Karma

by Nadine Nightingale

  Alex squints. “And how will getting wasted help us find my brother?”

  Shouldn’t witch hunters have some sort of magical background knowledge? Ah right, I almost forgot. The bitches slay first and ask questions later.

  “Alcohol expands the consciousness and triggers the release of dopamine, a learning transmitter,” I explain.

  He sighs. “English, Amanda.”

  I throw the knife on the bed. “I’m going on a vision quest, and the bourbon is going to drown out my superego.”

  He peers at me. “Superego? Who the hell are you?”

  His stupid comments are seriously starting to piss me off. Crossing my arms, I shake my head. “What? Just because I’m blonde, I can’t be smart?”

  He waves the comment off. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” He scrubs his fingers through his hair. “I mean you’re a witch, but you kinda sound like a scary mixture of Albert Einstein and Victor freaking Frankenstein.” His voice is rough and deep, almost sexy.

  A bitter smile tugs at my lips. “I see. So you didn’t assume I was brainless because I’m blonde, but because I’m a witch, is that it?”

  “Jesus, Amanda. Stop twisting my words. All I want to say is you make witchcraft sound like a goddamn science.”

  I take that as a compliment. “It sorta is,” I say, grabbing the bourbon bottle. “Witches are like modern Galileo. Feared by ignorant hunters like you for our knowledge and wisdom.”

  Alex closes the gap between us. “Hunters fear witches, because they’re dangerous, backstabbing, manipulative, evil creatures.”

  Why do I even bother? It doesn’t matter what I say. Doesn’t matter what I do. For Alex, I’ll always be the enemy. I unscrew the top on the bourbon and take a large sip to drown my anger. Who cares what he thinks of me? He’s just an ignorant moron.

  Chapter 9

  A lot of bourbon and a massive argument later, Alex left to get more booze. Good choice, considering I’d been a millisecond away from killing him. It’s one thing to accuse me of cold-blooded murder, but claiming I’m an alcoholic made me go all crossbones on him. It’s a freaking shame the fork only hit his leg, ’cause I was totally aiming for his goddamn head.

  Enjoying my alone time, I connect my iPod to the speakers and turn up the volume to the max. The lyrics of the first song on my fuck-the-world playlist speak to my soul. Screw Alex. He only sees black and white, which is why he doesn’t know shit. The world is full of gray zones like me, and unless he comes to terms with that, he’ll never know what it’s like to be me.

  I dance through several songs, but when a sexy R&B voice asks me to “wiggle” I lose my shit and go crazy. The song sparks a blazing fire in the pit of my stomach, penetrates my non-existent heart, and works my body like rough, breathtaking sex. Twerking like there’s no tomorrow, I let go of all the shit that’s been bugging me for days. But just when my heartbeat is completely in sync with the rhythm, the music stops.

  “What the fuck?” Alex barks.

  Spinning around, drunken from the beat, I find him next to the speakers. Awesome, there goes all the fun.

  Eyes narrowed, he glares at me in typical jerk-face fashion. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Completely out of breath, I grin. “I was just—”

  “Trying to imitate a striper on crack?” he says, arms crossed. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  The desire to kill him is almost too strong to ignore. I point to the tequila bottle in his left hand. “Just give me the booze, you moron.”

  Alex tosses the bottle on the bed. “Sure you need more? From where I stand, you look shit-faced enough.”

  Two options. One: I pretend I didn’t hear him. Two: I strangle him.

  Going with option one, I stumble to the bed and grab the tequila. Jerk-face could have at least had the decency to get good old Jose, but I guess he figured I wasn’t worth more than El Amos. Whatever. I unscrew the wooden cap and down a good bit of the cheap shit. “Want some?” He could definitely use some.

  Tension tightens his frame, and he shakes his head. “You’re having enough for both of us,” he says in a low judgmental tone.

  I shrug and take another sip. “Your loss, baby.”

  His lips move, and I’m sure he’s giving one of his famous responsibility speeches, but I turn up the music and drown him out. If I needed someone to bitch about my lifestyle, I’d call my sister.

  A few large gulps of tequila, and the sick beat of the music does what good old fella bourbon couldn’t do—clouds my brain and makes the world a better place. It feels so damn liberating; I almost forget Alex is still in the room.

  Sadly, he reminds me of his presence. “I think you’ve had enough,” he says, fingers wrapped around my wrist.

  Yanking my arm out of his grip, I stumble backward, almost knocking down the TV. “Not…enough to…to find your brother.” My tongue and brain are officially living on two different planets.

  Alex rolls his eyes and reaches for the tequila in my hand. “You’re going to poison yourself, Amanda, and just for the record, I won’t take you to the ER.” The guy sounds like my mother, and that’s anything but a compliment.

  I’m not sure if it’s the scathing look on his face, or the alcohol fucking with my brain, but all of a sudden I want to hurt him. Not physically. That wouldn’t be painful enough. I’m talking real pain. The kind that shapes nightmares. I press a hand against my hip. “You would totally take me to the ER.” A sour taste in my mouth, I take a step back. “And you know why?”

  Alex draws up to his full height and with one swift move, closes the gap between us. “Enlighten me,” he says calmly.

  I slide my hand over his sharply defined chest. “Because you need me to save your little brother.” I throw my head back and laugh. “Isn’t that ironic? You screwed up, and now you need the help of the witch you hate so much to fix your failure. God, it has got to suck to be you.”

  An angry red aura swirls around him. “Give me that bottle, Manda.” Lunging, he jerks the tequila out of my hand and places it on the table next to him.

  I should probably shut up, but the need to provoke him and freaking El Amos cloud my senses. “What, can’t handle the truth, honey?”

  He pins me against the wall, a spark of madness flickering across his eyes. “Tell me,” he says as his hands land on the wall above each of my shoulders. “What is it with you and your bad-girl attitude? Daddy issues? Did he hate your guts, or did he not buy you that puppy you always wanted?” A wicked smile tugs at his lips; he manages to lean in even farther. “I bet your psychopathic behavior is more of a mommy issue, am I right? What did she do? Cancel the ballet classes or take away your credit cards?”

  Son of a bitch! The heat of the tequila is nothing compared to the firestorm raging inside me. The bastard has no clue about me or my family. Besides, we can’t all grow up with Sunday picnics and bedtime stories.

  He puts two fingers under my chin. “Amanda Bishop, speechless? What’s the matter, honey? Can’t handle the truth?”

  He’s just trying to get to me, trying to prove his point, but I’ll be damned if I give him that much power over me.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lean so close, my lips almost brush his. “It must be hard to accept for a hero like you, but some of us are simply born evil. And as far as I remember, you enjoyed my evil.”

  “That’s right,” he whispers. “Enjoyed. Past tense.” Letting go of my hand, he steps back. “Let’s be honest for a second. Take off the bitchy armor and the cocky attitude, and tell me what’s left, Manda.”

  I trace his jaw with my index finger. “Firm boobs, nice ass, and an IQ higher than your Mustang’s mileage.”

  The stupid look on his face is priceless. What did he expect? That I’d break down and cry? Sorry, I don’t blink that easily.

  Alex shakes his head. “You are so above yourself, even Lucifer would envy your pride.” He poi
nts to the tequila. “Go ahead. The faster we get this over with, the better.”

  For once, we’re on the same page.

  When the tequila unleashes its vicious effects, my limbs are rigid and heavy as hell. I feel like I’m riding a fucking wave swinger, and the damn mattress engulfs me like quicksand. It’s time for the ritual.

  Pushing myself up from the bed, I gather my supplies and go to work. Dipping the knife into Alex’s dried blood, I fight the dizziness blurring my peripheral vision.

  Pull it together, girl.

  I carve Jesse’s name into the candle. I hate blood magic; it must have been invented long before AIDS killed thirty-five million people.

  Alex watches me from a distance. “How are my blood and a candle going to help us?” he asks, breaking the silence.

  “Look who’s talking,” I mock him.

  He fists his hands around his wild hair and cocks a brow. “Can’t you just answer the goddamn question, Manda?”

  I could, but where would be the fun in that?

  “Your blood is my connection to your brother, and the flame of the candle my anchor during the vision quest,” I explain as I finish the last letter.

  “Makes total sense,” he murmurs.

  I wave him over. “I need you to hold that candle for me. Can you do that?”

  “Whatever you say.”

  The mattress sinks under Alex’s weight, and when I lift my lashes, I see the golden spots in his irises. Once upon a time, in another life, I drowned in those eyes. Now they only remind me that nothing lasts forever.

  I pass him the candle, take one last sip of the tequila, and shudder. I’m so going to puke my guts out after this. “Okay,” I say, wiping the booze off my lips. “Let’s do this.”

  “Ready?” he asks, and when I nod, he reaches for the Zippo in his jacket and lights the candle.

  Stabilizing my breath, I focus on the flame of the candle. Red, orange, yellow, blue, green, and black. The colors cloak the wick like a warm winter coat. The layers represent the colors of the aura, and to find Jesse I have to ride the red wave, pure passion and unconditional love.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  After each breath, my body grows heavier and my mind more distant.

  Jesse. I want to see Jesse.

  But when I close my eyes, it’s not Jesse I see.

  ****

  Alex couldn’t lie to her. Anna was a good girl. She deserved the truth, but how on earth could he explain he hunted witches and monsters for a living? The job didn’t exactly come with a “how to explain your creepy-as-hell-life to women” handbook.

  Sure, he could show her his FBI badge and claim he was a federal agent. But that was only half the truth, because even if Carter hadn’t recruited him and Jesse for the PAU, he’d be out there hunting. It was his calling, his destiny, and he had long given up fighting it. Besides, knowing he’d killed a few evil bitches made him sleep better at night.

  “Alex?” Anna snuggled against him, her eyes searching his. “Do you love me?”

  The question caught him off-guard and left his mouth dry.

  “Alex?” Her voice grew weaker.

  He kept his eyes on the ceiling. The girl was a keeper, but love was for children and he’d grown up to be a man. “You mean a lot to me,” he said after some time.

  Anna wrapped the silk sheets around her petite body and sat up. “What’s her name?”

  The sadness in her eyes weighed heavy on him, but he was genuinely confused by her question. He hadn’t slept with another girl since they had met three weeks ago. “What do you mean?”

  She faced him with an artless smile. “The girl that broke your heart. The one you still love.”

  He opened his mouth, determined to assure Anna he wasn’t in love with her anymore. He wanted to tell her how she had deceived him, played him, and at the tip of his tongue was the word “ruined.”

  Then it hit him like a lightning bolt. He had instantly thought of Amanda. The mesmerizing smile, the breathtaking emerald eyes, the faint scar on her hairline, the wavy blonde thatch. The witch had possessed his mind, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Anna’s gaze dropped to her fingers; she dug into the blanket as if trying to hold onto her dignity. “She’s lucky, you know?”

  He cupped her cheeks and forced her to look at him. “It’s not like that. I don’t—”

  She rested a fingertip on his lips. “Don’t, Alex. Don’t ruin what we had by lying to me.”

  He wasn’t going to lie to her. He was nothing like the treacherous witch who had played him. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face, he looked into her eyes. “She’s still under my skin, Anna, but I could never love a girl like her.”

  Anna touched his face, kissed his full lips, and smiled her purest smile. “We can only hate what we once loved. Only be hurt by those we care about, Alex.”

  ****

  Jerking my eyes open, I see Alex’s terrified expression.

  “What the hell just happened? You were shaking like crazy.”

  Unless Jesse had transformed into a hot brunette, I was at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Story of my life.

  “Manda?” Alex’s voice is gentle. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fan-fuckin’-tastic, Alex.” Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I thought he wouldn’t move on. Hell, I’m glad he did, and from what I saw, Anna seemed nice enough. Too nice for me, but tastes differ.

  Wearing a worried expression, he folds a hand over my shoulder. “Seriously, you look like crap. Is it Jesse? Did you see him?”

  His touch electrocutes my heart, and I instinctively brush his hand off. “No, I saw something else.”

  Alex draws back, his face pale, almost petrified. “What did you see?” The fear in his voice is enhanced by the gray of his aura. Jerk-face looks a lot like the criminals on TV caught red-handed. I’m talking SVU and Major Crimes here. “Amanda,” he snaps. “What did you see?”

  I study him for a moment, trying to understand what has him on edge, but I lose focus when his eyes lock with mine. “Anna,” I say, averting my gaze. “I saw Anna.”

  Heaving a sigh of relief, his face lightens. “You saw Anna and nothing else?” He sounds excited, almost thrilled.

  I don’t know why seeing him and Anna after hot sex makes him so happy, and frankly, I don’t really feel like asking. I point to the candle. “Hold it up, Alex.”

  Without resistance, he obeys, and I concentrate on the flame.

  Jesse, where are you, man?

  The flame burns brighter than before, its colors more sharply defined.

  C’mon Jesse, help me out. Show me where you are.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on my heartbeat. It’s slow, but steady. Strong, but broken. Then a voice like rustling leaves calls my name. “Amanda.”

  “Who are you?” I whisper into the darkness.

  The girl with the raven hair materializes in front of me. Her pale skin has a translucent glow, her lips are the color of blueberries, and her white dress is soaking wet.

  “Follow her, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.” The old woman’s voice thunders in my ears as the little girl extends her hand.

  Oh boy, I’m going to regret this. But I take her cold, tiny hand regardless.

  ****

  Drops of water fell to the ground, echoing through an utter darkness.

  Drop.

  Drop.

  Drop.

  As if the water counted the time for Jesse—seconds, minutes, maybe even hours had passed, but he couldn’t say for sure. The fierce pain in his right temple had obscured his perception.

  He knew he had to open his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, his eyelids refused to move. What had he been thinking when he walked into this mess? Maybe he should have listened to Alex, but this wasn’t just about them anymore. It was about the kids. They were his responsibility now, and he had to save them.

  Warm liquid ran down his forehead into his eye
s. The iron smell was unmistakable. He was bleeding. Damn, how the hell was he supposed to save those kids if he couldn’t move?

  “He’s a hunter. We need to get rid of him.”

  Fear clutched Jesse’s guts when he realized he wasn’t alone. They, the bastards who had done this to those poor kids, were with him. In his state, he could never take them both down. Who was he trying to kid? He couldn’t even take on one.

  “I have a better idea.” The French accent of the second man was so thick Jesse could barely understand him.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” the other one asked.

  Laughter echoed off the walls as Jesse was hit by thick powder thrown in his face. Inhaling the weird stuff, he almost coughed his lungs out. He wrestled for air, but soon felt dizzy. The powder wasn’t just messing with his lungs. It crawled into his brain.

  ****

  Barely able to breathe, I yank my eyes open. What I’d seen squeezes my guts so hard, I feel sick.

  “What’s the matter?” Alex asks.

  I want to answer, but the muscles in my jaw won’t move.

  My expression must be horrifying, because Alex blows out the candle and takes my face in both hands. “Amanda?” He’s genuinely concerned. I can see it in his eyes, his face, and his aura. “Manda, talk to me. What did you see?”

  I coax my lips open, but the bitter tequila crawls up my gullet into my mouth.

  “Shit, Manda! Say something.”

  Shoving him away, I run to the bathroom. Barely making it to the toilet, I vomit until my knees shake.

  Chapter 10

  I’ve gulped down a gallon of water, had the greasiest breakfast ever, taken two cold showers, and swallowed a whole pack of aspirin, yet I reek of tequila, and my brain has the consistency of pudding. The last time I felt this fucking miserable, I had partied with a hot Russian exchange student who taught me the words, “no more” and “vodka,” are never used in the same sentence.

  “I really don’t think that this is a good idea,” Alex mutters, twisting the Mustang around another sharp corner.