by Lucy Auburn
Our Mark has a cruel, twisted face, slashed through the chin with a scar and empty of all humanity. It's not a surprise to me that he's a serial killer—he looks like exactly the kind of man you'd usher your kids away from on the street. Unlike those supposedly heartthrob murderers no one expected to turn out to be monsters, Lionel Copenhagen most definitely has the face of a man who makes you put the lotion on its skin, then peels that skin from your body and turns it into a suit.
And he's headed directly towards us. We don't have long before he's close enough to the shed to see all five of us—and there isn't any cover close enough to run into. If we don't act now, he'll find us, and we'll probably wind up in his freezer between the pork butt and the cow brains.
It's starting to feel like Headmaster Shu sent us down this road to get rid of us. I know I'm supposed to be some badass Brutus, and the guys are supposed to power me up if nothing else, but it feels more like we're five awkward grad students kneeling behind an old shed. Each of us has an ability that lets us kill, and training in combat—even if mine has barely been a toe dip in the pond of fighting—yet we're still on the defensive here.
So, as Lionel heads directly towards us, I think fast. And do the only thing that I can: reaching out my awareness, I yank on the few bright spots of energy I feel perched on the power lines. A dozen birds rouse to my powers, and I push anger into them, trying to direct them towards Lionel's head. They stir slowly, the message barely getting through to their bird brains. I'm not sure it'll work.
"What's that?" Lionel is frowning and staring at a footprint in the melted snow near the shed, narrowing his eyes. Raising his voice, he calls out, "If you're thinking of robbing me, best not. I'm armed."
There's thirst in his eyes, though, and I get the sense that he'd love nothing more than to kill someone trespassing on "his" property. This is not a man to face off with all willy-nilly—we should've come up with a better plan, but the guys were all bickering or jealous or sad. Now here we are, in over our heads, all because of stupid lust.
Mason loosens a knife from the sheath on his back, one palm at his side, ready to distract Lionel with his illusions and stab him if he gets the chance.
Raising his free hand, Levi takes a deep breath and centers himself, ready to drain the very life from Lionel's body—hopefully fast enough to take him down permanently.
Narrowing his eyes, Grayson prepares his powers, but I get the sinking feeling our Mark doesn't have the kind of simple head it's easy for him to infiltrate. And if he feels Grayson inside his mind, he'll go on the attack.
Wyatt... well, Wyatt doesn't need to do anything to prepare his strength. Moving around to the other side of the shed, he crouches with his fists tightened, prepared to absolutely pummel someone to death. I'd like to see him try—if it weren't for the fact that Lionel killed the last, far more experienced assassin to come for him.
Certain that we're not ready for a face off, I push my mind towards the birds, and lend them my frantic fear. They rouse slowly, then dive off the power line, screaming in rage. Lionel, stalking towards us, crouches and shouts as they fly straight for his head. Their squawks and shrieks ring out, and he spins around, trying to get rid of them.
"Let's get out of here, quick—while he's distracted."
I rise to my feet, tugging Grayson and Levi with me. Both come reluctantly—I can see the thirst in their eyes, the desire to kill again. Wyatt follows us out into the woods, but Mason is slower, backing up with his eyes on Lionel, who's still distracted by the birds.
For a moment I think that we're not going to make it. Fast-walking with my hands connected to two men is tough. So when one drops away and I find myself able to go much faster, I'm relieved for a second.
Until I hear crashing through the snow and realize that loudass fucking Levi is heading right back for Lionel.
Spinning on my heel, I stare at him as he runs right out of cover and past the shed, getting the killer's attention almost immediately. At my side, Grayson curses up a storm, while Mason freezes.
"Should we go after him?"
"I w-w-will."
Wyatt runs, his big legs pumping as he follows closely on Levi's heels. I hang back, uncertain what to do: rush in and use my powers, or stay here with Grayson, who won't be able to run away without me, and Mason, who could die from a simple wound. As Lionel pulls a gun and shoots at Levi once—missing—and the poisoner raises his hand to twist the life force out of our Mark, I want nothing more to join in, but I don't know how when it'll cause so much pain and anguish.
"I'm not a coward, and I'm not going to hold anyone back." Grayson rips his hand over mine, his face shuttering closed as he takes a painful step forward and narrows his eyes at Lionel. "Run away if you want, Ellen, but I'm not leaving that dumbass to face the Mark on his own."
"Neither am I."
As Mason rushes into battle, I realize I've been acting like a fool. The truth is, I never expected to care about the guys—there's a reason why I've been calling them the Fuckfaces. But I do care, which is why it's scary to embrace us risking our lives together.
The thrill of the hunt rises in me, though, and I feel unimaginable rage when I think about all the people Lionel tortured and killed. There's a reason why he went after sex workers, all of them female: those are the kind of people society doesn't look for when they go missing. Cops barely investigate their murders. And if I hadn't defended myself against Jack, I could've wound up one of those women very easily.
As the rage fills me, it's suddenly easy to lunge forward and catch up with the others. Levi is facing off against Lionel, bringing him to his knees as he drains his life. For a moment it looks like he won't even need any help at all. My heart soars, even as I prepare a blast of my force field for Lionel.
But Lionel isn't getting to his feet. He doesn't even get out of the way when Wyatt punches him in the face, making blood fly. We've finally got him cornered.
"Almost there," I tell Levi, coaxing him on. "Want any help from me, or want to do this on your own? I can—"
"He can shapeshift," Grayson calls out, gritting his teeth as he approaches us. "He can escape! So why isn't he?"
A point I hadn't thought of before. I just sent a dozen birds flying at Copenhagen's head, and he hasn't shifted into one of their forms and flown away, even as Levi takes enough spiritual energy from him to make him look far older.
As his creepy blue-green eyes snap up to mine, his pupils dilated despite the pain he should be in, I realize with horror that he's got something up his sleeve. The closer Levi paces towards him, hand up as he drains energy, the more Lionel's mouth curls. When Wyatt reaches down to grab his collar and rough him up, he practically beams with pleasure. And as Mason draws two knives and advances on him, trying to tap into his emotions to build an illusion for him to die inside, our Mark looks positively giddy.
He wants us near him.
So I throw my hands up and scream, "Get back!"
My force field rolls out of my palms, impossibly powerful. It pushes at the guys, throwing Levi to the side, sending Mason flying away from Copenhagen, and even making strong, powerful Wyatt windmill back a few steps.
Just in time, too, because the moment my mouth opens to warn the guys, Copenhagen makes his move.
He doesn't turn into an animal, though.
Apparently, like me, he has more than one Affinity at his cruel fingertips. Because as he somehow gathers together energy like a bright sun or a star in the sky, glowing enough to make me wince, and pushes it all out in a tight destructive ball around him.
The sphere of his power only reaches out about five feet, though, and thankfully I managed to get Levi and Mason out of the way. Wyatt is close enough to get scorched. The sound of his voice crying out in pain as the skin on his hand bubbles and burns is enough to make me see red.
As soon as the light of Lionel's powers dissipates, I'm rushing at him, my force field ready to go. But he's already gone. I look for him in the grass, searching for
a sign of a mouse scurrying away or a snake slithering at my feet, but there's nothing. He just disappeared.
Probably for good this time.
"Fuck. We almost had him and—shit. No wonder he took out Maher. And killed all those prostitutes in that massacre in South Africa. We'll never be able to pull this one off."
Levi's voice echoes my own thoughts, but I rush to Wyatt instead of dwelling on them. "Are you okay? That burn looks pretty bad."
He's cradling his injured hand in the other, mouth twisted in pain. "M-medic." Closing his eyes, he takes in a deep breath through his nose. "It w-will... heal."
"Maybe I can try what I did with Mason—"
Grayson shakes his head, joining us with his cane. "There's no time. And we have this now, unlike before." He twists the silver cap off the top of his cane and shows me a black gem underneath it. "The Black Serpent took more than just my sword when he took my cane—I have a summoning stone for the Realm Doors. We don't need the headmaster's dispensation to get him home. Let's just go now, before that gets worse."
No wonder he was able to catch up with me the other week when I went off on my own. We're supposed to go back to where we caught our ride in to get back, or call the headmaster's emergency line. Otherwise the doors have a tendency to be... finicky. But with a twist of his cane, Grayson is able to make them pop up between us and the edge of the woods, in all their glowing glory.
"Let's get you through there, buddy," Mason says, grabbing one of the door handles and opening it wide. "You'll be fixed up in no time. And hey—maybe you'll even have a scar to show off to the ladies."
"I don't n-need a scar. H-h... have you seen these abs?" Wyatt grins at Mason. "Maybe y-you need scars. Not me."
As they bicker back and forth, heading through the golden glow of the doors, I study the ground and sky all around us, searching. I even reach my awareness out, touching up against every animal's emotions, wondering if a serial killer in animal form feels any different.
"Think you're going to find him at the last second?" Grayson is eyeing me. "If you do, what do you think happens next—you manage to kill him where everyone else has failed?"
"This is our mission. The headmaster gave it to me for a reason. Surely we can pull it off."
Levi wiggles his fingers near me. "Hey, I almost did. If you hadn't thrown me away from him with that damned force field of yours, maybe I would've been able to drain all the life from him."
"Or you would've been incinerated," I point out, giving up on finding Copenhagen for now. "Next time, I'll leave you in the line of fire, and we can both find out what you smell like barbecued."
As I follow Levi through the doors, Grayson standing just beside them, I pause for a moment and scan the yard one more time. But he's gone, just like that, no doubt off to find his next kill.
And when he does, it'll be my fault, for not planning well enough with the guys to kill him.
No more letting entanglements—sexual and otherwise—come between the five of us and harmony. We need to train, and figure out some kind of rhythm, before the semester ends.
Otherwise, we'll all be doomed.
Chapter 21
"I can't believe that happened." I'm leaning up against a pillar in the courtyard, talking to the one friend of mine who really listens. "I mean—how dumb were we, going in without a solid plan? And we almost really lost everything. The medic said that Wyatt's hand will have a scar, and he needs to take a break from using it in training. That sets us back further. Meanwhile, we might not be able to find our Mark before the end of the semester. Our only chance of catching up to him will be waiting for another kill."
Penny meows at me, looking sympathetic. Or, wait—no, she's chittering away at a butterfly flitting from bush to bush, her eyes widening as she tracks its movements. She hasn't heard a single fucking word I've said.
What a disloyal friend.
"If you ask me, you and I could take care of that Mark on our own." I startle; Levi shouldn't be able to sneak up on me, but somehow I was either too much in my own head to hear him, or the fountains in the courtyard drowned out the sound of his footsteps. "We almost had him today. Your force field, my poison, your ability to make me sneaky again, my ability to turn you on... together, we're unstoppable."
I roll my eyes. "I never said you turn me on."
"Ah-ha!" He smirks and points a finger at me, tapping his foot on the courtyard path. "So you admit it. Don't be embarrassed, Arizona—a lot of girls are charmed by me. I have the tendency to grow on people."
"Mold does that."
"So does mange, for that matter." He shudders, patting his white T-shirt, which is clearly fresh. "Think I'm going to start losing the hair on my chest? I may not have much, but there's this little happy trail right down here and well, I've always appreciated how it leads women straight to the prize. Not that they need a sign to find it—I'm not lacking in that department. When it comes to—"
"Oh, shut up." Exasperated, I step close enough to grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward, enjoying the way his silver eyes widen as if startled. "You've been putting it out there all week, but there's no follow-through. Think maybe you could make a move instead of just doing a standup set? It's not exactly alluring."
"Got you here, didn't it?" Arching a brow, he puts a hand on my hip and draws me smoothly towards him. "I saw you look at my chest earlier today. Just think, that was only half the package unwrapped. The rest of it is even better."
"As long as there's no drama," I murmur, tilting my head up until I can feel the warmth of his mouth skimming mine. "All I want is the physical release. No more of this bullshit, no feeling, no arguing or jealousy. Think you can handle that?"
"Fuck anyone you want to, Ellen. I'm not a man who minds a woman skilled in bed."
Levi's voice has dropped down low, in volume and in octave. His eyes are meeting mine straight-on, his mouth curved with a little humor as always, lips plush and soft. This close, I can feel the hard planes of his body, his strength apparent as he digs one hand into my hip and slips the other onto my waist.
Heat pricks between my thighs, and I let my eyes flutter closed as he slides his mouth against mine.
There no laughing matter about the way Levi Ward kisses. His mouth pricks and teases, his lips nipping and brushing and lightly sucking until I'm desperate for more. Pressing myself against him, I enjoy the stirring I feel in his groin as I fit my body right up on his. My nipples harden as he pushes a calloused hand beneath my shirt and thumbs the underwire of my bra, his mouth still skimming and teasing my lips.
Then, just when I'm about to explode, wanting the kiss to deepen, he parts his lips completely and engulfs my mouth with his. The taste of his tongue is scintillating, his head tilting expertly, the hand on my hip flying up to cradle my neck. He guides me through what he wants: slow and deliberate, our mouths fitting together perfectly, his hips pressed against mine, calm and still even as I feel his cock harden.
He has a toned, lithe dancer's body, and I fill my palms with it as I wind my arms around his waist and flatten my hands on his back. Every little subtle shift of his head as he deepens our kiss makes the hard planes of his body flex. I let myself explore his body, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, enjoying the way his mouth responds by passionately kissing the breath right out of me.
Levi is easy. Uncomplicated. Brimming with humor, without sharp edges or a soft center. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner—he's the perfect man to lead into my bed and push between my legs. Like a stray tomcat that saunters through your door for a meal or two, he'll leave without saying goodbye, giving nothing more and not expecting it either.
Nothing about him reminds me of Jack, and that's the biggest turn-on of all. Everything about Levi is surface level, right there in the open, ready to see. He makes me laugh and roll my eyes.
And he makes me wet as he presses his erection against me.
The sudden sound of footsteps in the distance makes me remember h
ow public the courtyard really is. Breaking away, I point out, "This pillar isn't exactly a closed door. People could see us."
"Can they now?" Levi's voice is pitched low, his eyes like molted silver as he stares down at me. "I guess we should find somewhere more private. Think I can kick Mason out if I fart enough times? Let's go find out if they're serving beans in the dining hall. First, though..."
He dips his mouth down towards mine and tilts his head. I can't resist the kiss, parting my lips and letting him explore me. His hands are firm on my waist, gentle yet exploring the strip of skin just beneath my shirt. My pulse races at the thought of what yet's to come, and just how amazing it'll be.
Then I hear a familiar, bitter voice. "Mason will be thrilled to learn you've moved on to the guy who sleeps right next to him."
Breaking away from Levi's mouth, I blush as I turn to face Grayson's judgmental face just a few feet down the path. He has a scowl twisting his mouth and his brows are drawn over his eyes.
"It's none of your business who I kiss," I tell him, even as hot shame lands in my stomach. "You know that breaking it off with Mason was the right thing to do."
"It's everyone's business who you kiss when you do it right in the middle of campus." He has a point, especially as Levi, apparently immune to being shamed, slides his fingers over my hip and draws me against him. "Breaking things off with Mason was one thing. Turning to his best friend—the best friend he lives with, for that matter—is low. What are you going to do, kick him out of his own room so you can fuck there? Bravo, Ellen. Classy."
I simmer in anger at Grayson's words, but before I can say anything Levi jumps in. "You know you're just jealous that it's not you. Don't pretend like you have Mason's best interests at heart. You'd bone Ellen in an instant if given the opportunity."
I wrinkle my nose. "Don't say bone."
"Pound. Screw. Do the ball-slapping tango." I sigh, and Levi chuckles. "Anyway, Grayson, mind your own business. I'm sure you'd get a turn with Ellen if you managed to be civil for longer than a minute or two. It's not my fault you don't have my charm or sense of humor."
