Fae Kissed

by D. D. Miers

  “Sure, whatever you say.” She didn't mean the words, but she couldn't deal with him next to her right then. She needed some time to process.

  Jaxon grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop and spinning her to face him. “Hey. What’s your problem?”

  “You’re my problem right now.” She huffed out a breath, pulling her arm from his grip. “I don’t have time for this. I need to check on my sister.” She walked backward away from him. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “We need to talk now,” he argued, moving toward her.

  “Stop. We’re not doing this right now.” She grunted. “You need to lay low. We’ll regroup later.” She spun on her heel and took off at a run.

  Who said you can’t outrun your problems?

  Chapter 10

  After Alana was sure she’d lost Jaxon in the maze of alleyways in Chicago’s seedier part of town, she slowed down to a jog, texting Taylor to let her know she was on her way.

  No response.

  Taylor was either ignoring Alana, sleeping, or something happened. She broke into a run again, quickly flying past the last few blocks to her apartment building.

  Alana couldn’t wait for elevator, so she took the stairs for three floors with ease, the exercise doing little to quiet her mind.

  “Taylor? I’m home!” She called out for her sister as she opened the door, more concerned with knowing Taylor was safe rather than waking her up if she was asleep.

  “Shh!” Taylor hissed at Alana from the island in the middle of her kitchen. She was on the phone. Alana shuffled her feet and her own phone rung.

  She looked down at the display. Unknown Caller. With her current mood, she could yell at a telemarketer.

  She unlocked the phone and pressed the green button. “Hello?”

  “I need to speak with you.” It was Jaxon. His voice gravelly.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She cursed under my breath. “How did you even get this number? You know what? Now isn’t the time. We’ll talk later. I’ve got your number now.” She clicked off as her sister dropped her phone on the counter.

  “What was so urgent that you came in here shouting at me?” Taylor asked, her eyes narrowed as she took in Alana’s appearance. She winced. She probably still had sex hair, dirt smeared across her face, and dust all over her black shirt.

  Alana’s phone buzzed in her hand. Unknown Caller again. Persistent bastard. She sent it to voicemail. For a moment she fumbled for how to explain to Taylor why she was so worried. Well, sis, you didn't answer your phone and I was afraid an evil warlock had murdered you while I was making out with his brother!

  This was ridiculous. She couldn't keep doing this. She couldn't keep expecting Taylor to protect herself when she had no idea what she was defending herself from.

  “Well, Taylor,” Alana said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about everything you said and I think we should talk. I think it’s time I tell you what’s really going on with me.”

  Her eyebrows flew up into her hairline. “As in right now?”

  “Yup. Here and now. No more lies.” Her phone went off again and Alana gritted her teeth. “Can we sit?” She looked around the room nervously, her palms sweating.

  She was really going to tell Taylor the truth about everything. It was an impulsive decision but fuck it. It was an impulsive kind of day. At least if Taylor decided she was insane and cut all ties with her, her sister might at least be out of danger.

  Taylor grabbed her glass of wine and walked over to the couch, crossing her legs underneath herself and facing Alana. It was an uncomfortably formal-looking posture. Alana wondered if criminals felt like this before Taylor interrogated them. “Sit. Let’s chat.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Alana sat on the edge of the couch, rubbing her palms onto her jeans. “Okay, here goes.” Fucking spit it out, Alana. Jesus Christ. Before she dies of old age. “Taylor, the world as you know it is a lie.”

  Taylor choked on the sip of wine she’d just taken. “Is this a joke, Alana?”

  She held up her hands defensively. “No, it’s not. Please hear me out. I know I’m going to sound crazy, but I need you to hear me out.” Alana met her gaze. “Please.”

  “This world isn't just one plane, one realm. There’s hundreds, thousands of planes. Maybe more. And some people, those with magic, can shift through them and travel from plane to plane. It’s called timejumping. And I’m one of those people, a timejumper.”

  Alana exhaled a large breath, the weight that had been sitting on her chest since her sentence as a bounty hunter for the Wardens finally eased now that she’d told someone who was nonmagical.

  Taylor slammed her wine glass down on the side table and turned to face Alana. Her eyes glowed with anger.

  Great. She didn't believe her.

  Alana tensed, bracing for the berating she was about to receive. Her phone buzzed again in her hand, the same unknown caller, aka Jax, and she was so tempted to answer it to avoid the confrontation with Taylor, but she didn't.

  “Alana, I thought you were finally going to be honest with me.” Taylor clenched her jaw.

  “I am being honest with you!” she shouted, frustrated.

  “This is ridiculous, even for you.” Taylor shook her head and stood. “I can’t deal with this right now. I just can’t.” She walked to the door of her apartment, and Alana stood up to follow her.

  “Taylor, please. Please believe me. I’m not crazy. I’m telling you the truth.” Alana pressed her palms together in a praying position, begging her sister to believe her. To trust her for once.

  She just shook her head again and grabbed her jacket at the door. “I’m out of here. I can’t be around you right now, Alana.”

  “Taylor, wait!” She walked back toward the couch, grabbing her boots where she’d kicked them off. But Taylor didn’t wait. The door slammed shut behind her. “Goddamn it all.” Alana hopped on one foot, grabbing her phone and sliding the vibrating device into her back pocket as she pulled on her other boot and opened the door, following after her sister.

  She’s wasn’t in the hallway or in the stairwell or the lobby of her building. Alana left and went outside, looking left and right. No sign of her either way. Of course not.

  “Hey!” She walked back to the doorman standing under the awning. “Did you see which way Taylor went?”

  He sighed and pointed right. “That way.”

  “Thanks.” She took off in the same direction, hoping that Taylor was safe. It was never a good thing when humans worlds were turned upside down. They never reacted well, and god knows that Taylor would go looking for proof like the good little detective that she was.

  A shriek sounded up ahead and Alana pumped her arms, picking up her pace. She rounded the corner and skid to a halt. Before her were three Shades blocking Taylor’s path.

  “Chicago PD, put your hands up and get down on your knees!” Taylor shouted at them, but they clearly didn’t listen. Their spectral bodies bounced lightly on the wind as they advanced on her. “I mean it. Get down or I’ll shoot,” Taylor screamed.

  “Taylor! Look out!” Alana cred as one of the Shades lunged forward. Her gun fired, the shot lighting up the dark street for a second before all hell broke loose.

  Alana jumped into the melee, trying to get Taylor out of the way of their bony hands. “Taylor, run!”

  “Alana, don’t. I’ve got this handled.” She fired another shot, the bullet passing through the Shades spectral forms with ease, only annoying them further.

  Alana ignored Taylor, calling on her elemental magic within. It stayed silent and still like a pool of water until she summoned it, and then there was nothing but pure magic running through her veins. “How about you guys play with someone your own size, eh?” She taunted them before blasting them with her gale force winds. One flew into a building, shattering as her magic hit him. The other two weren’t a direct hit. One split off and headed straight for Taylor.

  Shit. Alana couldn’t throw m
agic at it if too close to Taylor.

  “Taylor, your gun is useless. Hand-to-hand combat only!” Alana saw her nod out of the corner of her eye and she lunged at the Shade in front of her with a battle cry that would make a highland warrior proud.

  Alana stepped backward toward her, covering her back and drawing the other Shade closer at the same time.

  “Come and get me, you stupid bastard.” She smiled when he took the bait. She spun her hand in the air, her hair flying as she threw a mini tornado at the Shade. He shifted at the last minute, narrowly avoiding the spinning cyclone, but not completely missing the effects. He stumbled back, clearly affected, just not destroyed.

  She glanced behind to see Taylor holding her own against the Shade that she fought with her fists. Not half bad. She’d never kill him with her bare hands, though. Not without magic or a blade forged from the underworld, but if she could just hold him off while Alana finished off his friend, they’d be okay.

  Alana’s Shade finally shook off his stupor and advanced full force. She circled a hand, throwing up some leaves and debris in his face, hoping to slow him down. It only angered him further.

  Great. Just fucking fabulous.

  “Taylor, you have to run. I can’t fight them with you here. You could get hurt.”

  She grunted behind her and Alana chanced a glance at her sister. Taylor was deadlocked with the other Shade. “I won’t leave you, Alana,” she said between gritted teeth.

  “Don’t be stubborn. Get out of here!” Alana shouted at her, throwing another gale at the Shade who was only five feet away from her now. She focused on the Shade in front of her and drew deep from the magic within. “Take this, you shadowy bastard,” Alana said as she tossed a hurricane force wind at him, sending him flying into the brick wall across the street. He disintegrated on impact, and she dusted off her shoulder, giving herself some props.

  “Alana! Help!” Taylor’s panicked, high-pitched voice made Alana spin around, but she was too late. The Shade had Taylor firmly in his grasp.

  Before she could take a step forward or gather magic to throw at him, a horizontal lightning strike appeared and the Shade stepped back into the Rift with Taylor in his arms and a smile on his twisted face.

  Chapter 11

  Pissed didn’t even begin to fully explain how Alana felt.

  She yanked the attic stairs down from the ceiling with a vengeance that nearly snapped the string in half. The narrow space above the rafters wasn’t a storage place for tenants, but when she’d moved into Taylor’s tiny living space, she hadn’t been left with many options.

  Into the cold, dusty attic she heaved herself, crawling across the spaced-out beams. One wrong step would send her crashing through the ceiling, not that the damage could really do much to ruin her reputation now.

  She didn't want Taylor to learn the truth this way.

  Upset and guilty, she reached the chest she’d barely hefted up into the space on her own. Padlocked tight and warded with magic, she fumbled with the combination before finally, it clicked free.

  Grumbling a low string of obscenities beneath her breath, she flung the lid open. In the low light it was hard to see what was there, but she recalled vividly the myriad of weapons she’d stashed away not necessary in the mortal world. Sifting through, she found two elixirs, chalk, and a rune dagger and tucked them near to the attic’s exit.

  The moment she pulled out the last one and let the trunk swing closed, another creak from somewhere below left her breath tight in her chest.

  “Alana?”

  Jaxon. Who the hell did the asshole think he was, showing up after everything that had happened? Anger fueled her exit, as she hurriedly crawled back to the safety of the stairs and dragged her weapons down with her.

  “What in the fuck are you doing here?” she said the moment she stepped low enough for him to come into sight.

  “What?” His word escaped him on the exhale of an angered breath. “If you answered my calls, I wouldn’t have to com here!”

  “Oh, right.” She shoved past him with a slam of her shoulder. “This is all my fault, isn’t it? Fucking typical.” She dropped her weapons onto the table.

  Jaxon had other ideas.

  Taking hold of her arm, he spun her in place and stepped forward, pinning her tight against the table. “I’m trying to save your ass. That’s all I’ve been trying to do.”

  “If that was the case,” she growled while her hands tightened to fists, “then why the hell didn’t you let me go after Damon when I had the chance? Oh, right, because you’re a goddamn liar.” She shoved against his chest with her palms, forcing him off of her. She stalked across the room and snatched her phone.

  “Would you stop being so blind?”

  Fueled by anger, she walked back to the table and eyed her arsenal. Would she be able to kill Damon before he killed her? She wasn't certain of the odds and she didn't want to put Taylor's life in danger.

  “I swear it, I’ve been trying to keep the both of you safe,” he reiterated, drawing a vapid stare from Alana. “Why don’t you trust me?”

  “Oh,” she said, “I’m supposed to trust you because we almost screwed? Is that it?”

  “What? Why would you—”

  Her phone’s shrill cry pierced the air from her pocket, silencing his pleading question. Too pissed off to even care what the interruption meant, she walked away from him while answering the phone.

  “Alana,” she snapped in greeting.

  “What in the hell have you gotten yourself into now?”

  “Excuse me?” She had plenty of answers to the question, but none she felt like sharing in the moment.

  “You need to get down here to headquarters, now," Mason said. Someone reported you for being on a scene you were no longer cleared for. I’ve read it, Alana. You were sneaking around in the mansion? For what? Shits and giggles?”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly it,” she said, before her shoulders slumped. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

  “You don’t have a choice. You need to come in now to be questioned and cleared. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  The line went dead, and she cradled the phone while staring at it with another death wish. Everything culminated into one giant shitstorm and she realized the odds of making it out unscathed dwindled.

  "What was that?” Jaxon asked, hesitantly.

  “Nothing,” she said, but it was everything. Disobeying Mason’s order meant turning her back on her probationary agreement, which inevitably would mean trading her freedom for jail, not to mention an extension on her sentence due to disobedience.

  The latter, though, seemed a worse option. Going meant keeping her freedom from a life behind bars, while waiting on the sidelines for her sister to die. Hell, she could be dead already, but there was a small chance of hope Alana still clung to.

  It wasn’t a difficult choice. She knew what she had to do. Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she made her way back to the table and loaded up.

  Chapter 12

  “Where the hell are you going?” Jax said, as he fell into step beside Alana on the sidewalk outside the apartment.

  She tried to ignore him, but he loomed over her, his tense lethal energy enough to suffocate any nearby nonmagic users.

  “To get my sister back,” Alana said and gave him a sidelong glare. His long black duster flowed behind him like he was goddamn superman. What was it with magic wielders and their flare for dramatics? Yes, Alana was technically one herself, but she’d never identified with them. Since she never was accepted, she now refused to fit in.

  She tugged her backpack farther over her shoulder, gripping the strap as though it would disappear. She’d gathered as many elixirs and defensive objects as she could, including a blessed blade. She’d never battled a warlock like Damon—not in all her time working for the TBHU. Sure, she’d bested him years ago in the tombs, but that was a matter of favorable circumstances and sheer luck.

  Now, he had the upper hand.


  “You’re rushing into action based on emotion, not logic. It’s an inevitable way to get yourself killed—or worse.”

  “Don’t act like you care about what happens to either of us.” Alana turned the next corner, heading south and out of the loop. Her goal was to reach the empty building near the water’s edge. Two blocks. That’s all she needed to cross, then she’d have enough privacy to rift and follow Damon.

  The kind of rift she was about to open was unfamiliar. She’d have to recreate the source, whichh was both volatile and dangerous. Alana wouldn’t risk something coming through and attacking any innocents nearby.

  The Red Line shrieked past them, barreling down the track as the hum of the expressway buzzed in the background. Damon left his trail purposefully, letting it linger long enough to ensure she could catch its source and follow. That didn’t bode well. He wanted her to come after him, which meant he could have all sorts of bad things waiting for her when she crossed. But she also knew he wanted the orb she had stolen from him.

  He had no idea it had been sitting in plain sight, disguised as a simple vase in her sister's bathroom. Now, it sat wrapped in a hand towel in her bag. It was dangerous to give it to him, but even more dangerous not to. Not when he had Taylor.

  “Dammit, Alana.” Jax jerked her arm until she faced him. “Listen to me.”

  “What? What could you possibly have to say right now that I would want to hear?”

  Hi magnetic eyes held her captive. “I didn’t have a choice. Not then. Not now.”

  She leaned back, trying to put more space between them. “What are you talking about?”

  Jax released her arm and rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a sigil on his right forearm.

  “You were sealed?” she asked.

  “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  If he was sealed, that mean the actions he’d committed weren’t wholly of his own making. Still, she didn’t want to believe him. It was so much easier, less complicated, when he was her enemy. Then she could convince herself that the things he evoked in her were dangerous.