“Oh, wait a minute. Is this a shifter thing? Because human women don’t necessarily pick the big, strong guys. A lot pick the smart guys, and not every smart guy is big and strong. Besides, I’m not a shifter.”
He chewed that over for a minute. “They really don’t?”
“Maybe they do in your pack, and yeah, I guess the club scene’s full of girls going after the good-looking types, but that’s not necessarily reality the world over, okay?” God, I hoped this would put an end to his jealousy toward Logan. It was completely irrational.
Sure, Logan was good-looking and I’d noticed. More than once. But we were just friends, and I was dating Nick. I’d told an elf interested in me that Nick was my boyfriend. An elf!
Okay, that particular elf, gorgeous as he was, had a problem being truthful and had nearly gotten me killed, making me Number One on the demon hit list, but still. I probably could’ve had him for a boyfriend if I wanted to, and hello? Gorgeous elf.
Aware Nick hadn’t said anything, I frowned. “That doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re good-looking. You’re a heaping helping of hot and sexy.”
He half-smiled. “Thanks.”
“Besides, do you honestly think Logan would try to, I don’t even know how to word it. Um…force me into a relationship with him? Exactly how would he go about doing that, what with my being psychic and all?”
His shoulders hunched a bit. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think about that.”
I unbuckled my seat belt and scooted over. “I’m with you, okay? You’re my guy. Quit being jealous. It pisses me off.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” I kissed his cheek while buckling the lap belt. “Just look at him the same way you do Damian and David. He’s a friend, that’s all.”
“I’ll try.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.”
“I’m saying it again.”
I laughed and put my head on his shoulder. It looked like our drama bout was over. “Then I guess I’ll accept it again.”
***
When we arrived at the garage, Nick pulled into the drive of the first bay door, which was open. I got out on his side instead of scooting back over, and looked around for my car. The four vehicles I could see were larger than my “little tin can,” as Nick called my beloved 280ZX.
Logan came around the front of the truck, a clipboard in hand. “I need you to sign these, and if you want, come take a look at my progress.”
“Sure.” I took the clipboard and pen he offered, following as he set off for the far end of the garage. Nick touched my back, steering me past a pair of legs sticking out from under a car, while I signed the first purchase order.
“Well, what do you think?”
I looked up from the clipboard at Logan’s question, and my mouth fell open. Closing it, I squealed and shoved the clipboard into Nick’s hands. “My baby!”
My car sat gleaming in the afternoon sun coming in through a high-set window. Even the tires shone. I hurried around it, touching the smooth, root beer brown metallic paint and peering into the windows. The only sounds I could make were oohs and ahhs between excited squeaks.
He’d brought my car back to life. Not a scratch or dent marred its metal hide. The interior smelled like new car when I flung the driver’s door open and sank behind the wheel.
The only thing different was the stereo. It wasn’t stock, but having considered upgrading it before, that wasn’t a problem. Noticing the key in the ignition, I pushed in the clutch and started it.
My baby roared to life and settled into a deep purr. Putting my forehead against the steering wheel, I nearly cried as a rush of pure happiness filled me.
“I’m sorry about the stereo,” Logan said. I sat back, discovering that he and Nick had come around to the driver’s side. My boyfriend’s eyebrows were raised, but he wore a smile. “Finding a stock st…”
“Doesn’t matter. The new one is awesome. My car is awesome. You’re awesome. I can’t believe it looks so damn good. It looks better than before! I owe you forever.”
Both of them laughed, but I didn’t care. I had my independence back.
SEVEN
My eagerness to spend time driving my car won out over any other together time. Nick and I went our separate ways for the day after the three of us figured out how to connect my phone to the stereo’s hands-free feature. My way was the highway, the windows rolled down and the stereo blasting “Girls Just Want to Have Fun”.
The flash and appearance of an abnormally thick golden thread caused me to swerve onto the shoulder, bringing the car to a halt.
Gold wasn’t a color I’d seen in my tracking threads before. Silver, red, green, and brown I’d seen before, but gold was a new one.
Then again, I’d never dealt with forced suicides before. Maybe that’s the case it was for?
Pulling back out into traffic, I followed the thread off the highway and through the city, the surroundings growing more familiar as I went.
My stomach clenched painfully when I reached the elementary school only a few blocks from my apartment. There were a lot of cars clustered around a line of police vehicles, which blocked off the front of the school. I spotted SWAT members up on the roof.
I drove by, scanning the crowd and nodding at the cop who impatiently waved me on. Kept driving until I reached my apartment’s parking lot, where I left my car before teleporting back to a spot across the street from the school.
The thread, still active, led me into the crowd of frightened, angry parents and through it, straight to a terrified Betty. I touched her shoulder, noticing Damian and Stannett just beyond her, and she jumped nearly a foot into the air. “Cordi.”
She reached, and I took her hands, my anxiety shooting through the roof at her initiating physical contact. Betty had never touched me before. “What’s happening?”
Damian heard me, and turned around. “There’s a gunman inside. No one’s been hurt.”
His unspoken “yet” earned a shudder from Betty. I squeezed her hands. “Can I help?”
The warlock looked at Stannett. “She may be useful.”
Stannett nodded. “Stay close, we’ll see…”
“He’s coming out” crackled out from the radios nearby. Everyone’s attention went to the school entrance. Betty’s head whipped around so quickly, I heard her neck pop.
Then her breath sobbed out, and I saw why.
Oh, God. Out of all the kids in school, he had Sean.
My voice cracked as my grip on Betty’s hands tightened. “That’s my little brother. Damian, he has Sean.”
“You’re out, Jones.” Stannett waved a hand. “Get back.”
“What do you mean, she’s out?” Betty freed her hands, her eyes narrowing. “She can do things you can’t. She can…”
“Screw this situation six ways to Sunday with her emotions running wild,” he said. “So, she’s out.”
I took a deep breath, tearing my gaze away from Sean’s tear-streaked face and the gun muzzle pressed to his blonde hair. “I won’t do anything to risk my brother.”
Schumacher, Damian’s burly, balding partner, cleared his throat. “With respect, sir, we’re the ones who work most closely with Jones. I trust her to have my back in any situation.”
“If my son dies because you won’t let her help, I’ll make it my life’s mission to ruin you.” Betty’s low, vicious tone drew Stannett’s gaze to her face.
“I understand this is a terrifying situation, ma’am, but what exactly can she do? He has a gun to your son’s head, not to mention a dozen other children as shields.”
“She may be able to read his mind,” Damian said. “Get a line on whether this is a suicide by cop situation, or something else, since he’s not talking.”
I nodded. “I can try.”
“If she’s successful, we’ll be making more informed decisions.”
The police chief blew out a breath,
glancing at the gunman and kids. “Will he feel it?”
“No, I’ll focus on him and try scanning his thoughts. He won’t notice at all.” I forced my hands to relax out of the fists they’d curled into. “I need to be a little closer than this though.”
Stannett frowned. “How close?”
“There’s a lot of interference with this many scared people around.” I bit my lip, looking at the front of the school. “Maybe twenty feet.”
He shook his head. “Anyone going that close could set him off.”
“Not if he doesn’t see her.” Damian lifted his chin slightly. “She can teleport to the entrance’s roof. He won’t see her up there, but she’ll be close enough to focus on him.”
Close enough to have trouble blocking out the terror the kids were probably feeling too, but I didn’t mention that.
“There’s enough room for two,” Schumacher pointed out.
“Let her do it.” Betty’s quiet request had us all looking at her pale face and red-rimmed eyes. “Please.”
Damian edged forward. “I’ll go with Cordi.”
“All right.” The police chief glared at me. “Do it and get back here. Do nothing else.”
I nodded, reaching for Damian’s hand as he held it toward me. We stepped behind the SWAT van, and teleported. Reappearing on the entrance’s overhanging roof, we both immediately crouched down. A slight lean forward and I could see the group below us. Damian?
I hear you. He squeezed my hand. Go ahead and try.
Focusing on the top of the gunman’s head, I took a deep breath and let it out quietly before beginning to scan. My breathing hitched as I hit the wall of fear emanating from the kids. It took me a minute or so to block them out.
I won’t do it. I won’t do it. The thought, repeated over and over again, had other thoughts attached to it, but I couldn’t quite catch them. I stared down, studying the man with the gun. We were close enough to see the faint tremors racking his arm.
Crap, he was another victim of whoever had caused the suicides. Had to be. I scanned his mind again, as carefully as possible, trying to pick up those other thoughts hanging behind his mantra of “I won’t do it.”
A sense of urgency that wasn’t mine crept into my head. I didn’t fight it, taking what I could pick up before teleporting us back behind the SWAT van.
“Well?” Stannett asked the second we stepped into view.
I offered everything I’d been able to glean. “His name is Mike Chapman. He’s being forced to do this, I think by the same person who caused the others to commit suicide.”
Schumacher grunted. “Then this is a suicide by cop thing.”
“He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, and is fighting the compulsion.” I swallowed hard. “But I think he’s losing.”
“He’s shaking,” Damian confirmed. “We need to act fast.”
“Sniper.” The police chief scowled. “We’ll take him out.”
My eyes widened. “You’re going to shoot him?”
“To save those kids? Yes. Do you have another suggestion?”
I thought fast. What could I do? There had to be som… “Yeah, I do.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll teleport right beside him, and teleport away with his gun. He’ll be disarmed, no need to shoot him, and we’ll have a living lead to figure out who’s behind this.”
“Are you faster than a bullet, Jones?” Stannett stared into my eyes.
“Time me.” I teleported without waiting for his go-ahead, before his question created any doubt. A blink and my fingers closed around the gun’s muzzle. Another and I bent, laying it on the ground before Stannett.
Before he could speak, I teleported again. Mike Chapman’s mouth dropped open, his dark blue eyes wide as I punched him square in the nose. He released Sean and staggered back a half-step. “Sit down!”
All of the kids dropped like rocks at my shout, and I moved backward while raising my hands, my knees shaking enough that I almost fell down. “I know you didn’t want to hurt them, Mike. This isn’t your fault. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I hoped I wasn’t lying to him as two SWAT members rushed up and took him down.
***
A pair of black dress shoes appeared at the foot of the stairs, where I’d sat until the rest of my adrenalin shakes faded. Dropping my hands, I lifted my head and met Stannett’s faded blue eyes. The lines at the corners of his eyes relaxed after a few seconds of surveying me. “I came over here to read you the riot act for acting without permission. But it doesn’t look like it’s necessary.”
“Are all the kids okay? Their teachers?”
“Yes, and so is Mr. Chapman. He’s strapped down to a gurney to keep him from doing anything else.”
I sighed, briefly closing my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you to say go, but I’m not sorry it worked.”
“I’m not sorry it worked either.” He squatted, resting his wrists on his knees. “But I’m going to make it damn clear, here and now, that any time in the future you’re on a scene with my people, you wait for the word from me or whoever’s in charge, Jones. Acting without thinking everything through, and not everyone knowing the plan, can lead to people being hurt or dying.”
A simple nod was all I offered. He was being a lot nicer about it than I’d been to myself, after they’d hauled off Chapman and I had a few minutes to think about things. I couldn’t even find it in me to point out he’d been willing to kill the guy, when Chapman wasn’t at fault for anything except being a victim himself.
Maybe if he’d threatened to arrest me, or to stop using me as a special consultant, I could’ve dredged up a little righteous indignation. But he hadn’t, and I wasn’t feeling very righteous. More like a little sick to my stomach, and a whole lot of relieved.
The police chief studied my expression for a solid minute, before standing and offering me a hand up. “I think your mother wants to talk to you.”
“Betty’s my step-mother.” I made it to my feet with his help, and blinked away a bout of dizziness as we let go of each other’s hand.
“Are you all right?” Stannett frowned. “You look pale.”
I didn’t want to admit how shaky I still felt over my actions. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired. Teleporting kind of takes it out of me.”
We began walking toward the vehicles. Once we reached them, I braced against Sean’s charge and leap. “Whoa!”
His hug nearly choked me. “I knew when I saw you everything was gonna be okay.”
Dear God, please never, ever let me fail him. I looked at Betty over his shoulder. She wore a smile, but her lips were trembling. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine now,” she said, coming closer before reaching out to touch Sean’s back. “He’s safe.”
I squeezed my brother while what she wasn’t saying thumped into my brain with all the power of a speeding train. I’ve been so scared of her, and she saved him, the other kids, and even that man. I don’t know what to say to her. How can I repay her for saving Sean’s life?
Betty’s hand slipped down, her fingertips touching my arm, and she whispered, “Thank you.”
I smiled. We stood there for a few minutes, until Sean wiggled to be let down. Betty’s phone jingled and she pulled it out of her purse to check. “It’s your father. He’s here.”
“Let’s go find him.” I held my hand out for Sean to grab, which he did at the same time he took hold of her free hand. We found Dad within a few minutes. He scooped Sean up for a hug, giving Betty and me each a smile that melted the worry from his expression.
“What happened? Last I heard, it was still a standoff.”
“Cordi happened,” Betty said, stepping closer to my side and putting her hand on my back.
“I wasn’t scared.” Sean followed that declaration with, “Well, a little at first, but then I wasn’t.”
Dad chuckled. “You’re a tough kid.”
“She’s a hero.”
I looke
d at Betty in shock. “No, I’m not.”
“Of course you are. You saved at least fourteen lives.”
“I’m just someone who happens to have a few talents most people don’t. That’s all. And I was scared, even if Tough Kid here wasn’t.”
“Scared or not, you acted, and your actions saved lives. That sounds like a hero to me,” she said, a genuine smile blooming on her face. Then she surprised me with a hug. I closed my eyes against another wave of dizziness while returning it.
“Cordi, what are you doing?”
I blinked, and found Damian, Dad, Stannett, two uniformed cops, Betty, and Sean staring at me. My dad was the one who’d spoken. “What?”
“You need to put the gun down, Cordi,” Damian said.
“Gun? Wha…” Becoming aware of a weight in my hand, I glanced down and found a gun in it, pointing at the ground. “Where did that come from?”
“It’s mine.” Damian pulled his jacket away enough for me to see his empty shoulder holster.
“Okay, but how did I get it?” I hated guns, kept the one Mr. Whitehaven insisted I learn to shoot locked up in my desk at the office.
“You teleported it.” He moved forward once I changed my hold to the gun’s barrel and held the grip toward him. “Are you okay?”
“Confused, but otherwise, yeah.”
He took hold of the gun. “You have to let go.”
“I can’t,” I said from between gritted teeth. “I’m telling my fingers to, but they’re not listening to me.”
Damian frowned. “You touched him.”
“Huh?”
“You touched Chapman.”
“Oh.” Still trying to make my hand obey, I scowled. If he yanked it free, I’d lose some skin. “You think the curse is passed by touch?”
“Well, it could be, or at least this particular one may have been.” Damian removed the clip from the gun and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Let’s not have any accidents.”
“If the others were passed by touch, we’d have a lot more dead people.”
Something to Curse About (Discord Jones) Page 4
