by Sierra Cross
Matt ducked blast after blast, then pulled the short swords from the wall. “Get behind me!” he yelled but his movements were starting to slow.
Screw that. My hands were tingling so hard they vibrated, and the golden glow from my fingers lit the room. Back down from this fight? Hell no. Following Matt’s lead, I leaped up and grabbed a pair of daggers from the wall. Midair, before Matt had a chance to take aim, I let a blade fly. My first throw pierced the second demon’s chest.
Instant kill.
I felt it in my bones like the ring of a bat when you hit a homerun.
The third demon was smart enough to realize the odds weren’t in his favor and he spun toward the door.
“Holy shit, you dusted him.” Matt sounded as stunned as I felt. But not enough for him to break the flow of his assault. He crashed into the third demon, trying to block its escape. Their bodies tangled and rolled. Matt raised his arm to dust him, but the demon threw an elbow catching Matt in the throat. As Matt pulled off to catch his breath the demon fled the cave. Matt shook his head and took a deep breath.
My cheeks hurt. I realized I was grinning stupidly. Surviving that fight had made me giddy. Or maybe it was just all the magic flowing through me?
“Stay here,” Matt yelled. “I can’t let it get away. It’ll tell the others about you.”
Yeah, right. Stay here. Still feeling battle-high, I followed Matt out of the cave and onto the path.
Good thing I did, too. As he ran I could see something wasn’t right. Matt started to zigzag, then collapsed. But even as he fell he was flailing trying to go after the demon.
“I’ll get it, Matt.” But his steel grip on my wrist kept me from running after the demon myself.
“Too dangerous…” He could barely talk and was using the last bit of his strength to protect me.
I stopped resisting and he loosened his grip. “Are you going to be okay?”
After a minute, he caught his breath and sat up, “Haven’t been in human form in a long time. The transition’s a little rough, I guess. Gimme a minute.”
“Can you make it to my car? I can take you to my place and you can rest for a while.”
He pointed toward the ward around the cave. “First, you need to fix that.”
I groaned. “Fix what? I can’t even tell what’s broken.”
“Concentrate, Alexandra.” Augh, why was he always asking the impossible of me? “Let that feeling in your hands inform your sight.”
“Whatever that means,” I muttered. But as I focused on the spot where I’d entered the cave, a golden translucent veil came into view. The veil was gossamer-thin but immensely wide; it wrapped around the whole cave. And as I stared, I could also see, slicing right at the opening, a green streak of current that kept the veil from closing.
“The demon’s blast must have been in contact with you as you crossed the ward. It wedged it open—like lifting the corner of a blanket.”
I nodded. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Use the magic you feel in your hands and draw it toward you. Think about attracting it like a magnet.”
I stared at the veil some more. At first, it had looked like one cohesive unit, but peering closer, I saw it was a fabric made up of magical threads woven together. And on each shimmering, golden thread I could actually see part of the spell. Its strange symbols flashed through my vision at lightning speed, like a complex calculus equation I had no hope of understanding. The green bits of demon magic stood out as clearly not belonging. I focused all my attention on calling the invading energy away from the ward.
It was slow going, but after what felt like minutes, the green current flickered and several fat sparks jumped away from it. I braced for them to hit me like mini-blasts, but they fell away, dispersing into the air. Painstakingly, I continued to draw out the green energy, a few sparks at a time, until the current thinned. When it had finally dissipated, the ward resealed. And I felt more exhausted than after working a double bar shift. Actually, the fatigue reminded me of sports training back in high school. Building muscle.
Was my magic like a muscle?
He seemed to read my mind. “Still think your magic can’t be developed?”
I swallowed. Did guardians always sound so sure and all-knowing? “I don’t know what to believe anymore, okay?”
To my surprise, Matt’s face softened. “Fair enough. I gave you a lot to take in for one day. Come on, let’s get out of here. Process where it’s safe.” He maneuvered to standing, but his body wobbled so hard I ducked under his massive arm to steady him.
“Whoa there, big guy. Give it a minute.” Good lord, his weight bearing down on my shoulder took all of my strength to prop up. Worse, our proximity was distracting in all sorts of other ways. His hot skin, pressed against mine, smelled of pepper and male sweat. Intoxicating. Unconsciously I leaned toward his rocklike muscles. Heat coiled low in my belly as I gazed up at his face.
Matt took a sharp breath and stepped back, like he was trying to get his bearings. Standing to his full height of well over six feet, he flexed his wrist and rotated his shoulders, like he was testing out all his muscles. “When we get to your car, I’ll give you directions.” His tone was all authoritative again, not warm and friendly. “We need to make a stop.”
“What kind of stop?” Ack. Did I offend him just now? He obviously noticed my reaction to being so close. I could feel my cheeks flushing.
“I’ve got something for you, Alexandra.” To my relief, Matt didn’t seem offended. Just calm and cool. Professional. But his next words plucked an aching melody through my chest. “It’s from your mother.”
I could barely speak. “A gift…from Mom?”
“She gave it to me a couple of weeks before the attack. Said in case anything happened to pass on to you.”
Chapter Six
I rode on the gas pedal all the way out of Caster’s Park, but by the time we hit the freeway my adrenaline peaked. A wave of fatigue knocked me over. Combat had exhausted my body—my hands, no longer twitching, ached as I guided the steering wheel. But my mind and heart also cried out for rest, relief from the onslaught of shocks and revelations. Rather than peppering Matt with the million more questions I had, I silently followed his directions, which lead us to the U District.
“I still can’t believe I killed a demon,” I said. Ok, I bragged.
“Well, kind of.” Matt chuckled at my bravado. “Dusting Neqs just sends them back to the Demon Realm. Now, if it had been an upper-level demon—those can actually die. But, you took that Neq off the streets for now.”
“What, they can come back?” This was making my brain crack. “I could fight that same demon all over again?”
“Yeah, and it’s worse when they remember it was you that killed them.”
If the Spelldrift’s gritty-to-glamorous ratio was balanced on a knife-edge, the U District embraced its low-rent, alternative vibe all the way. College students strolled among pierced punks and Goth fashionistas. Massage spas, vegan restaurants, New Age bookshops, and darkened dive bars with live music pouring out of them blended into one another as we rolled down The Ave.
“Turn right on 45th.” Matt motioned at the upcoming intersection. “Then hook a left onto fraternity row.”
I put on my turn signal, but not before I gave him some side-eye. “Really?” Was he messing with me? “Somehow I doubt Mom left her final gift to me in a frat house.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I happened to be living there at the time she gave it to me.”
Okay, that made a little more sense, but… “Weren’t you a little old to be in a fraternity at the time of the…tragedy?” Even now that I knew there’d never been a bus accident, I wasn’t quite ready to say “battle.”
“I was just finishing my masters in criminology,” he explained, as I slid into a street parking spot. “Lost my lease suddenly and moved back in here the last semester.”
“It’s been ten years.” My hopes of holding Mom’s my
sterious gift in my hands were crumbling. “How do you know it’s still there?”
Matt flashed me his confident smile. “You’ll see.”
“But how will we get in?”
“That’s easy.” He climbed out of the car, and I noticed he moved with more ease now. Like his body was getting used to the weight of gravity.
“Wait.” I popped the trunk and rifled through the Goodwill box. A month ago when I was freezing at a Seahawks game, Brett bought me a team jersey. The only size they had left was XXL—which I would never wear again. I tossed it to Matt, who caught it with a nod of gratitude. He peeled off his bloody, torn shirt and I turned away so as not to gawk. But not before catching a glimpse of his chiseled chest and abs.
“Let’s go.” The jersey pulled tight across his shoulders.
I followed him up the steps and to the front door of a huge brick house sporting the Greek letters Epsilon Tau Omega. As we stood on the front porch, I could hear the sounds of guys horsing around inside. Through the doorway, I saw a blond guy wearing a bathrobe over his street clothes slide down the banister and bound to the front door.
A clean cut young man in a Husky’s jersey walked up to greet us. “Hey, can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m an ETO—class of ’04.” With no warning, Matt threw his arm around me. I stiffened, but his fingertips caressing my arm felt electric. “I wanted to show my girlfriend my old room. You know, trip down memory lane.” He hugged me to him to sell the charade, and my body reacted with surprising heat. It must be that all of my senses were heightened, after learning that I had magic, running for my life, and fighting demons. And then there was the fact that Matt was standing there because I pulled his body and soul through to this realm. “Do I have your permission to take her upstairs?”
“Let’s find out.” The guy motioned us into the foyer. Groups of college kids were filtering past us into the living room. “Master at Arms,” he yelled at full volume, “alumnus requests admittance!”
Matt and the Master at Arms went through an archaic routine complete with reciting something called the ETO Creed. Only then were we allowed in.
The living room was in a state of mild chaos—Friday night early-party commotion. Red cups on the bar. The keg tapped. People streaming in. Matt did the minimum amount of glad-handing and took me by the hand to the stairs.
Once we got to the second flight and out of public view he dropped my hand, making it clear there was nothing more than subterfuge to the gesture. I felt his heat leech away and was tempted to reach for him again, before I came to my senses.
The second staircase was narrower than the first, with only two doors leading from the landing. He tugged me to the open door on the left. Two guys sat on a decrepit couch drinking from red cups and watching football replays in what looked like a small common room.
“Dude, party’s downstairs,” said a red-faced guy sitting on the arm of the couch. “Upstairs is off limits.”
“We know, man.” With a laugh that made him sound younger, Matt extended his hand and did a weird secret handshake with the guy. “Matt, ETO class of ’04.”
At that the other guy stood and did the same handshake and then belly bumped Matt.
“I came up here because this used to be my room,” Matt said and pointed to the window. “I spent many a night…uh…entertaining…out there.” He tossed a sheepish grin my way. I faked a cross look and the guys laughed.
“Fire codes say it can’t be a bedroom anymore,” one of the guys said, sounding a bit sad about it. “If we’re even caught outside, our chapter could get sanctioned.”
“Guess things really have changed.” Matt plopped into an arm chair casually, like he hung out with these dudes all the time. As he pulled me onto his lap, a tingle of electricity passed between us—at least on my end. I felt the long hard muscles of his thighs and wondered if he had any idea how he was torturing me. While they talked about football I was seriously wondering how we were going to look for anything while these guys were here. The one who’d had more to drink was nodding off, but somehow managed to keep his cup upright.
“Hey!” The drunk one held his cup in our direction. “They don’t have drinks.”
“Definitely a party foul on my part. Sorry sir,” the other one said. “Will you allow me to get you drinks, sir?”
“Thanks, that’d be great.”
As soon as the guy was out of the room, though, Matt pushed me off his lap and headed to the closet.
“What about him?” I pointed to the guy who remained on the couch, blinking at me in slow motion.
“He’s out of it,” he says. “Damn, they’ve finished the closet.”
“Does it mean the stuff is gone?”
“No.” I heard a punch and dry wall splintering. “Just means it’s not as easy to get to.”
“Hey!” Drunk guy yelled. “What’re you doing in there?”
Matt came out of the closet with a dust-covered dark blue velvet bag a bit larger than a football.
“Hey, you shouldn’t be in there,” Drunk guy was on his feet and more alert than I thought possible. He pushed me out of the way and went to grab the bag from Matt. The guy looked in the closet and saw the broken wall. “That is so not cool, man!” he yelled, as Matt shoved him into the closet and wedged a chair under the door knob. Footsteps on the stairs. The guy in the closet was yelling bloody murder.
Matt threw me the bag, “Out the window. I’m right behind you.”
“We’re three stories up!” And I was in boots, not sneakers.
The other guy reentered the room, hands full of beers. The smile disappeared from his face. “Hey, what’d you do to Chet?” Noticing the bag. “You didn’t come in here with that.” He put the beers down and yelled down the stairs for reinforcement.
It was now or never. I shimmied open the window and slipped out.
I heard a scuffle behind me, but couldn’t see what was happening.
Then Matt was next me saying, “The fire escape. This way.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” The not-so-drunk guy was hanging out the window, yelling. “We could lose our charter for this!”
Meanwhile, I clung to the roof for dear life. The slate roof tiles were dicey to walk on, slick with a coating of fresh rain. My heart pounded in my ears.
“Hurry. We gotta get down there before he rally’s the troops.” He took the bag from me so I could move faster. “Once we get to the corner it’s like a big slide,” he reassured, seeming to sense my terror. “Piece of cake.”
Yeah right. I was trying not to look down as I maneuvered along the roof’s edge. We were almost at the corner when my foot slipped and my body jolted downward.
“I’ve got you.” Matt’s huge arm wrapped around my waist. He pulled all my weight to him and set me on a ledge at the top of the fire escape. “Pull your jacket sleeves over your hands and just hold on.”
He let go of me, straddled the ladder, and slid down like they do on TV. Two more guys had joined our friend at the window. I saw a leg coming out onto the roof. Oh well, here goes nothing. I mimicked Matt with shaky limbs, but once I started sliding there was no stopping. What the hell was I thinking? My legs were going to break when I hit the ground.
Then Matt reached up and pulled my weight into him, absorbing my momentum as we tumbled to the ground. We landed tangled up, with me on top straddling him. First time I ever saw him look flustered. I’d never been so grateful to be wearing jeans; not only was I not giving this pair away, I was going to frame them. A split second later, the front door opened and angry people came spilling out. Matt rolled himself up and hauled me to standing. In a flash, we were in my car speeding away from the group of angry fraternity guys shouting obscenities at us on the front lawn.
“Magic would have made that a hell of a lot easier,” he said, as I drove us through the rain-slick streets. We were headed toward Dick’s Drive-In, where Matt had decreed he would break his fast of ten years.
“Why?” I
’ve been living without magic for so long it never even occurred to me.
“Magic makes everything easier. I’ve seen your mother’s coven throw a dozen different spells that would have allowed us to walk right out the front door.”
“You’ll have to teach me those spells.” Actually…picturing the huge guardian as my magical trainer, pushing me to develop my skills, was an amazing turn on. Though I would die if he knew I thought that. “So, uh, when we do start, coach?”
“’We don’t.” Matt frowned, looking almost insulted. “The Brotherhood doesn’t practice witches magic.”
“Oh.” Shortest-lived fantasy ever.
“We have our own kind of magic,” he explained. “It runs through our blood all the time and makes us stronger fighters, but we can’t make magic come out of our fingertips like witches do. We’re a different type of magicborn than you.”
“I see. Kind of.” One thing was nagging at me though. “Then how did you know how to repair the ward?”
He shrugged. “Back in the day, I spent a lot of time with Alana. She was a close family friend. She had no family, so we hung out a lot. I saw her do a lot of spells. Doesn’t mean I could do them,” he added with a smile, as if the notion were patently ridiculous. “Any more than a witch could etch guardians’ runes on a sword.”
“Runes?”
“That’s what makes the demons dust when you slay them. So we’re not leaving hideous corpses.”
“Wow, that’s useful magic.” I made a face, imagining how bad Neq bodies would reek.
“Yeah, the Fidei think so too. It’s a crime to leave bodies lying around."
“A crime?” I laughed at the absurd notion. It was illegal to make a mess while defending yourself against demons? “What, do they send you to some special magicborn prison?"
