“Knife?” Pulp Fiction Granny barks. “Why the fuck do you need a goddamn knife?”
Bonnie frowns. Her patience wearing thinner and thinner. I don’t blame her. The old woman has a way of making the best of us feel evil. “We need Alex and Diana’s blood for the spell.”
“Don’t worry,” I add. “It’s just a drop.”
“It better be,” she warns, hugging the rifle closer to her chest. It wouldn’t surprise me if she took the thing to bed at night.
“Anytime with the blood,” I say, pointing to the piece of paper on the table.
Alex pulls a pocketknife out of his jacket, extends the blade, and pierces his index finger. Crimson soaks into the letters, smearing some of the words in the process.
“That’s enough.” I face Diana. “Now you.”
Alex wipes the knife on a towel, holds it under the flame of his Zippo to sanitize it, and hands it to Diana.
She slices her finger. “Shit.” She flinches. “That looks so much less painful on TV.” She squeezes the cut over the paper, and blood drips on it. “Enough?” she asks, face pale.
I nod and put the spell back on the table. “Give me the Zippo,” I order.
Alex throws it over. I light the candle and focus on my breath. So this is it. The moment of truth. I close my eyes and try to calm my pulse. The only way I’ll be able to do this ritual is by disconnecting my brain from my soul. If Diana is the one, Alex is saved. I can move on with my new life and never think about him again. Because that worked so well last time, huh?
I draw a deep breath and picture Aphrodite, not as a naked woman who rises from the foam of the sea, but as a strong chick who’s brave enough to follow her heart. Her face takes form, and I start chanting. “I call upon you, Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty, and delight. These lovers seek your advice. Show us if their souls were forged in the same fire, or if their feelings are guided by desire.”
I repeat the spell until a warm feeling touches my heart. Then I hold the blood-smeared piece of paper to the flame and watch it burn. The paper chars and crumbles. The smoke remains as black as the night.
“That can’t be good,” Jesse whispers.
“She’s not his soulmate,” Bonnie says.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unable to look him in the eye.
But am I?
Chapter 20
Diana isn’t the one. Alex is still going to hell. Yet, I’m in a suspiciously good mood. So was Diana when she left Amelia’s. She’d wanted to help Alex, but a huge part of her had been relieved when the smoke didn’t turn red. Diana had been really worried about her kids at the shelter where she works. She kept saying she didn’t have time for love, because the kids took up most of her day. In my opinion, she just wasn’t ready to give up her freedom. Knowing your soulmate, however, would inevitably lead to that. No more test-drives needed. No more experiences gained. I might not be her biggest fan, but she deserves to live life to the fullest, which, believe it or not, includes a couple of heartbreaks.
“I need a pit stop,” Jesse grumbles, eyes on the road. Unlike Diana, he’d been hit hard by the result of the ritual. Crossing one name off the list had reduced his brother’s chances of survival and put him in a very dark place.
Alex points to a road sign. “Take the next exit. We can stop in Auburn.”
“Sounds good. I’m starving,” Bonnie says, head resting against the cool window of the Mustang. She’s been awfully quiet since we got in the car, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because we’re headed to New Orleans, where her brother is rotting in a prison cell.
I shift closer to my best friend. “You good?” I keep my voice down so the boys don’t hear me.
She forces a smile. “Yeah, why?”
Maybe because you swore to never set foot in that city again? “Just checking.”
About two miles from the interstate, Jesse pulls into the parking lot of Toomers Coffee Shop. Getting out of the car feels good and the prospect of steaming coffee makes my addict-heart beat a little faster. It’s after eight, and they close in a little less than an hour. That’s more than enough time to fill our groaning stomachs and down some black gold.
“What do you want?” Jesse asks, joining the long queue. He must be in a worse state than I thought. Doesn’t even pay attention to the hot chick in the mini-skirt right in front of him.
I pull out my purse. “Triple-shot Americano.”
He eyeballs me. “Put that away, Manda.”
I hate when someone pays for my stuff. I’d argue with him, but I don’t want to be the person who changes his mood from pissed off to murderous.
“You guys can grab a seat. I’ll get the drinks,” he murmurs.
Bonnie nods. “I’ll stay with him.” She points her chin at an empty table. “You two go ahead.”
Alex pulls me along. “Come on.”
“You should talk to him,” I suggest as we sit down. “He’s hurting.”
Refusing to meet my gaze, he runs a hand over his stubble. “It’s better that way.”
Excuse me? Did he just say it’s better if his brother is in pain? What the hell is wrong with him, lately? Did the prospect of an eternity in hell scramble his brain? “Wow, Alex. You sound more and more like me.”
He presses a hand against his ribcage. “We both know this plan won’t work,” he says, his breath shallow. “It’ll be easier on him if he starts accepting it now.”
Despite his shitty way of showing it, I know he’s trying to protect his brother. So I decide to let it go for now.
“Amanda?”
Full name, huh? Can’t be good. “Yeah?”
Shoving the napkin holder from one hand to the other, he’s trying hard not to meet my eyes. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
The edges of my mouth curve up. “Fifteen.”
He looks up. “What?”
“The age I lost my virginity,” I say, trying hard not to laugh. Not that losing my virginity had been comical, but the surprised expression on Alex’s face totally is.
Leaning back in his chair, he shakes his head. “Funny.”
“Not really. The dude kissed like a llama, grunted like a sick pig, and—”
He makes a face. “Okay. Okay. I got it.”
Resting my elbows on the table, I sigh. “All right, no more kidding. Ask and you shall receive.” I grin. “Or not.”
He looks away and draws a long breath. “That Magic Pony dude and you…Are you guys a thing?”
“A thing?” I laugh. “Are you asking if we dated? Screwed? Are in a relationship?”
His shoulders stiffen. “Are you?” His eyes search mine. “In a relationship, I mean?”
I knit my brows. Where the hell does the sudden interest in my love life come from? “Why do you care?”
His expression is indecipherable, and I’d give my non-existent fortune to be able to read his aura. “Just curious, I guess. Must be one helluva guy if he tamed the great Amanda Bishop.” Is that envy in his voice?
I raise my brows at him. “First of all, I’m not a horse, Alex. No one tames me. Secondly, the only thing DeLuca and I had going was sex.” I needed it to forget about you.
I could swear he flinched. It was too quick to be certain. He clears his throat and straightens. “So you’re still going around breaking young boys’ hearts?” His voice is sharper, eyes like stone.
This is the perfect beginning for another battle in World War A, but I’m not in the mood to go down that road. I flash him a smile. “But Billie Bridge is not my lover. He’s just a guy who claims I am the one.”
He shakes his head. “Are you really singing Michael Jackson right now?” he asks, a smile tugging at his lips.
I wink at him. “The King of Pop always gave perspective.”
“You’re un—”
“Triple-shot Americano for you.” Bonnie puts a hot cup down in front of me. “Latte for asshat.” She hands Alex his cup. “And”—she takes
a seat next to me—“lots of cupcakes for me.”
“Thanks, B.”
“You won’t try to slip the money in my shirt when I sleep, right?” Jesse’s voice is less edgy than five minutes ago. I wonder what, or should I say who, changed his mood.
Bonnie beats me to an answer. “Have you met her?”
These people know me too damn well. Scary. “Give me a break.” They’re both giggling. “Both of you.”
They all smile, even Alex. “Three against one, huh? Not fair.”
Alex grins. “You can handle it.”
“Damn right I can.” I sip my steaming Americano. “Now cut the crap and tell me all about the mysterious girl in New Orleans.”
“Melissa.” Jesse’s playful tone suggests the girl is nothing like Diana. “Hot, always-ready-for-a-surprise Melissa.”
Bonnie arches a brow and smiles. “I like her already.”
Wish I could say the same thing.
A flicker of annoyance crosses Alex’s face. “Shut up, Jess. Melissa is a real sweet girl.”
Jesse almost chokes on his mocha. “Yeah. A real sweet stripper.”
My jaw drops. “Shut. Up.” I look at Alex. “Seriously? You were in love with a stripper?”
He squints, and I realize how wrong that question sounded. Unlike most of my female counterparts, I have the highest respect for strippers. What I really meant to say was, how on earth did Captain Righteous end up falling for a bad girl?
“She’s cool,” Alex defends her, casting Jesse a grumpy look.
“As I said, I already like her,” Bonnie throws in.
Alex nods at her gratefully, then faces me. “She’s been through some real bad shit. Her job doesn’t define her.”
“Whoa,” I say, the cup almost slipping from my hand. “I’m not judging her. I’m judging you, Alex.”
Chapter 21
Seven days to hell
Vexed, Bonnie searches her bucket bag for the key to the apartment. The girl’s mood was shitty when we drove here, but now that we’re in the city of her nightmares, she’s giving Jason—yep, Friday The 13th Jason—a run for his money.
Jesse scans my best friend’s perfectly rounded butt. “I can’t believe you own an apartment in the French Quarter.”
I lean against the wall, trying hard not to laugh my ass off. “She doesn’t own an apartment, Jess. Her family owns the whole building.” Along with a couple of other flats and several nightclubs.
Alex’s brows shoot up. “Thought you guys couldn’t use your gifts to win the lottery?”
Bonnie shoves the key in the lock. “What are you trying to say?” Her tone is dark. Doesn’t sound like her at all.
Alex flashes her a mocking smile. “C’mon, B. You gonna pretend it’s a coincidence both your witch families are loaded?”
Any other day, I’d be in his face, but my adorable never-losing-her-countenance best friend is on a roll and beats me to it. “It’s Bonnie, not B. And did you know there’s a special place in hell for bigots, Alexander?” She sounds so sangfroid, it’s a little scary.
Alex sneers. “What did you just call me?”
Bonnie kicks the door open and shoots him a look over her shoulder. “A bigot.” She grins creepily. “But in case your small hunter brain can’t comprehend the word, I’ll give you another—prejudiced asshole.”
“That’s two words, B,” Alex counters.
She puts a hand over her heart. “Oh my gosh. He can count.”
Whoa, what’s gotten into her? I’ve never seen her talk to someone like this.
Alex is close to bursting. Jesse, who’d been amused until a few moments ago, changes the topic before the argument turns into a full-blown cat fight. “You spend a lot of time here?” he asks Bonnie.
From all the things he could have said, he brings up New Orleans? Congrats, Jess. You just scored a ten on the major-topic-change-fail scale. I slam my hands over my eyes, bracing myself for Hurricane Bonnie to hit.
It never happens. My best friend just shrugs. “Used to. Not anymore.” Then she walks inside, and Jesse follows.
“Hey.” Alex grabs my arm as I stagger to the door. “What’s her goddamn problem?”
She hates this city. That’s what’s her problem. Wasn’t always like that. I remember the last time we were here together. We had the time of our lives—made out with steamy guys, downed lots of Ramos Gin Fizz, and danced our asses off. Unfortunately, the night took a pretty bad turn when Gabriel, B’s oldest brother, was arrested for rape. Yep, that’s life. One minute you’re celebrating Mardi Gras, and the next you’re sitting in a police station, waiting to give a statement. Bonnie’s family is practically royalty in NOLA, and Gabriel’s arrest quickly turned into one of the city’s biggest scandals, changing my best friend forever.
Alex gives me a thoughtful look. “Manda?”
He’d cut B some slack if I told him, but I’m not a snitch. It’s her story to tell, not mine. “Just leave her alone, okay?”
He cocks a brow. “Leave her alone? She just called me a bigot, Amanda.”
A slow grin spreads over my face. “Truth hurts, huh?”
Dropping his shoulders, he shakes his head. “Witches,” he hisses. “Don’t you just love them?”
I wink at him. “You once did, remember?”
He looks pissed. Before he can retaliate, I move inside.
The scent of fresh lilies climbs up my nose. Bonnie’s mom loves them, and crazy as she is, she demands her employees stock each building, inhabited or not, with the flowers.
Once I get to the living room, I find Jesse on the antique leather couch. Hands folded between his knees, he wears a frustrated expression. “Where’s B?” I ask, scanning the room.
He looks at me helplessly. “Kitchen, I think.”
“Sharpening her knives?” Alex murmurs behind me.
His comments start to piss me off. I grab him by his jacket and haul him toward his brother. “Sit down and be quiet.”
He pulls back. “What am I, your dog?”
A Chihuahua at best. I press my palms against his back and shove him to the couch. “Sit. Down. Stay.” My eyes meet his dark green ones. “Got it?”
Alex shakes his head. “You’re—”
“Hot when I’m giving orders?” I grin. “I know.”
He mumbles something under his breath. Good thing I can’t hear him. If I did, I might be the one sharpening the knives in the kitchen.
I eye Jesse. “I’ll be right back.” He nods and I add, “Don’t touch anything.” I narrow my eyes. “For your own good.” Who knows how many cursed objects they have lying around here?
Bonnie’s head rests on the granite countertop when I walk in. She sorta looks like she’s cemented to the cold stone. “Hey.” I pat her back. “How you holding up?”
She snarls.
“You know I’m not the sharing and caring type,” I say. “But if you wanna talk…”
She shifts her head to the side and looks up. “Can I ask you something?”
I press my hip against the kitchen island. “Shoot.”
“How the fuck did you fall for a guy like Alex?”
Didn’t see that one coming. “He’s kinda like mold. Grows on you with time.”
Her brows fly up. “You realize mold is toxic, right?”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “I’m self-destructive like that.” I look her over. “But we both know Alex isn’t the reason you’re on edge, right?”
Bonnie lifts her head and says nothing.
“Look.” I take a step toward her. “I’m the last go-to person for family counseling, but—”
“Stop,” she begs. “I appreciate you getting out of your comfort zone for me, but I don’t want to talk about Gabe. Not now. Not ever.”
I hate to see her hurting, but what good would it do, pretending Gabe doesn’t exist? “He’s still—”
Resentment flushes her cheeks. “Don’t even go there. Brother or not, for all I care, he can rot in his prison cel
l for all eternity.”
Bonnie can say what she wants, but deep down she misses her big brother. God, the girl practically worshipped him all her life, and beneath all the anger, she still loves him. But what he did to that girl didn’t just ruin her life, it also ruined Bonnie’s. Took away the one thing she held dearest—respect.
Painfully silent moments go by before she speaks again. “I should hit the shower.” She peers at the clock on the microwave. “Rick’s Cabaret opens in less than two hours.”
Right. Strip Club. I’d almost forgotten why we were here. “You sure you’re okay with the plan?” Doesn’t matter what she says, I’m 100 percent sure she isn’t. How could she be? The plan involves her using magic. A special kind of magic—manipulation.
She draws a long, pained breath. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
I’m torn between saying “no” for Alex’s sake and shouting out a loud “yes” for B’s. I take the coward’s way out and say nothing.
Bonnie frowns. “Guilty doesn’t suit you.”
It doesn’t, but it’s sure as hell how I feel. I came up with the idea. Melissa—the second girl on Alex’s maybe-soulmate list—has no idea the supernatural exists. We can hardly ask for her blood like we did with Diana. I figured if Alex and Jesse could keep her busy, Bonnie and I would sneak backstage to get our hands on her brush.
Here we go again with the stealing a brush plan, because that worked so well last time, right? What else are we supposed to do? Scalp her while she’s giving a lap dance?
I massage the nape of my neck. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.” I truly am. Alex isn’t her problem. He’s mine. Yet Bonnie ditched classes to help out a hunter she doesn’t even like.
“Wow.” Her lips curve up. “Did you just apologize?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
She folds her arms and smiles. A real smile. “Maybe I should let you talk me into using my magic more often.” I give her a look and she goes on, saying, “Think about it. I could make the Nun support a gay group or have her do a naked fertility dance on campus.”
The moment she mentions Chelsea, I instantly think of dead Jules and the Men in Black. Not the right time or place to worry about it. I push the thought away and grin. “Talk her into losing her uptightness, and I’ll carve my apology in stone.”
Soulmates Page 17
