by T. A. Kunz
Whipping my head around to look at Heath on the roof, I don’t see him. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath. The moment that word leaves my lips, Heath appears by my side, poof out of nowhere, and startles the shit out of me. “Whoa, how did I not know you could do that?”
“You never asked. You only used me for my tattoo skills. Looks like your brother brought a small army with him tonight. What’s he doing?”
I shrug, still watching my brother and the Maulers making their way onto the front lawn. “I have no idea, but there’s only one way to find out.” I crack my knuckles against my palm. “Wait here, and use that poof-I’m-here power of yours if you see me in trouble.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Shouldn’t we both go?”
“No. We need to keep some element of surprise as a backup plan, and you’re that element,” I say, before pushing away from the hedgerow.
I keep the small gang in my sights while hurrying over to hide behind one of the large trees in the front yard. I notice they stop right in front of the oversized living room windows. Repeat of the other night, maybe?
My brother aims his crossbow into the living room, but before he can fire, I pop out from behind the tree. “Malcolm,” I call to him.
He abruptly turns around and fires a bolt at me the moment our eyes meet. I react and snatch it out of the air before tossing it to the ground.
“Nice catch,” he sneers.
“You’re not Malcolm, are you?”
His mouth curls into an evil smirk. “Of course I am, Liv. How could you say such a thing?” His eyes look off. They seem almost lifeless and black in color, like a great white’s. The three Maulers all stand there glaring at me. I can tell they’re waiting for an order to rip me apart.
“Okay. If you’re my brother, what was the real reason I left the Guild?”
“I don’t have time for this,” he responds, rolling his eyes. He snaps his fingers and two more Maulers appear beside the other three, emerging through a wall of purple smoke. “Deal with this, won’t you?” His eyes gleam with a violet shimmer after he barks his order.
What the hell? I think after seeing the shimmer. That’s definitely not normal.
All five of the Maulers hone in on me while entering attack mode in unison. “Heath, a little help over here would be nice.”
I pull Spike from his resting place in my jacket’s interior pocket as two of the Maulers lunge for me, their arms thrashing violently in my direction. I step back, weaving through every one of their attacks. One solid hit from a Mauler can feel like three burly guys punching you all at once. I parry a swipe at my face from the Mauler to my left and deliver a quick punch across its face before ducking under the attack from the Mauler to my right. Cradling my back into the Mauler’s chest, I drive my elbow up into its chin before grabbing its arm and tossing it over my shoulder to the ground. I plunge Spike into the Mauler’s chest. The creature bursts into a giant cloud of purple smoke.
The other Mauler comes at me with a series of swipes. I step back after each attack, waiting for an opening to strike. I see one and drive a kick right to its gut, followed up with a left hook into its face. Its cold, clammy skin feels gross against my knuckles as they crack across its cheek. It recovers quickly and goes to kick me, but I dodge by spinning out of the way before sweeping its other leg. As it crashes to the ground, I whip around and drive Spike into its chest, exploding it like the last one.
Movement out of the corner of my eye has me focusing on what’s keeping the other three Maulers busy. It’s Heath. He’s fading in and out of view with his new-to-me power after he lands each of his attacks. He’s moving like one big blur, dodging every one of their advances before downing them left and right. I’m used to dealing with Maulers, but I’m surprised to see him doing so well against them. The one person I don’t see is my brother.
One of the Maulers shifts its attention to me and releases a loud, nasally snarl. I dust off my pants and adjust my jacket before getting into a defensive stance. Raising my hand palm up, I send it the “bring it” gesture. I’ve always wanted to do that, and to be honest, it’s making me feel like a complete badass right now.
A wicked sneer shows on the Mauler’s lips before it rushes me. It swipes from the left, and I duck under the attack. It attempts to backhand me, but I throw my hand up to block before throwing a left punch across its cheek, causing it to stagger back. The Mauler leaps into the air and a flurry of flying kicks assault my forearms and hands. I block every one of them, and find myself sliding back through the grass from the force of each blow. The instant the Mauler lands on the ground, it transitions into trying to claw my eyes out in a furious manner. I’m able to dodge all except for one that manages to break through my defenses and leaves a small gash on my chin.
I run my fingers across my jawline and swipe away the blood. “Oh, it is so on now,” I fume.
The Mauler leaps at me. I propel myself into the air and twist at my waist, sending a spinning kick right into the side of its head. It crashes to the ground with a sickening thud, and I’m right there to deliver the last blow with Spike through its chest, leaving behind a big pile of purple dust and smoke.
Whirling back around to face Heath, I push off and throw myself into a gymnastic tumble, headed in his direction. After my last back handspring, I round off into a cartwheel and land in front of one of the Maulers, drawing its attention to me. It seethes, causing purple smoke to flow from its open mouth like saliva dripping from a dog’s jowls.
The Mauler goes in for an attack, but I duck under it and bend at the waist, arching my back forward while swinging my leg up and over my head like a scorpion’s tail before driving my foot into its face. It stumbles back, giving me just enough time to shove Spike into its chest, causing it to crumble into a pile of purple dust.
“Heath, catch,” I shout, and when he looks over at me after breaking free from the Mauler’s grip, I toss him my trusty dagger.
After a few seconds, Heath emerges from a huge cloud of purple smoke after quickly dispatching the last Mauler. “Thanks,” he says before handing Spike back to me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just flippin’ peachy,” I reply while shoving the dagger back into my jacket’s inside pocket. “You didn’t by any chance see where my brother went, did you?”
“Nope. The bastard’s fast, I’ll give him that.”
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” I probe, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“Aren’t I allowed to have any secrets?”
“No, not really.”
“My father used to be a combat instructor at your Hunters Academy. I picked up a few tricks from him along the way,” he confesses.
“I guess it’s true … you do learn something new every day,” I comment with a slight laugh.
Our attention is drawn to the front door of the sorority house when it flies open. All the girls who were gathered in the basement move out onto the front lawn with Angelica leading the way. They all look confused.
“Uh, what are you two doing here? The party isn’t until later,” Angelica calls out to us. I notice Tara’s standing there like a deer caught in headlights because she doesn’t know what to do.
“Sorry. Must have gotten the times mixed up,” I reply, hoping she buys it. I inch closer to the group and my abdomen twinges. Because of the bangle on Angelica’s wrist, the pain lingers.
“What were you two doing out here? It sounded like a bunch of howler monkeys wrestling,” she asks, and my first thought is: Yeah, I guess Maulers do kind of sound like howler monkeys.
I go to reply, but then stop when I see a shadowed figure silhouetted by the moonlight on the roof of the house. It isn’t until the figure draws out something resembling a weapon that I react.
“Move,” I yell, barreling toward Angelica.
Her surprised face goes from mine to the roof, and she freezes in place. The rest of the girls listen and hurry back inside the house. Now th
at I’m closer, I can see the weapon in the figure’s hand is a crossbow. When I hear the trigger mechanism on the bow release, I leap into the air and wrap my arms around Angelica, tackling her to the ground.
A harsh groan rattles my clenched teeth when a sharp pain courses through my arm as we both fall to the ground. It takes a few moments to feel the surge through my abdomen from holding onto Angelica, but once I do, it’s almost immediately replaced again by the throbbing pain in my arm. I roll off Angelica and look over to see a bolt protruding from the side of my right arm. My vision starts to blur as a funny feeling works its way through my body. Heath’s face comes into view and I try to focus on him, but I’m finding it difficult.
“Liv? Liv?” I hear him cry out, but it sounds more and more muffled each time he says my name.
Tunnel vision sets in. I feel hands grasp my shoulders, followed by a light jostle. My eyes become too heavy to keep open, and then they fall closed as I feel myself slip away.
The hum of a tattoo gun and Heath’s deep voice reciting what sounds like an incantation fills my head. I try to open my eyes, but they fail to cooperate. Heat spreads across my entire right arm, coupled with the annoying prick of the tattoo needle scratching at my skin. Little by little, my senses return. The smell of peppermint enters my nose and immediately reminds me of Heath, since it’s his favorite flavor of mint.
“Heath?” I grumble, grabbing lazily for whatever’s resting on my upper forearm. My eyes blink open and almost instantly close again due to the harsh glare from the lights shining above.
“Whoa, Liv. Easy does it,” Heath says in a soothing manner.
“Heath?” I ask again, since his facial features are still kind of blurry.
“Yeah, it’s me. You need to relax so I can finish the healing spell,” he says, placing his hand on my shoulder and gently pushing me back to rest against the chair I’m propped up in.
“What happened?” I ask, trying to remember.
I hear him sigh. “You were shot,” he answers in a low voice. “By your brother.”
“What?”
“Just after he fired the arrow, I went up to the roof to catch him, but he was too quick, even for me. His eyes were glowing purple. I think something had control of him.”
“Yeah, I saw his eyes do that too,” I mention, putting the pieces back together leading up to the point I was shot.
“The arrow was infused with dark magic,” he says, continuing to work on the tattoo. “I hope you don’t mind Gothic crosses, because that’s the symbol for the healing spell. It was my only way to heal your wound quick enough.” His voice sounds strained, and I can tell he was worried about me.
My eyes do their best to study the room we’re in, and it doesn’t look familiar. It especially doesn’t look like the Dark Ink parlor. “Where’s Tara? Where’s Angelica?”
“They’re both fine. Shaken up a bit, but fine. Angelica’s back at the sorority house, and Tara’s waiting outside. We’re in the back room of the parlor. You’re in my dad’s tattoo chair that he uses only for special circumstances. Thankfully, he still had some of this homemade healing ink. The bolt’s tip was bewitched to absorb the essence of whatever it hit. That’s why you passed out. You were being drained,” he explains.
I rest my hand on his and feel the warmth course through my palm and fingertips. “Thank you, Heath,” I say, turning to look at him.
A slight smile shows on his face when our eyes meet. His look glossy, almost like there are tears forming in them, or were left over from earlier.
“All done,” he states, putting an end to the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun.
I look over at the small black, pointed cross Heath drew into my skin just below where the bolt pierced my upper arm. It’s actually a cool little tattoo.
Right before my eyes, the small trickle of blood running down my arm from the bolt puncture retreats back into the wound before sealing itself and disappearing like it was never there. I graze my fingers across the area where the puncture was and feel no discomfort whatsoever.
“Tara’s out front if you want to see her,” Heath mentions while tidying up the tray nestled next to the stool he’s perched on. He seems fatigued, but I’m sure performing spells—especially powerful ones–takes a toll. He had been physically exhausted after Tara’s resurrection spell. Well, at least until we began making out hardcore, that is.
I pull myself to sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the chair to face him. I sway some and catch myself by grabbing the edge of the seat. “Yeah, definitely sat up too quickly,” I snort as I close my eyes until the room stops spinning.
“Need some help?”
I feel his hands rest on either side of my thighs. My eyes open to see his face hovering close by and his legs resting on either side of mine. The heat coursing through my body right now is enough to set my entire being on flame, and when our eyes meet, the smile on his face melts me to the core.
“You saved my life,” is all I can get out through the haze and warmth working its way through my head.
He takes my hands in his before standing up. I feel him pull up slightly, and before I know it, I’m on my feet. My legs wobble and I stumble into his arms. Our faces float near one another and I feel his mouth break into a grin next to my forehead. I pan my eyes up to meet his, and he steadies me again by wrapping his arms underneath mine so I have a chance to catch my balance.
“Whoa, easy.” His breathy whisper has me looking up at him again. “Maybe you should sit back down.”
“No, I’m okay. Really,” I reply, finally able to stand on my own without having to brace myself with the assistance of his strong, muscular arms.
I find myself unable to take my gaze away from his baby blues, and we stand here staring at each other. It’s like I’m seeing Heath for the first time. My heart pounds within my chest, and my palms begin to moisten—both classic signs of attraction. We’re standing here chest to chest, and what I initially thought was my own heartbeat hammering furiously in my ears is actually Heath’s.
He begins to say something, but I interrupt him by bringing my hands up to his razor-sharp jawline and draw his mouth down to mine. The first contact is soft and smooth, like Heath’s lips. He seems hesitant, so I pull back to look at him.
“Something wrong?” I inquire, feeling confused by his apprehension.
“Not at all. It’s just I told myself the next time we kissed, it’d happen after an actual date.”
“Oh … well, what do you call tonight?”
“The strangest date I’ve ever been on?” he replies before leaning down and locking his lips with mine again.
Warmth caresses my mouth and works its way up through my cheeks as Heath’s tongue gently maneuvers along with the kiss. His hands travel along my arms before transitioning to the small of my back, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He deepens the kiss while tugging me closer to him. My arms wrap around his neck and prop up on his broad shoulders. I feel like I’ve been set ablaze as Heath’s hands get antsy and begin searching my body for another resting place.
I gently guide him toward his father’s tattoo chair while maintaining our secure lip lock. When we bump into the chair, Heath laughs softly into my mouth, which only makes me kiss him harder. He eases himself down onto the chair and allows me to straddle his lap, one leg on either side of his hips. His hands run up and down my back underneath my blouse, and the intense heat almost becomes too much to handle. It feels like the sun is beating down on my skin, leaving me slightly burned, but in the best way possible.
Heath hooks his hands around my hips and slides me closer to him as his mouth trails from the crux between my neck and shoulder across my collarbone. He ends at the plunging neckline of my blouse and runs his lips over the entire area before continuing onto the other side. A moan of pleasure seeps out from me when I can’t hold it back any longer. The girth in his pants grows as he grinds into me while never removing his lips from my skin. It inches down his pant leg and r
ubs against my inner thigh, making me want to strip down and have him inside me right now. The more time that passes, the more it becomes a yearning or desire than just a want to be closer.
A sharp stinging sensation pulses through my right arm, causing me to cry out and dampens the mood entirely. I grab for my arm, trying to ease the pressure, but it doesn’t help. The intense throb surges through my shoulder and into my neck like I was shot again.
“You’re okay, Liv. It’s residual pain memory being wiped out by the spell. I was worried this would happen,” Health explains calmly. “You went through a trauma, and the healing spell needs a little time to fully take effect.”
I slide back from being on top of him and rest on the chair until the pain subsides. Gone is the warmth of his touch, replaced by this hideous pain.
“Holy shit, this hurts,” I groan, applying more pressure to my arm in an attempt to massage away the ache.
Heath sighs. “Well, you were shot. What most people don’t understand is that magic isn’t perfect, and there’s always an asterisk with fine print with every spell. You’ll probably have bouts of phantom pain for at least a couple hours or so.”
“Awesome,” I mutter, still massaging my arm. I begin to feel bad for how the pain is making me act. It probably sounds like I’m not grateful. “Hey, sorry. I’m not complaining about what you did for me. I really do appreciate this.”
“I know.”
A knock at the door ushers in Tara, who barges through after only knocking once. “Is everything okay? I got worried when I heard the screaming and hurried in here,” she announces. Her face lights up when she sees me and proceeds to rush over to give me a hug. “I’m so relieved to see you’re all right.”
Even with the tremendous pain I’m in, I wrap my good arm around Tara and reciprocate her hug. “It’ll take more than an enchanted arrow to down this girl,” I joke near her ear. Tara’s soft laugh makes me smile, and as she pulls away, she swipes a few stray tears from under her eyes.
