by Claire Marta
Raoul?
Yes, Eric is something wrong? The voice of his comrade in arms whispered into his mind.
Eric turned to the window and pretended to admire the view, which was of Marcel still celebrating his capture of the techno mage. His lover, Claude, was hanging on his every word. The blond man was feeding his master canapés from a tray. They were huddled together on one of the sofas, cooing to each other like a pair of lovesick pigeons.
I believe we may have a problem my friend. Eric raised his wine glass to his lips and took a sip. The female with the mage seems to have acquired my phone. They will no doubt try to escape.
Raoul did not responded straight away. And how did she come into possession of this object? Amusement was laced in his tone when he finally did.
Eric was not about to tell him of his foolishness or his lapse in judgement. He should never have let her get so close. Nothing good ever came from being blinded by lust and emotions.
He pursed his lips. The how does not matter. It is now in her hands, and I would like you to keep an eye on the outside in case they need aid.
You wish me to help them escape? The other vampire knew what was at stake if their mission failed. He also knew Eric did not make decisions without thinking things through thoroughly first.
Only if they manage to escape the building successfully. Marcel cannot know of our interference.
Eric felt his friend’s agreement along their connection. It was all he could do to assist the dainty female. He just prayed to the gods they did nothing to foolish and that she did not get herself killed. The next move was now hers.
Chapter 5
Twitch fumbled with the mobile phone. He glided his finger across the screen and it jumped to life. A pleased smile touched his lips. Strange blue glyphs began to stream across the surface. They reflected across his face in an eerie glow.
“That’s the spell beginning to work,” he said rather smugly. “Touch the button on the left side of your watch to activate yours.”
Obediently Jasmine pressed the button. The skin beneath the watch tightened slightly in discomfort as the spell took effect. Glyphs danced across the smooth surface of the watch.
As she raised her eyes, she was shocked to find her friend's face blurred. It was almost like a photo taken too fast. His features were a smear, unclear, as if the colours and shapes had merged. It was fucking disturbing.
Blinking, she tried to clear her vision. It took her a moment to realise there was nothing wrong with her eyes. It was him. The spell was starting to take effect. Jasmine watched in amazement as the fuzziness slowly dissipated.
Twitch no longer looked like himself. The teeth in his smile were crooked, his eyes were now brown. His face was angular with a sharp hooked nose. The only thing that had not really changed was the tangle of his cinnamon-coloured curls.
“That is just creepy,” Jasmine said with a shudder.
He giggled a strange hoarse sound. “I wouldn’t advise looking in a mirror. You don’t look much of a catch either.”
Which of course meant her hologram was now in place and was just as unattractive. She couldn’t feel anything though.
Jasmine raised her hand and touched her face. Nothing felt different. She could still feel her button nose and full lips. The hologram she released through was just an image. She had not physically changed.
“Couldn’t you have made them look a little more attractive?” she asked with curiosity. “You look like a demented hill-billy.”
Twitch sighed. “I don’t have time to make them perfect. The fact they work should be enough. I wasn’t going for beauty. Just practicality.” With swift movements he reached the door. “Come on, we don’t have long now. The spell's active and we've got to move.”
Swallowing down her nervousness, she followed his lead into the foyer. Large and spacious, the room had Christmas lights placed tastefully around some paintings on the walls. An oversized tree sat in one corner, the limbs of which were weighed down and overcrowded with decorations.
Two uniformed security guards in grey sat idly behind a reception table. No one else could be seen. A pretty nice place for an arms dealer to run his business from. It looked like any other office reception area. It felt normal, mundane.
Now that the spell was working, she fought down the urge to grab Twitch’s hand and run. They had to act normally, as if they worked there. Hopefully the guards didn’t know everyone in the building on sight. Probably not likely. The place seemed huge.
With confident steps, Twitch led the way. He did not look back but kept a slow enough pace for her to keep up. She could practically feel the excitement and nervousness rolling off him.
Jasmine felt jittery and clumsy, but adrenaline pushed her forwards. She had to fight to keep her breathing even and calm. Panicking was not an option.
As they passed the bank of elevators, she took a chance to glance at her reflection. Blue eyes stared back at her. Thin, pencil-drawn eyebrows rose high up on her severe-looking forehead. The thin lips of her mouth were turned down in a permanent scowl.
She tried hard not to laugh. She looked like a freaking Victorian spinster from some historical novel. With that expression, she was ready to browbeat anyone into submission. It was scary.
Had Twitch really had no control over what they would look like? She knew he had a strange sense of humour. But this? Was it leaking out with his nervousness, affecting his magic?
Catching his eye, she could see he was trying not to grin. Damn him. He had done it on purpose. She could see by the twinkle in his eyes. How the hell was this blending in? He was playing with fire and they both knew it. They couldn’t afford to be caught.
The guards were busy talking and barely looked their way.
Jasmine felt her confidence grow. Not to draw suspicion, they carried on strolling slowly towards the main doors. If no one looked their way they might be safe. No one would ever forget these ugly mugs.
Then it hit her. That’s exactly why the mage had done it. No one would recognize them. The descriptions anyone gave after the fact would be unbelievable. They would be ridiculous.
Twitch must have guessed that she had figured out the method to his mage madness. Catching her eye again, he winked.
Jasmine pressed her lips together, stifling a grin.
She could see people on the street just outside and cars passing by on a very busy road. They had no plan beyond getting out. Once they were some streets away, they could decide what to do next. For now she could practically taste freedom already—just within reach.
That was when their luck ran out.
A sudden ear-splitting screech, high and agonizingly painful, came out of nowhere and almost deafened her. Jasmine slapped her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to shut the sound out, which didn’t work. At one point, she thought her eardrums were going to start bleeding.
Screwing up her face, she glanced at her companion. It was then she knew everything was going to Crapville. Just his freaked-out expression said it all.
The mobile phone in Twitch’s hand hissed frighteningly—a sound, she was pretty sure, it was not supposed to make. Then it exploded in a hail of blue, pulsing sparks, lighting up the foyer like a miniature fireworks display.
Twitch dropped it with a yelp. Curling his fingers into his palm, he held it against his chest. A stream of curses left his lips.
The holographic disguise dissolved from the mage's face like wax melting from a burning candle. The sight was horrific, something that would have given anyone nightmares.
Jasmine didn’t know who looked more shocked, them or the two security guards. Both men had paled so much, she thought they were about to pass out. She doubted watching someone’s face melt off was something they were going to forget any time soon. Maybe even ever.
The elevator pinged behind them. They glanced back at the same time. Their luck really had gone for good.
Pierre was just stepping out. Shock hit his face when he saw the tech
no mage. It was obvious from his reaction their escape had still gone unnoticed. They had been doing so well.
“RUN!” Twitch practically roared beside her. It was the loudest she had ever heard his voice and it was frightening.
Not waiting to see if he followed, Jasmine launched herself towards the door. Adrenaline was pumping through her at full throttle. It fuelled her flight forwards.
The two guards were coming round the table. They could only get out one at a time with the narrowness of the gap. The one in front tried to grab Jasmine as she passed. Jabbing her hand sideways, she smacked him in the chest. Somehow she caught him well. He stumbled backwards, taking his friend down too with a crash.
Wearing a grin of triumph, she kept on moving.
Twitch was quick to pass her now.
They raced towards the doors. Jasmine struggled to keep up in the heels of her shoes. They were impractical to run in, but she didn't even have time to kick them off. They didn’t stop her though.
Pierre was yelling something in French at the top of his lungs. Jasmine could hear the sound of heavy footsteps giving chase. She knew the guards were after them again. They had to keep going.
They burst out through the main doors onto the street. It was already busy with people on their way to work. Without stopping, they sprinted towards the road.
The chill of the December morning cut deeply into her skin. The little dress and cardigan she was wearing gave no warmth. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle as she chanced a glance back. Pierre had a gun in his hand and was taking aim.
Screams erupted from passers-by. Someone on the street must have suddenly noticed the guy with the gun. The people panicked as everyone ran or ducked for cover.
Pierre met her eye. Jasmine froze mid-step. The gun was aimed at her head and she knew he was ready to take the shot. If he was a good marksman, she was sure as dead. This was it. She was about to die. Fear, rage, regret hurled through her in a split second.
Jasmine tried to move but knew it was too late. She braced herself for impact. If the shot was clean, she might not feel a thing.
But Pierre’s arm suddenly jerked upwards and the bullet fired into the sky, sailing harmlessly upwards. He stared at the gun in shock. His arms was pointing straight up and did not seem to want to come down of its own accord. It was almost as if he’d lost control of his own limb.
She blinked in confusion. What the heck had just happened? Jasmine knew she had been seconds from a bullet in the head. How was she still alive?
Twitch grabbed her wrist tightly and she quickly found herself being dragged at a run down the street again. They were melding into the other pedestrians trying to get away.
“Did you do that with the gun?” Jasmine panted at Twitch.
He looked fearfully back over his shoulder. “No, it wasn’t me.”
They skidded around a corner and carried on pounding down the street. They couldn’t stop moving, not even for a second. How long Pierre was just going to stand there was uncertain. She doubted it would be long, though.
Kicking free of her heels, she scooped them up. She was done running in them. Barefoot was a lot faster. Hell, she never wanted to wear heels again in her life.
She spotted an empty taxi waiting at a red light, and apparently so did Twitch as he pulled her along, sprinting across the road. He grabbed the handle of the back door and yanked it open. The driver didn’t even glance their way.
Twitch bundled her into the car and rattled off an address. The door closed with a thud and the car began to move. Jasmine slumped in relief.
They had done it. Somehow they had managed to escape. Upon raising her chin, she found Twitch staring at her. That was all it took. They grinned at each other like a pair of idiots. Huge, shit-eating grins. They were free.
Chapter 6
Jasmine felt a tingle down her neck. All her senses were suddenly on full alert. Glancing up, she met the gaze of the taxi driver in the rearview mirror. Warm, honey-brown eyes were settled on her in interest. She could not see his face. A black scarf concealed most of it from the nose down and a black cap covered his head. All to keep out the morning chill, no doubt.
She could see short black hair poking out, though, and smooth mocha-coloured skin around his eyes. The driver seemed to be curious about them.
“Where are we going?” she asked her friend. She shivered with cold and huddled closer to his body. Now that they had stopped moving, she was feeling the chill. It was fricking freezing.
Her eyes slid to the front seat again.
The taxi driver was a supernatural. She was certain. What he was exactly, she didn’t know. Many supernaturals had normal day-to-day jobs. They blended in well with the human population. It was how they lived. Hidden.
He was probably wondering who the hell they were. The woman holding her shoes, barely dressed and the tall man dressed in black with dishevelled, curly hair. They had practically dived into his taxi like the hounds of hell were after them.
She noted in the rearview mirror, the mage's spell had completely worn off. The face reflected back was happily her own.
Twitch was nursing the hand the phone had exploded in. “I have friends here in Paris. We can go to their place.”
“Let me see that,” Jasmine said and reached over to grasp his hand. The flesh on his palm was burnt, and she saw a quick flash of red, puckered skin and blisters before he pulled it back.
“It’s nothing,” he said while looking at the window. “No worse than the ones than I already have.”
Jasmine’s eyes flicked to the old burn marks faded on his face and neck. “So that’s where you got those from.”
Twitch suddenly looked uncomfortable. He lowered his head and let his long hair flop forwards to hide his face.
“It just happens if spells don’t work, which doesn’t happen very often at all.”
Maybe not so much now, but it was obvious from his old scars it had once happened a lot. She could tell he was self-conscious about them. Was that why he kept his hair so long? So he could use it as a shield to hide? Why the hell had he carried on messing with magic if it hurt him? It had to be dangerous.
Maybe, she thought, like her, he didn’t have a choice. Jasmine had found out pretty swiftly you couldn’t ignore a gift. The universe wouldn’t let you.
She practically hummed with pleasure when she felt warm heat start to flow in the car. She flashed the driver a smile of thanks for turning it on. He must have seen her shivering.
His honey-brown eyes returned the smiled.
Twitch was still turned towards the window. He did not seem to be in a talkative mood any more. Fine by her.
Jasmine's adrenaline rush had finally crashed. Nausea rolled through her stomach. Suddenly she was feeling exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep, but that was far from possible yet.
The taxi was already weaving in and out of the manic Christmas traffic.
Christmas decorations and lights glittered from every window. It all looked so normal. She could hardly believe they had been prisoners not long ago.
After a while, the Arc de Triomphe appeared in the distance. Jasmine was feeling more than nervous by then. French drivers seemed to be crazy. Each lane was a free for all with seemingly no rules. Moped and scooters crossed their path, without even bothering to signal or look.
Every time the driver hit the brakes, Jasmine jerked forwards against her seatbelt. The taxi was constantly battling for a position in the lanes making it feel like they were rally driving. Every so often, a flow of French would leave their driver's lips. She was pretty sure they were swear words even though his voice was soft and pleasant.
All in all, Jasmine was thankful when they finally pulled up not far from the Arc de Triomphe.
Twitch unzipped a concealed pocket on the knee of his black trousers. He tugged out some notes and stuffed them into the driver’s hand. Jasmine could see they were English. The driver couldn’t be happy. She cringed.
The guy didn't even check the currency. He shoved the wad into his coat pocket and tipped his cap at them as Twitch thrust open the door. He hopped out and Jasmine scrambled after him, trying to keep up.
She frowned at the driver’s odd behaviour then gave herself a mental shrug. She had never been to Paris before. Maybe it was normal. He probably dealt with crazy tourists all day. The taxi had driven off quickly enough.
Loathed to do so but with little choice, she slipped her heels back on. Her feet protested and she groaned. She was hoping they did not have far to walk. It was going to be torture if they did.
After the heat in the taxi, the cold air was again a shock. Jasmine shivered and hugged her body. Not matter what she did, she couldn’t keep warm. Any heat she had accumulated on their ride was already sucked out of her.
Twitch did not seem to feel it and she began to envy him.
He led her along the street for a good twenty minutes. He did not talk but kept glancing around uneasily. She could sense his edginess and knew he probably wanted to get off the street. When Marcel realised they had escaped, he would soon be after them. Then they were in real trouble.
Her body was aching and she knew she was functioning on automatic now. All her energy was spent. Sooner or later, the fumes were going to give out. She wanted to be safely inside when it did.
They soon stopped in the front of a cheerful, cosy Internet café.
“In here.” Twitch motioned with his hand.
Jasmine followed him silently inside. At this point, she didn’t care where they were so long as they were inside.
The café was bright with white walls and a big window, which flooded the room with sunlight. Posters of video games and popular sci-fi series covered the walls—a place for those who choose to lose themselves in fantasy. A nerd haven.
Only a few customers were scattered about, mainly young kids glued to whatever they were doing on their screens. Individual booths for privacy lined one wall and some tables and couches sat in one corner for physical socializing. Not that they probably did a lot of that, she thought.
