The Accidental Kiss

by Nicole Simone

  They were stunned into silence. These last few days had been a rollercoaster ride and I felt as if we were about to reach the peak. Except instead of exhilaration, I felt a profound sense of doom. There was a third life to save now and countless others on the line. I couldn’t believe this whole messed up situation was over my blood. My mom shouldn’t have given birth to me. It was a painful truth to face but as soon as I entered this world, destruction was painted on my forehead. I heard the covers ruffle on the bed and Daemon’s heavy footprints walk across the hardwood floors. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, bringing me into him. I buried my face against his chest. Daemon’s clothes smelled like a cool crisp fall day in the woods.

  “Everything will be ok,” he soothed.

  “Say it again.”

  Daemon repeated the mantra and each time he did, the tension eased from my body, the self-deprecating thoughts lessened and I started to believe the words he spoke.

  Everything will be ok. It had to be.

  Letting out a shaky breath, I untwined myself from his embrace and began to tell Mrs. Ruth and Daemon what the voodoo priest had said. Once I was done, Daemon was obviously not happy about the bargain I had agreed upon with the voodoo priest.

  While on the contrary, Mrs. Ruth thought it was a fabulous idea. “He may think he has the upper hand but he doesn’t. You hold the power.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Because you’re coming to him.”

  Her reasoning was lost on me. “Yeah, but I’m meeting him at a warehouse he chose.”

  She gave me a look as if I was a stupid mortal who didn’t understand anything. Mrs. Ruth dropped her point and moved on. “Tomorrow night does not leave you a lot of time to prepare.”

  “I disagree,” Daemon said. “I’ve been preparing for this moment since the day I cut the ties that bound me.”

  His unshakable confidence seeped into my blood, giving me strength. “And I’ve been preparing for this moment since the day Melissa was taken off this earth.”

  “Revenge doesn’t equal an automatic win,” Mrs. Ruth argued.

  “Yes, but when we do win, I won’t feel an ounce of regret.” Daemon’s expression clouded. “He’s given me too many regrets already.”

  “Well then, I guess I should explain the second vial.” Mrs. Ruth picked up the bottle filled with green liquid and handed it to Daemon. His fingers closed over it. “Since your soul is slowly evaporating, the green liquid will act like a strength serum.”

  Daemon’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “I don’t do green juice. Never will.”

  “It’s not like green juice. It won’t make you act like a mindless zombie, no pun intended. Instead think of it as a energy boost, like coffee.” When she saw he still wasn’t sold on the serum, Mrs. Ruth snatched the vial back. “You will not be able to save Sky or anybody else if you only have half a soul. You will be weak, unable to fight, and useless. If you don’t want the green potion then stay home.”

  Calling his masculinity into question worked. Daemon growled, reclaimed the vial and slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping.

  A self-satisfied smile lit up Mrs. Ruth’s face as she turned to me. “We have everything checked off for tomorrow night unless there’s something you forgot to mention.”

  “He likes playing games.” The thought occurred to me suddenly. “What if this is another one of his games?”

  “If it is, I have no clue what game he’s getting at,” Mrs. Ruth said.

  “Me neither. Then again, I would rather not know what sick awful things go on in his head,” Daemon shuddered. “It’s probably like a rendition of Saw part one, two, and three.”

  “Great and we’re walking into his house of horrors,” I uttered.

  Daemon and I didn’t say what we were thinking, that Emily was currently living in it. Mrs. Ruth crawled to the edge of the bed, and peeked underneath the bed skirt.

  I looked at Daemon, bewildered. “What is she doing?”

  “Searching for gold?”

  “Ha, very funny.” Her voice came out muffled as she slid a large suitcase out from under the bed skirt and placed it on the bed. “This is a lot better than gold.”

  She popped the latches and the suitcase sprung open to reveal…weapons? I took a step closer, gasping when I saw, sure enough; it was weapons unlike any I’d ever seen before. They looked like medieval torture devices.

  “You can’t walk in two against fifty without some kind of protection,” Mrs. Ruth quipped.

  Daemon eyed the suitcase, wearily. “I think you’re forgetting the voodoo priest zombies are immortal. These weapons won’t be any good to us.”

  “Give me some credit. They’re cast in Rhodium.”

  I jumped into the conversation, asking the unspoken question in the room. “How did you go about acquiring these? There has to be at least 500,000 dollars worth of weapons in there.”

  Mrs. Ruth’s lips lifted in a mysterious smirk. “I would rather not tell but it was totally legal.”

  “Good enough answer for me.” Daemon gestured to the suitcase. “Ladies go first. Take your pick.”

  I hesitantly stepped up to the suitcase and was overwhelmed at my choices. Due to my mother’s job, she was opposed to any objects that could kill. Once, we had to live in the dark for a year because a man had ended up on her table, head bashed to pieces from a lamp. So you could imagine how she felt about actual weapons. It was drilled into my head to feel the same way. My hand hovered over a stick with spikes on it but I withdrew. I couldn’t pick out something that would evidently end up in somebody’s chest.

  “I’m sorry…this is weird. Picking out my weapon of death.”

  “If I remember correctly, you said you wanted to watch the voodoo priest bleed out onto the sidewalk while the life drained from his eyes.”

  I cringed at the words Daemon remembered so clearly. The old me wouldn’t have said anything like that in a million years. Just like the old me didn’t believe in zombies or witchcraft. I was so far removed from who I was it was remarkable.

  Daemon picked up a dagger and placed it in my hands. His gaze held me captive. “Sky, this man took away your best friend, kidnapped Emily, robbed you of a normal teenage upbringing, and wants to kill YOU. Should I go on?”

  There were countless reasons why the voodoo priest deserved to be dead but there were actions and there were words. I had the word part down, but intentionally committing harm to somebody was a different realm.

  Mrs. Ruth gently nudged Daemon aside. “I got this,” she whispered to him. He grudgingly walked over to the corner of the room to give us our privacy. Mrs. Ruth removed the dagger from my outstretched palms and looked at me gently. “You might not have to use anything except the potion I’ve given you.”

  “That’s highly unlikely.”

  Mrs. Ruth bobbed her head. “Which is exactly why you need to go into the warehouse armed. There’s a lot riding on this.”

  She didn’t need to tell me that; I was putting enough pressure on myself alone. Still, I saw how Mrs. Ruth perceived me. As a scared little girl who didn’t have an ounce of bravery in her and she was about to be proven wrong.

  As soon as I figured out what weapon to claim as my own, Mrs. Ruth gave us a run down on how the red tinted potion worked. Basically as long as it touched bare skin, the evil should be sucked from the voodoo priest’s body, along with his magic. It sounded simple enough but as I had learned long ago, nothing was as simple as it sounded.

  Daemon slung a bag equipped with everything we needed plus some over his shoulder while I carried the food Mrs. Ruth had gratefully prepared for us to the truck.

  Like a proud aunt, she stood in the doorway and waved rapidly to us. “Good Luck!”

  Daemon threw the gear into the back as I climbed into the passenger seat. Through the rearview mirror, I watched him gallop back up the steps to Mrs. Ruth. He wrapped her in a tight hug and whispered something in her ear. She threw her head back laughing and wiped a
t her eyes. My heart squeezed. He was saying his final goodbyes in case his soul wasn’t reclaimed. I hoped we didn’t have to do the same tomorrow night. The truck’s door opened and Daemon slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Are you ok?” I asked.

  He gave me a smile to hide the sadness in his eyes. “Peachy keen.”

  Before any more questions could be asked, he punched on the radio and The Killers blared out of the speakers. We turned onto the cobblestone streets toward home. Daemon drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, his gaze unwavering. The first hours blurred by without a word spoken from either of us. A few times I looked over, mouth opened, ready to say something but my brain would draw a blank. Talking about the weather or some other bland topic seemed silly in the scheme of things. So, I stared out the window and tried not to think about Emily, the voodoo priest, or how in a few hours I could be dead along with Daemon. Yet that proved impossible. Weird, huh?

  Abruptly, Daemon yanked the wheel and my body slammed into the car door. “What the hell?” I rubbed my arm, pissed off. “Who taught you to drive? A video game?”

  The car came to rest on the shoulder of the road next to an open field. Daemon sheepishly glanced over at me. “Sorry.”

  Who was I kidding? I could never be mad at him longer than five seconds underneath those puppy dog eyes. They were bewitching. “It’s fine. Why did you pull over?”

  “We need to practice your combat skills.”

  “Do we have time for that?”

  “It’s only two a.m.” Daemon’s long legs stepped out onto the gravel. He came around the car and opened my door. “It’s important you know how to defend yourself in case anything goes wrong.”

  The hidden implications of his statement made me suck in a lungful of air. “Nothing will go awry,” I said vehemently.

  “You’re right, nothing will, but I don’t want you to trip and kill yourself on the dagger instead,” he wisecracked.

  While my mother had always said a donkey had more grace than I did, I took offense to Daemon’s lack of confidence in my weapon yielding skills. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was Melissa’s and my favorite TV show back in the day. We’d act out her moves with wrapping paper rolls as a stand in for a wooden stake.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Excuse me, my skills are top notch. Thank you very much.”

  Daemon held out his hand and an invitation of a challenge shined in his eyes. “Then show me.”

  Looking past him out at the pitch-black field caused the hairs on the back of my neck to bristle. My night vision wasn’t the greatest and also Daemon wasn’t Melissa. He had paranormal abilities, such as super human speed and could communicate telepathically. Plus his 150 pounds of pure muscle outmatched my petite figure.

  Daemon caught on to the thousand excuses running through my head. “It wasn’t a question.” He reached past me to unbuckle my seatbelt and I caught a whiff of his scent. Lust stirred in my stomach. “Out of the car, princess,” he ordered. His bossiness stroked the flame further, need traveled between my legs, and I bit my bottom lip to ward away my hunger. Daemon’s eyes riveted onto my mouth. “You’re a master of distraction except for right now.” Yanking me out of the car, I stumbled as my feet hit the gravel.

  “Hey!” I jerked out of his grasp. “Was that really necessary?”

  Desire clouded his gaze as he stared at my thin cotton dress. “Yes otherwise you would be on your back right now, legs spread, calling out my name.”

  My nipples strained against my bra. He turned on his heels and walked into the field. “And for God’s sake, put on a sweatshirt or something.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  He mumbled an array of creative obscenities my way. Laughing at his frustration, I was glad he had the same effect on me as I did to him. When I lived in Los Angeles, there were boys who caught my attention but they were exactly that, boys. Daemon was a man with hot blood that snaked through his veins who induced sexual thoughts with a mere glance. He was every girl’s fantasy come to life and he was mine to indulge in, which was exactly what I’d rather be doing right now. Trailing after him, we ended up in the middle of the field. Tall grass brushed against my bare ankles.

  A sliver of a moon provided enough light to make out Daemon’s hulking figure crouched in a fight stance. “You ready?”

  “Of course I’m not ready. It’s two a.m. and I’m wearing a dress with flip flops.”

  Daemon ignored my snarky comment. “We’ll start off slow without any weapons. Only our hands.”

  “Awesome,” I said sarcastically. “I’m glad to hear I won’t get knifed until later.”

  “However, don’t think I won’t go hard on you.”

  The sexual innuendo was handed to me on a silver platter. “Hard and fast?”

  His lip twitched then settled back into a thin line. Jabbing a right upper cut, he shook out his shoulder and tilted his neck to the side. “Ok, let’s do this.”

  I gulped and was about to say something to delay the inevitable when a blur of motion came at me. In the nick of time, my legs jumped out of the way. I tucked and rolled to a kneeled position. “What the hell?”

  “Good. Your reflexes are faster than I thought,” Daemon praised as he extended his hand to help me up. “But remember to never let your defenses down. They are what will keep you alive.”

  I slapped my palm into his and hauled myself to my feet. It was on like Donkey Kong. My left fist jabbed out, which Daemon grabbed effortlessly and threw back. “Again,” he ordered.

  A frustrated growl left my lips while I did what he commanded. This time my punch grazed his cheek and Daemon smiled proudly. “You’re a fast learner.” Kicking my feet apart, he pushed on my knee so my body was lower to the ground. “Now swing your torso back and forth like a pendulum.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  In my short yoga phase, there was a move similar to this, except we were sitting down. It was easier when you were sitting. I braced my hands on my legs, jutted my butt out, and went left to right.

  As my breath came out in sporadic spurts, Daemon spoke. “Enough.”

  I returned to a standing position. “What was that move for?”

  “To get your blood pumping.” An evil grin danced on his lips and I itched to smack it off of him. “It seems like it did the trick.”

  “I hate you.”

  Chuckling, Daemon cleared his throat and smacked his hands together. The sound echoed in the stillness. “First lesson: The basic angles of attack are ‘the slash,’ which is based off a figure eight pattern.” Daemon demonstrated. “The move can also go upwards and it can also go downwards.”

  His hand gripped an imaginary knife and his feet moved gracefully. I shuddered at the slicing movements he made, which would surely cut a man to ribbons. Daemon continued to teach me the terminology until my brain was at maximum capacity. Next was putting what I learned to use. We sparred back and forth. First slowly, like Daemon had promised then as my confidence grew, faster. Sweat beaded on my forehead as my arm bent upwards and blocked an attack.

  “Try harder.” Daemon’s voice rang out in my head.

  Caught off guard, I lost my footing and almost got nailed by an oncoming roundhouse kick. At the last second, my head ducked and Daemon’s leg sailed over me. I made a signal to pause.

  Between spurts of breath, my voice leaked out. “You can’t use your telepathic ability.

  “Why not? The zombies will use everything they have in the book to kill you.”

  He was right. They would. Nonetheless, it seemed unfair I was at such a disadvantage since my only ability was clairvoyance and since there wasn’t an ounce of love toward the zombies, I couldn’t activate it. Suddenly, Daemon’s features turned ashen gray. He lowered himself to the ground and sat crossed legged on the grass.

  “What’s wrong?” Do you need the green potion?” I asked, alarmed. Daemon remained mute as his chest rose and fell sporadic
ally. “I’ll get it for you. Hold on.”

  My feet were about to bolt in the direction of the car when his hand clamped around my ankle. His chin lifted upwards and I winced at the pain reflected in his eyes. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re a horrible liar.”

  “When I say I am fine…” He bit out, “I’m fine.”

  Daemon was more stubborn than a mule and prouder than one too. He was unmistakably in agony. Guilt crushed my windpipe. He shouldn’t have fallen in love with me. Like I said before, I wasn’t worth it. He growled as a spasm of pain gripped him.

  Placing my hand on his cheek, I whispered in his ear. “Stay with me. I’ll be right back.”

  Daemon needed the green potion ASAP. I ran through the field toward the truck. Grappling with the handle, I yanked open the door and searched through our bags. Personal items were thrown this way and that.

  “Where is it?” I yelled frantically. In Daemon’s jacket pocket, I spotted the vial and wrapped my fingers around it. “There you are you sneaky little thing.”

  Sprinting back to where Daemon was, my knees hit the ground next to his head. I uncorked the vial and tried to recall how much Mrs. Ruth told me to give. Since we only had one small bottle, a drop would have to do.

  “Open your mouth,” I said.

  Daemon’s unfocused gaze settled on the green potion, he shook his head. “No,” he croaked.

  “No isn’t an option anymore.” My fingers gripped his jaw and pried it open. Tipping the bottle, a green droplet landed on his tongue. “There.”

  Daemon’s expression soured as he swallowed. I anxiously waited for something to happen. Thankfully it didn’t take long to see results. As the potion flooded his system, color returned to his cheeks while his green eyes cleared like the passing of a storm. His arms unwound themselves from around his legs and he sat up.

  “That Mrs. Ruth sure knows how to make a potent spell,” I said in awe.

  Daemon patted his body as if to ensure everything was still in tact. When he felt that everything was indeed in one piece, relief lined his mouth followed by gratitude. “Thank you for not listening to me.”