My family shook with quiet laughter, conscious of Sarah asleep on Brent’s lap, as I recounted half a dozen ridiculous stories from the last few months. My heart wasn’t in it, but it was what my family needed. It was what they expected.
I talked to fill the silence. The tears rolling down my mom’s face were from laughter, not from grief. It was all I could give them. And I hated myself for not being able to do more.
“Oh, pumpkin face,” my dad chuckled. “You really are a barrel full of sunshine.”
I bit my lip. Stop stalling, I told myself.
Sometimes, I wished all of the hardness in my skin could somehow seep into my personality and toughen me up.
“So, my friends and I have been investigating all the deaths that were blamed on DAMND,” I said.
“No.” My mom held up her hand to stop me.
My whole body tensed at her sharp tone. There was a wild look in her eyes.
“No, what?” I asked.
“Lilly died from one of those baby killers!”
My dad stroked a hand down my mom’s back as her voice grew shrill, but she shrugged him off.
“One of those couples had a baby that was in the same neonatal unit as Lilly. The doctor told us so. She said they didn’t realize the baby was one of them until it was too late.”
“Come on,” my dad said, tugging on my mom’s arm. “It’s getting late.”
My eyes stung. I hadn’t even reached the confession part…where I had to admit how little progress I’d made. I also needed to explain that the only reason I wasn’t sharing in Lilly’s awful fate was because of a spelling error on my birth certificate.
My dad gave me a defeated look as he led my mom out of the room. I felt like I’d betrayed him. My one job when I came here was to help them forget…and I’d failed at even that.
“They’re not mad at you, you know,” Brent told me in a hollow voice once they’d gone. “It’s just been…hard.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” I whispered, unable to meet my brother’s gaze.
“I’m glad you haven’t.”
That made my head snap up.
“I want you to move on from all of this and live your life.” Brent gave me a sad smile.
“I’m going to find out what really happened,” I vowed. “Maybe the truth will help our family somehow—” I broke off, not wanting to sound callous by saying something like move on.
The truth was, Lilly would always be in all of our hearts. But I couldn’t help but think that finding answers would let my family start to heal. Anything was better than continuing to live in this purgatory.
“It’s been five years,” Brent said. “I’ve made my peace with Lilly’s death. It was awful at first, but I did my grieving. I feel…alright. It’s just—” He looked down at his wife. “I just want her back.”
I hurriedly wiped away the tear sliding down my cheek before Brent could see. I refused to add my grief onto the terrible load my brother was already carrying.
“How’s she doing?” I asked in a quiet voice, nodding at Sarah.
Brent touched his wife’s cheek with his fingertips.
“I…don’t know how to help her,” he whispered.
My fearless older brother looked at me, his expression lost.
I had no idea what to say. My throat felt too thick to manage speaking, even if I’d had the right words.
“It’s her magic,” Brent continued. “It’s not just her pain she feels, but all of ours. She knows it’s hurting me that she’s so sad, and that makes everything worse for her. It’s like a fucking emotional snowball of doom, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
They were the most honest, raw words my brother had spoken to me in years.
“Brent,” I whispered, crouching down next to him and resting my head on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
Sarah was a Level 4 Bleeding Heart, which meant her capacity for empathy was seemingly endless. Her magic had helped her become a world-renowned child psychiatrist, back when she’d still been working. She’d quit her job after Lilly’s death.
At that moment, my phone began to ring. Grateful for the distraction—and then guilty for wanting to escape—I pulled my cell out of my pocket. It was Kaira.
“I’m sorry,” I told my brother, showing him my screen so he’d know why I was abandoning him. “I have to take this.”
Stepping into the dark dining room, I answered.
“Hey,” I said, hoping Kaira wouldn’t notice my scratchy voice.
“Charlotte and Sir Zachary found him,” Kaira said, her voice brimming with triumphant anticipation. “He’s been at the Magical Solitude Cemetery for at least half an hour. Charlotte says he’s digging up graves, so he should be there long enough for us to catch him.”
I knew that cemetery. It was close enough to my parents’ house that I could walk—or run—there.
“Gray’s just finishing up some stuff with the Super Mags,” Kaira continued. “We’ll be in the car in a couple of minutes. Want us to swing by and pick you up?”
“I’ll meet you there,” I told her.
“Okay,” Kaira said after a short pause. “But don’t go after him alone. This man’s too dangerous and too much of an unknown. Besides, I’ll be able to illusion us all so we have the benefit of surprise. Thankfully, Chameleon magic actually changes the body’s appearance while I just manage impressions, so his magic won’t interfere with mine.”
“Don’t go in alone,” I parroted. “Got it.”
Kaira sighed. She knew as well as I did that there was no way I was going to sit around waiting for backup. I had half a paper to recover and a score to settle.
CHAPTER 14
The crisp night air helped to wash away my grief. I didn’t turn into titanium as I ran, letting the cold air sear my lungs. I relished the burn of my calves as I sprinted to the cemetery.
By the time I reached my destination, I was feeling like myself again.
As far as cemeteries at night went, this one was at the low end of the creepy scale. All of the headstones were flat, so it looked more like an open field than a graveyard. A wide, paved road cut down the center of the grass. Bright lamps spaced throughout the cemetery made it look almost friendly.
I jogged down the paved road, which led up a gently-sloping hill. When I crested the hill, I looked around.
I didn’t catch that overwhelming sense of Cinnamon Guy’s magic the way I had back at Pruwist’s house, but it didn’t matter. The bright lamps illuminated a solitary figure in the middle of the cemetery. And unless there was another person digging up graves at night, then I’d found my prey.
There was a motorcycle parked under a nearby lamp, and hell if I didn’t find that just a little bit sexy.
Shaking my head to rid myself of the ridiculous thought, I started to run. I didn’t bother to hide the sound of my sneakers pounding the pavement. I wasn’t going to give this Chameleon the chance to blend into the grass and slip away.
I blew on my fists and waited until my skin shone silver. Then, I pounced.
Cinnamon Guy let out an affronted oof as we hit the ground. I’d expected him to disappear from view immediately, but he didn’t. I pinned him under me, allowing myself a moment of satisfaction that he was well and truly stuck.
“Bri Hammond.” Cinnamon Guy quirked an eyebrow in a way that made it obvious he was making fun of me. “I’d say it was nice to see you again, but you know. It isn’t.”
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I just have a few little questions, and if you answer them right, I’ll let you go without messing up your pretty face…much.” I gave him an evil smile I’d learned from my cheerleading days.
Most people assumed wrestling was the more vicious of my two sports. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” Cinnamon Guy batted his obnoxiously-long eyelashes at me.
The lamps surrounding us reflected in his dark eyes and illuminated his tattoos. I noticed that
he had a tiny diamond stud in his left earlobe.
Cinnamon Guy’s hair, which was longer in the front than on the sides or back, just brushed his forehead. I couldn’t wait to beat that smirk off his full lips…right after he’d given me what I had come here for.
“How did you get out of Pruwist’s house that night after we tied you up?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.
“You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve.” Cinnamon Guy gave me a wouldn’t you like to know look.
I tightened my hold on him.
“Cariño,” he purred in an accent that probably brought less discerning women running into his arms. “If you wanted to get me under you, all you had to do was say so.”
I didn’t validate that with a response. Instead, I glared down at his smug face.
“Where’d you put it?” I demanded. “That paper you stole from me?”
Cinnamon Guy smiled, showing off his even, white teeth. “Not on my person, sadly. Although you’re welcome to frisk me for it.”
Ugh. “What is your basic problem?” I demanded.
“You mean I have to pick just one?” he asked, clearly enjoying my growing frustration.
I was so tempted to knock him out and then let Michael pick his brain apart when he came to. So very tempted.
But it always took Michael longer to get information out of people I’d concussed. I didn’t want to risk scrambling the few brain cells this guy had before we got what we needed out of him.
“What was on that paper?” I pressed, digging my knee into his ribs until he winced. “I know you looked at it, so don’t try to pretend like you didn’t.”
“Sure, I looked at it.” Cinnamon Guy shrugged the one shoulder I didn’t have pinned to the grass. “There might have been some numbers or something. I wasn’t really paying attention.”
I didn’t believe him as far as I could throw him. Actually, I could have thrown him a whole lot further than I believed him.
Fine. If he wanted to play it that way, I’d just wait for Michael.
“Why are you digging up graves?” I demanded, buying time until the rest of the Seven arrived.
I didn’t say anything specifically about Agent S, since I didn’t know how much he knew, and I didn’t want to tip my hand.
Before Cinnamon Guy even opened his mouth, I could tell something sarcastic was going to come out. Sure enough, he said, “Because this is how the cool kids spend their Friday nights.” He looked up at me. “And I’m definitely the cool kid.”
This man wasn’t the first asshole I’d dealt with, but seriously, enough was enough. I raised my fist to put Cinnamon Guy into a temporary and painful sleep, when a sharp whistle had me freezing.
“Is someone out there?” an unfamiliar male voice demanded.
“Mierda.” Cinnamon Guy swore. All the amusement on his face vanished. “Mag Cop.”
“What?” I looked around.
The beam of a flashlight was just visible over the crest of the hill.
“He sensed your magic.” Cinnamon Guy made a sound of disgust. “Idiota.”
“How do you know it wasn’t your magic he sensed?” I shot back, defensive.
“Can you feel my magic?” he challenged.
I couldn’t. That swirling heat of power I’d felt from him before was gone.
Well, shit.
I looked around, but there was nowhere to hide. I could run, but the cop would immediately notice my silver skin in the lamplight. And without my titanium, there was no way I’d be able to drag Cinnamon Guy with me.
It would take the cop about ten seconds to identify me in my Steel form. Five more, and I’d be on every major news network. The grave robbery would be pinned on me, and then Kaira and Graysen would have a thousand reporters hounding them.
Double shit.
“Lose your magic and get down,” Cinnamon Guy ordered.
“He’ll still be able to sense me,” I argued.
“Do it!”
I bristled, but with no other option that would save me and my friends endless humiliation, I did as I was told. As soon as my skin was just skin again, I felt a small prick in my forearm.
I glanced to the side in time to see Cinnamon Guy pulling out the needle he’d just stuck me with.
“What the—”
“It’s temporary,” Cinnamon Guy said. “Ten minutes, and you’ll be back to your kickass self.”
That was when I felt my magic slipping away. It retreated deep inside me where I couldn’t reach it. My power was still there, but it was like it was hidden underneath a heavy blanket. I couldn’t call it to the surface.
“What the fuck, Cinnamon Guy?” I whisper-shouted, trying not to panic.
I’d never been unable to reach my magic before. My pulse began to race as thoughts of the Magical Reduction Potion flooded my brain.
No. No no no.
“Cinnamon Guy?” he repeated.
I wrapped my hand around his throat and squeezed. “What did you do?!”
“Ten minutes,” he croaked. “I swear. It’s in me, too. It’s why you can’t feel my magic.”
I believed him, and not just because we both knew I could kill him. The past four months of dealing with criminals and people who might threaten my friends’ lives had made me an expert at reading body language.
Cinnamon Guy was telling the truth.
While I was relieved, I was no less pissed off.
“You had no right,” I said, barely able to stop myself from punching him in the face—magic or not.
If I could have done it without drawing the cop’s attention, I would have.
“I’m trying to keep us both from getting arrested,” Cinnamon Guy hissed. “I knew Mag cops were patrolling this area.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at me. “The one factor I didn’t count on was an angry little Steel messing with my plans.”
I didn’t have a chance to snap back. Cinnamon Guy grabbed my arm and yanked me down onto my belly, just as the cop’s flashlight beam crested the hill. The light swept back and forth way too close to where we were hiding.
I tried to will myself into invisibility.
The cop’s boots tapped the pavement.
If he came much closer, there would be nothing to hide us. Turn around, I silently begged the cop. Nothing to see here.
For a few seconds, I thought my desperate telepathic plea had been answered. The cop turned to the side, looking off into the distance. My stomach sank when I realized what had caught his attention. Cinnamon Guy’s motorcycle.
We both cursed under our breaths—me in English and Cinnamon Guy in Spanish. The motorcycle was too far to be useful to us without revealing our position, but close enough to give us away.
I got ready to run, but Cinnamon Guy yanked me back.
“He’ll taser you,” Cinnamon Guy warned. “There’s nowhere to hide out here.”
I held back a retort about how the taser wouldn’t have affected me if I’d still had my magic.
“What do we do?” I asked in a breathless whisper.
“Make out with me.”
I gaped at Cinnamon Guy.
“It’s the only way,” he insisted. “Trust me.”
“As if.”
I managed a little squeak when Cinnamon Guy grabbed my shoulder and flipped me onto my back.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” I hissed.
Apparently, he was. Cinnamon Guy rolled on top of me. His lips hovered an inch above mine.
I reached up to his chest to thrust him off…and possibly break his sternum, when the cop’s flashlight landed just feet from us. With no other choice, and hoping against hope the imbecile on top of me knew what he was doing, I let the situation play out.
I caught a hint of his spicy gum as he stroked his thumb across my cheek. And then, he angled his face to fit our mouths together.
His kiss was soft and unhurried. It was like he had all the time in the world and wasn’t in jeopardy of getting an elbow to the kid
ney…or a taser to his back.
Just when I thought I had a handle on things, Cinnamon Guy ratcheted up the heat on the kiss index. He cradled the back of my neck with his hand, drawing my mouth more firmly against his. And…damn. This guy knew what he was doing.
“Open for me, cariño,” Cinnamon Guy whispered. His tongue traced the seam of my lips.
I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him back.
When I wrapped my arms around him, Cinnamon Guy let out a low, husky groan. Both of our hearts were hammering together in a fierce, staccato rhythm. I felt Cinnamon Guy’s callused fingertips on the bare skin of my waist. I didn’t even care that he was taking liberties I never allowed during first kisses.
This was not a normal first kiss. This wasn’t a normal any kind of kiss.
I slid one hand up his back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath his thin shirt. My other got lost in his soft hair.
“Freeze!”
The shout punched through my foggy brain, and I jerked back on a gasp.
Oh no. The cop was standing directly over us, his flashlight blinding me.
Cinnamon Guy got to his feet, slowly, and put out a hand to help me up. He pushed me a little behind him so my profile was mostly hidden. I was sure he had his own nefarious reasons for hiding my identity, but I was grateful nonetheless. The last thing I needed was to be tomorrow’s headline because of this.
“Sorry about that, Officer,” Cinnamon Guy said, his voice betraying no hint of the storm raging inside me. “We thought we were alone.”
“What in the heck are the two of you doing out here?” the cop demanded, his voice laden with suspicion.
Before I could even begin to come up with a response, Cinnamon Guy reached back for my arm, wrapping it around his stomach. He shifted very slightly, so the cop’s line of sight was turned away from the desecrated grave.
“Do you want me to spell it out for you, Officer?” Cinnamon Guy asked. I could hear the smirk in his voice.
Mags & Nats 3-Book Box Set Page 80
