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

by Deanna Chase

  The front door opened and Flint wanted to scream.

  It hadn’t been a trick of the light—she knew it. She’d seen Rhiannon fade to mist. Seen Rhiannon wrap herself around that… thing.

  Flint squeezed her eyes shut. She’d seen a ton of TV shows, watched as vampires sucked out blood, became best friends with the local humans, killed some of them. Was that what this was? Had she somehow stumbled onto a—

  “No way.” She shook her head. “No way, Flint DeLuca. That crap’s not real. Whatever you saw, it didn’t…” Her mouth turned down in a frown, and she studied her face, her too-big eyes, the twitching cheek muscle (her body accepting what her brain could not). “…really happen.”

  ~*~

  All night she tossed and turned. Wishing so much they would just go and leave her in peace. Terrified of actually falling asleep with them in her home. But even more terrified of asking them to leave, because what if they found out? What if they knew she saw…something, and then they did that same something to her?

  Which, seriously, it couldn’t have possibly happened, right? That was just weird Hollywood stuff. But even when she did finally pass out from utter exhaustion she didn’t stop worrying and obsessing about it, if anything things only got worse. Whatever dreams she did have involved a black tornado picking the flesh right off her body as she screamed and screamed. She’d woken up thrashing and kicking the sheets off.

  At one point Janet and Rhiannon had to shake her, claiming she’d screamed for ten minutes straight. Which had to be a horrible exaggeration, except her throat was so sore it was entirely possible. Also, being woken up by them, realizing she’d been so tired as to actually pass out with them still in her house, that’d freaked her out even worse than whatever it was she’d seen last night. She was now firmly in the camp that her mind had totally gone schizo for about five minutes last night and what she was remembering was a complete and total breakdown of some sort.

  All she knew was now she had a headache the size of Texas and hadn’t been able to hold anything down at breakfast.

  They’d ridden the bus with her, casting worried glances at her and each other. But Flint couldn’t talk to them. She had no way of knowing if Janet only knew what Rhiannon was or if she was also some sort of weird killing shadow that liked to eat freaky red-eyed people.

  “Flint.” Abel walked up to her as she was leaning against the lockers in front of Mr. Wickham’s class and giving serious consideration to bailing first period for the first time in her life.

  Not in the mood for chitchat, she was just about to tell him so when she noticed he looked about as craptastic as she felt. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper and larger, and his skin looked bleached out.

  “What’s happened to you?” she asked.

  He scratched the back of his head, his eyes faraway and distant. The muscle in his jaw tensed, giving her a weak version of his grin, enough to make his dimple appear for a split second. “Didn’t sleep good last night.”

  He sounded sheepish, as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

  She shook her head. “That sucks.”

  “Heard you had a sleepover with the girls.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

  Flint shrugged, watching as two of her classmates—Jaylin and Sarah—entered her class holding hands.

  “How’d that go?” He leaned his shoulder against her and it felt nice. Normal.

  She swallowed hard, wishing she could tell him. For the first time since meeting him, she really looked at him. Still super scrawny, but his eyes were friendly and he looked so human, and that was just so perfect for her right now.

  “Fine.” She closed her eyes. “But I didn’t get a lot of sleep either.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered and she let herself relax against his hard shoulder for a split second, feeling strangely calm around him.

  “You’re gonna be late.” The rumbly voice drove like a spike through her heart, made her pulse leap into action. Flint snapped her eyes open, only to stare into Cain’s mirrored lenses, but somehow she knew he was glaring at her.

  She wasn’t really sure who he’d been talking to, but Abel mumbled something and left. Cain was already walking through the door, no hi, hello, or any other acknowledgement.

  “Jerk,” she hissed and then slinked in behind him just as the bell rang.

  Flint opened her book, staring at it, trying desperately to scrub the images from her brain.

  There was no way she’d seen what she’d seen.

  It had been dark.

  They weren’t standing underneath the streetlight.

  People didn’t just turn into a carnivorous shadow and then reappear a few seconds later as a normal human.

  It just didn’t happen in real life.

  “Princess,” Cain drawled and her brows dipped.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Whatcha thinking about?” His deep voice rolled like sun-warmed honey across her flesh, making her skin tingle.

  “Just how much I’d love to smack you right now.”

  His full lips curled into a half grin. “That’s funny.”

  “Glad you think so,” she said, then turned in her seat, making an obvious point of ignoring him. She tipped her face up, pretending she was actually listening to a word Mr. Wickham said, but when she sneezed and cleared her throat, she inhaled his scent of sage and pine deep into her lungs, and her insides went crazy and melty.

  She started tapping her pencil, aware that he was slouching in his chair, one of his long legs sticking out from beneath his desk. He was wearing brown boots this time. Dark ones, but brown. And blue jeans again.

  She frowned. “Color? Thought you were Goth Boy.”

  He licked his teeth, clasping his hands behind his head. “So you do pay attention to what I wear?”

  Clenching her jaw, she sniffed and turned back around, knowing she fooled no one because the hot blush creeping up her neck was a dead giveaway that she’d been caught.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him run his pencil up and down through the air.

  “What happened to your sparkles today, princess?”

  She looked down and was a little bit surprised to notice she was wearing all black. Black skinny jeans, black flats, and a black baggy top. She frowned. She hadn’t exactly been aware of what she’d grabbed this morning in her rush to get out of the house and away from them.

  “I didn’t do it for you, if that’s what you’re implying.” Flint looked him square in the eye.

  His smile was so wickedly hot it almost hurt to look at it, made her voice quiver. She hated that he had that kind of effect on her. But she couldn’t help it that whenever she saw him now all she could think about was him without a shirt on and how good he’d looked.

  “Flint DeLuca.” Mr. Wickham sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if in extreme exasperation. “Since you obviously have a hard time paying attention in class when Cain is around”—the class erupted into hushed laughter—“then how about you switch spots with Sarah.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Not fair!”

  Mr. Wickham lifted his brows, and that was the end of Sarah’s mutiny. Ears burning, Flint gathered up her books, beyond pissed that Mr. Wickham only ever seemed to catch them talking when she was the one doing the talking.

  Cain was still smiling. Smirking really, looking very pleased with himself.

  “Move,” Sarah snarled, standing over her with her book bag and books.

  Scooting out of the chair, Flint took the walk of shame over to Sarah’s desk and sat, trying to cover her ears as best as she could with her hair.

  “After class, Ms. DeLuca,” Mr. Wickham said and then turned back to the chalkboard.

  Flint glared at Cain, who was staring at her hard. His mouth pressed tight. Even with the sunglasses on, his gaze was so intense it burned her flesh.

  Flint’s spine stiffened when she saw Sarah pop her gum and lean in to whisper to him. But then it was her turn to grin when Ca
in completely ignored her. The perky blond cheerleader snarled and slouched back.

  Cain however, never stopped looking at her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Adam sat behind his desk, rubbing his brow and well on his way to finishing the full bottle of Jack he’d started an hour ago.

  The circus was quiet, his performers sleeping. Some practiced, but those not in school were out hunting. He’d talked with Pandora this morning—things were going to hell over in the Black Hills. Talk of a Priest—those were always fun—and a mole. Dora wasn’t exactly forthcoming with all the info, but from the gist of what Adam gathered, it didn’t sound good for any of them.

  He swallowed a hearty gulp of whiskey, enjoying the sliding burn. Demons could drink until they were blue in the gills and still not fall flat on their face. He was aiming to prove that theory wrong today.

  His door opened and he looked up through bleary eyes. “What you doing here, Layla?” He got up from his chair, rushing to her side as she gingerly made her way to the chair in front of his desk.

  “Adam.” She smiled, stretching the tight skin of her lips. “Stop fussing over me.”

  He sighed, plopping down on the corner of the desk.

  “Saw Abel this morning before school.”

  Adam nodded, scrubbing his jaw. “Yeah.”

  “He’s sick. The dreams. It’s starting.”

  Dropping his head, he stared at his fingers. “I never wanted this life for them. For you.”

  She touched the corner of his mouth, tipping his frown up into a smile. Her clean scent reached out to him, the only good thing in his life and he’d nearly ruined it. “What did Dora say, Adam?”

  The eye on the side of her burnt face was a busted maze of red, the iris clouded over. But her good eye was a deep, rich blue. He framed her jaw with his thumb and forefinger. “Apparently the Order’s had a goon in our midst for some time and he or she has just been reactivated.”

  “What? Why?” She spread her arm. “And here, are you sure? All this time?”

  “Don’t think Dora would have lied about this, and yeah, it seems like something the freaks would do. Whoever it is, we’ll figure it out and see where we go from here.”

  “Why would they have someone here this whole time? We’ve been compliant from day one.”

  He shrugged, dropping his hand. “Who knows? Maybe we’re not working fast enough to eliminate the threats, so they’ve sent someone to be their eyes and ears.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never trusted them, Adam. You know that. A freaking fink in our midst. Pisses me off.”

  “What I know”—he stood up and helped her to stand, wrapping his arm gently around her petite waist, running his fingers along the wasted side of her body—“is that you should be resting.”

  She sighed. “Adam, I’m burnt. I’m not an invalid. You guys are my family, I just worry.”

  He grinned, flashing her his most charming smile. “We’re unbreakable, you’re not.”

  She framed his face and his lashes fluttered; she still had that effect on him. “Demons and your blasted charm.”

  Then she pulled him in for a kiss, but Adam did worry. Because even though the Order was comprised of humans, it was humans who knew their weaknesses, humans who’d nearly brought his race to the brink of extinction.

  The Order gave directives; they never actually came out to lead the charge.

  That they felt the need to do so now was very, very worrying.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Walking into the lunchroom, Flint stared at her table. Rhiannon, Janet, and Abel were waving her over. She eyed her slice of disgusting-looking pizza and then waved back at them, wrinkling her nose.

  “Sorry,” she mouthed and grabbed her head, then dumped the pizza in a garbage bin and walked out of the building, heading to her bleachers.

  She wasn’t ready to face them now, maybe not ever. Which was a total baby thing to do. She should just woman up and tell them what she’d seen. They’d probably laugh, tell her she was crazy and of course Rhiannon wasn’t a killing blobby shadow, and she could go back to talking about stuff that didn’t matter.

  The only problem was she didn’t believe that.

  There was too much weirdness going on at that circus.

  From the day she and her dad had driven through those gates. The freaky eyes, even Cain’s… red one second, then blue the next. Of course there were contacts that could do that, but you could always see the outline of the contact in the eyes. Granted it had been dark that day he’d caught her on the net, but there went another question, how had he moved fast enough to literally snatch her from midair?

  The wind was breezy, rustling leaves around her feet. Fall was in full swing, with the promise of winter not too far off. It was overcast enough today to make her feel the promise of snow coming soon.

  It was empty outside, which was just fine with her.

  Sitting on the bottom bleachers, she pulled her chem book out of her book bag and opened it. Maybe if she could focus on something else.

  Flint wasn’t even sure which chapter they were on.

  She was so gonna fail.

  Which would piss her father off to no end. She sighed, pulled out a piece of gum, and leaned back, closing her eyes for a split second.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying there when she heard the rustling of shoes moving through leaves. She cracked an eye open.

  Abel leaned against the chain metal fence. “Wanna talk about it?”

  The wind ruffled his thick brown hair. In that moment he reminded her big-time of Cain, which made her stomach flutter.

  “Not really.” She sighed, not sure what she could tell him, how much. How well did he know Rhiannon?

  But even wondering all that, she couldn’t help but feel relieved when he sat next to her. His normalness helped to ease her anxiety as he shoulder-bumped her.

  “School sucks,” he said with a quiet chuckle.

  She bumped him back. “Yeah.”

  “Okay then.” He ran his hands down his jeans. “Let’s go.”

  She laughed. “What?”

  “Come on, let’s bail. I’ve got a four point one GPA. They can’t touch me.”

  Flint rolled her eyes, instantly guilty. “I’m lucky if I’ve got a low-C average at this point. I really should stay.”

  “My dear little Flintlock, tell me when you’re sucking so bad at school. Your boy can hook you up. Now let’s go.”

  “Seriously?”

  He shrugged. “My dad has the truck today.” He wagged his finger. “Stop trying to get out of it—I’ve got the ATV, any other excuses?”

  It didn’t even take a second to think about it. “Nope, let’s go.”

  In no time they were out at the parking lot, Adam’s cherry-red ATV looking super obvious in a parking lot full of cars. “How did you sneak this past Cain and Adam?”

  He tossed her one of his dimpled grins and her heart raced. “I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon.” Abel handed her the second helmet.

  She lifted a brow. “You came prepared.”

  “I’d hoped.” He winked and then straddled the vehicle.

  Flint strapped her helmet on and sat behind him, hugging his slim (but not quite so slim) waist. “Hey, you been hitting the donuts or what?” She squeezed.

  “I’m a growing man, Flint. Now hang on.”

  He started the ATV and the last thing Flint saw was the school fading in the distance as she had the fleeting thought that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

  ~*~

  “What movie?” Abel looked at the screen as he dug in his back pocket for his wallet. “My treat.” He gave her his patented grin and Flint seriously had no idea the last time she’d had this much fun.

  They’d gorged themselves on cheese-covered fries, played a couple of games at the arcade, and were now getting ready to top the day off with a movie.

  “Well, since I didn’t bring any cash, ’cause ya know, didn’t plan to
sneak out with a delinquent—”

  “Who me?” He wiggled his brows.

  “That would be awesome. But next time it’s on me.”

  “So what are you in the mood for?”

  The movie attendant behind the glass just looked bored. An older woman with owl eyeglasses on, her mouth was set in a tight grimace. She obviously knew ditchers when she saw them.

  Flint shrugged. “Guns, kisses, or blood. You choose.”

  “Two for Zombie Killers from Outer Space, please,” he told the woman, who just rolled her eyes and punched their tickets in.

  “Zombie Killers, huh?” Flint held her ticket, laughing. Not exactly what she’d wanted to see, but considering he was a boy, she hadn’t really expected him to pick the chick flick either.

  They were just finishing up placing their popcorn order when a girl knocked into her shoulder, making her spill some of the soda down the front of her shirt.

  “Oh, freakin’-a!” Flint growled as the shock of the cold, sticky drink soaked through her cotton top.

  Abel frowned, eyeing the woman’s red-jeaned backside as she beelined to the ladies’ bathroom. “That was rude,” he said, loud enough the woman should have heard.

  Flint grimaced as the soda started to squish through her bra. “Look, go get us seats in the front. I’ll meet you there.”

  He nodded and she sprinted for the bathroom.

  First thing she did was look for the woman, not that she had any intention of telling her off, more out of curiosity. But the bathroom was huge and appeared completely empty. Which meant the woman was ducking out in the back stall somewhere.

  Frustrated, Flint wet a napkin and tried her best to clean her top. Lifting her shirt, she cleaned and dried her skin. Her cheeks and eyes looked flushed and she smiled, realizing she hadn’t thought about killing shadows, or Rhiannon, or Janet, and especially not about Cain since bailing with Abel.

  Smiling at herself, she applied some ChapStick to her lips and was just headed out the door when she caught the blurry streak of movement in the glass. But it wasn’t the movement itself that caught her eye, rather the bright spot of red.