by Aaron Crash
“Enjoy your little victory. It’s gonna be your last. Next time, nothing will save you. We fucking underestimated you. It won’t happen again.” The guy wheeled and took off through the coffee shop, past the bar, past the cleaning closet, into the back room, and out the rear door.
The cops burst in the front.
Steven yelled, “He’s going out the back way!”
The cops dashed past him.
Steven felt at his chest and his arm. Both throbbed with pain. He wasn’t bleeding, and he couldn’t find the bullet wounds. What the hell?
Steven had to see the wounds. He peeled off his shirt and looked at the skin above his heart. It was red, and yeah, it was going to bruise up like storm clouds, but there wasn’t a hole there. His left arm was the same, red and aching, but unpierced.
Tessa crept into the main room. “Steven, holy shit, are you okay?”
He turned. Embarrassed, he bent and picked up his shirt. There, on the floor, was a crushed bit of lead, the bullet that should’ve destroyed his heart.
Steven quickly pulled his shirt on. “Yeah, I thought he shot me. I mean, he was shooting at you, but then I got in the way. Not that I want you to thank me or anything. I wasn’t a hero.” He bent back down and retrieved the bullet and put it in his pocket.
Tessa crossed to him and hugged him close. “You were a total hero. You fought him off with a mop.”
Her soft curves pressed up against him. The smell of her perfume—lavender dancing with cedarwood—and her body filled his senses. He wasn’t just smelling her, it felt like he was tasting her as well. She felt so good in his arms, she smelled perfect, and he wanted to pull her tighter to him and run his hands through her hair and down her body, feeling her skin on his. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight. After the adrenaline of being shot and fighting off an attacker, he found himself incredibly turned on.
“I told you I have superior mop skills,” he whispered.
The two cops came back in, looking perplexed. One was Hispanic with a big moustache while the other was African-American. Another police cruiser pulled up. The Hispanic officer walked to the door, talking into the radio on his chest.
The African-American had a smartphone out, and he walked over to Steven and Tessa. His last name, Potter, was on his badge. “You two okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”
Steven wanted to ask Potter what it felt like to get shot, and if bullets ever didn’t work. “I’m okay,” Tessa said. “Steven?”
He blinked, trying to figure out what was going on. “Yeah, I’m okay. He must’ve missed me. I mean, if he would’ve shot me, I’d be bleeding and all messed up. But I’m not.”
Potter’s brows furrowed. “We chased him into the back alley, but then he was just … gone. He couldn’t have climbed up the walls. And we would’ve seen him running. It was like he simply flew away. The stink back there was nasty. You guys keep rotting meat in the dumpster?”
“No, just coffee shop trash. Lots of grounds,” Steven said.
Tessa moved from them. “I need coffee to calm my nerves. You guys want some?”
“Yeah, I’ll take some,” Potter said. “You?”
Steven shook his head. He didn’t feel like eating or drinking anything. And he had to get up early for his cafeteria shift in a few hours. It was all so surreal. And it was Bud’s fault. That dickhead should’ve locked the door behind him. Then the masked guy wouldn’t have been able to just burst in like he did.
Steven went and replaced the chairs on the table. He saw the gun. “Officer Potter, I managed to knock his gun out of his hands. Maybe you can use that to figure out who he is.”
Potter snapped on plastic gloves and got out a plastic bag. “Yeah, we can run it for prints and see if it’s registered. I’d be surprised if it is, though. Most likely, I’m thinking this is a run-of-the-mill armed robbery. How much is in the register?”
Tessa answered. “There was a little under two thousand dollars, but we already cleared it and put it in the safe. I don’t have the combination.”
Steven mopped up the scuffles from his fight, which was kind of stupid, but it felt good to be doing something normal after such a fucked-up few minutes.
“What about your boyfriend?” Potter asked.
Steven turned.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tessa said. “But he doesn’t have it either.”
Ouch. Steven winced. Even though he had saved her life, he was clearly still in the friend dungeon, locked away.
The coffee machines chugged to life. Steam and screams of scorching milk filled the air.
Steven found the other bullet that had hit him. He slipped it into his pocket as well.
Potter got their names, checked their IDs, and took full statements.
The other police officer scoured the neighborhood, but the masked man had gotten away. No matter what they said, this hadn’t been a typical robbery. The gunman had come in firing, and from what he had said, he’d come again. But was he aiming for Tessa or for him?
Steven had no idea.
It was a little after three a.m. when he and Tessa finally got the Coffee Clutch closed down. He unlocked his crappy thrift-store bike, then turned to her. “You don’t have any enemies, do you?”
“Enemies?” Tessa shrugged. “There was this one psycho girl I had to dump because she was ultra-insane. But no, I’m pretty chill. How about you? When he came in, I thought for sure he was going to shoot you first. He was staring right at you!”
Steven nodded. “I thought so too. Maybe he thought he’d take you out first as a witness, and then he’d get to me. I don’t know.”
“Me neither,” Tessa said.
Steven frowned. “He’s probably just crazy. While we were fighting, he talked about me staying in my human form. And that mask? He’ll probably get back on his meds, find someone else to bother, or get locked up.”
“I hope so, Steven.” She stepped up and gave him another wonderful hug. “But thank you for saving my life.”
She went to move away, but Steven stopped her. “Let me …” He faltered. “I can walk you home … it’s late. There might be …”
She grinned at him. “No, it’s okay. You have farther to go, and you have to get up in a few hours. I only live a few doors down. I’ll be okay.”
She walked off down the empty sidewalk, and Steven watched her go. Well, that was a complete rejection if there ever was one. Still, he could go after her, tell her how he really felt.
As if that would help. Nope. He was going to be spending another night alone.
۞۞۞
Aria Khat transformed back into her human form. She crouched on the rooftop of the bar across from the coffee shop where Steven Whipp and Tessa Ross were talking. Their faces were painted by the neon lights. Cars flashed down the main avenue even though it was late.
Aria caught the odor of Tessa’s perfume, Steven’s aftershave, and the remnants of their adrenaline. She could also smell their arousal. But Tessa was walking away, and Steven was watching her with mournful eyes.
Was this really the presence she’d sensed? And she hadn’t been the only one. The Prime had sensed it as well and had sent one of his vassals to take care of what could only become a problem for the power-hungry overlord. The vassal had failed. The boy still lived.
Something about this Steven Whipp was different. He reverberated with a power Aria had not felt before. Could this boy help her? Could he solve all her problems?
There was only one way to find out. She had to talk to him, test him, and see if he truly was as powerful as he seemed. It was the only way.
At least in his present state, he would be easy prey for her.
THREE
Steven pedaled his bike down Broadway and felt the back tire get squishy. He’d tried to patch the tire, but the slow leak told him he’d done a crappy job. He’d have to replace the tube, which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it would mean skipping a meal to afford it.
He turned onto his st
reet, big houses, huge trees, an old neighborhood to be sure. Ancient cottonwoods sprouted from the cracked cement of sidewalks. Buds weighed down the branches, waiting for spring to get warmer before they burst open with new leaves. He found the biggest tree on the block, and that was his home.
He biked up to the rambling two-story house where he rented a room on the ground floor, right-side. A bizarre bunch of people lived in the dilapidated home: college students, old people, and half-homeless drug addicts on their way toward rock bottom. At nearly 4 a.m., lights were still on in half the rooms and the thump of music came from the basement, where the party was just beginning. The old people, on the other hand, were just waking up to watch the news.
Steven chained his bike up to the neighbor’s fence. He inhaled the early morning air and wondered if getting three hours of sleep was worth it or if he should just power through the day with energy drinks. A question for the ages.
The smell of cinnamon filled the air, unmissable, warm and sweet. Odd. Were Old Man Yank and his wife making cinnamon rolls?
Footsteps ground on the gravel in the crack of an alley between houses. A slender figure emerged, tall and graceful.
It was Aria Khat, the gorgeous exchange student from his school, who also studied in the Coffee Clutch every now and then. She was wearing a black velvet dress, stockings, and heels. She had a glittering purple scarf capturing her lush hair.
Even in the dim glow of the streetlights, her eyes were emerald-green and gorgeous.
She approached, and her perfume hit him, part exotic scent and part cinnamon.
The amazing woman walked right up to him and took his hand. “Do you know who you are, Steven?” she asked. “Do you know what you are?”
Even at the best of times, Steven had trouble talking to beautiful women. Now, here Aria was asking him the weirdest questions, and his brain was already mush after a long night of violence and Tessa’s complete rejection.
Steven blinked. Her hand was warm and soft in his. And her smell, sweet and sultry all at the same time, frazzled his brain. “Uh, yeah, I’m Steven Whipp. As to what I am?” He shrugged. “College student, poor bastard, and really sleepy.”
Aria frowned at him. “You don’t know. How can that be?” She leaned in closer. “What if I told you that you had almost infinite power in you?”
“Aria, what’s going on?” Steven asked. He’d talked with her before, both in classes and at the coffee shop, and she had seemed normal. He didn’t think she was crazy, but what was her deal?
“The vassal, he attacked you tonight at the Coffee Clutch, right? How did you survive?” she asked, eyes squinted.
Steven found himself looking at her lips while she talked. They were full, red, and kissable. He had to get ahold of himself. Weird shit was going down. “How do you know about that? Are you spying on me? And what’s a vassal?”
Aria’s frown deepened. Those burning green eyes turned sad, then desperate. “I need help, but you might not be able to help me. You don’t know who you are. That, or you don’t remember. But there is something … here.” She pressed her hand against his chest, and the pendant he always wore grew hot on his skin.
It was a little chunk of topaz, hanging on a simple steel necklace. Mystic topaz, or that’s what his mother said. It was one of those things he’d always had—in a cigar box, buried in a junk drawer, or hanging on his bed along with a badge from his most recent comic con and the one tie he had for special occasions. He’d started wearing the topaz pendant regularly after high school. He had no idea where he’d first gotten it. His mother’s memory was terrible about such things, and his father had left town for good after Steven turned sixteen. If you’re a gambler, and if you hit a losing streak, it’s safer to become a moving target.
Aria drew the necklace out of his clothes and touched the pendant. It seemed to glow. No, couldn’t be, just a trick of the light.
“Where did you get this?” Aria asked.
Steven moved back from the strange woman. Yes, she was amazingly beautiful, but she was also asking him odd questions he simply couldn’t answer.
She turned on him and folded her arms across her chest, her hands on her shoulders. She wasn’t pissed off. She was holding onto herself, so sad and so desperate. “You don’t know. You don’t know anything. Yes, I was spying on you, because I thought you were someone, something else. Now I understand you are a mystery, even to yourself.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “My fate is sealed. I’m lost. My masquerade as an American college student failed. And now my life will be as long and as loveless as my mother’s back in Mumbai.”
Anger flashed through Steven. He walked right up to her. “Aria, I have no idea what’s going on, but I want to help. We could call the police, or there’s the counseling office at Metro State. But first, tell me what’s going and why you think I’m involved.”
One good thing about the strange encounter with Aria, it made it clear he wasn’t sleeping that night. Which was why God invented Red Bulls. He’d be okay. He’d done sleepless nights before. Plenty of them.
Aria gazed into his face. That intense look was back in her eyes. “I don’t know where to start, Steven. So I will start with a kiss, to test you. But I must warn you, this kiss might destroy us both. This one kiss might change everything forever. If I am lucky. If you are damned.”
Steven couldn’t believe this was happening to him. A kiss from a beautiful woman? Yeah, that would change his life at least for a few weeks during his alone time with Mr. Fappy and his five-fingered dance-off.
But that wasn’t what she was talking about, and deep down he knew it.
She stepped forward and took his hands in hers. “For whatever reason, you do not know what you are … You could live a normal life, you could be a normal person and avoid the battle and heartache that is the fate of our kind. So, I will give you a choice. You can go into your home and forget this ever happened. Or you can kiss me and embrace your destiny.”
Steven grinned. “Aria, I’ve been a seemingly normal guy all my life. Kissing you, destiny or not, would be my pleasure. And damn the consequences.”
He drew her to him, a bold move, probably the boldest of his life. He was normal, but he’d never felt normal. This was his chance to take a step in an entirely different direction. Yes, this woman was probably completely insane, but maybe she wasn’t. After all, Steven had been shot twice and had the bullets in his pockets. Maybe he was more than just a college student in Denver.
Aria inhaled sharply.
Steven found his next breaths hard to take. His heart pounded, and his thoughts grew muddy. Their faces were so close. He could smell her skin and her breath, cinnamon and musky and deep and dark as chocolate.
She closed her eyes. He studied her face and then leaned in. His lips brushed hers and the sparks inside of him went off like fireworks. He felt electrified, breathless, insane. This was crazy. This kiss was crazy. He couldn’t help but close his eyes at the power of it.
She grabbed his head and pushed his mouth harder onto hers. He tasted her mouth, feeling her wet lips and then her tongue. Bright, something bright enveloped them, and he wanted to look, but her body felt so good pressed up against him. He realized she was trembling, quaking, out of fear or lust or both.
She was gasping, and so was he. The light was getting brighter and brighter, and his skin grew warmer and warmer. There seemed to be a fire inside of him, not in his stomach, but filling his core with raw life. That wonderful heat and the pure pleasure of kissing this stunning, mysterious woman did seem like risking damnation.
She pressed herself harder against him, and while she had one hand on his head, the other went to his ass, and he found Aria straddling his leg while they kissed. She was rubbing herself on his thigh, and he’d never been harder in his life.
This was his first real kiss. The dare in the eighth grade with Kristen Pierce didn’t count. Nor did the spin-the-bottle game with Maggie Maxwell or the two-week “dating” he’d tolerated wit
h Taylor Houlihan, a gamer girl he’d met online.
No, those kisses had meant nothing, had been nothing.
This was a kiss that changed lives.
She was gasping into his mouth. Their bodies were entwined. But Steven knew they both wanted more, to fully join.
That bright light and heat, both inside him and without, was getting more and more intense. Sweat covered him. Every breath became painful, as did every heartbeat. It was like his chest was full of boiling gold.
Too much, too hot, too painful, and yet in that pain was such a wanton joy. It felt like a star about to go supernova, and it felt like a carnival of cotton candy. He wanted to pull back from the kiss even as he wanted to dive deeper into it, rip off her clothes, and take her on the ground under the cottonwood tree above.
The heat burned more, the light grew brighter, and the pain grew stronger until he felt himself consumed by them. He was falling, he was going to topple and bash his skull on the sidewalk. Didn’t happen.
Aria grew in his arms. They weren’t kissing anymore, but whatever she had started wasn’t about to stop. He opened his eyes. All he could see was light exploding out of him. Before he knew it, he was blind, cradled in her arms, and then the sun inside of him exploded. He wanted to escape the pain. He never wanted to leave Aria’s arms. Not ever.
He screamed. His consciousness was plucked away by forces far more powerful than he could ever hope to be.
He woke at some point later, and he knew time had passed, but he wasn’t sure how much. He was in his bed with his fist around the pendant, clutching it tight. His clothes were on, but his shoes were off. He turned and saw Aria sitting in his desk chair by his bookcase and the reading lamp near it.
She was intently poring over a book, but he had no idea which one. He was hit with the desire to get up and at least grab his dirty clothes off the floor and throw them in the laundry basket. He winced. There was a pair of his underwear lying right on top of his jeans. And books, papers, mail, all were jumbled around his small room, which was basically a bed, a desk, a window, a bookcase, a lamp, and a bathroom not much bigger than a closet.
