JINXED: (Karma Series, Book Two)

by Donna Augustine

  It hadn’t been easy, either. I wasn’t in top form, these days; I’d only made it out by sheer force of will.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to pinpoint the pain. Towards the end of the fight, the blows were coming from every direction, but I’d stopped noticing them. I’d gone from conscious choices and maneuvers to pure instinct, blocking out everything—including pain—that I didn’t immediately contribute to my survival.

  Even my memory of the fight seemed hazy now, as if I had stepped outside of myself in those moments. Now, I was definitely back in my body, and it was telling me a pretty gruesome story of what had happened.

  I was covered in blood, and more than a healthy amount of it was mine. Everything hurt, but I had to prioritize. Staunching the bleeding before it stole my consciousness needed to come first.

  It was a new moon, making the evening even darker. That wasn’t normally a problem anymore, except for the black spots floating around my vision. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and ran my hands along my body. I’d sprung a bad leak somewhere, and I didn’t want to wait for the puddle to form before I found it.

  My lungs didn’t want to work either, and there was a sharp pain near my ribs. I tried to think back to a first aid class I’d taken. ABC: airway, breathing, circulation. My airway was clear, but my breathing was getting rough. That trumped finding the leak.

  I ran a hand over the spot and found the source of the breathing and the bleeding. I had a stab wound and perhaps a collapsed lung? I put my palm over it. Needed to maintain the integrity of the chest cavity, or I wouldn’t be able to breathe at all, soon.

  Oh no, this wasn’t going to be the end. There was no way I was going to let myself die in the woods while Malokin and Luke walked off. With determination, I groped around in the dirt and twigs, feeling for my phone. If I could call for a door, the guards would get me help. It didn’t matter if they dropped me in the middle of the office, a bloody mess. I came up with nothing but branches.

  No, I hadn’t gone through all this crap to end up bleeding out in the dirt. I tried to push myself up. My car was a mile away. I could get there. I’d lie here for a few minutes and then I’d drag my body there, inch-by-inch, if that’s what it took.

  I heard a branch snap in the distance and then a rustle of leaves. Someone was approaching and quickly. Had someone been waiting for the guys’ return? If they came looking, they’d see the bodies and then find me. I hadn’t had the energy to hide them but left them in the middle of the clearing for all to see.

  I tried to pull my legs in closer but that meant being able to use the muscles in my abdomen. It didn’t appear to be an option.

  Dragging my body onto my stomach with my good arm, I made it a couple more inches into the brush and stopped. It was too noisy. I was better off lying still and hoping the dark shielded me.

  A hand flipped me over. Before I could let out a scream—or attempt to, depending on how much air I could get into my lungs—I saw Fate looming over me.

  “What happened?” His voice was cold, clinical. His hand lay over mine, where I was trying to keep the air from entering my chest cavity. “Never mind. Don’t talk. Just keep your hand there. Nod if you can do that?”

  I nodded. Something about him being here, right now when I needed him, made me want to break down, but I didn’t. Even still, the relief was staggering.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Paddy.” His eyes met mine. “Stop talking.”

  “I’m not in good shape,” I said, as it weren’t obvious.

  “I thought I told you to stop talking. And you’re not going to die. I won’t let you.” There was no softness in his tone. It was more of an order, and it tripped a switch in my brain. Why did I feel like I remembered this? It was right there, a memory just out of reach. “You’ve said that before. When?”

  “You really don’t listen well. Stop talking.”

  I didn’t have the energy or breath in my lungs to argue.

  One arm lifted my shoulders while his other went beneath my knees. I bit my cheek to stop myself from crying out.

  “I know it hurts. Just hang in there.” His voice was soft against my ear.

  He took off at a run with me in his arms. It hurt, but I didn’t say anything. I could see a set of doors looming in the distance and knew it wouldn’t be long.

  He paused just before he went through, to speak to the guards. “Nothing. Not a word, or you’ll wish all you had were dings in your armor.”

  It stunned me. I could get my head around him keeping me alive, but why was he protecting me, when he knew I was probably working with the very people he was seeking? It was a fleeting thought before we were moving and the pain drove it out.

  “Will protect her.” Their voices rang out deeply, sending vibrations through me. It was the longest thing I’d ever heard them say.

  We were through the doors and climbing the steps to his house the next minute.

  “My condo.” Those two words were all the protest I was capable of at the moment. It shouldn’t have mattered, but I felt vulnerable already, and coming here seemed to magnify that feeling.

  He ignored me as he walked into his house and into his bedroom. He laid me on his bed and started making calls. I lay there and wondered if I did survive this, was the cat so far out of the bag that I’d be the walking dead anyway? How far over the line could I go before someone would step in and say “enough?”

  Paddy had sent Fate to get me. He knew what was happening, but how much? Would he try and kill me now? But why help me first?

  No amount of pain could distract me from how bad this looked. Fate had seen the dead men. That was definite. He’d had to step over them when he carried me from the scene. Neither of them had been slated for death. If they had, the Universe would’ve been a little more helpful. As Fate, he’d know this. He knew when most people were going to die. The only salve to my conscience on that was they’d all been evil men, with sallow, ugly auras, but it was a blatant rationalization.

  I turned to locate Fate and see how bad the condemnation in his eyes would be. He’d already disappeared out of the room. When he came back, he had scissors, plastic wrap, tape and gauze in his hand.

  He placed the items on the bed next to me but wouldn’t look at my face. He started to cut my shirt open and panic ripped through me. If he couldn’t look at me now, what would happen when he really saw?

  “No.” I grabbed his hand with my free one.

  “Stop,” he said, pushing my hand away and finally looking at me. “I’ve got to bandage it.”

  His face was closed off, not even the smallest sign of what he might be thinking.

  He started cutting again. There would be no pretending after this. Not that he’d believed my lies before but having the proof written all over my flesh, which was about to tell its very ugly secrets, was worse.

  I closed my eyes and waited as I heard the scissors work their way through what was left of my shirt. When the sides were laid open, and he said nothing, I thought it was safe. Maybe I didn’t look as bad as I thought. It wasn’t like I was looking at myself every day in the mirror. I’d taken to getting dressed and then assessing the exposed flesh for evidence. Maybe I didn’t look too bad?

  I opened my eyes and looked down. Even from a limited vantage point, my entire torso was a mish mash of bruises in all different shades. There were healing cuts, with fresh scabs crisscrossing in some places, and newly formed scars in other spots.

  Fate said nothing. The proof was clearly before him but still not a word or a look. If I’d been working in unison with the Universe, I never would’ve been injured like this. My past deeds screamed out their guilt in a rainbow of injuries.

  He kept working, wrapping the wound that was affecting my breathing and disinfecting other areas. The only sign he was angry was his refusal to make eye contact with me again.

  “You need to tend these wounds better. You aren’t immortal.” His voice had an edge in it that raised my own
ire.

  This was the condemnation I’d expected, finally leaking out. Who was he to cast judgment?

  “You’re hardly innocent yourself. If you find this so objectionable, then you don’t need to help me.” I tried to push off the bed, but he pressed my shoulders back down.

  He hovered over me, where I was pinned to the bed. “I’m mad because you’re in over your head and currently too stupid to realize it. How long do you think you can keep this up?” He stared at me, waiting.

  As long as Kitty was alive, I couldn’t answer that question. “Why don’t you ask Paddy what’s going on?” I wasn’t sure if it was anger or desperation that spurred me to say it. It was probably a combination, as they were both overwhelming me lately. I never should’ve said a word though, not with all the ears listening.

  Something shifted in his expression and he backed up. Perhaps he had asked Paddy already. What did he know? The worst thing about it was I couldn’t ask. If he told me, they’d know as well.

  “Whoah, someone’s been busy.” Cutty was standing in the doorway. His eyes immediately took in my mostly exposed torso. He whistled low. “You aren’t looking so hot,” he continued. “Someone in this room hasn’t been playing by the rules. I say we all get one guess who that might be.” He cleared his throat loudly and jerked his head repeatedly toward me.

  Who knew Cutty could have a sense of humor? I guessed he was one of those people who became funnier as the situation worsened. It was a relief, since the tension in the room had been reaching an unbearable level.

  Fate stood and backed away from the bed. “I’ve got the worst wound bandaged, but she needs some stitching. You’re better at it.” He pointed to the supplies he’d placed close by.

  Cutty came and took a seat next to me on the bed and pulled out a flask. “Here, take a good swig.” Cutty pushed the container toward me. “Although I’d say the stitches are going to be the least of your pains. Probably won’t even notice, looking at the rest of you.”

  “No, I’ll get you something better.” Fate grabbed the flask and disappeared for a minute while Cutty was figuring out which cut to tackle first.

  “Here, it’s Maker’s Mark,” Fate said, when he came back holding out a glass.

  I took it and gulped liberally as Cutty started to sew up one of the gashes on my side.

  “You’re a tougher chick than I gave you credit for,” Cutty said, obviously impressed I wasn’t crying like a total baby.

  I wanted to, though.

  “Too tough,” Fate added. “Stay with her. I’ll be back.”

  The second Fate walked out of the bedroom, Cutty leaned in closer and asked in a soft voice, “What the hell is going on? You’re a wreck and he looks like he’s about to kill someone.”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re really going to lie here and say nothing?” He raised a hand and made a sweeping gesture over my dilapidated form.

  “Can you at least tell me why he’s so pissed off?” His head bent over my torso as he resumed stitching. “Least you can do, I think, considering I didn’t duct tape you to the chair and now I’m stitching you up better than a Build-a-Bear.”

  “I have no idea why he’s mad.” And in truth, I didn’t. It wasn’t like he played by the rules, so to be angry with me for not playing by them as well was simply hypocritical. Hell, he didn’t even believe in rules, by his own admission. Why he felt like he was in charge of what I was doing was beyond my reasoning, as well.

  There was a crash in the other room, and both of our heads swung around. After the next crashing sound, Cutty’s eyes met mine. “Seriously, what the hell did you do?”

  “Maybe you should go in there and make sure he’s okay?” And buy me some time to sneak out of here. I was held together by tape, string and plastic wrap, but it was enough. The longer I stayed here, the worse it would be. I needed to keep my distance from them. Everything that happened in front of me, Malokin would know. Every word that might be said could endanger someone else. No one realized the threat I posed to them.

  “Fuck no. You did this. You check on him,” Cutty said, but there was no anger in his words.

  Another crash. What the hell was he doing in there?

  “What if he’s hurt?” I had to get Cutty out of here so I could leave as well.

  “The only one that’ll get hurt is me, if I get in his way.” Cutty met my eyes, humor fading into something more serious. “Really, what’s going on between you two? Fate doesn’t get like this.”

  “Nothing. He just gave me a ride.”

  He tied off another knot and placed the needle beside the bed. His eyes went to the door, back to me, and then he shook his head. “Not good. I was worried about this.”

  “What?” I was curious and defensive all at once. I could feel the blame for something heading my way.

  He looked at me. “You know, for a bright girl, you can be awfully stupid.”

  “I don’t understand.” What was Cutty seeing that I didn’t?

  “I hope whatever this is between you two doesn’t fuck with the rest of us.” Cutty stood up and started walking out.

  “That isn’t because of me, and it’s not my problem.” I almost added that his friend was a control freak and just didn’t like being out of the loop. If I did, I’d have to explain what loop he was out of, and I certainly didn’t want to go there.

  He threw his hands up into the air. “I can’t talk to you if you’re going to be this much of an idiot.”

  “Huh?” He just kept walking out. I pushed up off the bed to try and follow him. My head immediately started to swim and not from blood loss. Someone had taken perfectly good Maker’s Mark and spiked it on me.

  Chapter 27

  On my own.

  The morning light was shining in my eyes, as I lay on Fate’s bed, alone. Looking next to me, I could tell I’d had company at some point. The spot beside me was wrinkled, like someone had slept on top of the covers.

  I ran a hand over the wound on my ribs, which was freshly wrapped. I gave my lungs a try and got a fulfilling sensation deep in my chest. Well, deep might have been stretching it, but I could breathe, so who was I to complain?

  The t-shirt I was wearing came almost to my knees and smelled of Fate. He’d already seen me naked, so it shouldn’t have been a big thing. And yet, it was. It didn’t help that my legs were a mishmash of bruises and cuts.

  It shouldn’t matter. It couldn’t.

  I shoved it from my mind with the force of a Mac truck barreling down a highway. I didn’t have room for softness or worrying about what Fate thought.

  The only sound in the house was the AC churning out cool air and the distant pounding of waves coming from the beach. Empty. Good.

  I needed to get out of here before Fate got back and the questions commenced. Swinging my good leg over the side of the bed first, I dragged the bad one after it and limped over to his dresser.

  His top right drawer held a nice supply of sweat pants. I grabbed the first pair I saw and rolled them up to accommodate my shorter stature.

  Still silent, almost too much so. Why wasn’t the phone ringing? Close proximity to Fate usually warranted a couple warning rings, at the very least.

  I moaned. That might be because my phone was buried in a mud pile somewhere. Wal-Mart was going to get their money’s worth out of me in throwaway phone purchases, and I was going to need a raise from someone. Two different employers and I was still poor. Something was very wrong with this picture.

  Realizing I had nothing else with me, my hands felt bare. All of my possessions had been left scattered in the forest last night. I was going to have to go digging around the condo complex for my stashed keys, not to mention I was going to have to limp to get there.

  Peeking around the corner, the house appeared empty but a complete mess. Piles of glass sat under stains on the wall. A hutch lay on its face, shades torn from the windows. I tiptoed past the mess and was almost to the door when I heard him come up behind me. Not so
empty, I guess.

  My body froze but I didn’t turn around. The front door was only a few feet away, taunting me with the small distance. A couple of steps more and I would’ve been gone.

  I should’ve known better. Fate never made things that easy. Everything about him was complicated. Even if it started simple, it didn’t stay that way.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m sorry, did you miscalculate how much you spiked my drink?” I said, sugary sweet as I turned to face him.

  “Actually, I did. If I could’ve trusted you to rest for a while, it wouldn’t have been necessary,” he countered, clearly not feeling the least bit shamed by his actions.

  “I’ve got a job.” I started walking forward, but I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. I opened the door and he slammed it shut, leaving his hand firmly against it as he stood by my side. He was so close his chest pressed against my shoulder.

  “Who are you working for today? You’re not going anywhere until we talk.”

  I wanted to scream in frustration. I can’t talk! I kept my eyes forward and stared at where his hand was splayed against the rich dark wood. It might as well have been iron bars, under my current physical condition. He needn’t try so hard to keep me in.

  My fake composure slipped on like someone else threw on a raincoat. Bracing myself for the suspicion I’d find in his eyes, I turned to face him. “Sure. What’s up?”

  It was worse than I’d expected. He wasn’t just suspicious, there was worry in his eyes, and it threatened to chip away at the wall I’d erected around myself.

  “You’re a mess. There’s barely an inch of unmarked skin on you.” He sounded almost violent when he said it, but there was something raw there too.

  It made me think of the other day, in my condo, and my breathing sped up and my palms grew damp. When he was like this, my body responded to him without any consent from me.

  Every line of him, the tilt of his head, the way his eyes stared at me; he was alive like no one I’d ever encountered. There’s no way that his life force could have ever squeezed itself into a mortal husk.