He looked up from the ground with anger. He wasn't hurt, and that only enraged her further.
"You fucking bitch," he said. He looked down at his shirt and coat. "Do you feel better now, Lassie? Do I need to hit you with a newspaper—?"
She was on him again. She grabbed him, his entire face fitting in one claw, and rammed his head into the tree. There was no blood, no crushing of bone. He didn't make a single noise. Her legs broke, and she cried out at the unexpected pain. The bullet popped from her shoulder. The change was upon her, and she didn't wish for it. An uncontrollable change. It'd been decades since she'd experienced one.
"We can do this all night," Jack said. "You can bite me, beat me, hump my leg. The only thing you'll accomplish is ruining my clothes. Which you've done. I hope you're proud."
He stood up, but Marie couldn't join him. Her muscles started to shift and stretch. Her face elongated.
"Oh, wow," Jack said, kneeling next to her as she convulsed on her side. "I've killed enough of you werewolves to know a bit about you. When you change against your will, isn't that like pissing in the house? You guys get real embarrassed about that, right? It's a sign of not being in control, like you're a puppy all over again. Premature ejaculation, if you will."
She looked up at him. "Fuck…you."
"No, fuck you. Look at what you did to my clothes."
Marie fought the change. She kept her eyes locked on Jack. He looked down at her with an amused expression. She wanted to reach out and rip his throat out. She fought the urge, fought the werewolf. She was in control of the werewolf, not the other way around. Tears ran down her face at the agony. Her claws turned back into hands. Her jaw and teeth shrank.
She sat on her hands and knees, her hair hanging past her face. She took deep breaths, slowly regaining control. Strangely, his wonderful scent helped. She was conscious of the fact her bare ass was pointing in the air.
"Listen very closely, because I don't say this kind of thing often. I'm impressed. I don't think I've ever seen that before."
Marie slowly stood up. Jack again didn't help her. He shrugged out of his coat and held it out. She eyed it carefully.
"You might as well take it now," he said. "You've already ruined it."
Without a word, she accepted it and slipped in on. Her breasts poked through the tears, but it was better than nothing. She wanted to lean against a tree, but refused to show how exhausted she was.
"I have an acquaintance that can cure werewolves, ya know."
Marie eyed him curiously. "Why would I want a cure? I love who I am."
Jack smiled, and Marie found herself smiling back. There was something there she had trouble recognizing. Respect, maybe.
"Let's try this conversation again. Don't make me get out the muzzle."
"More dog jokes. Hilarious."
"I'm not mortal."
"Yes, you are. You're the most delicious smelling mortal I've ever come across."
"I, uh, don't know how I feel about that. But I'm not. I was born mortal, but I've been cursed by a witch."
"What? A witch? They aren't real."
"And neither are werewolves. Anyway, like I was saying, I can't be killed, so don't even try. See?" He held out his arms, exposed his face. "Your little hissy fit? Not a single mark."
A wave of sadness came over her, which she welcomed instead of the rage.
"Who the hell are you, Jack? Why are you here? Did you track me down just to tell me you killed my bar?"
"Nah. I was actually here to kill you. But looking at you for ten seconds…I can tell you didn't try to kill me, or kill Erica."
"Kill you? Kill Erica? Who the hell told you that?"
"Rob, your bartender."
Marie clenched her eyes shut and reached out for Jack's shoulder. He backed away, not letting her touch him. She was so confused, and needed to lean on anything.
"Rob told you what? I didn't kill Erica, and I don't even know who the hell you are."
"I know this now."
"Why would he say that? What the hell is going on?"
"I'm not sure. And as far as you're concerned, I don't care. Whatever problems your bartenders have with you, I don't give a shit. They're for you to solve. I've got my own crap going on."
They resumed walking once again. Marie was still raw, still angry, but something else leaked in. Curiosity. Someone was playing them both. The question was why.
"You're looking for Erica's murderer," Marie said. "You're her ex, aren't you?"
It was Jack's turn to stop. His shoulders tensed, and she could see she hit a nerve. Up until then, Jack exuded confidence.
"Erica talked about me?"
"Very little, but enough." It was time for Marie to pick. "She was running from you."
"That's not really any of your business now, is it?"
He picked up the pace again. Marie pitied him, and the realization shocked her. She felt sorry for the man who destroyed her dream, needled her as she fought the change.
Marie tried to pick up more about him as they walked through the woods, back to Sandy Cliffs. He was a jerk; that much was obvious. He had no trouble beating three humans. But at one point, he cared about Erica. She didn't believe he hurt her, at least not physically.
"How many of you are here?" Jack asked. "How big is your pack?"
"I don't have a pack."
"Bullshit. You all do."
"Oh, and how do you know that? Because you've killed so many of us?"
"Exactly. You never run alone."
"Maybe I'm different."
"Maybe you're full of shit."
"Hey."
She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Jack pulled away.
"Don't touch me—"
"Listen to me very carefully. I do not have a pack. Understand? I don't need a pack, and I would appreciate it very much if you stop bringing it up."
Jack was quiet a moment, taking her in. He held his thumb and index finger an inch apart.
"You know, you're almost cute when you're mad."
Marie rolled her eyes and pushed past him, leading the way. The coat stopped at her hips, and whether it was her keen senses or women's intuition, she knew he was enjoying the view.
"Would you please stop staring at my ass?"
"You're the one who charged forward."
She said nothing. She simply wanted to get back to the stump near the apartment, gather her clothes. She told herself the night would end with a bubble bath, and she aimed to make that happen.
The scents of the human world surrounded her as they drew closer. Cars, people, trash bins. She stood near the stump, not bothering to put on her clothes. Her shoulder had healed, but a trail of blood ran down to her wrist. She could see the back of the apartment building from where they stood. Jack stayed by her side, which surprised her.
Marie regarded herself and Jack. They both looked like they'd been through a war. Jack's shirt was torn, revealing a muscled torso. There was blood on him, but no wounds at all. Whatever his affliction was, whether he was really cursed by a witch, he healed faster than she did.
"I'm not sure if I can take all this in," she said. "So much crazy shit going on."
He shrugged. "Life's tough sometimes. Suck it up."
"Wow. Thank you for that kind wisdom."
Jack smiled, ever so slightly, and gestured to the building.
"You can use the patio door, if you want. I left it open."
"You…broke into my apartment?"
"Yeah. That's how I tracked you down. I saw your little map, saw you sniff the air, like a dog. And I have to admit, some of that underwear you have…" He gave a thumbs-up. "I approve."
Marie's cheeks turned red from rage and humiliation. She felt violated.
"You…." She couldn't speak.
"Now, now, don't go all Cujo on me again. I'll break out the choker chain."
"Enough with the dog jokes."
"Well, I have to run. I found out what I came here for. I'm going to
go have a little talk with Rob, see how he's doing."
Jack began walking away. He didn't bother asking for his coat. He made it ten feet when Marie spoke.
"What am I supposed to do now?"
He faced her, an eyebrow arched. His expression was impassive, uncaring, almost the same as when she first saw him in the cemetery.
"I don't care. If it helps any, I'm sure this is the last time we'll see each other."
"We can both hope."
He turned, but had one more thing to say.
"Oh, Marie Johnson. That's a dumb name."
She watched him leave. He climbed into a rental car and drove away. Mixed emotions attacked her. Jack was the man who ruined her bar, her dream. But for some reason, her heart went out to him. He came to Sandy Cliffs to find his ex-girlfriend's murderer. So, even with all the evidence to the contrary, he was capable of feeling.
His scent lingered a few extra seconds, and Marie savored it. Unpleasant man or not, she could at least enjoy the scent. It was no different than a young hot-blooded male ogling a well-built woman as she walked by.
She reflected on the evening, their conversation. Why would Rob say those terrible things about her?
CHAPTER 23
Kevin still hadn't shaken his bad mood. He'd been awake since five in the morning. Jack's words still haunted him from the night before. Dead-beat. It was simply Jack being Jack. He loved to get under Kevin's skin, loved to push and irritate.
But he typically didn't outright lie.
Scowling, he flipped the pancakes on the stove. He worked with the bacon on the next burner, giving them a single turn. He was approaching his twentieth birthday. What twenty-year-old had their career path planned out? He couldn't afford to go to college, and didn't really want to, even if he could. Victoria chewed him out the one time he tried to make money selling potions. All he could was stick to his strength, which was research papers. Apparently Leese and Jack both had a problem with that.
Kevin looked up the stairs, listening to the silence.
"Tiffany! Breakfast. Let's get going."
She walked down the stairs five minutes later. She moved slowly, stiffly, like she'd just risen from the grave. Her hair hung in front of her face, covering her eyes.
"Pancakes and bacon."
She sat at the bar and made unintelligible noise. He did recognize her last two words.
"Thank you."
He smiled. Ironically, it felt as if Tiffany was the only one on his side lately. He tried to call Leese the night before, after his conversation with Jack. She didn't answer, and only sent him an email late telling him she spent time with Cindy.
"Are you okay?" Tiffany asked.
Kevin marveled at the turn of events. Not long ago Tiffany wanted nothing to do with him. Now she was checking up on him.
"I'm fine, thanks. Just…you know, girlfriend problems." He studied her as she shoved pancakes in her mouth. The bags under her eyes were impossible to miss. "How are you doing? Did you sleep?"
She brushed her hair out of her eyes, and Kevin saw it, just for an instant. Despair. For a moment, he thought she would cry.
"I had a bad dream last night."
He said nothing, merely poured her a glass of orange juice.
There was a knock at the front door. Kevin and Tiffany both looked at each other, confused.
"Are we taking one of your friends to school today?"
She shook her head. "I'd ask you if it was okay first."
Kevin opened the front door to see a man on the porch. He looked ready for a day at the office. White shirt, khakis, nice shoes. Kevin imagined he'd broken down out on the road, or was just plain lost.
"Uh, yeah? Can I help you?"
"You're Kevin?"
Hearing his own name surprised him. "Yeah…."
"My name's Craig. I'm an acquaintance of Jack's. You mind if I come in?"
Kevin hesitated, and turned to Tiffany. Her back was to him as she continued to devour breakfast.
"Tiffany, do you know this guy?"
She turned on the stool. "I've seen him before with Dad. I don't remember his name, though."
"He…didn't tell you I was coming?" Craig asked.
Kevin shook his head.
"Figures. That's like him." Craig spoke under his breath. "Damn asshole."
"Ah, you do know him," Kevin said. "Come on in."
Craig stepped inside the living room and rubbed his hands together to fight the chilly morning.
"Okay, to get right to the point. I'm in a bind, and Jack called me last night telling me you were the answer. He said we could help each other out."
Kevin glanced at his coat, hanging on the rack in the corner. If Jack was selling magical services behind his back, they would have angry words.
"What do you mean?"
"I run a few local businesses for Jack. Two of them have no IT services, and that'll go up to three or four, very soon. I want one guy, who can handle every system. He says you need a job. And, if you know Jack like I do, I tend to do what he wants."
"Real clever, Jack," Kevin whispered.
Tiffany spoke up. "Kevin already has a job. He's watching me."
Craig laughed. "Yeah, he told me about that. Everything I need done now you can do while Tiffany's at school. After Jack gets back, you'll work for me…or him, I guess, full time. You need a job, I need a guy who can fix computers and run cable, today. What do you think?"
Kevin silently mulled it over. What was Jack doing? Was this another of his games? A way to control Kevin, keep an eye on him? Was this Victoria's doing? The last thought seemed even more far-fetched.
Was Jack trying to do something nice?
"Well…I can fix computers, and I can run cable."
"Alright," Craig said, looking relieved. "We have a deal. Here's my card. Just stop by later this morning at that address. We'll sign everything we need to, get you started."
Kevin's head was swimming.
"Uh, okay. I'll pick up cable somewhere in town."
Craig nodded. "We'll hammer all that out today. Just keep your receipts, but we'll eventually get you a company credit card. Welcome aboard."
He waved goodbye to Tiffany and left the house. Kevin was still trying to process what just happened. Tiffany held her plate in her lap, finishing up breakfast while staring at Kevin.
"Wow, you work for my Dad. That's really cool."
Was it?
Just like that, Kevin had a job.
*****
Rob removed his grocery store apron as soon as he stepped foot in the apartment. He balled it up and tossed it across the room. It landed neatly on the back of the dining room chair.
He stretched his arms over his head and moved his neck from side to side. On his way to the kitchen he stopped and looked at the apartment around him.
"You lied to me."
He gasped and spun his head in the direction of the voice. His gaze fell on the shadow, sitting in the corner chair in the living room. Rob could only see his hands, resting on the arms.
"I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. It's not easy to lie to me, at all. But you pulled it off. You didn't break a sweat, didn't even flinch. I'm impressed."
Jack stood up and stepped forward, his face finally free of the shadows. Rob let out a boyish half smile, one Jack imagined he used on all the ladies he met.
"Yeah, well, I've got talents not many people know about. I have to say I'm surprised, too. Marie didn't kill you?"
"Nope. Very clever plan. You spun a careful tale, sent me in the direction of a werewolf, hoping she'd kill me."
"It's a shame it didn't work. Such a nice woman, even if she's a puppy. Too nice, I guess. You did meet her, right? Tell me that woman doesn't have a body on her." Rob disappeared for a moment into the kitchen. "You want a beer?"
"Very confident, I see."
Rob emerged holding an open bottle. He took a long drink before setting it on the table and pulling out a large knife.
"Yeah, I guess you can say that. My hand's not all the way healed yet, but it's feeling better, more than enough to handle you. You didn't use the element of surprise when I walked in, so you blew that. I'd say this is your last night alive."
Jack smiled. "Is that what you'd say?"
"Definitely. I would just shoot you, but we don't need the neighbors hearing gunshots. They'll just think I'm having rough sex with another of my ladies."
"Wow. It sounds like you really got it all planned out."
"Yup. This blade is pure silver."
"That would be really helpful…if I was a werewolf."
"No, that's not my point. I'm going to kill you with this knife, and then I'm going to kill Marie. I really wanted the first kill to go to her, but you're not giving me a lot of choice. Oh, by the way, did you ever find who killed Erica? I swear, if I just had a little more time with her, I really think I could have—"
Rob didn't finish his sentence. Jack marched toward him, evil in his eyes. Rob took a step back, adopting a defensive stance. He held his bandaged hand close to his face while keeping the knife out.
He lashed out twice in quick succession. A smile touched his lips when he sliced Jack across the face and stabbed him in the stomach.
The smile left his face just as quickly when Jack didn't stop. The knife barely penetrated his flesh, which caught Rob by surprise. He dropped the knife, and it hit the ground when Jack threw the first of many punches to come.
The punch to the jaw knocked Rob back, but Jack's strength was no greater than any other mortal. Rob recovered and threw a punch of his own. Jack didn't bother to dodge. He let Rob hit him three times, each punch losing strength and confidence. The fourth punch Jack ducked, only to throw Rob off balance. Jack grabbed his arm and slammed his head into the dining room table. Rob, so cool with ladies and confident in his own abilities, slumped to the floor.
Jack grabbed the grocery store apron and the knife from the floor. Shoving the apron over Rob's mouth, Jack ran the blade across his bare arm. The skin pulled apart like paper, and Rob screamed into the apron. Blood spilled and pooled on the carpet. Jack held him in place by placing a dining room chair on his chest and sitting on it.
Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse Page 25
