Then I saw it. A tiny salamander, about the length of my hand from wrist to fingertip, scurried out from between a burning counter and the wall. It paused for a second, then the blazing yellow-and-gold body pranced across the shop’s tile floor, swishing its tail.
I let out a breath. It was too young to be super hot and small enough that I might have a chance of catching it yet. How it could have done such damage was surprising, but it had been given plenty of time to attempt it.
All right. I could do this. Facing down a baby salamander couldn’t be any less unpleasant than facing down Claudius. Right? And the salamander was less likely to molest me.
I readied my net, wishing I had a pair of dragonhide gloves on me. “Hey, you!”
I hardly had enough experience with salamanders to know if they responded to voices, but this one didn’t. It ignored me to chomp on any interesting and flammable piece of debris it found. Not good. I didn’t need it getting any larger.
Someone had lost a flip-flop while running, and I gingerly picked it up with a single finger and flung it at the creature. That worked. The shoe passed right through it, but the salamander’s head snapped up, and a pair of glowing eyes assessed me.
“Come on.” I kicked a piece of debris toward it.
It came on, streaking out of the shop, right by me and down a narrow alley before I could grab it. Peachy.
I charged after it and skidded to a halt. We were on safer ground here. The walls on either side were brick, the trash cans were metal, and the ground was asphalt. The alley reeked of substances best left unsaid, but most were unlikely to be flammable. The salamander realized this too, and it scampered from wall to wall, searching for a source to feed its hungry flames. It was almost cute.
And almost fast enough to get by me a second time. Its tail whipped the edge of the net as I lifted it off the ground, and searing heat shot through my littlest finger. Teeth clenched, I made sure the entire beast was contained before I dropped the net and gave in to my pain. Clutching my hand, I bounced around on my feet, doubled over until the agony dissolved into something merely excruciating. Sweat beaded on my neck. Just that one brief touch and my entire body was flush with heat of the not-so-good sort.
It was time to get out of here and seek medical attention of my own. Fanning my neck with my ponytail, I grabbed the net. In the distance, the Gryphon sirens had died down, and the roar of motorcycles approached. By the engine noise, I could tell these were built for speed and maneuverability, like my poor, belated Dragon’sWing. It had to the Gryphons, having at last ditched their regular vehicles. About damn time someone figured it out.
I turned around, ready to flag someone down for salamander disposal, and discovered I wasn’t alone. So that was how my baby captive had caused so much damage—he’d had company. Three medium-sized salamanders glared at me, blocking the alley entrance.
I was so toast.
Chapter Fourteen
A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek. This would also explain why I was so warm.
“I don’t suppose you guys negotiate, huh? Prisoner exchange? I give you back your young, you let me pass?” I held up the net. Inside, the tiny salamander chewed on the spelled fibers, but with no fuel, he was already shrinking.
The larger ones didn’t appear impressed. Nope, salamanders didn’t negotiate. Salamanders probably didn’t understand what negotiate meant, or any of those other words I’d used.
“Okay, flames-for-brains, we will…um…” Suddenly the alley’s barrenness was not a point in its favor. There was nothing here I could even pretend to use as a weapon, and no structures tall enough for me to climb and make an escape.
Engines roared by and faded in the distance. “Hey, come back!”
I dropped the net and reached for my phone. The odds of anyone getting to me before the salamanders decided Jess flambé was the only thing worth eating were not in my favor, but I had no ideas beyond calling for help.
Sizzling spit fell from the salamanders’ mouths and sputtered on the pavement. Slowly, they crept forward, and slowly I stepped closer to the wall I couldn’t climb. The emergency line rang and rang. The switchboard had to be overwhelmed because of the attack.
Meanwhile, the heat from these three beasts was growing unbearable. I swore my skin was cracking already. I hurt right down to my brain as though suffering from sunstroke.
I gave up on the emergency line and scrolled through my contacts for Andre’s number. If I could get through to someone…
Or not. The salamander in the center got bored of toying with me and charged. I dropped my phone, racing back to the wall, as if by some miracle I’d develop the ability to scale bricks. My heart beat so fast, and I was so high on my own fear and adrenaline, I actually thought it might be possible. Almost there.
A horrible screech from behind made me stumble. Water shot me in the back. My hands smacked into the bricks, and I fumbled around as a Gryphon blasted the last of the three salamanders with sprite-water. The creature sizzled and screamed in fury, fighting the sprites, but sprite always won. In seconds, there was only another innocuous puddle on the ground.
Bridget Nelson—the only friend I’d known longer than Steph—lowered the hose. “Jess? What are you doing here?”
* * * * *
Ten minutes later I was effectively grounded by the Gryphon healers. I sat in the lobby of a boutique hotel that had been given over to the Gryphons to operate out of. A couple humans and a few magi were also there being treated for magical injuries. People with normal ones, such as smoke inhalation or broken bones, were being taken to the hospital where Steph worked.
“Your face is looking better,” one of the healers said. “You no longer share a passing resemblance with a tomato.”
“I’m half Irish. It doesn’t take much more than a little exertion for me to share a resemblance with a tomato.”
I was glad to hear I was healing though. When I thought my skin had been cracking, I hadn’t been entirely incorrect. The heat from the salamander had burned off the remaining glamour I wore, which explained not only the painful crackling sensation but also how Bridget had recognized me.
The healer examined my burned finger and nodded in satisfaction. “You should be fine. Agent Nelson says you were trying to catch the salamanders with just a small net.”
“I was trying to catch a salamander with a net. A tiny one. It was the best I could do. We didn’t need a repeat of the last time salamanders got loose.”
“No, we don’t.” She smiled and rewrapped my finger. Because the salamander had actually touched me there, the damage was far worse. The cooling salve the healer had given me meant my face was no longer in pain. My finger, on the other hand, ached like that time I’d run into my mother’s hot iron when I was a kid. “So we’ve got a pred working with us. The world truly has gone crazy.”
I tensed, assessing the woman’s emotional state. All I detected was a general spearmint anxiety. Nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m not a pred.”
“I don’t really care what you are. If you’re on our side, it’s all good. That’s what most of us think, so you know.” She handed me a white tube. “Put more of that cream on your face and finger tonight and tomorrow morning. If your finger still hurts, use it tomorrow night too.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Bridget had refused any more offers of help from me because of my injuries, but at my insistence, she’d checked up on the boy the magi and I had pulled from the rubble. Rescue workers had located his mother, seriously injured but alive, and they’d both been taken to the hospital.
Relieved for the small blessing, I found a relatively quiet corner of the lobby and called Steph. She’d texted me about fifteen minutes ago to let me know she’d arrived at the ER.
“Are you okay?” she asked in greeting.
I lightly rubbed an orchid blossom between my fingers, che
cking if it was real. It wasn’t. “Only mildly toasted.”
“Seriously?”
I filled her in quickly, skimming over the bits that made me sound the dumbest. “I could use a night off after this. A glass of wine, a game of pool. I’ve been in touch with Dezzi, and she’s given me permission to recuperate. So I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about blowing off my training and going to Fitzpatrick’s with you.”
“That’s not going to work for two reasons. The doctor wants me to keep off my feet and rest. I hurt my ankle worse than I thought. I sprained it. It’s swelling up like a grapefruit.”
I hadn’t realized her ankle had been what was bothering her. “Well, that’s what you get for wearing those ridiculous heels.”
“Bitch. You wish you had my fashion sense. Oh, and second reason we can’t go drinking tonight?”
I guessed before she could answer her own question. “Fitzpatrick’s is closed because of the red sky?”
“Are you kidding? My family’s more Irish than yours. If it’s the end of the world, we’re going to go out drinking as it burns. No. The other reason is that you need to get your ass whipped into shape so this shit doesn’t happen again. Go kill things for me.”
I took a long swallow from the water bottle I’d been provided with. “That’s not exactly what I’m training to do.”
“You can explain the details later. Just go do it for me.”
* * * * *
Alas, after my call with Steph, there was no way I couldn’t feel guilty if I slacked off tonight, so I called back Dezzi and told her I wanted to train more. She didn’t sound surprised that I’d changed my mind.
I swung by my apartment first, escorted once more by Melissa, who joked that I shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere by myself these days. She waited in my living room, reading one of my books while I showered and changed into clean, less smoke-scented clothes.
From there, it was off to Purgatory. Headquarters was already short on space because of Le Confrérie taking up residence, and after the attack in The Feathers, they needed more room for their own agents to work. Dezzi had volunteered Devon’s club for us to use. As a Dom, I guessed she could do that.
Before he’d been cursed into a coma, Devon had hired a new executive manager to replace his old co-owner who’d been arrested. But the club had reduced its hours lately without him. It struck me as unfortunate since Purgatory’s clientele was exactly the sort who’d dance away the apocalypse, probably while listening to angsty music about it. But without Devon around, perhaps I wasn’t the only one who thought the club wouldn’t be the same.
Dezzi had a key, and she opened the back door for me. Since there was no need for Melissa to hang around, she took off, and I followed Dezzi into the main area of the club where Mitch and Claudius were staring at each other uneasily.
Well, Mitch was uneasy. Claudius seemed amused while he helped himself to some scotch.
“You will be compensating the owner of this place for drinking his stock. Right?” I leaned against the chrome railing that separated the bar from the dance floor.
Claudius swished the amber liquid around in a glass. “It remains to be seen whether the owner of this club will ever learn of its loss.”
My hands curled into fists. If it wasn’t for Dezzi placing a cool, restraining hand on my arm, I’d have lunged at Claudius with my knife a second time.
The Upper Council satyr chuckled. “So I’m not wrong that you have feelings for that one too. What an interesting threesome you must make.”
“Go to hell.” Damn it, now I needed some of Devon’s booze myself. Unlike Claudius, however, I wasn’t going to steal it. Also, unlike him, I was going to need a clear head for what was in store. “Where’s Lucen?”
“Mitch will be working with me,” Dezzi said. “He successfully managed the bond with Lucen earlier. So when it didn’t appear that you would be training tonight, he made other plans.”
I bit my lip. Yeah, but Lucen had said he’d be present when I had to work with Claudius.
The voice in my head sounded whiny. Maybe I should have texted Lucen and let him know the training was on, but how could I have known he’d be called away so quickly? I considered texting him now. Dezzi was fine and technically more powerful than him, but I’d feel safer with Lucen around.
“Your boyfriend—the conscious one—is busy keeping his addicts well fed tonight.” Claudius tipped back his drink, his brown eyes filled with mirth at my expense. He was enjoying my anxiety.
Dezzi sensed my unease too, and certainly the surge of anger that coursed through me at Claudius’s taunt. “You two need to work together. It would be helpful to us all if you tried not to antagonize the other.”
I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t start this.”
“Didn’t start what?” asked a vaguely familiar voice.
Raia appeared a moment later, walking down from the balcony. My hand, which had rested against my knife for support, dropped to my side as an idea came to me. Raia’s power had to be on par with Claudius’s. If she was here, perhaps that meant she was willing to work with me instead.
But my hope was ill-founded. Plans hadn’t changed, and Raia was only present to observe. She took a seat at the bar while Dezzi and Mitch retreated to a separate room so we couldn’t distract each other.
“So.” Claudius set his glass down. “If I recall what happened last time, this should be fun.”
I wrapped my fingers around the railing and gripped it hard. Every muscle was tense. I was getting a headache just thinking about what to expect.
Just brace yourself. You’re stronger than you were last time. You can—
Claudius didn’t give me time to finish my internal pep talk. His power blew over me like a warm, summer breeze, carrying the deep, woodsy scent of an ancient forest. My head swelled with the sensations it brought. And the ideas. My nerves lit up, waves of pure heat traveling down my body and pooling between my legs. My nipples puckered, and I closed my eyes, my lips falling open as I succumbed to the desire.
Out! Block him out! My survival instincts kicked in. A very real fear struggling against the lust.
“You can’t practice if you fight me,” Claudius said, pointing out the obvious.
My eyes stayed closed, but I could sense he was standing closer. The air on my body warmed, and my grip on the railing loosened. Yes, that’s right. Don’t fight him. Let him in. Let every part of him in.
I wet my lips, wondering if he got turned on by using his power. I was fairly sure he wasn’t actually touching me, yet I could feel him anyway—a hot, silky presence sliding between my legs. My body throbbed, and I squirmed from the waist down.
“Now.” His warm breath was on my face.
I gasped, sensing the bond between us form. My body screamed in fear and delight, and it was only by some miracle I didn’t come right there because the pleasure was so intense. Through the bond, I thought I could detect a touch of disappointment from Claudius about that. Then the ghost of an emotion vanished.
Reverse the bond now, Jess. You can do this. Visualize it and grab hold.
I tried. I really did. For a second, I had it and I gave it a promising tug, but nothing happened. Then my visualization faded. Though I could feel the bond like a satin cord around my waist, I could no longer see it. Instead, I saw myself naked, standing in a lush, gorgeous forest. A steamy breeze lifted my hair, tickling my back and brushing like fingers at my thighs.
“It’s not going to be that easy,” Claudius said.
I jumped, spinning in circles, but his voice was real life and this was my imagination. I willed my body to open my eyes, but my eyelids were too heavy. What the hell? I wrapped my arms around myself in fear.
“I don’t have to get in your head this way to addict you.” Claudius was closer still. The real me was vaguely aware of his torso pressed into mine. His hands
were on my hips, and his erection grazed my stomach. Imaginary me, or real, or both, moaned. “But if I can do this, the demons can do worse. And what they can do probably won’t be as enjoyable.”
He materialized in the forest with me. Brilliantly naked, with the golden glow of the sunlight adorning every ridge of muscle and the sweeping line of a glorious erection. He glowed like a god, and my knees quivered with the urge to kneel before him. My body ached more than ever.
Find the bond again! You do not want imaginary sex with Claudius.
Oh, but I did. I wanted it with the worst sort of need. A craving even Lucen had never aroused from me before. I was an alcoholic begging for a drink, and Claudius was the bottle of whiskey tempting me.
An addict. That’s exactly what I was.
I shivered, and in my imagination, I turned and ran. I couldn’t attempt to find the bond—never mind reverse it—with Claudius distracting me this way.
I could hear him laughing somewhere. The forest quivered with the sensual amusement. The trees were strangely phallic, their branches reaching out for me and their leaves falling, caressing my skin. My feet sank into dark, rich dirt that slipped between my toes and massaged my soles.
Claudius was chasing me, so I ran faster. I had to think of the bond, the goddamned bond. That was how he could follow me in my own head.
Pausing by a large, unidentifiable tree, I placed my hands on my waist. The cord materialized around me as fine, golden threads. Good enough. I stared harder at the threads, picturing them as magical conductors. Power in. Power out.
I searched for my own power and pulled on the outgoing threads. Nothing happened. I was fighting myself. Some part of me—no question which part—didn’t want to end this. I wanted Claudius to catch up to me, push me against this tree and shove himself inside me until I screamed with ecstasy. Then I wanted him to pin me down and take more of what my rational self refused to give him. I’d hate myself later but would love every second of it while it happened.
Misery Happens Page 14
