by L. A. Boruff
"They won't, but it'll help me recover from that spell Paul threw at me."
"Um, what the hell was that?"
"A simple pain spell. He's very good at them, and they pack a punch." He closes his eyes and settles on his side.
I stare at him. "I don’t get it. If he can do that, and you can control fire, why even bother with fighting and stuff?"
He sighs. "There are rules."
"Rules?"
He takes a minute to answer. "In a world where most of us can kill with little to no effort, there has to be rules. I can beat the shit out of some of the witches' thugs, and piss them off. We could even get into a fight, where one of them might die. There’d be a punishment, but I could handle it. But killing them with my powers? I’d be a dead man."
"You were already a dead man." I challenge him with a look. What’s the point of rules when there’s a price on his head?
Again, he takes his time in answering. "I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been a dead man and gotten out of it. As bad a situation as I’m in right now, if I had used my powers on Paul, I’d be completely fucked."
"And he didn’t use his powers on you until the end?"
He opens his eyes, and I realize just how weary he looks. "Again, there are rules. His people wouldn’t have appointed him the head enforcer if he used his powers for everything. It’d make them a lot of enemies. It’d make them look weak. No, they needed an asshole who could fight with his fists, too."
And then something else occurs to me. "If witches want you breeding with their kind, and they’re supposed to respect mages, why don’t they see you that way?"
A tired smile twists his lips. "They keep hoping I’ll come around and see things their way, but they’re reaching the end of their patience with my meddling. If no one else knew, they’d never consider taking me out. But they have a reputation to protect."
I want to know more, a hell of a lot more, but I already feel guilty. He looks so damned tired.
"Rest. I'll wake you if they come in." I put a hand on his thigh in a gesture of comfort, and without opening his eyes, he covers my hand with his.
Damn if this guy wasn't growing on me. If I can figure out a way to get him out of here, maybe I'll give him half a chance.
Footsteps outside the door make my heart race. I hear male voices but can't pick out if it's the thugs returning. It could be someone passing by, but my panic doesn't care. If they come back, we’ll be taken to the king and killed. What do I do? Should I wake him up or wait and see if the footsteps come here?
Will doesn't move. He must've dozed because it's not been long enough for him to fully fall asleep. So much for us not being here long.
Jumping to my feet, I look around the room, frantic, but there's nowhere to go. I hurry to the other side of the room and press myself against the wall beside the door. When I feel the cat taking over, I've never been so glad to let her. Oh, thank you, sweet puss. You’ve got perfect timing for once.
As I drop, my clothes crumpling around me, the door opens. It slams against the wall, the hinges giving me barely enough room behind it to keep from being squished. As it was, it pressed me into the wall. "Where is she?"
Yep, Thug One. Paul.
Will sounds as shocked as Paul. "I don't know. She was right here."
Paul must've let go of the door because it swung away from me slightly. I peek my head around and see him and Thugs Two and Three standing in the middle of the room, their backs to me as Paul screams at Will.
I'm not going to get another chance. If I can get out and get ahold of the key, I can let him out. I slink around the door and out into the stairwell, hightailing it up the stairs as fast as I can.
My cat is terrified, her fear influencing me. She's never let me be in control before, so she must be really scared. Either that or I've learned how to control her.
Not likely.
When I get up to the entryway, I duck under a rickety wooden table, probably hundreds of years old. It's dusty underneath, and I have to flatten myself into a pancake to fit, but when Paul and the other goons come running up the stairs, there's no way they see me.
"Put the castle on alert," Paul shouts.
A man appears from behind a tapestry. "What's wrong?"
"The human girl is missing."
The other man curses and returns to the space behind the tapestry.
Paul instructs his goon. "Ralph, check upstairs. We were only gone a few minutes. She can't have gone far. I'll check this level. Greg, go check the dungeons."
"I hate it down there," the short, fat goon, Greg, whines.
Paul cuffs him upside the head. "Go."
Greg goes.
When they all disappear, I sneak out from under the table and walk around the room, keeping close to the wall. If someone comes in, I can hide behind a statue or suit of armor. The walls are lined with them.
Between each one is a tapestry depicting some event or another. I check behind each of them, but they're all solid stone until I get to the one the man disappeared behind. It looks like stone, but it wavers as I sniff it. Another mirage, or a glamour. I have no idea what they call it, but I stick my head through it and find a hallway that looks like the room I'm leaving. Statues, artwork, stone walls. Typical castle, at least how I always imagined a castle would look.
I slink my way from one piece of art to another, staying hidden, then race up the next flight of stairs. On the next floor, doorways are peppered up and down the hall, and I pause at each one, sniffing and listening. I'm fairly certain they're all empty, so I keep going. The end of the hall branches off in both directions, but I hear voices coming from the doorway directly in front of me. It looks bigger, more official. It's also closed. Damn it. I need in that room.
I look down the hall. These sorts of rooms usually have more than one entrance. Hopefully, I can find another way in.
Slinking to the left, I move quickly because there's nothing to hide behind in this part of the hall. Another large door in the center of the hallway gives me pause, and I listen, pushing against it with my small body. It's closed, but I doubt I could move it even if it was open. It's too big.
I move on, still looking for a way into the room. As I round the corner, I realize someone is walking out of another of the large doors. This hallway must run around the entire room. I manage to dart into the room as the door closes. It's so close, I swear it pulls out a few of my tail hairs. Thankfully, this room also has artwork everywhere, and plenty of places for me to hide. I stop behind a statue and look around. The man from behind the tapestry is on his knees, head bowed in front of a throne raised on a dais.
Sitting on the throne is a man that radiates such a dark energy that my cat wants to run yowling from the room. Nothing stands out about him as evil. He's relatively handsome. Average height, average build. And yet, every instinct in me and my cat screams to get as far from him as possible.
This must be the King.
"Where is she?" he yells at the bowed man. "Langly, your only job is the security of this castle. Why don't you know where she is?"
"I'm sorry, sire, but she's not triggering any of the spells that sense humans. It's like she disappeared."
"That's not possible. Paul swore to me she's human."
"I don't know, sire, I never saw her." His terrified voice makes my cat panic more, his fear rolling off of him in waves.
She tries to move us, get out of the room. No. We need answers. Calm down. They don't know we're here, or that we're not just a cat. Just don't shift.
"Guards, search every inch of this castle. And bring me the fire mage." A guard near the first door turns and opens it, but as he does, a young woman walks in.
It's the woman from the bar. "You wanted me?" She holds her head proudly. "I came as fast as I could."
"Not fast enough. You were seen with a young woman today at your bar. Who is she?"
"I have no idea. I assumed she was after a spell, but the fire mage interrupted us. When I re
alized they were together, I told her I couldn't help her."
"She's human?"
"Seemed that way to me, and I'm the best." Tossing her hair back, she looks the King in the eye.
He nods once. "Where is my son?"
"With his nanny." Her demeanor changes and she tenses up. As a cat, I can feel her change of attitude. She doesn't like him asking about his son.
"He should be with his mother."
Her shoulders move back, and she shakes out her hair again. "You can either have me selling spells in the bar or taking care of our child round the clock. Not both."
The King's expression closes off, and he looks scarier than ever. "See to my son, then return to your post. We don't have enough power yet." He stands and steps down from his raised throne, getting in her face. "Esmerelda," he hisses.
My cat can't take it. She slinks around the artwork toward the door Esmerelda came in. It's cracked open.
As we dart out, I hear his words. "Your continued protection depends on my satisfaction with your duties as my son's mother. Do not fail me."
We take off down the hall, my cat too panicked to bother hiding now, and I feel it coming.
I'm shifting. No, not now. We're too exposed.
The scaredy-cat doesn't care. Apparently, the panic shift works in reverse. The next thing I know, I'm on my hands and knees in the middle of the hall, ass in the air, as Esmerelda walks out of the throne room.
"Well, well," she says softly when her gaze falls on me. "This is interesting, isn't it."
I scramble to my feet and she closes in on me.
My heart races. Is she going to kill me with a spell? Scream for the king?
Am I about to die?
Instead, a wicked smile twists her lips. "Come on, you'll be setting off all the alarms now. Let's get you to my room."
I scramble after her as she saunters down the hall. She didn’t turn me in or kill me, but still, I get the feeling I’m in trouble.
Serious trouble.
Chapter Twelve
James
"Why isn't Will back?" I demand of Hank.
He shrugs. "Why does Will do anything? It's who he is." He kicks back and takes another bite out of his sandwich. "Don’t stress it. He’ll be back soon."
I chew on my lip, trying to work out what the sense of doom in my gut is all about. Something is wrong, and I don't know what it is. The events of the last few days tells me either Callie or Will could be in trouble. Luckily, or unluckily for us, they’re together right now.
At least, they should be. He followed her to make sure she didn't get into any trouble. Which means they could both be in a lot of trouble.
"Do you think they're okay?" I ask Hank.
"Yes," he says, sounding unconcerned.
Is he really not worried? How the hell is he so calm? This isn’t like him.
"He said if he wasn't back by one to assume the witches got him," I say, looking at the clock that shows that was nearly two hours ago.
"He's a grown man." Hank sighs, but his fingers are tapping on his knee, a tell-tale sign he isn’t nearly as unconcerned as he wants me to think. "He can take care of himself. He’s one of the most powerful beings I know."
"A grown man with witches after him," I point out. "And have you seen Callie come home?"
That worries me more than it should, too. She didn't tell us what she was going to do once we'd had breakfast, but having known her for the brief amount of time I have, I can almost guarantee it's something that'll put us in danger.
"Maybe they decided to stop and 'have a shag' somewhere." He mocks me. His fake British accent is actually pretty good.
"Please don't use the word shag." I shudder.
"Then stop reacting to it." He smiles to show he’s teasing me.
I don’t laugh. This isn’t the time for it, and Hank’s odd behavior is starting to worry me. "You haven't answered the question," I point out. "Has Callie come home?"
He frowns, and he’s tapping his knee again. "No, I don't think so. But she'll be fine if Will is with her."
I glare at him. "Is that right?"
He doesn’t answer, just goes back to eating his damn sandwich.
Hank drives me nuts sometimes. He thinks I overreact to things, but the truth is he underreacts. Our best friend is being hunted by witches and hasn’t checked in all day. It’s not exactly far-fetched that something could’ve happened to him.
I take my phone out and pull up Will's number. If he’s having some alone time with Callie then it'll be no big deal, and I can leave them to it, even if I will feel a little jealous. But if not...
"I'm going to call him again," I announce.
"You do that." Hank turns back to his sandwich, and I'm not sure whether to be annoyed or reassured by his nonchalance, even if it is odd. He does know Will better than I do, after all. They’ve been friends for years.
I hit the dial button and listen to the tone, waiting for him to pick up and tell me to piss off. I want him to answer. I'm verging on desperate for him to.
When his voicemail picks up, I shut off the phone. "No answer," I say needlessly. Hank can quite easily figure that out by the fact that I'm not talking to Will right now.
"Maybe they're fucking after all," he mutters, jealousy clouding his eyes.
He's not the only one that feels that way. I don't like the idea of Will stealing time with Callie any more than he does.
I stand there, mulling over my options and only coming to one conclusion. "I have to go out."
"Alright." Hank frowns at me, clearly confused. I don't answer the unspoken question, and not because I’m in too much of a hurry. "James, listen. I’ve known Will for a long time. He’s gone underground, or he’s with Callie. Either way, he’s fine. I’m not worried yet."
"Something is pushing me to find them, and I don’t know why, but I have to." I shove my hands in my pockets and start to walk to the door.
"Just keep an eye on your phone, will ya? I don't want to have to fight a fire on my own," he calls after me.
I chuckle. "As if you couldn't."
"I didn't say I couldn't, just that I didn't want to," he points out.
"Alright, I'll keep checking it. I'll be back soon." Though I don't know if that's going to be the case. I know it won't take me long to track down the person I want, but getting information out of them, that's a lot harder.
"And I’ll be here. Waiting for Will to show up like he always does. I’ll call you when he arrives."
For some reason, I get the feeling Hank is telling me that to reassure himself more than me. A final sliver of the Hank I know rather than the man of the past ten minutes. "Thanks."
The sun beats down from above, warming my skin and reminding me I need to take better care of myself. My kind needs to have regular basking time or we'll get lethargic or slow. Not that I'm like the rest of my kind. Or that they care.
I make my way to the Seaside Shack in record time. There's a lot on the line, and I don't want to put anyone's life at risk that I don't have to. I'm not even sure what's brought me here, other than a rock in the pit of my stomach that this place will have the answers.
The floorboards creak under my feet as I walk in, but I know that's me projecting the atmosphere of the place into the way I'm walking.
Unfortunately, it isn't Mel behind the bar.
This day just got a lot worse.
"James," Delilah hisses.
"Hey." I pull up a stool and sit on it. "Where's Mel?"
She narrows her eyes at me. "That's all you're going to give me?"
"You told me never to talk to you about anything ever again," I point out, trying not to rehash the way she screamed it at me.
"With good reason."
"Can we leave the past in the past?" I ask. If it's completely up to me, I wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place. I came to see Mel, not Delilah. "I didn't know you were going to be here."
"I shouldn't be. There are far more important thi
ngs I could be doing." She crosses her arms across her chest.
My eyes don't even flicker down. They would have, once, when I thought we were going to end up together for a long time.
She sighs and leans against the bar. "He wanted to see Mel," she says.
I chuckle darkly despite the worry for Will and Callie that’s made itself known inside me. And how can I not be worried? I know first hand how ruthless the witches can be. "Of course he does, she wouldn't leave the bar for anyone less than the King." I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I don't want Delilah thinking it's because I'm secretly in love with Mel or something. I don't even know the woman very well, beyond her being one of the King's favorites. Or she used to be. Since she's now tending the bar here and taking trades for human lives, I doubt she's quite the favorite she once was.
"What do you want, James? I know you don't want back in."
"How can you possibly know that? I might have decided to come join you again." I shrug, trying to play it as if I'm interested, despite the fact I'm not. I wouldn't go back there if someone paid me to.
It's her turn to laugh. "If you wanted in, you wouldn't have helped that fire mage against Mel's golem."
I stiffen. How does she know about Will?
"Please, he goes around town strutting and showing off. Everyone knows what he is."
"I didn't say anything." The statement is pointless. Delilah is a strong empath and can probably guess the direction of my thoughts just from what she can sense off of me. "Do you know where he is?"
"No. And if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"I don't understand why you stay with them," I whisper.
She sucks in a sharp breath and glances around the empty bar. "Don't say stuff like that around here," she hisses.
"Then tell me why you do?" It’s something I’ve always wondered. She's not a bad person. Or she wasn't when I knew her. I hope our break up didn't lead to her turning away from a non-evil life.
"You know why not. It's safer to be part of them than not. You and your firefighters are playing with fire by staying unaffiliated. And don't think he doesn't know you're in town just because you avoid the pub."
