“Wow. You’re fucking old. No wonder you have this life thing under control.”
“Ha, well, experience has its perks. I can be just as lost and just as stupid as anyone else. I may be fucking old, but I am still human. Mostly.”
“I’ve come to terms with the fact that you kept a lot of things from me, and can kind of understand why. I just hope that if we can get my life back in order you’ll let me know everything. I think I’ve earned it.”
“I’d like that. I’ve been alone for quite a long time. I’m glad your blonde friend decided you and I should know one another.”
“She could be a cunt to beat all cunts, but the girl didn’t fuck around when it came to matchmaking. Hell, she pushed me and Mike together every time I questioned my own emotional stake in the matter.”
He looked down. I never really understood why he liked me; hell, I didn’t even really like me. Fat or skinny, I was kind of difficult. In a world where kind of meant very. It seemed to me he didn’t appreciate the M word.
“I want you to know that even though I’d never get between a love which fights so hard it can’t be broken, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got more years than I want and not enough people I’d like to share it with. He is a good man. He’s terrified and it causes him to lose himself, but I think you can appreciate that.”
I never thought I’d be taking love advice from Cyrus Atossa. Tatum would be rolling in her grave if she had one. It had taken a few death-defying events, but it seemed Dylan Hart was finally figuring shit out. Now, if only she could survive the occult, and stop referring to herself in the third person like a schizo, life might get better.
“Now, enough about life. Let’s tackle something easy, shall we? Death. Or really, whatever dead thing has glommed on to you.” He leaned over and kissed me before I could stop him. It was quick and chaste, but left a tingling heat behind which I knew from experience Mike could never reproduce. “Will you accompany me to see a wrinkly old bitch about her sneakery?”
He was beginning to sound like me. A century on the Earth, surely he picked up enough of the English language to speak well in any generation. I bit at my tingling lips, recalling the night I’d let him take me to Macabre Saturnine. So many promises for a different life then. The choices we make, they say. I had to agree.
“I think I can do that. Can you seriously put on a shirt, though?” He casually licked his lips and let an easy smile spread across his face before he looked down at his chest and rubbed an open hand over his stomach.
Too many struggles and not enough country songs to see them through. Love and lust. Life and death. Belief and skepticism. Fight and flight. Fries and tots.
When all is said and done, my story will make an excellent fucking book. Except when I write it, I’m getting laid.
Chapter 9
My heart thudded in my butt cheeks when we rounded the corner for Lupe’s botanica. Lupe’s tank-top-wearing grandson didn’t have the chance to shank me, or shiv, or whatever he planned to do to me after reneging on my deal. Sure his grandma was a wrinkly old cunt with a hair trigger, but that didn’t mean shit if she let him take his revenge. Really, that made it all the more terrifying. I was suddenly grateful down to my toes that Cyrus was with me, although he had the tendency to puss out. Preternatural was preternatural no matter how you spun it.
I swallowed hard. “What’s the plan?” My voice sounded funny in my own head, too fast and high-pitched. He and I hadn’t talked much in the car ride. It was mid-morning and LA traffic only allowed for the occasional curse and sporadic road rage.
“I was supposed to make a plan?” he asked, maneuvering his massive, white SUV against the curb, parallel parking like a fucking boss. It was kind of a turn-on. Must’ve been a Los Angelinos thing.
“Are you kidding me? You think I’m capable of anything that complex right now?” I flung my hands in the air and pulled at my already-wild ‘do, accentuating my insanity.
“I think we’ll be fine. I have what she needs, right?”
Yeah, that’s something to be proud of. “I’m not sure that’s an asset at this point in the game. In fact, I’m suddenly questioning whether your being here is a good thing or a bad thing. A bad thing, as in you could end up like our buddy Zephyrinus. Head, off.” I slid my finger over my throat and made a squishing sound out of the corner of my mouth. Tatum’s sloppy neck stump popped into my head and I cringed.
“Obviously you haven’t figured that part out yet. My being fucking old has its perks.” He left me with that.
I could only assume he knew what he was doing. I also assumed, and hoped I was right, his cryptic last words meant he was rather impervious. My initial instinct told me he could handle himself. From the moment I realized I would have to protect myself and those I cared about, his safety never came into play. Not necessarily because I didn’t care about him, but because I figured he didn’t need my protecting. He’d survived more shit than I could count, I was sure. His verifying my assumption helped calm the thumping ass cheeks.
The bell above the door jingled our presence. For once, I didn’t have to wait for the dude wearing underwear as real clothes to let me in. Florescent bulbs buzzed overhead, and the flickering of one caught my eye. I stared at it too long and saw a bright line of light in my vision for a long few seconds after.
“Ms. Hart, I didn’t think you’d bring me the whole cow. All I wanted was the milk.” Lupe’s muffled voice echoed from behind the curtain, as if she were talking around her infamous smoldering cigar.
I shook my head. However she did that mind-reading shit, I wanted the secret. Silently, I nodded toward the fabric which separated us from the real magic on the other side. Cyrus waved his hand toward the doorway, motioning me to go first. I flipped him off and made my way through to the other side.
“Look what we have here. My sneaky little friend.”
Busted. “Look, I’m sorry I took back my gun,” I said, intentionally not using the word stole. “There was no way I could leave here without some kind of –"
“I’m not talking to you.” Her brows scrunched together. “Our friend has been keeping a secret for a very, very long time.” She pressed her lips together and mushed her jaw down tight, making it apparent she had removed a set of dentures she normally wore.
Shit, she knows. Of course she does. “What are you talking about?” I tried to cover for Cyrus.
A warm hand laid softly against my back. “It’s okay,” Cyrus said. “There is no point in lying. What Lupe knows, she knows, and there is no denying that.” She mushed her mouth together again. “Isn’t that right?”
There seemed to be more of a connection between the two than I’d originally caught on to. I knew my first help from the old broad was a payment on a debt owed to Cyrus’s buddy and Primus before Malcolm, Nicolas Sandorus. I never got a full story then because, similar to now, the situation needed prioritizing and that fell low on the list.
Lupe tapped her fingers along the arm of her wheelchair. “What do you want?” It seemed too easy. Someone was hiding something and it was obvious it was from me.
“Right now? The truth.” Cyrus folded his arms across his chest in a manner far more attractive than my usual childish pose.
“Truth? The liar seeks honesty. Poetic.” He raised a brow in her direction. She mashed her bitter-beer face together again. “Umph,” she grunted and nodded. Tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair, she began. “My life has been too long. Santa Maria,” she crossed herself, “bless me. A sickness eats at my insides as I sit here. I’m too old for a doctor to cure me with medicine. I need the blood in your veins to heal my body.”
“You’re sick? That’s it? Like…cancer or something?” I asked.
“Si,” she nodded.
“And you think Cyrus’s blood is the healing agent? What in the hell is with you people and blood?”
“Mija, your friend lives when he shouldn’t. The blood in his veins only flows by magic. A power I’d never re
create on my own, older than both of us, and stronger than I could ever be.”
Her honesty jarred my suspicious side and I looked at her out of the corner of squinted, questioning eyes. “How much are we talking here?” I asked. Cyrus cleared his throat at me and shrugged.
“Just enough.” Her voice, usually rough and wise, seemed tired. “I can’t promise protection. That isn’t possible, but I can give you a lock to that door you’ve got open wide.”
“That door you opened,” I sneered.
“Oh, girl, I just turned on the lights. Your door was open when I found it.”
“Okay, enough with the metaphors. What the fuck are you talking about?” I held my hands open and shoulder-width apart.
“You can thank Azelie. She dug inside and tampered with your soul. When she died, she left you wide open to send and receive to anything and everything that’ll listen. I promised you power, knowledge, and I gave you that. All I did was make you aware of the traffic that surrounds you. Turned on the light so you can see what hides behind ignorance, so to speak.”
My gut sank. Traffic. That meant more than one. In my dictionary, it meant lots. What I’d been seeing and hearing was only the tip of the supernatural iceberg, and the only reason I even knew it was there was because of Lupe. “I’m not sure how to take that, but…thanks. I guess.”
“Dylan, without that power you’d be defenseless. You can’t stop what you can’t see.”
Made sense. Finally something did. “Oh, why didn’t you just say that? Good God, I can’t do this cryptic crap. Just say whatever you need to say. Fuck. Is it that hard?”
“Can you shut up?” Lupe asked. “You never just shut your mouth. To your demise.” She rolled her one tired eye.
I pretended to zip-it-lock-it-put-it-in-my-pocket. Lupe leaned her head back and closed the eye I could see. She seemed to be in pain. I didn’t know if it was my humorous antics in a time of peril or her impending, cancerous death.
“Lupe, we’ve known each other for quite a long time.” She didn’t acknowledge Cyrus when he spoke. “Your power is greater than any I’ve seen. I know what you’re capable of at full strength. There is a way to keep Dylan safe. She was innocent before…me.” He took the blame, for once. “If I help you, will you do everything you can to help her?”
Lupe lifted her head and looked at him. “You love her.” He didn’t argue and I felt my gut flip-flop with apprehension. “Help me live and I will help her survive.”
“No bullshit?” I asked, ignoring the love question.
“No bullshit,” she promised, her eye closed and head back, not looking at me.
I looked at Cyrus, waiting to see if he was in on the plan. Lupe very well could’ve been lying. She could’ve been tricking him out of his blood for some devious, malicious conjuring. Cyrus thought on it for a moment, looking at the ground while he did. The moment stretched on forever. My ass was on the line and my cool composure would surely crumble away any minute as it had for a week if they didn’t do something fast.
“Deal,” Cyrus said with a nod.
Lupe let out a sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a fraction of what it usually was. “Come, bleed for me.”
Her words were creepy and a little gross. “Wait. You’re giving her what she wants first? What’s to say she won’t double-cross you?”
“Dylan, I think you’ve seen too many movies,” Cyrus said, blowing off my absolutely warranted paranoia.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve seen too many movies, he says. Jeez! Look, I’ve just come onto this scene in comparison to some of you old fucks, so please excuse my greenhorn sensibilities. But you’ve got to admit the experience I have had hasn’t been trust-building. In fact, I’m having a hard time trusting myself these days. Shit, I could be fucking myself two days a week and twice on Christmas and never be the wiser.”
“Excuse me, dear, but what the fuck are you talking about?” Lupe asked, her one cloudy eye glaring at me.
“I don’t know!” There went that composure. It’d bumble-fucked right out the window and went on holiday.
“She’s not ready for this, Lupe. She needs you. I’ll give you what you need to better yourself, but you’ve got to help her cope for the time being. Please.”
My chest heaved with each aggravated breath. I felt like I’d crawl out of my skin. The same feeling I’d had at the wannabe Denny’s with Mike began to creep its way in. And there was not one slice of sizzling bacon in sight. If someone didn’t do something fast, there was a good chance I’d take that leap right off the deep end and hammer the last nail in my own fucking coffin.
“Yes, yes. Come here, girl.” She waved her wrinkled hand in my direction beckoning me to her lap. “Give me your hands.” My stomach crawled inside my gut and I handed over my limbs. “Wha-what is this?” She jerked on my arm, pulling my feet into a clumsy stumble, and held the chubby tattooed thing closer to her good eye. “You did this? You stupid girl.” She smacked my hand.
“Huh?” I looked down at the tattoo I’d nearly forgotten about again. Unlike my others, that one didn’t sear with pain as a reminder of its permanency. “Oh, shit, no. I forgot to mention this. What the hell is this? I woke up with it.”
“Now who’s not being honest? Tell me how this came about.”
I told the Cliff’s Notes story including the Tatum/white room stuff from the day before. “So, can you see why I’m so damn scared? I had come to you for help keeping my family safe and me as protected as possible. I ended up a basket case in a matter of a day.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” she clucked her tongue. “You’re in trouble.” No shit. “This is not anything that happened because of me or Azelie. Not that I can imagine. This is something else.”
“Great. What does that mean?” Yet another big, bad beastie out for my ass.
I need a Winchester brother, STAT. Both would be better. Surely Daddy Winchester could tagalong. Yeah, that’d make me all better.
“I don’t know. Piss anyone off recently?” she asked justly.
“Mike,” I chuckled. He was the last on my list of supernatural enemies.
“No.” She scrunched her face as if I was serious. “This is not anything you want on your soul. This is a mark of the beast.”
“The devil? Seriously?” I’d set my head on believer, but I didn’t know if I could wrap my head around a red dude with a pitchfork and a sinister mustache.
“Not exactly. There’s more than God and the devil. But if you must label things, I suppose yes. A demon of some faction maybe. However this happened, it is a mark. Like a sniper laser.”
It was suddenly hard to swallow. My eyes welled with terrified tears, and I blinked repeatedly in an attempt to force them back home. Frustration filled my heart and fear made a nest in my gut. In addition to some of the most unimaginable events in my life, I was also marked by a demon of some sort. Tiny, glittering specks of light flittered throughout my vision. “How…” my words trailed off. The world turned a muddled shade of grey a moment before it went black. My head had had enough and needed a life reset.
Did you try unplugging it for thirty seconds and plugging it back in?
I opened my eyes and saw nothing but a cracking ceiling complete with a few aging water stains from a leak somewhere in the roof. I took a deep, shuddering breath, stinging the muscles in my back. It was impossible to judge how long I’d been on the stiff floor exactly, but my atrophied muscles told me it’d been too damn long. My lower back was tight and I knew sitting up gracefully would be impossible. It was never a good idea to force a fat girl and her sciatic.
“Well, there you are, Sleeping Beauty,” Lupe’s thickly accented voice rambled through my aching head.
Cyrus’s handsome face filled my view. “Feeling better?”
“Not really,” I said, my own voice sounding froggy. “What the hell happened?” Cyrus reached for my hand to help me up. I took it begrudgingly and paid the price when my lower back pinged with pain. Grunting
, I shook my head with a sneer and stayed put.
“You fainted,” Lupe said, her tone dull and to the point.
I looked toward Lupe’s unusually smooth voice. The one-eyed bitter-beer face I’d seen last was gone and replaced by an appearance I was sure she had boasted twenty years younger. Her weathered leather eye patch was gone and two honey-brown eyes glittered back at me. Not a spring chicken by a long shot, her crow’s feet and salt-and-pepper-streaked hair were still a vast improvement from her Crypt Keeper appearance I knew. Lupe’s dying body had been rejuvenated in the time I’d been unconscious. Cyrus not only healed her ailing health, he reversed years of age she’d surely fought hard to attain.
“What the hell happened to you?” My expression was all wide-open, gaping holes.
Wide-open, gaping holes. Google that.
“Magic,” she smiled.
Cyrus leaned against a square pillar, which held up the center of the room. Looking worse for wear, I had an idea of where her sudden makeover had come from. She’d taken more than just a bit of blood; she’d taken energy direct from the source. Cyrus had told me God was an energy which ebbed and flowed like the tides of the ocean. It looked to me like his energy had flowed right into Lupe’s greedy hands.
“My turn?” I asked, not mincing any words. She’d obviously gotten what she was looking for. How, I didn’t care. I’d learned my lesson. I only wanted to know what I needed to do in order to stay alive. Magic exchanges between an old lady and a hunky whatever the fuck he was were none of my fucking business.
“I think so,” Lupe nodded and looked to Cyrus.
“Now that you’re obviously the picture of health, please take a moment to give me the nutshell version of how fucked I am and how I’m going to fix it.”
“Firstly, would you like to stand?” I looked at her like she was a fool and shook my head. “You’ve had a knock to the head; are you feeling okay?”
“Yes. Shit. Can we get on with it already?” I didn’t know if my knocked head could handle another minute of their dillydallying.
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