Dead Man Running (Raised Book 1)

by Stevenson, Sharon

  I didn’t fancy the thought of my ‘life’ hanging in such precarious balance. Britt would undoubtedly be harder to kill than Nick, but at least with him I could try to get my old life back. I hoped.

  “What do you want with me, anyway?” Mickey had his theories about Nick, but he mostly kept them between us. Regardless of what Mickey thought, I was pretty sure my weirdo neighbour was into women, considering he entertained the occasional female caller. The serial killer suspicions were just insane. What else did that leave?

  “Read the manual, you lazy cunt.”

  So, he wanted an Animate for some reason Kit would likely know about. I’d need to make a note to ask her. I was glad I had valid reasons for talking to her these days. I couldn’t seem to get the woman out of my head. If I’d known what was what in the mini bar I might have tried to save some Viagra. But I’m getting way ahead of myself. I need to get her to admit she likes me first. I knew that would be no easy task.

  “I want to be able to get my own job and keep my flat,” I started, thinking out loud. “And I want spells that make things work that don’t right now.”

  “Spells that what?”

  “I want to be able to eat… and fuck.”

  “Oh, really, how ‘bout I make you an un-dead wife an all?” He snorted loudly to himself.

  Damn it! “Britt had potions. We could take as many as we wanted and look human too. I want that, at least.”

  “Glamours are easy. That other shit is above my level.” He stopped suddenly, and I almost walked right into the back of him. “There’s a door. Can you hear that?”

  Blind panic kept me rooted to the spot. The marching from above was unmistakable. The procession lasted minutes. It was enough to make me want to dive back down the stairs and hide under the water in the sealed up pit we’d appeared in.

  “The hell was that?” Nick’s bafflement seemed idiotic. How could he not know?

  “We’re under the castle.” It came out strained and thin. I could barely move my mouth for fear that someone might hear me. I tried to listen for footsteps, but I could still hear the ominous marching of the hundred. The King’s men marched four times a day around the castle. The hundred in their pressed uniforms were only a small fraction of his troops, but right now a hundred were far too many to fight off.

  Nick reached out for the door handle. I slapped his wrist. He narrowed his eyes at me.

  “We can’t go out there.”

  “My magic isn’t working, so we’ll have to.”

  “The King’s men are marching. They won’t just let us go,” I hissed.

  “So that’s what that was,” he said, rolling his eyes. “They’ll let us go. It’s not our fault some psycho bitch derailed our teleport.”

  I wondered about that. Why had she sent us here, of all places?

  “Where were you aiming for?”

  “Mickey and his hot girlfriend’s hotel room.”

  “Hot girlfriend?”

  “The one with the big…”

  I slapped him again without even thinking about it. He growled at me.

  “What the…”

  “Sorry. Just don’t talk about her like that.”

  “O-Kay then.”

  I’d lost my thread somehow. I was wondering why Mickey had a room with Kit. I knew him, there was no way he could have done that. Not unless he was secretly seeing her or something like that. I had already suspected that. I mulled it over, less than thrilled at the prospect. Why did he have to go all this time without any interest and then pick her? Just when I’d started to…

  Nick was staring at me. I snapped out of it. “Right. Hold everything. Why would Britt send us here, precisely, if you didn’t mean to?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know what spell she pulled.”

  “But it’s affected your magic?”

  “I can’t do anything. It’s my worst fucking nightmare. I’ll get all tweaky and shit if I can’t use it soon.”

  Worst nightmare? And being here was mine. I wondered what that meant for Mickey’s disappearance. I pictured him on a stripper stage being mauled by a horde of lusty women.

  “Is there some kind of worst fucking nightmare spell? Because this is mine.” I pointed to the door. “I’m trying to avoid the draft and where do I wind up?”

  He frowned. “Could be a greatest fear spell. I really hope it’s not.”

  “And why might that be?”

  “You can only break it by facing the fear.”

  Twenty-Nine - Kit

  I hate being out of the loop. I had no idea what was going on, and Mickey wasn’t answering his phone. Typical. I’d been pacing the MGM Grand for an hour or so, thinking about buying a ticket to the next show which wasn’t for hours yet. Eventually, I got agitated enough to hit the bar.

  The Cosmo wasn’t really improving my mood. All this trouble over that idiot Pete. I never should have given Mickey his passport back. Now he was in danger thanks to that creepy neighbour of his stupid cousin. God only knew what was going on up there in the penthouse. I couldn’t get up there, no way, no how. I was stuck slamming down cocktails until someone decided to enlighten me. The whole situation just sucked.

  Some weedy guy sat down next to me and ordered beer and a shooter. He offered me a smile. I drew him daggers and went back to my simmering rage.

  “Hey! Don’t I know you?” The cheerful girly American voice wasn’t the slightest bit familiar so I assumed she wasn’t talking to me. Apparently, I was wrong. I turned when she started to get in my face. It was her, but not her; Britt, or more likely one of her clones. Everyone had heard of them. I checked her hands for weapons and got out of my seat to back the hell up.

  “I’m sure I know you from somewhere,” she said, cocking her head.

  “I’m sure you don’t.”

  “I think I’m right.”

  Oh, god, we’ve got a crazy one. I walked away. Engaging her any further seemed like a potentially fatal mistake. She bounded after me like a rabid puppy. I wondered if the real Britt might have sent her. It was enough to send a shiver down my spine. If she had time to order her clones around, she was done with Mickey and Nick. I checked my phone; still no word.

  “Catherine Chase, I believe,” she said, tapping at my shoulder. She knew my name. I was ready to admit I was thoroughly creeped out. “Management would like to see you now.”

  The colour dropped out of my face, I could feel it go. Something had happened to Mickey and now they were after me. I still had my drink in my hand. I threw it in her face, quickly followed by the glass. It was time to get home before I could add to my already massive pile of regrets.

  I ran through the lobby, plotting furiously to get out and jump in a cab to the Excalibur. She caught up before I could get close to the exit. Her hand grabbed my wrist, fingers digging in deep.

  “I think not, Catherine. Or should I say, Kit? Britton would like a chat.”

  She smiled brightly at me, no signs of malice, even with the wet sheen of my Cosmo on her skin. The glass hadn’t cut her. I should have thrown it harder. She pulled and I pulled back. I was about to cause a scene, my least favourite thing to ever do. I opened my mouth and yelled for security. She shook her head at me and started dragging me towards the lifts. No one looked our way. I fought back, hitting her repeatedly with my handbag, but no dice. She was inhumanly strong, reinforcing my opinion of Britt as scarily high level. I was totally screwed if I got in a lift with this skinny little bitch. I yanked my arm up and bit her wrist hard. She barely blinked.

  “Ooh, kinky,” she said.

  I slapped her hard across the face. It only got me a girlish giggle. Was she enjoying this? Ew. I fought off a case of the shivers and made a last-ditch attempt and getting her to let go. I took off one of my heels and slammed it into her neck. She glanced down as I pulled the sharp heel out of her body. There was no blood. I couldn’t believe it. I stared at the rubbery skin and the hole I’d made in it.

  “No freaking way.”
/>   Little Miss Death-Grip was a robot.

  Thirty - Mickey

  If there’s one thing I really hate, it’s not knowing what’s going on. Waking up looking like an Animate had been bad enough. Now I was in some weird room someplace I didn’t recognise and I didn’t even know where Pete or his freakshow neighbour had gotten to. The room was cold and dark. It was someone’s bedroom, someone with money. Everything was old school hardwood and if those weren’t silk sheets on the massive four-poster bed I’d eat my own shirt. I went to the window and pulled back one of the thick curtains. It was daylight out there, if dreary. I dropped the curtain, feeling only slightly sick to my stomach. If I wasn’t tripping, the view meant I was inside Edinburgh Castle. I ran to the door of the room—locked.

  Okay, my feelings about this entire situation were not getting any better. Bolting about, I tried to find a key for the damn door. I knew I was most likely deluding myself that there might be one in the room but that didn’t matter right now, my sanity grabbed hold of the search and throttled it.

  “There’s got to be…” My breath caught in my throat. The diary had his name on it. I shivered. Timothy Wallace, that… creepy little asshole. One and the same creepy little asshole who always… You know what? I really don’t want to think about it.

  I looked around, trying to tell myself this wasn’t his room, that it couldn’t possibly be. He hadn’t said anything about living at the castle. I doubted the King would allow some random User to… Wait. He had seemed pretty smug about his job when I’d asked. What was it he’d said he was? A Recruiter. There was every chance he could work for King David. If that was true he’d been talking about drafting Animates.

  Suddenly my change of skin-tone and my arrival in Tim’s bedroom made a whole lot more sense. He’d gotten me, somehow. I didn’t understand how but he was a User. I really should have seen this coming.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have ignored his calls.

  The diary felt heavy in my hands. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to look. I didn’t think I’d like what I would find. A few minutes passed, and I opened it. By then I was mentally prepared for whatever foul depravities might be captured in his heavy-handed scrawl. I wasn’t prepared for the drawings. He was overly fascinated with a certain piece of male anatomy and he’d done some vividly detailed sketches. That was bad enough. Every last one of them looked like it was mine. I slapped the book shut and dropped it back into the drawer, wiping my hands on my jeans.

  I felt dirty, exposed, and completely horrified at being trapped in his bedroom. This had to be the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I mean, besides the other things and I am not thinking about those things, ever again. The last time was the last time, and I mean that… this time. Shivering, I kept right on looking for a key, trying and failing to forget what I’d seen in Tim’s diary. Focus, Mickey! There had to be a key, there just had to be.

  By the time I realised there wasn’t one and switched my attention to figuring out what made a better weapon; a snow-globe or a pencil; the door was actually being unlocked. I thought about darting under the bed, but I wouldn’t make it. The curtains weren’t long enough to hide behind, so I was stuck standing there with a cheesy Disney manufactured snow-globe in one hand and a no2 in the other when Tim walked into his room.

  “Well,” he said, locking eyes. “Back for more so soon?”

  If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. He shut and locked the door behind him, putting the key in his pocket. The black suit and shirt made his milky skin look even whiter. His red hair stood out starkly against the pale. He looked like a killer, cold and composed. The dispassionate stare made the blue of his eyes icier. He looked me over, lips twitching but never breaking a smile. “Is this for me? I appreciate the effort but it’s completely unnecessary.”

  He snapped his fingers. I frowned at him. He motioned to my outstretched arms. I glanced down and saw my own dark skin. The snow-globe dropped out of my hand and smashed on the floor.

  “How did you do that?” I wasn’t dead? Had he just brought me back? I wished I could remember how I’d gotten raised in the first place. The last thing I could remember was being at Britt’s penthouse with Nick.

  “Glamour removal is nothing,” he said, coming closer.

  I edged back. It wasn’t happening again. I wouldn’t let it, I couldn’t. He cornered me. It was going to happen again, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. He stared into my eyes and it was like he was trying to see inside my head. He pressed in close, almost touching but not quite.

  “Tell me, you want me.”

  It was some kind of spell; it had to be. Once a User, always a User. Never trust a goddamn User.

  “No,” I told him, losing my grip on the pencil.

  His head moved, cool cheek brushing against mine. It was the lightest of touches, but it stirred something deep inside that was best left alone.

  “You want me,” he whispered.

  “No,” I refused. It wasn’t right what he was doing and I wasn’t giving him what he wanted, not again. I lifted my weapon-less hands and pushed him back. It was a mistake. The instant my hands landed on him I wanted to take back the no.

  He sighed and stepped back of his own accord. “Do you have to insist on torturing yourself like this? Every time…”

  “Piss off.” I could barely even sound like I meant it.

  “I think I like you better drunk.” With a flick of his wrist, he produced a bottle of tequila from nowhere, uncapped it and handed me it.

  I snatched it and poured the booze onto the floor. Rage filled me. Taking advantage was just something he’d always done. Well, it was my turn now. The empty bottle was lighter in my hand.

  “Damn, you look good angry. Maybe I should piss you off more often.” He smirked.

  I launched the bottle at his head. He made it disappear with a snap of his fingers. A second wrist flick later, he was holding another full one.

  “Bad luck. Feel like trying that again? Maybe put some effort in this time.” He took a drink before he passed it over. His fingers brushed mine when I took it. A shiver ran up my spine. He met my eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel that.”

  “Stop fucking with me.”

  He knew the effect he was having, and he was enjoying it. Evil prick. I took a long swing from the bottle before I threw it on the floor. He didn’t bother making it disappear. It shattered loudly between us.

  “Fucking with you? I haven’t even started,” he promised, removing his jacket. He threw it on the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt, the presumptuous bastard.

  I stood there, fuming beyond reason. I didn’t want this. He was making me desperate for something I wouldn’t want if I was thinking straight. Every time he showed up, this was what he did. I was getting pretty sick of it. “I don’t want you.”

  “Well, you say that,” he teased, taking off his shirt, “but your eyes tell me a different story.”

  “I don’t want this,” I insisted, trying vainly not to think about touching him.

  “Wait, then,” he said. His indulgent tone did nothing to smother my anger. He stepped over the broken glass and put his lips on mine. The kiss barely lasted seconds, but with the heat of his body pressed tight against mine it was enough. My doubts slipped through my fingers. He broke it off with a longing sigh. “Go, if you have to.”

  He put the key in my hand. All I needed to do was walk past him. I couldn’t do it. Whatever spell he had me under was too strong. It had to be a spell, didn’t it? I’d never felt this way about anyone else, it couldn’t be normal. I gave him the key back and let him unbutton my jeans. He had them open in seconds, pushing my boxers down along with them. I stared at his pale, toned chest and felt a sigh escape me. My body betrayed me far too easily around him.

  “Last chance to walk away,” he teased before he knelt down and put his mouth to better use. My right hand reached out to run through his hair.

  He knew what I wanted, he’d always known. The first touch
, the first kiss, all those years ago before I could even admit what I really wanted to myself he’d known. He’d caught me looking at him, he’d said. He left it to me after he’d made his intentions obvious with a lingering open mouthed kiss. My hormones were raging, and I hadn’t known any better than to indulge them. We’d met regularly in secret until eventually some of the other kids in class starting making up nasty rumours that drifted dangerously close to the truth. That was when I’d pulled back, ashamed and afraid he’d try to out me in retaliation. He’d just ignored me the remainder of the school year until he left a few months later. We’d gone our separate ways, but I could never forget about him and he always managed to appear whenever I started getting desperate for physical contact.

  “Stop,” I told him.

  He backed up, standing, and I saw he’d undone his trousers. His stare brought me back to our first night together, so full of feral desire. That was the look that made me bend to his will. He straightened, his trousers slipping from his waist. “What do you want?”

  He always forced me to admit it. My defences had disappeared the second he got my jeans down, hell they’d disappeared with his teasing kiss. I couldn’t lie, not when I was confronted by him like this. He broke down every defence I’d worked so hard to put up. I stared at him. He was all I could think about. “You. I want you.”

  When he leaned forward to kiss me, I pulled him in close. Passionate lust roared through me. Carnal desire took me over. I lost myself in the moment. It was just another moment stacked on top of dozens of others, but it was all mine right now and it was filled with him.

  Thirty-One - Nick

  How the hell were we going to get out of this? I tried to think. Pete wasn’t being a lot of help. I’d never realised how negative he was before. Now it was irritatingly obvious. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly, glowering at the wall behind me.

  I thought I’d figured out Britt’s spell. I think that’s what put him in the stinky mood, but to be fair he was already fairly hacked off what with the dying and everything.