by J. N. Colon
I clenched my jaw against the fire searing my skin. We were fighting for shit’s sake. I shouldn’t be wondering what his hands felt like gliding over me or what his ridiculously pouty lips tasted like. And that damn piercing.
Fuck. This was not going the way I wanted.
Metallic screeches bounced through the alley as the door began to move, snapping me back to the dire situation. If I didn’t get away from Caleb, I was screwed. And not in the good way.
My knee lifted, hitting him right in the groin.
Caleb’s body disappeared from mine as he hunched over, groaning. Ugh. Why did I miss his warmth?
I pivoted and dashed through the alley without a second glance. Rain cascaded down my face, obscuring my vision, and cold air squeezed my lungs. A few people—humans or nightworlders—shouted as I darted through treacherous back streets. I’d let every drop of my magic out of its cage, and I didn’t have time to worry about an attack from witches or anything else.
What was I going to do now? I couldn’t very well stay in fae territory while the king had his sentries and his son searching for me.
I ignored the drug dealers loitering under the overhang of my decrepit apartment building and barreled inside. The musty aroma of mold and mildew slapped my face as I ran up the creaky stairs, the burgundy carpet barely covering the wooden planks. A baby wailed inside of apartment thirty-seven, and the couple across the hall was having another yelling match.
Shady characters riddled the piece-of-shit complex. It should have been condemned and deemed unlivable, but it was all I could afford.
My hands shook as I finally grabbed the rusty doorknob to my apartment. The faux-gold numbers barely hung onto the rotting wood, and the four had turned upside down while the eight loosely swung.
I slammed the door shut, locking it. A shiver racked my entire frame, and it wasn’t only from the draft seeping into the grimy window in the living room. I’d killed someone tonight. So what if the demon had been on the verge of ripping my soul out? I could have taken him down without the death raker power.
But I hadn’t been able to stop it from reaching out for another victim.
My stomach clenched. I hadn’t taken a life in a long time. I refused to think of the buzz it gave me and instead focused on the foul aftertaste.
I tore my jacket off and tossed it on the broken hook nailed to the wall, the leather garment now masking some of the peeling gray paint. Water puddled on the already warped wooden floor. I shuffled into my bedroom, kicking the book “How to Install a Garbage Disposal” across the room. Plumbing issues were the least of my worries.
Pain throbbed in my left shoulder, and I winced. What had Caleb shoved me into? I stripped my shirt over my head, dropping it on the cracked black and white tile in the cramped bathroom. An oddly shaped bruise mottled my shoulder.
My brow puckered. What is that?
I held my hand over it, my lips moving quickly to recite a revealing spell. Sharp tingles radiated across the bruise, and within seconds, the blue and purple splotches dissolved to expose a luminous symbol.
Every drop of warmth drained from my body as the vibrant green rune stamped into my shoulder glared from the grimy mirror. Caleb’s words I’ll find you anywhere floated back, bringing with them a mountain of dread.
That asshole had slapped a fae tracking spell on me. He could find me anywhere.
Chapter 5
The glowing rune branded on my skin pulsated like a light guiding sailors along a rocky shore. Except, in this case, it was steering the fae prince to my exact location.
I cursed and bolted out of the bathroom, shoving my bed aside and crashing to my knees. Perspiration dampened my fingers, making the wood slip in my hands as I pried apart several floorboards. I only had minutes to get this tracker off before Caleb found me.
“Screw it!”
With the flick of my hand, a section of the floor exploded, leaving a gaping hole. I reached in and pulled out a tattered leather-bound grimoire. A layer of dust tumbled off the cover. My hand dipped into the hole again, searching for the magic elements I’d stashed for emergencies.
This was one hell of an emergency.
A tickle ran over my finger, and I shuddered. Ugh. Definitely an eight-legged critter.
Finally, my palm pressed against the cold edge of a hard metal box. I pulled it out and laid it next to the grimoire before flicking the lid open and scouring the contents. Small glass vials of various ingredients clinked together as I hauled them out.
Where did I put the chalk?
Droplets of water ran down my back, seeping into my damp jeans. Hot and cold shudders flooded over me as I hurriedly drew a ritual circle in chalk with four stars equidistance from each other along the edges. My hands shook when I opened the grimoire, the familiar musty scent crinkling my nose and tossing me back to a time when I’d been surrounded by ancient tomes in the grand witch’s book reliquary. I’d studied until my eyes bled. And then studied some more.
I shook the images off. Now was not the time to take a trip down suck-fest memory lane.
The dense manila pages rustled like dead leaves as I flipped through for a spell capable of removing the tracking rune.
Most fae could harness power in specific runes native to Faerieland. Each represented certain spells or magic, but the potency depended on the fae themselves.
I’d bet my left foot Prince Caleb Blackwood had enough juice to make this damn tracking spell reach all the way to the Underworld.
The Irritum Facio incantation caught my eye. Any advanced or intermediate witch could perform the ritual, but it would be unpleasant. And by unpleasant, I meant painful as hell.
I grabbed a small pewter bowl and tossed in sage, devil’s weed, oil of vervain, sticklewort, and a bunch of other crap. I didn’t have any eye of newt—that was a real witch thing—so I had to settle for a salamander tail.
The blade of my silver athame glinted as I pressed it to my palm, and with a quick slash, a line of crimson appeared. My sharp intake of air bounced loudly through the room, interrupting the drum of my beating heart and the rain pelting the small window.
I checked the clock. Shit. Two minutes had already passed. Hopefully, Caleb was moving a little slow after our fight.
I squeezed my palm over the bowl to offer my blood. The mixture sizzled and popped before a cloud of blue smoke swirled toward the dingy popcorn ceiling. A pungent, acrid odor filled the air.
My stomach clenched. That was the easy part of the spell. The next was going to hurt like a motherfucker.
“Break the connection. Destroy the trail. Remove the chain. Make them fail.” I repeated those words, and on the third time, I lifted the bowl over my shoulder. Sweat dripped down my neck, and I took a deep, calming breath.
My front door opened. “Thea? Are you here?”
Son of a bitch! Aiden decided now of all times to use his key?
My free hand shot out, slamming the bedroom door and locking it with a blast of magic. “Uh, I’ll be out in just a sec. I’m changing!”
My neighbor was the sweetest human boy I’d ever met, but damn he had bad timing. I snatched a T-shirt from the floor and shoved it in my mouth before finally tipping the spell mixture onto my shoulder where Caleb had placed the rune.
A wash of intense pain seared across my back. Blinding white clouded my vision for several long, agonizing seconds as the cotton material jammed in my mouth muffled the screams.
I’d endured torture less excruciating than this.
When my eyesight finally returned, the room spun. I choked back the urge to hurl in the middle of the ritual circle. Moisture dripped from my temple onto the floor by my trembling leg. The sizzling on my back ceased, and the throbbing slowly melted away.
That sucked. I certainly didn’t miss this part of witchcraft.
I dropped the bowl and spit the T-shirt out, leaning forward on my hands as I tried to catch my breath. The air reeked of burning flesh and magic. If the spell hadn’t worke
d and this pain was all for nothing, I was going to rearrange Caleb’s pretty face when he found me.
Of course it worked even with the salamander tail. My magic was no joke. And Caleb’s face was not pretty.
I surveyed my shoulder, finding nothing but a patch of raw skin where the rune had been. A breath of relief tumbled out as the tension left my body, and I slumped.
“Thea, are you okay?” Aiden called, concern riddling his voice.
I slowly stood on trembling legs. “I’m all good. Just another rough night at the diner.” Rough couldn’t even begin to describe my night. “I’ll be out in a second.” I searched the floor for a pair of dry jeans, finding them under a pile of cooking books I had yet to use. Who needed to cook elaborate meals when you had a microwave anyway? It wasn’t just for frozen dinners.
After peeling my wet clothes off and donning something that wasn’t stained with alley filth, I trudged out of my bedroom and found Aiden sitting at the small breakfast bar in the kitchen. His shoulders hunched over the counter as he flipped through a comic book, tendrils of shaggy blond hair obscuring his face. His favorite Yoda T-shirt hung off his thin frame.
He glanced up and immediately began gnawing on his bottom lip. “I hope you don’t mind that I used the key. I knocked, but I didn’t hear anything. Jim was in a mood so…” He trailed off and shrugged.
My heart clenched when the fresh bruise on his cheek became visible as he shifted on the stool. “You don’t have to explain, Aiden. I gave you a key so you could come over whenever you needed to.”
His piece-of-shit stepfather really tested my patience. How could he hit a sixteen-year-old kid half his size? Plenty of times I’d stopped myself from storming across the hall and laying one hand on that jerk.
One touch and he’d be dead.
I shook the macabre thoughts off before they had a chance to sink in. “You want a snack?” I didn’t wait for an answer before prying a tub of ice cream from between stacks of microwave dinners packing the icebox of my very tiny fridge. “What comic are you reading?”
“Spiderman,” he said, squeezing into the kitchen to grab two bowls from the cabinet. “I watched the movie—the first one with Tobey Maguire last night—and I was feeling nostalgic for one of the classics.”
“Out of all the Spiderman movies, I like those first three the best.” I grabbed a bag of plain chips from the cabinet, the door barely hanging on by half a hinge. Like the other three, it was bound to fall off. “I think that Maguire dude is cute.” I tossed the chips on the bar.
Aiden snorted and took a seat at the end while I climbed onto the rickety stool on the other side. “I highly doubt you dated the nerdy kid in high school.” He dropped two scoops of chocolate ice cream into his bowl and then a vanilla scoop into mine.
I shot him a playful glare. “Maybe I did.” Little did Aiden know I was only seventeen—not twenty-one—and had never even been to high school. Like Ellexia or my mother would have allowed that even in Illyria. “What kind of guys do you think I dated?”
“Definitely not the jocks.” He tapped his chin, careful of the other fading bruise. “I bet you went after the smoldering bad boy who had a motorcycle and got into bar fights.”
Why did the fae prince suddenly pop into my head? I bet he had a motorcycle.
Nope! Not going there.
Caleb’s image scattered, and I dipped a chip into my scoop of vanilla ice cream. “Maybe.” I’d had a couple of secret relationships. The bad boys were the only ones brave enough to risk seeing me.
Had I stayed with the Maleor Suprema coven, I’d have had an arranged marriage soon with some suck up, rich-boy douche bag who wanted to get in close with the grand witch.
“How can you eat that?” Aiden motioned his finger to the chip dripping with ice cream headed for my mouth.
I scoffed. “You should try it. Nothing beats sweet and salty together.”
His nose crinkled. “I beg to differ, but I’ll give it a try just this one time.” He reached over to snag a chip when a sharp hiss spilled from his mouth, and he jerked back, grabbing his torso.
“What’s wrong?” I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist or a psychic to know. My lips thinned, and I tossed my chip aside. “How bad is it? Let me see.”
Crimson stained the apples of Aiden’s pale cheeks, and his gaze lowered to the floor as he lifted his shirt to display the bright purple and blue bruises marring his side. “Jim was pretty hammered when I came home from school today.”
A slew of curses fell from my lips. “Where is your mom?”
He dropped his shirt and slid his bowl of ice cream away. “Working a double shift at the hospital. She has to make up for Jim losing his job.”
My fist clenched to stop the flow of magic trying to seep out. Someone—meaning me—had to do something about that deadbeat. I hated seeing Aiden walk around with tense shoulders, waiting on the next strike from his stepfather.
Why couldn’t his mother just leave his drunk, abusive ass? If she ever did, she’d better take Aiden with her. Leaving a kid with a sadistic psycho could really screw them up. Believe me. I would know.
“Aiden, why does your mom put up with that crap?” I shoved my ice cream away, having lost my appetite, and crossed my arms against my chest. “Why does she let him—”
The door exploded like a crash of thunder striking the atmosphere.
My heart shot into my throat, and I reacted on instinct, throwing my hand up to create a shield around Aiden and me as wood splintered into a million sharp projectiles.
Son of a wicked witch!
When the debris cleared, several figures appeared on the other side of the shimmering violet barrier, the fae prince front and center. “I told you I could find you anywhere, Rose Thorn.”
My jaw gritted to breaking levels. The bastard still found me.
“Um, Thea, what is happening?” Aiden stared from the magical shield to my raised hand crackling with violet sparks.
Dread hit my gut so hard I almost fell out of the stool. Oh, gods. Aiden could not be caught in the middle of this mess.
Caleb rammed his fist into the barrier, the power in each strike reverberating in my bones. He would get through eventually. No doubt about it.
Adrenaline sped through my muscles, sending me into action. I jumped up and wrenched Aiden off of the stool. “You have to get out of here now.” I dragged him toward the grimy window.
“What’s happening?” he screeched. “Who are those people? And are you doing freaking magic?”
I shoved the window open and forced him onto the fire escape, fat drops of rain already soaking his hair. “There’s no time to explain. You need to get out of here. Go to that abandoned house. You’ll be safe there.” Weeks ago, I’d set up a protective barrier in a run-down house next to Aiden’s school in case things got dicey. Of course, I’d imagined witches would be after me and not fae royalty.
Why the hell hadn’t I gone there instead of returning to my apartment?
Aiden’s long fingers clutched my arm. “Come with me.”
“I can’t.” Sharp claws of panic sliced at my center. The shield began to lose integrity as Caleb continued slamming his fist into it. “As long as you’re safe, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not leaving you here with those mobster guys even if you are some magic superhero!” Aiden tried tugging me out the window, but his wet fingers slipped off my arm.
I was no superhero. I was the opposite actually. But if I could pretend to be a hero just this once to save Aiden, I’d do it.
“I’ve got magic, a hell of a lot more than those guys. I can handle this.” Electric tendrils slithered over my hands as I held them up for him to see. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Aiden swallowed hard, glancing at the fae only moments from busting in. “You promise?”
“Of course.”
Aiden reluctantly backed away and let me close the window. He gave one more worried look over his shoulder before disappearing down th
e fire escape ladder.
That was one promise I’d have to break.
I whipped around just as Caleb shattered the barrier, and he stepped through, two sentries flanking his sides.
“Long time no see, little witch.” As he shortened the distance between us, the luminescent sheen to his eyes faded to an icy shade of evergreen.
I forced the magic back down. The odds were not in my favor with five against one. “Not long enough, Tinkerbell.”
The sentries traded wary glances from the dig. Clearly, most people didn’t strive to offend the prince.
Caleb towered over me and cracked his neck while his gaze searched my face. “Who’s your friend?”
“Are we going to talk, or are you going to take me in?” I asked, ignoring his question. I needed them to forget all about the human boy in my apartment.
“I guess you don’t like foreplay.” His lips twisted into an ominous leer—that thin hoop winking in the light—before a pair of manacles appeared in his hands. “Maybe bondage then.”
The metal flared to life, glowing a deep shade of crimson as he clasped the cuffs around my wrists. I choked back a cry when the magical restraints severed the connection to my powers. A dark void spread through my insides, and it took all of my energy to keep from collapsing.
“I bet you’ve never had the pleasure of being bound by magic-inhibiting restraints before, Rose Thorn.” Caleb grasped the chain between the shackles and yanked me toward the door. “Let’s go see the king.”
Chapter 6
King Lachlan Blackwood of the Unseelie Court of fae sat behind an enormous mahogany desk, his glacier-blue eyes studying me like I was the grand finale at a freakshow. My wobbly legs could barely hold my body upright under his fierce examination.
What was he searching for?
“You’re quite the specimen, Thorn Rosalee. I can sense much more to you than your gift of death.” The words rolled off his tongue like hot syrup over pancakes.
But I had a feeling deadly hemlock swirled beneath the sweet layers of that syrup.
