Wicked Magic (7 Wicked Tales Featuring Witches, Demons, Vampires, Fae, and More)

by Deanna Chase

  Twitchy, overcome with the queasy anticipation of walking, she stood. It really wasn’t safe to walk without a harness. But she’d gotten so good at it at one point that she’d stopped needing one. Glancing around, she looked to see if anyone was coming. No surprise that she didn’t hear another soul around.

  Ignoring her better judgment, eager to feel that thrill again, she walked quickly down to the tower, easily maneuvering her way up to the small platform, proud that her body didn’t tremble or shake with nerves.

  There was a net beneath. It looked like braided rope, not something she cared to fall into. It could scrape the skin right off her body, especially if she landed wrong. Which meant she had to do this without falling.

  The worst part of walking was the nerves. If she let herself think she was too high, she’d fall. And she’d be lucky if all she did was get a giant bruise on her thigh and butt. Lots of walkers had suffered broken legs, backs, some—like her mom—had even died.

  The sport was dangerous, but it was in the blood—a lure that drew the chosen few in like a moths to flame. Was that why she’d worn her walking slippers today? Hoping, maybe, she’d get a chance to walk the rope again?

  Flexing her thighs, she slapped them, getting the blood to circulate. The sting of opening her blood vessels only heightened her tension, her desire to do it.

  Testing the tensile strength of the rope with her foot, she sighed with relief as she felt it give just slightly. It was perfectly balanced. She didn’t have a balance bar, but she’d been training before Mom’s accident to learn to walk without it.

  Her mom had told her once that her skills were superhuman, beyond amazing, which had only made Flint push harder. This had been her passion once too.

  The first step was always the hardest. Finding that perfect balance between life and death, upright or falling.

  Her calves shook as her toes gripped the black cording. Sweat dotted her brows. Flint threw her arms out to the side and slowly, inch by terrible inch, settled more and more of her weight on the rope. It shook for a moment, making her tighten her abs in response as she went perfectly still and breathed through the first initial step.

  When she settled and the rope stopped swaying, she took the next step. Leaving the platform and getting back on the platform, that was the most dangerous part of the entire stunt. That was where a walker lived or died.

  The rope shook harder and her heart stuttered, beating wildly in her chest. Forcing herself to reason through the panic that was trying to claw up her throat with desperate fingers, she waited until the wave of vertigo passed before lifting her back foot and stepping forward again.

  Somewhere between the fourth and sixth step she found her rhythm. Smiling, she increased her pace just a little. Not jogging, definitely not running, but moving at a brisker stride.

  Exhilaration pulsed through her blood like a drug, bringing back all the memories. The roaring of the crowds, the clapping of hands, and the silent hush when she’d performed her trickiest stunt, a backward handspring.

  Though she didn’t think she was quite ready for that.

  Flint moved, becoming one with the memory of the girl who used to be her.

  Alive, and proud, she picked up her pace. Up here she wasn’t a clumsy girl with the hots for a creep who didn’t even know her name. She was Flint DeLuca.

  A seriously bad-a walker, who though a year out of the game, still had it.

  In the middle of giving herself some major props, she heard a distinctive murmur of voices. Deep and resonating with a scratchy burr.

  Flint stilled, gaze frantically dropping to the ground just as the shadows moved into the light, highlighting the dark features of a boy she couldn’t seem to forget.

  But the momentary lapse in concentration cost her.

  Flint fell.

  Chapter Four

  Cain slammed Abel’s trailer open. The constant anger inside him buzzed like a disturbed hornet’s nest. “You can’t talk to her anymore.”

  He crossed his arms, filling the doorway with his massive frame. He was still unused to the girth of this new body. Two years ago, he’d looked just like Abel.

  Abel glared at him. “Flint?” He stressed the name as if daring Cain to deny it. “She’s my friend. And why did you have to act like such a bastard at lunch today? What happened to you, man?” Abel sneered, flicking his pencil down on his bed and making a beeline for the kitchen.

  Cain shut the door behind him.

  “You used to be cool. Now you always whine and moan about everything.”

  “No, I don’t.” Cain gnashed his teeth, fighting to remember that this was his brother. A brother he loved.

  A brother who didn’t understand. Didn’t know the truth. But Cain did. Cain knew a lot of things. Like the fact that Flint DeLuca shouldn’t be here.

  “You need to stay away from her.” He tried to warn Abel again.

  “Why?” Abel yanked on the kitchen door, sending a bottle of ketchup whizzing through the air to land with a dull thud in the tiny sink. “She likes me, and I like her.”

  An image of Flint filled Cain’s head. She’d been staring at him all through class, her molten brown eyes studying his face, almost feeling like a warm caress against his skin. Her scent of flowers punched him in the gut, tightening things and driving him insane. He’d ignored her, kept his eyes pasted to the chalkboard, refusing to give in to the sick craving to look back, the agonizing need to stare and imprint her fine-boned face in his memory.

  He’d succeeded until the end of class.

  Cain had stood in front of her, unleashing the full force of his gaze onto her flesh, knowing she felt the look on a visceral level, deep in her soul. She’d had freckles on her nose, a bow-shaped mouth, and a heart-shaped face.

  Something in the center of his chest had knocked painfully against his ribs. He’d call it a heart, but he wasn’t sure he had one of those anymore.

  Cain pushed it back. Abel needed to stay away. There were things in this world that he couldn’t understand, violent things. Evil. Things that on the surface appeared alluring and tempting, but peel the layer back and what beat within was something insidious and macabre.

  He was too innocent to know better.

  All these things flooded his tongue, but what he said was, “She doesn’t like you.” And he hated the way his words growled.

  Abel snorted, dumping a pile of mustard on his sandwich of ham and cheese. “Well, I doubt she likes you, if that’s what you’re implying. In fact, I’m pretty sure she called you a jerk-wad and another name that sounded like bastard hass. But I might be a little sketchy on that last word.” He grinned.

  Fire gutted his veins, making his skin rush with a wave of heat as his muscles throbbed and grew. Cain stalked his brother, slamming his open palm on the counter, dumping the sandwich to the floor.

  “See, that. That’s the crap I’m talking about.” Abel groaned, eyeing the sandwich forlornly.

  He was eating a lot. The change would come upon his brother soon. Cain clenched his jaw, remembering who he was, not a beast. A man. Breathing heavily through his nostrils, he fought the red haze trying to creep through his vision.

  Abel didn’t know.

  He didn’t know.

  “Stay away from her,” he growled, sweat gathering on his brow as he fought to keep it together. Something about the girl made him this way.

  Her scent, her look, and the way she’d leaned in at the lunch table today. Her sweet breath mingling with his, her pupils dilated and her skin flushed with blood. That wild hair that reminded him of flame—deep red with hints of gold.

  She should fear him, just the way others did. They sensed the darkness in him, but not her. She’d leaned in and her eyes had begged for something he couldn’t understand but desperately wanted to.

  Violence again crowded his vision, tried to claw its way out of him. But he wouldn’t let it. He was still a man. Still human.

  “No.” Abel scooped up the sandwich and
dumped it in the trash can. “If you don’t like her, that’s fine. But I invited her to the hole and she’s coming.”

  “You did what?” Cain roared, barely hanging on to his sanity. His skin prickled with a violent rush of heat. He gripped his skull, counting slowly to ten. “She doesn’t belong among us, Abel. We don’t know her. She could be dangerous.”

  Abel laughed, wiping up the last smear of mustard on the floor. “Yeah, all one hundred pounds of her. Get bent, Cain. It’s my life, and I’m not gonna have you or Dad telling me what I can and can’t do.”

  If he didn’t leave now he was going to pound his brother to a bloody pulp. The veins in his arms and neck throbbed with a liquid rush of adrenaline. Cain yanked open the door, inhaling the fresh scent of the night, the cornfield-sweet aroma and humid Tennessee air, letting the smells roll through his nose, smoothing his frayed edges and bringing back the sanity he could barely control anymore.

  Abel was right; he didn’t used to be this way. He could laugh at one time.

  Hand gripping the knob, feeling the metal soften beneath the flex of his hand, he asked, “Did she really call me that?”

  Abel laughed, the sound harsh. “Wait. Do you care? Oh please, tell me—”

  Cain slammed the door, rattling the trailer behind him.

  Janet was running with Rhiannon in tow. They were giggling, twirling, and laughing breathlessly. “I hear she’s a walker, and a flier annnd throws knives. It’s ridonkulous. Come look.”

  Rhiannon nodded, her blond hair trailing behind her like a banner in the breeze.

  Cain knew everyone in the family, and he’d never heard of a flier and walker. He stepped in front of Janet, crossing his arms. “Who’s that, Ja?”

  She stopped, the smile on her face freezing in place, brown eyes wide as she shook her head. “Cain.”

  The smell of her punched him in the gut—lilac and lavender, the scent of Flint was all over Janet.

  An icy fist rammed through his heart.

  “Where is she?”

  Janet wasn’t stupid, she knew who he meant, and she didn’t try to deny it. “In the big top.”

  He shook his head. “You know better, Ja. Abel might not. But. You. Know. Better.”

  Fury sparked in the depths of her rich brown eyes, a flash of the beast that lurked within the façade she wore. “She’s not like that.”

  “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about her. Why is she here? Why now? You don’t think it’s suspicious?”

  “Chill, Cain.” Rhiannon’s voice rolled through him like warm honey. She had her arms crossed in front of her. “She’s just a little bitty human. What could she possibly do to the big bad rager?”

  Disgusted, he turned his back on her smirking face. “Ja, come on. You know how these things always end.”

  “She might be who she claims to be. I ate lunch with her today, and I detected no deceit. I’d know. You know I’d know. I like her. She’s clumsy. Human. Normal. And God knows I need some of that right about now.” Holding her chin high, her entire body began to tremble.

  But not with fear, with the beating of her monster coming to life like a slumbering dragon flexing its wings.

  He didn’t know what, but the girl had a way about her. If she was capable of turning a kanlungan into a pussycat, he had to find out who she was. And if she was what he thought she might be… he’d destroy her.

  Cain turned on his heel, marching toward the big top.

  “Cain, stop.” Janet tugged on his arm.

  She might be a monster, but so was he. He shook her off.

  “Her dad came for the job.” Janet jumped in front of him, punching his chest with her flat palms, pleading with her eyes for him to stop. “It’s not like that, Cain. Adam’s talking with him now. It’s legit, Cain. This is none of your business—leave it.”

  He shoved his face into hers, letting his poison leak into his eyes, knowing they now glowed an eerie shade of crimson red. “This is my business, you’re all my business. Why are you fighting to protect something you don’t even know? This is how we get hurt, Ja, trusting. I won’t make that mistake,” he snarled, ignoring the hurt gleam in her eyes.

  Whipping around, he followed the scent of lilac and lavender.

  Each step ratcheted up his pulse. Dizzy with the scent of her, he threw the flaps aside. Janet continued to plead with him to listen. But he was past listening. They all knew better. They’d been down this road before. Never trust what you didn’t know.

  Her smell was everywhere. That crazy sick feeling beat at his chest, his throat. Then he looked up and a haze of red swept his gaze.

  She was running, hair whipping behind her slim shoulders, a look of pure joy radiating from her face.

  His muscles throbbed, pulsed with an angry shot of power.

  She must have realized she wasn’t alone. Flint turned toward him, her mouth dropping open for a second. And then she was falling.

  There was a net, but a roar—primal and feral—ripped from his throat and he ran.

  Chapter Five

  Hands yanked on her arms, making her squeal as a bright bolt of pain flared through her shoulders.

  “Why are you here?”

  Dizzy, a scream still trapped in her throat, all she could do was stare at Cain with a mixture of shock and terror. How had he grabbed her? One second she was falling into the net, legs braced to her chest to absorb the impact, and the next she was plastered against a chest that felt as hard as rock, staring into a face that looked like he wanted to rip her limb from limb.

  But the violence lurking on his face was second to the fact that he actually had his glasses off, the eyes she’d been so obsessed with earlier now glowed back at her.

  Deep, bloody red.

  She sucked in a breath, words lost to her as she lost herself to the chaotic rhythm of those swirling eyes.

  Flint wasn’t good at science, pretty much hated it with a passion. But she remembered a video she’d watched once. When Earth was first forming and how the world was nothing but sea and lava. Looking in his eyes was like seeing the beginning of time.

  “Answer me!” He shook her harder.

  “Contacts?” she breathed, wondering if she’d really said that out loud. It had to be contacts. Nobody had red eyes. Especially not swirling red eyes.

  He narrowed them, and he had thick brows—perfect thick brows that sloped along the graceful lines of those crazy-colored eyes. Her fingers clenched.

  Cain looked confused, his hand shifting slightly down her bicep, gripping the muscle, sending a hot shiver to race like wildfire through her blood.

  How sick was it that all she could think about was the rough texture of his palm on her naked arms? How his heat literally seemed to leak straight into her pores, warming her from the inside out?

  Slowly it dawned on her that she’d better answer or he’d probably try to shake her head off her neck. Gnashing her teeth, she shoved him back. Or tried to; he barely moved.

  “How did you get up here so fast?” Flint wrapped her arms around herself, still caught in his snare.

  “Who are you?” He snarled, legs braced wide, hands flexing by his side. “Why are you here? Who sent you?”

  Flint kept backpedaling, trying to get away from his toxic touch, nearness, and hate. But he followed her, each question bringing him one step closer, and then she had nowhere else to go. At the edge of the rope and nothing but twenty feet of empty air below her, she couldn’t jump.

  “What is your problem? Why do you keep harassing me?”

  He grinned and her heart stopped. It wasn’t fair—why couldn’t she feel like this about Abel, anyone else but Cain? He was a one hundred percent, grade-A jerk, and yet her body didn’t seem to give a crap.

  Currents of electricity sparked like her namesake inside her, heating her blood to a boil.

  “I will find out.” His words were low, edged in velvet and steel. Massive arms swayed toward her.

  She had nowhere to go. Pulse
thundering in her ears, she held her chin high as his rough hands clamped on her arms, pulling her gently back to his chest. Then his fingers traced a slow path down her arms with the tenderness of a butterfly’s caress.

  Cain’s breathing was heavy, his eyes glossed over with an emotion she could hardly comprehend.

  “I will find out who you are.” His thumb burned a fiery trail, one she couldn’t see but could feel deep in her bones.

  Licking her lips, her body shot with a tiny jolt when his eyes homed in.

  “Did you leave me that note?” she whispered. “Did you say they were watching me? Why?”

  His nostrils flared and his thumb stopped moving and all she wanted to do was beg him to never stop. She clamped her lips together, hating what she felt. What he made her want.

  Cain didn’t answer as he stepped away.

  Angry, excited… Flint ground her molars. “You want answers, then you answer me.”

  Anger pulsed off him in thick, choking waves. He moved on the netting like it was nothing, never getting snagged in the holes the way she would if she wore his shoes. Almost like he was walking on air, then he was climbing down, disappearing into the dark tunnel ahead.

  Confused, Flint didn’t move.

  Janet chuckled. And though the girl stood twenty feet below, Flint had no problems hearing her. “You’re right, it is just you.”

  Chapter Six

  Cain slammed his fist down on the table. Eli and Seth stared back at him with raised brows. Twins, they were more than identical—the two moved and breathed as if they shared the same soul. His cousins on his father’s side, and also his right-hand men, they’d all gone through the change at the same time.

  Eli stood, blond spiky hair mussed around his head. “Cain, man… you’re pulsing.”

  He didn’t need Eli to tell him that. Cain felt the blood roaring through his veins like a tidal rush, filling his limbs, stretching his veins, punching through his heart like a fist. “Find out everything you can about her.”

  Green eyes narrowed with a devilish glint. Seth’s slightly deeper voice chuckled. “Lemme guess, Red driving you nuts?”