by Apollo Blake
“The problem?”
“It’s bad,” said Hunter.
“Isn’t it always?” I muttered, but they ignored me.
“Sky and I initiated a bond—”
“A Charmer bond?”
“Yes, and—”
Penn looked sick. “Well. That’s. . .that’s a lot. I might need to sit down.”
“You need to listen. The bond hasn’t settled yet, but we’ve only got two days left, three, at the most, before it does. And then it’s forever. We need to find a way to break it and we need to do it without alerting Crayton to it’s existence.”
At that, Penn’s eyes snapped up, like she’d realized something. “Crayton is—”
“A very resourceful seeker of both information and people,” said a voice from the shadows. “And if anyone outside of the two of you knows about the bond, chances are he does too. If he doesn’t, he will soon enough.”
I followed the voice, and sure enough, there was Jackson, standing in the dark. And I was the drama queen?
His eyes, a darker blue now than they’d been before, flashed in the low light, and I got the impression that he’d been hovering there, listening in on us, for some time. Dreadlocks had slipped back to the bar without attracting much attention while we spoke with Penn—it would have been easy enough for him to do the same in the opposite direction.
“About time,” I said, watching his face. “You’re late for the party.”
“And I do love a good party.” He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the club around him to illustrate his point even further. “But I don’t think now is exactly the time, do you?”
“Nope,” I said. “I think now is the time for me to ask what the hell you even are.”
He tossed his head back and laughed, just once. “I,” he said, “am an Incubus. And you are a delight.”
“I’ve heard that before. What’s an Incubus?”
“A type of Charmer.” I was surprised to hear it was Penn who answered, and looked back to find her staring at her boss wearily, as if she wasn’t sure if it was okay for her to explain. He didn’t say anything, so she went on, “Incubi feed on emotion and dreams and. . .well, on sex. It’s why Jackson bought the club: it’s full of both.”
“Sex?” I asked, turning back to him. “You feed on sex?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Interested?” Behind me, Hunter took a single step forward, as if reminding us of his presence, and Jackson laughed again. “Are you sure you want to break the bond? From here it looks like you’re enjoying it all too much.”
I glanced back to see Hunter was glaring like he was ready to throw down, and moved between the two of them.
“We’re in a hurry,” I told Jackson. “I don’t have the time—or the interest—to stand here and flirt with you.”
That was a lie, of course. I could flirt with anyone. It was one of my greatest strengths.
“Well I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” he said. “Charmer bonds are incredibly rare. Nobody knows much about them, let alone how to break them. It would take a very powerful blast of magik, one would assume.” His eyes flashed. He met Hunter’s eyes over my head, and I cursed my shortness again. People were always looking over me. “And then there’s the matter of—”
He cut himself off, shaking his head. When he looked back, his expression was unreadable.
“I told you the other night before you led those idiots onto my doorstep that I couldn’t help you with this. It’s out of my hands. He’s too powerful.”
“This isn’t about fighting Crayton,” Hunter said.
Wait—fighting Crayton? That’s why he was here the other night? Total death wish.
“Then what is it about?” Jackson motioned between the two of us. “This? Breaking the bond? Why would you want to? If you can share powers between the two of you then you might actually have a chance of taking down dear old dad. Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting for? Why you haven’t left this city and let him rot here?”
For a second, Jackson’s words didn’t process. And then they did. They did, and it felt like someone had crammed two puzzle pieces together that fit, but only at an off-kilter, skewered angle. I took a half-step away from Hunter, turning to face him. I could see the answer in his gaze the minute his eyes met mine, but I had to ask anyway.
“Crayton is your father?”
Jackson spoke before Hunter could. “You didn’t know?” He sounded oddly delighted by the idea, like it was the most perfect joke. “Oh yeah, your boyfriend’s got daddy issues.”
I whipped around. “You’re about to have some issues, if you don’t shut the hell up. Can you help us break the bond or not?”
“I can give you a drink and some Starbursts,” he said, “and some fashion advice.”
“Do you even listen to yourself half the time?”
He’s wearing a Misfits T-shirt, for crying out loud!
Jackson smirked like my outburst hadn’t phased him. He didn’t realize I was officially done playing games here. “Of course. My own voice is my favourite, so—”
“I asked a yes or no question. I don’t want fun facts about your narcissism. Can. You. Help. Us. Or. Not?”
His grin dropped. “I can’t.”
I turned to leave. It was time to get the hell out of here and figure out a real game plan. I was done fucking around. I had an actual life to sort out, outside of magik and boys and danger. A living situation to sort out and a career to kickstart and a million questions that had to be answered, a list that only grew longer the more time went on. I was on my own now; it was time to grow up and get shit done.
But I couldn’t. Because I was stuck here, in fantasy land, with Charmers and Incubi and so many head games.
We had to break this bond. Not tomorrow, not in a day or two.
Now.
“I can’t let you go, either.”
I stopped. Hunter met my eyes and my own confusion was mirrored there. I turned back to the Incubus reluctantly. He stood with his arms crossed, leaning calmly against one of the square pillars that looks like it was as much for decor as it was for keeping the ceiling up.
Penn stood between us and him, an uneasy link. She looked like she’d realized she stood on thin ice and was watching cracks spread across it.
“Let us?” said Hunter. “You don’t let us do anything. If you can’t help us, we’re leaving.”
End of story.
Jackson wasn’t phased. He shrugged. “We’ll see about that. You know, Hunter—I was willing to undermine your father when I thought it was safe. But Crayton’s men nearly killed my entire staff last night. They stopped, at the last minute—a warning. He won’t pass on the execution, next time. I’m lucky he didn’t set fire to the place. And half those workers quit on me. You know how paranoid the old man is. And if he finds out I saw you again, that you walked into my place like it was nothing and I just let you just slip away? Without even trying to collect you for him?
“Crayton would kill me. He would put me down without a second thought.” He shook his head. “You know it as well as I do. He doesn’t tolerate threats. I might risk myself, but not my staff.”
“I do know it,” said Hunter. “I also know that if he gets his hands on me he’ll drain away my abilities until there’s nothing left of me but an empty husk. And that’s nothing compared to what he’d do to a liesmith, who he’d be able to track through the bond.”
I felt a chill go through me at the idea of my ability being torn away. As much I hated it, as much as I’d wished to ordinary—the idea was like an electric shock. It would be like having a piece of my soul ripped away from me and swallowed whole.
“It’s not happening,” I said, balling my fists.
Hunter nodded in the direction of the bar. “And what about her?” he said, and I followed the gesture to find Dreadlocks perched on the edge of the bar. “You have a rogue Reaper holed up in this bar, serving drinks. How would they feel if they knew where their little runaway was? It
would only take one call. . .I’m sure Ian would be more than happy to see his partner again, aren’t you?”
Dreadlocks actually growled, deep in her throat. Her eyes turned pale as she leaned forward, like the boy I’d seen wandering lost in the bazaar.
But she didn’t look lost. She was poised to rip out someone’s throat.
“You also know as well as I do that if the Reapers were planning to do anything about your father, they’d have done it by now.”
“I guess I do.” Hunter sounded resigned.
Jackson’s smile had fallen away now, and he really did look regretful, like this was going to be more painful for him than it was for us.
I wanted to smack the sympathy right off of his face.
I wanted to smack Hunter, for lying.
And myself for not seeing it.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Jackson’s employees easing out of the shadows, closer to the action. Preparing to jump us. Penn looked like she was about to spontaneously combust, and I could see the ideas spinning through her eyes like the panels of a slot machine.
“Stay out of this Penn. These guys would wreck you,” I advised, and she looked offended.
Half of me didn’t want to see her get hurt, and the other half simply couldn’t stand to see which side she would take, if it wasn’t mine.
“He’s right,” Jackson said. “Stand back, Penn. It isn’t worth your life—and this is about to turn very, very messy.” I was surprised he even cared what happened to her, and he must have seen it. “See,” he said, “we can see eye to eye.”
I spat at him. “I’m not interested in seeing your eyes—just ripping them out of your skull.”
He shook his head, the ghost of a grin flashing over his features, before he beckoned his employees forward. “Grab them,” he said, and they sprang at us like a pack of dogs.
I felt power rush through the bond as Hunter threw up his arms, lunging forward to meet our attackers. Penn dove for cover, taking our advice and vaulting smoothly over the bar.
“Get behind me!” Hunter shouted. I had no such plans.
“Fuck that!”
I latched onto the energy bursting between us, felt it flood through my body the way I’d only sensed so many times before. It was nothing close to the feel of an untruth setting me off—it was as if I’d injected pure adrenaline into my veins, like I’d just been electrocuted and the energy was cracking through me, too powerful to handle. My heart raced in my chest, my shoulders tilted back. I felt as if the power was lifting me off the ground, my mind spinning.
Except I could handle it. It was part of me, because it was part of Hunter, and he was part of the bond. Even though it wasn’t mine, I could have it.
I felt it pulse between us like a live wire, and I threw my hands up, fast and sloppy.
It worked.
The couch I’d focused on jerked into the air and flew at Jackson, a blur of motion. He stayed where he was, watching, leaning against the pillar, and I realized I’d hit it with too much force—it was veering off of course, and it was going to miss him.
At the last minute, Jackson looked me in the eye, winked—
And stepped into the path of the projectile on purpose.
It slammed into him and kept going, propelled forward by the sheer force of my magik. The blast of telekinesis sent back of wave of heat that blew my hair out of my face.
Jackson was knocked right across the room. He hit the floor and rolled, the sofa crashing into the wall over his head.
I was aware of the figures being tossed around me like rag dolls, but it took a second for it all to come into focus. Hunter was fighting them all off at once. Dreadlocks backed into me in the chaos, and almost without thinking I grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her, snaking my ankle around hers to trip her from behind. She hit the ground with a jolting thud, and I blasted her away with another push of telekinesis. It came easily now, a flood of power surging.
I was drunk on the magik and reveling in the fight. I’d never been one for violence, but I could hold my own in a scrap. Now I felt punch drunk with the rush of it all.
This was what I needed—the thud as I hit someone, the satisfaction as I watched Hunter flinging our enemies around.
Fuck them. Fuck every last one of them.
The sounds of the fight filled me with sharp, violent pleasure. Let chaos take over for a while.
And then I was being grabbed from the side and dragged away. Hunter pulled me to the door. A guy with elaborate tattoos of barbed wire on his face lunged at us. Hunter punched him out of the way and the guy literally flew to the side, as if he’d been hit by a truck. Hulk smash! Using his distraction, I brought my hands up and pushed.
Another hot blast of telekinesis kicked up warm air. My viewpoint narrowed down to movement and force and impact. I ripped the metal door off of its hinges, ignoring its metallic screech of protest. The sound rang in my ears, and the door flew out into the street. In the distance, a horn honked, and then there was a sound like an impact, and glass shattering.
Bad day for driving, folks.
Hunter pushed me forward again. I would hit him for it later—now I lunged for the sunlight. Cold air hit my skin, the smell of cigarette smoke and autumn air. There was a tiny pause of relief, and then we were bolting down the street, wind pulling at my hair. I squinted into the sunlight, eyes trained on Hunter’s back as he passed me.
I looked back once as we ran. The club door had landed against a parked truck across the narrow street, smashing the glass of the windows before falling over in the road to block traffic in that direction.
Hope Penn’s alright, I thought before I shoved myself after Hunter.
“You lied to me!”
His voice caught in the wind, almost incoherent. It sounded like he was saying “Not now!”
We had to get out of here. He yanked me across the street, narrowly avoiding a collision with a white truck, and then we were racing up the hill, towards the hospital. Except Hunter was stopping. What the fuck, dude?
We were standing beside a god-awful brown station wagon, and Hunter was looking at it like it was our salvation. Was he thinking of—yup.
I watched him bring his hand to the door and twitch his fingers. The lock popped.
“We can’t steal a hotter getaway car than this? Really?”
Hunter didn’t answer; he opened the door, slid in, and pulled me after him.
“God, you’re touchy.” I slammed the door shut and hit the lock while he shoved himself over the center console and fiddled the the wheel and dash, fingers fluttering.
I would have to ask him to teach me this hijacking shit sometime.
In the rear-view mirror I could see the blur of the black Temptation uniform as a pursuer rushed after us, and I looked sharply at Hunter. It was the Reaper.
“Get us out of here!”
“Hold on!” He warned just before the car jolted to life. I had no idea how he’d done it, but he had—he slammed on the gas and we sped down the street. Hunter leaned over the wheel, intent on the road as we sped in and out of traffic, in the direction of the causeway.
“Jesus!”
Behind us, the figures giving chase faded into black specks as we left Union behind. I felt myself start to breathe again, and looked at Hunter hunched over the wheel. The liar responsible for our escape.
“If you don’t slow down someone is going to call the cops.” I said.
My mind was a pinwheel of thoughts spinning too fast to focus on.
Why had Jackson let that couch hit him? He’d basically allowed us to escape.
And Crayton. Crayton was. . . .
“I have wards around us,” Hunter said, “I’ve tailored them so mortals won’t be able to see us, or the car.”
“Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”
He looked over at me for a second, gaze darkening. “To break this damn bond,” he said, and hit the gas harder.
ESCAPE
“They got away.” It was not a question.
Behind him, silence.
He could feel her fear, this creature of the night. As if she stood before a viper that could leak its venom into her veins and watch her burn from the inside out with a single look.
Immortal, but young. Powerful.
That power, so poorly contained and unmastered, such as hers, could be dangerous. He may have to kill this one, later. He wasn’t fond of the idea, but he’d seen the looks she spared at the others occasionally, judgemental and assessing. Yes, this one definitely would have to die. Too ambitious for her own good. But hopefully today would not be that day.
