Oh! Yeah, of course I saw things. Is it hot in here? It seems really hot in here.” Throwing open the office door, I twisted my hair off my neck and secured it there with the tie on my wrist. “So, yeah. No easy way to say this, but your dad was a werewolf. I know, weird, right? Being a boxer, he accidently wolfed out in the ring once and scratched a guy. Didn’t kill him, but did scare the hell out of some folks. They came after him, and I’m guessing you know how that sad tale ends. Your mom never wanted that fate for you. To prevent history from repeating itself, she had a shaman ward you on the day you were born. They intended for you not to be able to wolf out in retaliation to a human, but it seems the magic they slapped you with was a bit more potent than expected. Hence you not being able to shift at all. That said, you can be killed, just not by human means. It would take decapitation, or a silver bullet. Something like that.” I didn’t realize the words had tumbled from my mouth in a long-winded ramble until I finished spitting them all out and found myself panting to catch my breath.

  “I’m… a wolf?”

  Slapping a hand to my forehead, I shook my head. “Shit. I probably should have softened that blow a little bit.”

  Rising to his full height, Reid peered down at his hands, turning them over in cursory inspection. “No, actually… it answers a lot of questions. And yet still leaves me the biggest one hanging. If I can’t shift, I’m still stuck in the only life I know. I appreciate you trying to help, Octavia, but it’s time to face the fact that I’m a lost cause.”

  He started for the door, and I blocked his way with one hand to his chest. The same magnificent chest I saw myself licking and nibbling my way down in some alternate, horny dimension. “It’s not a lost cause. If it’s a ward, it can be broken. Magic in, magic out. Like a gang, but with wands.”

  Spine straightening, a deep rumble reverberated from Reid’s throat. “Shut up.”

  “I get that you’re discouraged, but there’s no reason to be a dick about it.”

  Nostrils flaring, he peered over my head into the darkened gym. “We aren’t alone.”

  Following his gaze, I saw nothing, but heard the faint rattle of something bumping the heavy bag on its chain.

  Three strides were all it took for me to grab hold of one of my swords and unsheathe it. “Now might be a good time to mention I have a crazy stalker that’s been chasing me across the country.”

  “Lock the door behind me. Grab Bacon and hide behind the desk. Do not come out until I come back for you.” As he started for the door, I jogged to catch up.

  Catching his arm, I spun him to face me. “I’m sorry, why is the girl with the sword staying behind?”

  Yanking his arm away, Reid’s face folded into a frown. “I was trying to be chivalrous and protect you—”

  Raising the point of my blade between us, I turned it enough for the light overhead to gleam off its edge. “What gave you the idea I need to be protected?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Fine! We’ll go out together. Should we at least shut the door to keep the pig safe?”

  I glanced b
ack at Bacon, who hopped up onto my cot and turned in three circles before flopping down. “If for no other reason than not to disturb him.”

  Side by side, we crept out into the gym.

  Holding my sword in front of me in a tight, two-handed grip, I side-stepped as quietly as I could. Still, I couldn’t match Reid’s silent glide. Heart hammering against my ribs, I searched the blanketing darkness for signs of movement.

  “Well, well, well, look who’s up and around,” a gruff voice rasped. “And making time with some sweet piece of ass mere hours after being dragged away broken and bloody.”

  The club lights clicked on, sending harsh light stabbing into my eyes. Blinking to focus, I found us surrounded by ten unsavory looking fellas all holding crow bars or baseball bats.

  “Is it too late for me to take you up on that whole hiding in the office thing?” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.

  “Not if I beat you there,” Reid murmured. Then, puffing out his chest, he raised his voice to address the angry horde. “Fellas, I know how this must look—”

  A meaty bald dude in a sleeveless flannel shirt rested his baseball bat across his shoulders and let his hands drape over it. “Is that so? Because it looks to us like you took a dive and walked off with a quarter of a million dollars of our money.”

  “A quarter of a million!” I yelped. It seemed that many zeroes knocked the cool right out of me. “Hell, I’ll let you knock me around for a while for that kind of dough.” When Sleeveless Guy licked his lips at that idea, I quickly amended my claim. “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t know why I said that. I wish I grabbed my second sword.”

  “She’s cute.” Standing closest to the door, a man with salt and pepper hair and a good ‘ole boy smile let his gaze wander the length of me. “Maybe we take what you owe us out of her? What would you say to that, Reid Weston?”

  “If I have a vote, I’d rather fall on my sword,” I interjected on my own behalf.

  If he heard me, Good ‘Ole Boy didn’t let on, but kept his gaze locked on Reid. The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, as if he found this whole situation laughable. “Or should I call you Nicky Talbot? Or Lawrence Blackmoor? See, word has spread about you, kid. You’ve been pulling this same stunt all over the place. But today…” he let the crowbar he held clap against his palm in an open threat, “your luck ran out.”