Karma

by Nadine Nightingale

  I jot a few things on a ten-dollar bill and frown. “Definitely better than doing jail-time for assaulting a desk clerk,” I mouth as I pass him the shopping list.

  “A sharp knife, red and black candles, bourbon, and a Band-Aid?” A WTF look on his face, he waits for an explanation. “What the hell are you up to?”

  I rub my temples to ease the pain that’s building. “Just get the stuff, dude.”

  “Whatever,” he grumbles, heading to the car.

  We hit the next grocery store, and while Alex gets the stuff on the list, I rest my head against the black leather seat and gaze out the window. I could have gone with him, but after the stunt he just pulled with Miguel, I needed a break from jerk-face.

  Despite the beautiful weather, and the fact that it’s Friday, the streets are strangely deserted. No kids, no couples—just a raven across the street that has been watching me for a while now. I sense its uneasiness and see the fluffed up, shiny black feathers. What are you trying to say, bird?

  Its head swings to a small white house on the other side of the street.

  What in God’s name? The Victorian is cloaked by a massive black fog. How did I not see this? Every house has an aura, but this one ain’t ordinary. It’s one helluva protective shield. During my twenty years as a witch, I have never seen anything quite like it.

  I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the car door. The rational side of my brain tells me to stay the hell away, but there’s a magnetic pull that lures me across the street.

  The raven’s eyes drift from the house back to me. The little creature seems as amazed as I am. A shield like that needs a lot of juice. Whoever lives here must be a descendant of freaking Merlin.

  My little black friend jerks its head to the right, looks me in the eyes, and croaks.

  What is it, buddy?

  It hops toward the white fence that encircles the beautiful lawn and stops in front of a mandala drawn on the pavement with orange chalk.

  Wait, isn’t that a voodoo symbol?

  “Can I help you?” A sweet voice startles me.

  I look up. An elderly woman wearing a white Boohoo sundress and a fancy hat smiles at me from the porch. Holy Mother of God! I haven’t seen such a brilliant purple aura since Grams died.

  Walking toward me, she flashes a brilliant smile. “Can I help you, love?”

  I know it’s rude to stare, but I can’t take my eyes off of her. “I…I…was just…” Why the hell am I stammering? “I was admiring your garden, ma’am,” I say.

  “And your little friend here”—she points at the raven—“is it admiring my garden, too?”

  I shrug. “Yeah, apparently, the bird digs gorgeous gardens.”

  The woman throws thick gray hair over her shoulder and grins. “Would you like to come in? I just made some sweet tea.”

  Her aura has great appeal, but there’s no freaking way I’m going in there. “Thanks, but I’m waiting for a friend.”

  She points across the street to where Alex leans against the passenger side of the Mustang, watching us from a safe distance. “He’s more than welcome to join us. That is, if he leaves his guns in the car.”

  I think I like this woman, but I still won’t cross her threshold. “Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  She draws closer. “Your friend”—she tilts her chin toward Alex—“won’t find what he’s looking for unless, he starts to trust.”

  Damn, she’s good.

  I smile. “He sorta has issues with that.”

  Her honey-colored eyes look right into my soul. “He isn’t the only one.”

  I’m so not in the mood for a witchy therapy session. “I should be—”

  Bending over the fence, she reaches for my hand and pulls me closer. “Did you see her?”

  Bewildered, I glare. “What?”

  “The little girl,” she whispers. “Have you seen her yet?”

  I pull back. “How do you—”

  The old woman lets go and steps back. “Follow her, and you will find what you’re looking for.”

  What is it with witches and speaking in riddles? “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask a little harsher than intended.

  “You’ll see,” she assures me before striding back to the porch.

  A fraction of a second later, my little black friend spreads its wings, and flies away. I’d do anything to trade places with the bird. Instead, I return to my black cage.

  “What was that about?” Alex asks.

  Unhinged, I stare at the black shield and shrug. “She’s a witch.” Thinking of the mandala, I’d say a voodoo priestess to be exact.

  “Yeah, I figured. What did she say?” There it is, the hunter gene. I sensed it the moment I looked in his eyes after he “rescued” me from Mister Sinister. Some hunters stumble into this lifestyle. Not Alex and Jesse, though; they were born with the curse of sensing the supernatural in the blink of an eye, which makes it so much harder to believe Alex didn’t know what I was.

  A warm breeze blows a strand of hair across my face. “Something about following the little girl in my vision to find what we’re looking for.”

  Alex laughs. “And you believe her?”

  Do I?

  One side of my mouth curls up. “I guess.”

  He pulls the keys out of his jeans and opens the passenger door for me. “Witches lie, Manda.”

  I blow out a long, annoyed breath. “Have you never read Pride and Prejudice?”

  “Pride and what?”

  I raise my brows at him. “Are you kiddin’? Jane Austen? Mr. Darcy?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Keira freakin’ Knightley,” I say, putting a hand on one hip.

  “Ah, that Victorian crap where the chick falls in love with the guy after visiting his multimillion-dollar estate?”

  Pushing past him, I climb into the car. “Gosh, you are such a romantic, Alex.”

  “No, Manda, I’m a realist,” he mutters as he starts the engine and maneuvers the car out of the parking slot.

  I scrub my hands over my face and focus on what’s really important. “Did you get my stuff?”

  He nods. “You’re not going to stab me with that knife, are you?”

  I arch a brow at him. “Not a serial killer, remember?”

  A cocky-as-hell grin tugs at his lips. “So you say.”

  Unbelievable. The guy is un-freaking-believable.

  Chapter 8

  I get rid of my uncomfortable shoes and fling myself on the squeaky bed. I’d give an arm and a leg to catch up on some sleep, but that’s not on the table. The faster we find Jesse, the sooner I’ll get rid of Alex for good, and that’s what I want, right?

  Opening the grocery bag, I check if Alex got me everything I need. Of course, Captain Responsible never disappoints: candles, knife, bourbon, Band-Aids, and on top of that, a few sandwiches.

  I unwrap the sandwich and start filling my empty stomach when my phone rings and Bonnie’s name flickers across the screen. Shit, between being abducted and dealing with jerk-face, I must have forgotten to tell my neurotic best friend I couldn’t make it to New York. She’s going to kick my ass.

  Swallowing the last bite, I put her on speaker. “Hey, baby girl.”

  “Don’t you fucking baby girl me. Where the hell are you, Amanda?” Saying she sounds pissed wouldn’t do her anger justice.

  Crushing the wrapper of the sandwich, I aim for the bin and miss. “Jeez, stop yelling, will you?”

  Bonnie snarls like a Chihuahua. “Where are you?”

  I pull my tank top over my head and stumble to my suitcase. “Bakersfield,” I say matter-of-factly.

  “Bakers what?”

  A silly grin spreads across my face as I picture her benumbed expression. “Bakersfield,” I repeat.

  She clears her throat. “What in God’s name are you doing in fricking Bakersfield? Fuck, Amanda! You’ve got a dorm room waiting for you, not to mention your super-hot, adorable, amazing best friend slash roommate who’s on
the brink of a nervous breakdown.”

  I shake my head. “Jesus freakin’ Christ, why do you always have to be so melodramatic, B?”

  “Melodramatic?” she yells. “I have to share our dorm with a goddamn nun, and my so-called best friend didn’t even send me a text to say she’s not going to make it. So excuse me if I’m not in the mood to talk daisies and daffodils.”

  I grab an old, oversized T-shirt and put it on. “One day soon you’re gonna have a heart attack.”

  Bonnie sighs heavily. “Damn right, and it’ll be your fault.”

  “Love you, too, baby girl.”

  “Amanda,” she hisses. “Stop fooling around and tell me what the fuck is going on with you. I thought you wanted to start over.”

  “I do,” I assure her as I step out of my skinny jeans.

  “Then why the hell are you roaming through Bakersfield when you should be here at NYU with me?”

  I drop down on the comfy bed and glare at the ceiling. I really don’t want to tell her the truth, but this is Bonnie. The girl knows me better than my own mother. She’d smell my bullshit from miles away.

  “Earth to bitch-planet,” she snaps.

  I throw my hands over my face, bracing myself for what’s about to happen. “It’s Alex,” I finally admit.

  Silence.

  “Bonnie?”

  Not a single word.

  “Jeez, B. Say something.” Anything would be better than the silent treatment.

  She draws in a long, pained breath. “Alexander ‘I put a bullet through your brain’ Remington?” There’s the melodrama I was talking about.

  “The one and only,” I say, clenching my teeth.

  “Oh. My. God. Is he hunting you?” Her voice is thick with worry. “I mean, I can come and get you. Bring my brothers if necessary.”

  Her brothers? I’d give my soul to see how that would play out. Two of the most powerful voodoo priests I know against the toughest witch hunter I ever met. Practically screams bloodbath.

  “Calm down, B.” I sit up and run a hand over my battered face. “It’s not like that. He sorta…” I trail off.

  “He what?”

  The girl is a real pain sometimes. “He sorta needs my help,” I groan.

  Not a word.

  “For the love of God, would you stop that silence thing you’ve got going on and fuckin’ talk to me? Please?”

  “What the hell do you want me to say?” she asks, astounded.

  “Anything is better than nothing,” I shoot back.

  “All right,” she barks. “How about, have you lost your goddamn mind? Do I have to remind you what he did?”

  A girl doesn’t forget when a guy tries to kill her, but isn’t she the one who always preaches that everyone deserves a second chance? “No, but—”

  “But? Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. Oh my—”

  “Relax.” I cut her off before she gives poor God a freaking migraine. “Jesse is missing,” I blurt.

  “So?” She sounds like a goddamn fury. “Have him file a missing person report.”

  There’s no arguing with her. Smartass always has all the answers. I decide to go with the truth and nothing but the truth. “Alex made me an offer.” I wrap the blanket around my naked legs. “If I help him find his brother, he’ll never bother me again. Besides, it’s really not that big a deal. I’ll be in New York ASAP.”

  “Not that big a deal?” she screams. “Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

  Thank the Lord in heaven I put her on speaker. “Amanda, the guy tried to kill you, and he’s—”

  I stop her before she crosses a line where there’s no turning back. “Don’t you dare, Bonnie.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I know exactly what Alex is, and you should know better than to bring this up.” Who sounds like a fury now?

  Her short, shallow breaths echo through the speaker. “I’m just worried,” she murmurs.

  I know she is, but I’m a big girl. No babysitter needed. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it for a long time now.”

  “If you say so,” she says, probably crossing her arms.

  Bonnie never could let go of a fight, so changing the topic seems like the best thing to do. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “No,” she barks, which actually means yes.

  “Your mom is still a big name in the voodoo scene, right?”

  “Yeah,” she says hesitantly. “Why?”

  “Can you ask her if she knows a bocor in Bakersfield?”

  “What’s a bocor got to do with this?”

  Another thing I’d rather not tell her, but beggars can’t be choosers. Bonnie’s mom knows everyone in the voodoo scene, and the way things are I could use all the help I can get. “Jesse wanted to meet one here. Now he’s missing. You do the math.”

  That might have driven her over the edge. “Are you insane?” She sounds terrified. “Bocors are frickin’ dangerous. You could get killed, Amanda!”

  Drama queen is killing my last nerve. Yeah, she’s my best friend. Correction, my only friend, but the girl suffers from ghost sickness. “Just ask her, okay?”

  Bonnie is about to object when a loud bang on my door makes me jump. “Manda?” Alex’s deep voice thunders through the room. “You awake?”

  Exchanging one neurotic for another. Good times. “Listen,” I say. “I gotta go. Love ya, baby girl.”

  She draws in a deep breath to argue, but I disconnect, and moments later, Alex bursts in.

  “Jesus, what is wrong with you?” I bark as he strolls toward me like he owns the place. “Can’t you wait till I open the door?’

  His gaze glides over my bare legs. “Can’t you wear decent clothes?”

  Last time I checked, I could wear whatever the hell I wanted in my room. But I’m too damn tired to put up much of a fight. Getting on my feet, I grab my trainers and put them on. “Better?”

  He nods, but his pink aura says otherwise. For a guy who loves the truth, he lies a lot lately.

  I empty the grocery bag.

  “New lover?” he asks, dusting the cobwebs off a beat-up old leather chair.

  A butterfly knife in my hand, I turn around. “What?”

  “On the phone,” he says as he relaxes in the chair.

  So he’s not just a freaking liar, but also a stalker? Awesome.

  Running my thumb over the blade of the knife, I sigh. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was talking to my roommate.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “You’re really serious about this NYU shit, huh?”

  Freeing the bourbon from its brown condom, I nod. “Yep.”

  He rests his legs on my bed and leans back. “What’s your field of study?” he asks with a crooked smile.

  I want to kick his legs off the bed and cut the silly grin out of his face. Instead, I take a deep breath and swallow all my resentment. “Why do you care, Alex?”

  Hands up in defense, he arches a brow at me. “Relax. Just trying to have a conversation. You know, like normal human beings.”

  The way he highlights “human” makes my belly cramp. “Don’t,” I warn.

  Alex rolls his shoulders back. “Hey, you’re the one who asked for a truce,” he says, as if he didn’t just insult me.

  I tighten my grip around the butterfly knife. Payback is a bitch, a lesson he’ll learn in a second. “Get up,” I order, knife in one hand, silver bowl in the other.

  His eyes go wide. “Hell no,” he barks. “You’re not going to use that knife on me.”

  I put a hand on my hip and give him a smile that says don’t ever mess with the girl holding the freaking knife. “Do you want to find your brother or not?”

  That’s all the encouragement he needs. In a fraction of a second, Alex stands in front of me, his face only inches from mine. I feel his hot breath against my cheeks. “Now what?” he asks.

  I refuse to meet his eyes, but his proximity turns my knees into jelly. “Give me your hand,” I
mutter, secretly cursing myself for my lack of self-control whenever he’s near.

  “Are you serious?” he asks; voice harder, eyes like flint.

  I ignore the shivers that course down my spine. “Just trust me, okay?”

  The only sound in the room is the hum of the fan and his raspy breath. “I once did,” he eventually says. “Didn’t end well for me.”

  Words stick in my throat, I freeze. What does he expect me to say? Sorry I didn’t tell you I was a witch? Sorry I accepted that fucking ride when every fiber in my body told me to run? Sorry we met? None of that will change a damn thing. Pulling myself together, I gather enough courage to look him in the eye. “You came to me for help, Alex.”

  He runs his fingers over his stubble and extends his right hand. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He shoots me a warning glance. “Just don’t kill me, all right?”

  Tracing the heart line on his palm with the blade, my pulse quickens. I have to get this right. If I cut into the wrong line, I’ll blow the best shot we have.

  “What are you looking for?” he asks, brows knit.

  “This,” I say as I slice through the branch of Alex and Jesse’s relationship. He jerks, but I hold him in place. “Damn it, Manda. That hurt.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t be such a baby.” Squeezing his flesh, I catch the crimson red drops with the silver bowl.

  “You’re not going to put a hex on me, are you?” His voice drops dangerously low.

  My cheeks burn. “If putting a hex on you was that easy, I would have done it a long time ago.” Once I have enough blood, I grab a towel from the bed and press it on the cut. “Hold that.”

  I was talking about the towel, not my gaze.

  “Alex,” I say. “Press the goddamn towel on the cut.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” he murmurs.

  His fingers brush over my hand, sending jolts of electricity through me. Being that close is dangerous, and judging from the look in his beautiful eyes, he feels the same way. Focus, Amanda!

  On what, his prefect jawline? No, problem.

  No. The wound.

  Right, he’s still bleeding. Breaking eye contact, I stick the Band-Aid on his palm. “Done.”

  “Now what?” he asks, never taking his eyes off me.

  I’ll rip your clothes off and talk dirty to you. Shit, I think it’s time I cut back on Fifty Shades of Grey. Gathering my fucked-up chi, I point to the bourbon bottle on the bed. “Now we drink.”