“Of course.” I tap a finger against the tip of his nose. “Wanna know why?”
He furrows his thick brows. “Humor me.”
“Because Amanda Bishop never fails.”
The expression on his face is a cross between you-must-have-lost-more-brain-cells-in-that-coma-than-I-thought and oh-hell-what-did-I-just-get-myself-into. I extend my hand and wait for him to shake it. Jerk-face hesitates. “What’s the matter? Scared a witch saves your sorry hunter ass again?”
A spark ignites in his eyes. “No, but since you seem out of your mind at the moment, I’m going to sweeten the deal for me and ask you to stay with me tonight.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Trust me,” he says, a sheepish grin tugging at his full lips. “I’m in no condition to offer you mind-blowing sex.”
“So we’re talking about good old, no touching, no kissing sleep?”
He nods.
“All right,” I snarl. “But just so you know, you’re already pressing your luck.”
He shakes my hand. “Well, I guess we have a deal.”
“Again,” I say, glaring at the ceiling. “It’s kinda turned into our thing, huh?”
He traces the dark shadows beneath my eyes and smiles. “Always figured bitching and fighting was our thing.”
“That too,” I whisper as exhaustion weighs down my eyelids.
Chapter 13
Ten days to hell
When I blink my eyes open, I’m pressed against Alex’s chest. My cheek rests on his heart and his leg is wrapped around my thigh, keeping me close. It feels like a lifetime since I last woke in his arms. Honest to God, never thought it would happen again.
Never say never. Life has a way of doing whatever the hell it wants.
I look him over. He’s in better shape than last night. His skin is not as pale—seems like adding pig liver really wasn’t such a bad idea—and despite the fact he’ll be dragged to hell in ten days, he appears at peace.
Wish I could say the same about me.
Determined not to wake him, I carefully shove his leg to the side and crawl out of the warm bed. The winter sun breaks through my window. I’m guessing it’s around ten o’clock, which the clock on my nightstand confirms. If Alex downs more of the herb-liver shit, we could hit the road tomorrow. Get to the grimoire and find a way to fix this crappy situation.
That is if he doesn’t get an infection.
While gathering my toiletries and a change of clothes, I make a mental note to text Melinda, my sister. She will freak if she hears I plan to bring two of the most dangerous hunters to a witch residence, but who cares? The grimoire is as much my heritage as it is hers.
I tiptoe out of my room and catch a glimpse of Jesse. Feet dangling over our too short couch, he snores like a panther. Pretty damn cute.
I saunter toward him, grab a blanket from the recliner, and cover him. Then I just stand there and watch him sleep. I wonder who he’d be without his brother?
Best case scenario: a globetrotting, younger and hotter version of Hugh Hefner. Worst case scenario: a fucked up, always drunk, HIV positive dude, who hits on everything with two legs and boobs.
God, all of this is so wrong. Jesse and Alex are like Twix—two parts of a yummy chocolate bar. I can’t picture them existing separately.
How the fuck could Alex believe his brother would be okay without him?
Does it matter? All I have to do is honor my promise and get him out of this godforsaken deal. Then I’ll hopefully never know how bitter a Twix bar would taste without its other side.
I take a quick shower and blow dry my hair. The scent of fresh coffee wafts through the bathroom, and instead of applying mascara, I follow the delicious smell to the kitchen.
“Why aren’t you in class?” I ask the second I spot Bonnie next to the coffee machine.
She gives a lazy shrug. “Too damn tired.” I have to take her word for it, ’cause she still looks like Miss Universe.
Jesse must think so, too. He’s sitting on the recliner, watching my best friend with eagle eyes. There’s something uncannily familiar about the look he gives her. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Damn, how I miss seeing auras.
Since the life-saving liquid is still brewing, I walk over to him and ruffle his hair. “How did you sleep, Little Remington?”
He pulls a face. “You know I hate when you call me that, right?”
I grin. “Makes it all the more fun.”
He rolls his eyes. “How’s Alex?”
Bonnie’s gaze drifts to me. “Yeah, how is he?”
“Probably brain damaged,” I say, sauntering to the kitchen to prepare a bowl of cereal.
Jesse ogles me with a disturbed expression. “What?”
I grab the milk from the fridge and sigh. “Your brother promised his full cooperation for the ‘save Alexander jerk-face Remington from hell’ mission.”
Jesse is on his feet in no time. “Are you serious?” His eyes sparkle like black diamonds, but his happiness fades when reality hits. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “Do I want to know what you had to do to convince him?”
I’m all set to assure him I didn’t put a hex on Alex when someone knocks on the door. My gaze flies to Bonnie. “You expecting someone?”
She cocks a brow and points to the blood-soaked couch. “Have you seen this place?” A simple no would have sufficed, but Bonnie wouldn’t be Bonnie if she went with simple.
I put the bowl on the coffee table and walk to the door. “Who’s there?” No one answers. It’s days like these I miss a spy hole.
The color drains from Bonnie’s face. “What if it’s campus security?” she asks, coming toward me. “Or worse, the cops?” Ever since her oldest brother got arrested, she stays at least a hundred feet away from the boys in blue.
From the corner of my eye, I see Jesse cover the couch with a blanket and reach for his Glock.
Another loud knock hits the door.
Drawing a deep breath, I circle the door knob and open it. Fuck, I wish I hadn’t. I raise my brows. “What do you want, DeLuca?”
“We need to talk,” he says, arms crossed.
I’m not up for another jealous rampage. Alex might be asleep, but if he wakes up and walks out of my room, DeLuca will throw a fit. And Alex? Well, there’s no way of telling what he’ll do. I give DeLuca a look. “I’m a little busy right now. You think your I’m-acting-like-an-alpha-male-dick act can wait?”
His amber eyes narrow to slits. “Nope.”
I can’t even say “fuck off” before he pushes past me. I slam the door behind him and frown. “Sure you can come in, douchebag.”
“Wanna tell me what the fuck is going on with you?” he snarls through gritted teeth.
I’m at the brink of scratching his eyes out. “With me? I’m not the one trespassing like an idiot.”
He ignores my comment. “Why weren’t you at work or in class?”
What the hell is this? “I don’t think I have to account for my movements to you, DeLuca.”
Something incredibly dark passes through his eyes. “That’s all you have to say?”
Nope, there are plenty of insults on the tip of my tongue, but Jesse speaks before I can unload on him. “Who the hell is that?”
Like a cyborg on a mission, DeLuca spins. “Is that him?” He peeks over his shoulder, glaring at me as if I committed all the deadly seven sins at once. “Is that Alex?”
A wicked smile crosses Jesse’s lips. “You dating him?” I hate the way he looks at me. So judgmental it’s almost as if Alex stands in front of me.
Before I can explain, DeLuca stalks toward Jesse. He gets right into his personal space. “Are you the motherfucker who screws my girl?”
“Your girl?” Jesse bursts into laughter.
DeLuca’s spine turns to iron. “You think this is funny?” He balls his hands into fists. I’m positive he’s about to strike.
“DeLuca,” I snap, seizing hold of his royal blue thermal
shirt. “Get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.”
He yanks his arm out of my grip. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me the truth, Amanda.”
I have a fugitive in my bedroom who looks like he ran into Wolverine. And by the way, said fugitive also happens to be my ex-lover, who sold his soul. Yeah, because that would go so well.
We engage in a stare-down. Neither of us is ready to give up. Out of the blue, Jesse walks up beside me and throws an arm around my shoulders. “Honestly, sis, you have crappy taste in men.”
DeLuca’s eyes widen. “Sis?”
Jesse raises his brows at him. “Got a problem with that?”
Embarrassment washes over DeLuca, coloring his face a nasty shade of red. “I-I…had no idea.”
Jesse shrugs. “How could you? You were too busy barging in here and calling me a motherfucker, right?” He doesn’t look pissed, but his voice is sharper than Michonne’s katana on The Walking Dead.
DeLuca brushes the angled fringe out of his face and frowns. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Be an asshole?” I blurt out. “Yeah, too late.”
“I was just worried,” he says, trying to justify his behavior.
“Last time I checked, I made it pretty clear we’re not exclusive. I can write it down for you if it helps.”
He watches me with heavily hooded eyes. “I wasn’t worried about you being with someone else.”
I knit my brows. “Oh, really? So you’re acting like an asshole just for the sake of it?”
His gaze drops to the floor. “No…yes…not really.”
“All right,” Bonnie interrupts. “Why don’t we give him a shot and let him explain himself?”
What the fuck is there to explain? DeLuca is one step away from becoming a case for Stalked: Someone’s Watching.
Jesse gestures for him to talk. “We’re listening.”
I’m not.
DeLuca swallows hard. “When you didn’t show up for class, I went by the diner. Your boss said she fired you.”
Jesse cuts his eyes my way. I know what’s on his mind. No super-cool aura-reading ability needed. He understands I lost my job over Alex.
“Go on,” I mutter, ignoring the amazed, yet guilt-ridden look Jesse gives me.
“I figured you’d show up today.” DeLuca sucks in air. “When you didn’t, I thought those guys must have gotten to you.”
The need to strangle him grows inside of me like a weed, but then I hear what he’s just said. “What guys?”
“You haven’t heard?”
Oh God, here we go again. Would I fucking ask if I had?
“What haven’t we heard?” Bonnie says and groans. Unlike me, she plays the game.
The blood drains from DeLuca’s face, and for a fraction of a second, I consider shoving the Chinatown Special down his throat. “They,” he says, fighting for composure, “they found Jules.” Bonnie stumbles backward, as if she already knows what he’s going to say. “She’s dead.”
This week keeps getting better and better.
Jesse’s gaze shoots to me. “Who’s Jules?”
“The girl your sister threatened before she disappeared,” DeLuca explains.
“I didn’t threaten her,” I hiss. “I threatened all of ’em.”
Jesse runs a hand over his face and sighs. “Not again, Manda.” He’s referring to Mister Sinister. He, too, bit the dirt only days after he’d dared to piss me off.
“I didn’t touch her,” I shout, feeling a little crazed.
“Those guys in fancy black suits think differently,” DeLuca counters.
“Do they think I’m some kind of virgin-killing alien or something?” I hide behind sarcasm. Truth is, I’m slightly worried. Jules is dead, the whole campus knows what went down in the diner—well, they know what the Nun and Ava told them—and the Men in Black are looking for me.
“What guys?” Bonnie’s voice is hard, her features even harder.
DeLuca throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know who they are.” He stares at Jesse. “They showed up in Penrose’s class today. Told us the police had found Jules’s mutilated body in Washington Square Park. Everyone sorta went into shock. Ava broke down, I think. The guys didn’t care. They went to Penrose and demanded to know where they could find”—his eyes lock with mine—“you, Amanda.”
I’m beyond fucked.
Chapter 14
Ever watch one of your favorite TV shows and wonder why the fuck the writer insults your intelligence by starting a new episode with one of those annoying-as-hell recap sequences? Always thought they didn’t give the viewer enough credit. As if we’re brain dead, or unable to put one and one together. Now, while Jesse navigates the Mustang through the way too familiar streets of Salem and Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” blasts through the speakers, I wish a screenwriter would do a little “Previously on The Stab-worthy Witch” summary for me. Presumably, it would be along the lines of: Amanda tried to start over, found herself haunted by creepy nightmares, and learned her ex-lover sold his soul to a demon, and our incredibly sexy villainous witch is once again accused of a brutal homicide, but the Men in Black are already on her heels. Bet I forgot something, but it’s sorta hard to keep track of the plot twists in the freak show I call my life.
“Manda?”
I look up, meeting Jesse’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Is he okay?”
Alex’s head rests in my lap. Cold sweat runs down his cheeks, and he shivers uncontrollably. Nothing about him screams “okay.” In fact, he looks downright awful. I wish we could have given him another day to heal, but after DeLuca dropped the bomb Jules was dead, we—Jesse, Bonnie, and I—figured it would be better to hit the road immediately. Or should I say immediately after Jesse got rid of DeLuca. Little Remington had to come up with some lame excuse about a sick aunt. DeLuca didn’t buy it. But what was he gonna do? Tie me to a chair?
I run my fingers through Alex’s damp hair. “He’s—”
“Awesome,” Alex murmurs, a fresh burst of pain making his jaw clench. He digs his hands into the rear bench and lifts himself. “Still can’t believe you hauled my hurt butt on a five-hour drive so we can skim through some stupid book.”
That “stupid book,” as he calls it, predates the Salem witch trials. Before it was given to my grams, it belonged to none other than the legendary Victoria Bishop—my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother. If one can believe the legends, she was one of the most powerful, kick-ass witches to ever walk this earth, making her grimoire a well-respected and feared resource in the witch community.
“Show a little respect,” Bonnie barks from the passenger seat. “You’re talking about family heritage.”
Alex arches a brow. “Still don’t see why you guys pulled me out of bed as if the house was on fire.”
I look out the window, feeling guilty for not telling him the truth about our sudden departure. It was Jesse’s idea, though. He claimed his brother had enough on his plate. No need to add a dead student and the Men in Black to the menu.
Bonnie shifts in her seat. “Sorry, Amanda, but the great Alexander Remington really isn’t as badass as you painted him. Whiny? Yeah. Badass? Hell to the no.”
Alex flashes me a smile. “Badass, huh?”
I ignore the stabbing pain behind my right eye and rest my head against the cool window. “Shut up, Alex.”
“Shut up,” he says, having a hard time breathing. “Badass Alex.”
I give my best friend a look. Thanks, B. Knowing Alex, I’ll never hear the end of it.
Bonnie faces Alex. “I kinda liked you better when you were unconscious.”
Alex presses a palm against his chest. “Ouch. A witch doesn’t like me. That hurts.” He grins. “Not.”
Bonnie is a millisecond away from losing her temper, but Jesse interrupts her. “I think I’ve got the wrong address.” His gaze drifts from his GPS to the First Period Colonial house halfway down Broad Street.
&nb
sp; “No you don’t,” I snarl.
“You serious?” Jesse sounds surprised. I don’t blame him. The Bishop residence is one of the oldest and finest in Salem.
“Dead serious,” Bonnie says proudly. She’s always loved this house. Then again, her memories of it are happier than mine.
Overwhelmed, Jesse pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. “Damn, Manda.” He can’t take his eyes off the house my ancestors built when they arrived in the New World. “You neglected to mention you’re a rich witch.”
I cup my elbows. “I’m not rich. My family is.”
A cocky grin lights up jerk-face’s lips. “Where’s the difference?”
I yank the door open and stretch my numb legs. “You wouldn’t understand,” I guarantee him. He loves his family. I hate mine.
I get out of the car and stare at the charming ivory façade. To an outsider, it must appear the perfect home. They have no fucking clue how many bloody battles the walls inside have witnessed. Mom and Dad’s endless fights, my terrified screams when Mother Dearest locked me in the attic, Dad’s death, Melinda’s bloody wedding day—the list is endless.
“Amanda.” Bonnie stands next to me. Her eyes are filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” I fake a pretty convincing smile. “It’s not a big deal, B.” Just the thought of Miss-I’m-so-much-better-than-you’ll-ever-be turns my stomach upside down. Other than that, I’m superb.
She rocks her heels into the pebbles covering the driveway and pulls her curls into a bun. “And you’re absolutely certain he’s not here?”
My heart beats a little faster, and I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. “He’s with Melinda’s friend.” I’d texted her before we left and made sure Leandro wouldn’t be anywhere near the house while Alex and Jesse are here. Of course, she agreed. His well-being is the only thing we agree upon.
Bonnie bites her lip. “And you’re okay with that?”
Melinda’s friends are stuck-up housewives with a Sex and the City complex. So, no, I’m not even remotely okay with it. “It’s none of my business, B.” I sound cold and distant.
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