by Cassi Carver
The other shoppers in the meat section gawked at them, their expressions ranging from surprised to one insult away from calling the domestic-abuse hotline. Kara touched his arm and felt pain there. Pain and hunger and fatigue. But that wasn’t what she sensed in the air. This was good-old-fashioned malevolence, and it felt like it was getting closer.
“Julian,” she said calmly, ripping the tag from the package, “why don’t you go outside and eat? I’ll pay for this and meet you out there in a minute.”
He looked from the roast in her extended hands to her serene façade and after a moment’s deliberation, chose the beef. “Don’t be long.”
With that, he vanished before her eyes. And what was worse, no one seemed to mind. They didn’t spare a glance for the dripping trail of beef blood he left on his path to the front doors of the store.
“Holy shit,” she muttered, earning a scathing glance from a mother passing by with a toddler in the seat of the cart. Kara waved with an awkward grimace. “Sorry.”
What kind of power did a black-wing wield that he could walk among regular people—disappearing before their very eyes—and not have anyone the wiser? He couldn’t remember how to wipe one mind when he tried, but he was as stealthy as a ghost when raw cow was involved.
She got into the fast checkout lane and grabbed a candy bar for herself. Uncooked meat just wasn’t her thing, and she doubted Julian would save her some anyway.
As she waited, the pressure on her neck and shoulders increased, knotting up her spine. Crap. Hunting was the last thing she wanted to do tonight. She couldn’t perform spells without Abbey, and she didn’t have any weapons on her. Sure, Julian might count as a weapon, but he reminded her of a nuclear bomb—once you hit launch, there was no telling how many people would get hurt.
The female checker scanned Kara’s meat department tag with an I’m-not-even-going-to-ask expression, then handed the candy bar to Kara. “That will be eleven fifty-eight.”
Kara fished through her pocket and came out with the twenty. She handed over the bill and took the change, bringing a hand to her stomach to ease the agitation there. Damn, this perv was intent on something bad tonight.
“Have a nice night,” the checker said.
Kara thanked her, then turned toward the looming shape at the end of the check-stand, expecting to see an impatient bagger, but what she saw instead hit her like a kick to the ribs.
Steve—the passenger.
His face was a bruised and bandaged mess, and his lips were stringing together words under his breath. In his hand, he clutched her bloodied helmet by the straps. Oh, what an idiot. In her rush, she’d left him with something of hers and her blood. She’d given herself over to him on a bloody platter.
A heavy weight descended over her entire body. As she slowly walked from the check-out and circled to the back of the store with his hand on her elbow, she wanted to scream and kick, but her feet moved without her permission.
They walked through the doors opening into the stock room. “My friend?” he spat. “He’s dead.”
She would have apologized, but she couldn’t move her lips.
“And you killed him, bitch. You were supposed to be easy to take care of, but we didn’t know how sneaky you were.”
He began to chant again, but this spell Kara was familiar with. It was the cloaking spell Abbey used on a regular basis. She felt the slithering over her skin and knew they were no longer visible to the naked eye. Any hope of a stocker or deliveryman intervening just vanished like Kara had.
He shoved her through the exit of the storeroom and onto the street beyond. When she stumbled, he jerked her arm and pushed her forward. “Now I’m going to kill you slow. You lost the privilege of a quick death when you made a fool out of me.”
The point of a knife cut through her sweatshirt and stung her back. “Keep walking. I’m going to take you to a favorite little place of mine where we can have some fun.”
The green Impala was parked at a meter along the street. Steve opened the door for Kara and pushed her inside. She fell limp in the seat, trying and failing to move her limbs.
“I like you like this,” he said. “Nice and quiet.”
Yeah, so nothing interferes with the sound of your own voice, she thought.
He kept up the banter while they drove south from downtown, toward the border. Twenty minutes later, Kara was surprised that they hadn’t crossed into Mexico but had stopped in the ranchland of San Ysidro. She could see the border fence in the distance from her position against the window, her cheek pressed up against the glass.
He pulled the car past a “For Sale” sign and into the back lot of a vacant ranch. Even through the sparse air filtering in through the vents, the place reeked of years-old horse manure and chicken shit. Talk about a crappy place to die.
“Come on, lazy. Walk.” He yanked her from her seat, and suddenly, she was walking again. Whatever spell he’d used had put him in control of her movements. She felt like a puppet, one foot in front of the other on stiff legs as she tagged along behind him on his way to a decrepit barn.
Outside, the brownish-red paint was peeling and the boards were puckered around the edges. Inside, it was worse. The stench told her the barn must have been used recently, unless an entire colony of rodents had made their last stand here. The moonlight through the windows and the open door illuminated half-filled troughs of mossy, mosquito-infested water.
He closed the barn doors behind them, then swept out his foot and knocked Kara’s feet from under her. “Relax. Take some weight off.”
She fell on her back in a pile of damp, moldy hay and wanted to scream her rage. All that she produced was a hush of wind through her lips. Steve laughed and pulled a charm from his pocket. “See this? It may not look like much, but it cost me a fortune. I don’t like to lose money on a job, but I decided you were worth it.”
So that was it? Her will dangled from his fingers? Some spell she hadn’t even heard of gave him the ultimate power over her? Oh, hell no. Sure, she couldn’t work traditional magic, but she wasn’t going to give up that easily. If her Demiáre blood had been used to make the spell controlling her, maybe her Demiáre blood could help break it.
She racked her brain, thinking back on what she’d learned about using her mind to counter another’s influence. This wasn’t much different, was it? She only needed to find the thread of her abductor’s will and block it with her own.
She closed her eyes to concentrate, but they sprang open again when Steve knelt beside her, thrusting one knee between her legs, using the tip of his knife to brush her long brown hair away from her forehead. “Look what you did to my face, Kara Reed.” He pulled back his bandage to reveal a broken nose and an egg-sized lump along his bruised jawline.
“That wasn’t very nice. You Fallen heal faster than us witches. For instance, if I put a little happy face here—” he nicked the corners of her lips, drawing the blade outward in the shape of a smile, “—I shouldn’t have to wait too long before it heals. Then I can cut your pretty little head off without leaving a mark.” He paused, bringing his face close to hers. “I wonder what we should do in the meantime…”
Kara’s blood spilled over her lips and slipped down her jaw. The throbbing pain only made her focus all the more, casting out her energy to grasp at the different ribbons twining through the room. Some felt old, more miserable than evil, but then she detected Passenger’s life force. It was an angry, roiling red, and the edges were coated with shimmering green. She threw her will into the breach, casting up a wall against his energy. Her body lurched, and he jumped back.
“What the hell are you up to?” He grasped the charm and began chanting again. Before she could fully stand, her legs started tingling and went out from under her.
Just then, a shadow crossed the window, and Kara felt a presence in the air that hadn’t been there a moment before. Steve continued to chant, his smile growing as Kara’s muscles gave in and she molded to the hay.
&nbs
p; “No more games, bitch.” He adjusted his grip on the hilt of the knife.
Suddenly, the doors of the barn burst inward as if a hurricane had torn them from their rusty hinges. Standing in the gaping hole was Julian, his black wings like sentient smoke blocking out the light of the moon. His eyes burned red, casting a shimmering glow on his face that made his fangs look wet and bloody.
Passenger hefted his arm back and threw the knife. Kara gasped as it flew straight for Julian’s stomach…and then sailed right through, as if he was made of mist.
Julian looked to Kara’s limp body, sprawled out in the moldering hay, and his eyes flashed. He opened his mouth wide and roared, his fury shooting from him in shockwaves that made the ground quake. As the wrath poured from Julian’s lips, Steve’s hands straightened like a man strapped to an electric chair—and then he simply exploded.
Chapter Ten
One second, Kara was incapacitated, watching Steve-the-passenger face down Julian as her warrior’s face contorted with rage. And the next, her assailant was gone, and tiny bits of blood and flesh covered every square inch of the barn and rained down over Kara like party confetti.
As Julian’s mouth snapped shut, the trembling ground quieted beneath her feet. He came to her, kneeling down. He reached out to touch her face, but his hand went right through. Slowly, she saw him gaining substance, becoming solid, until at last, she flung herself into his arms.
She tested her muscles, squeezing him tight just to see if everything was working again. Then she grimaced and pushed away from his perfectly clean, naked chest. “That was dis-gusting!” She didn’t have a weak stomach, but she was covered head to toe in slimy red gore.
“I kept my vow.”
“What?” she asked, beginning to shiver so hard her teeth chattered.
“I didn’t touch him.” He splayed his fingers, as if to say, Look, Ma, no hands.
Bile rose in her throat. “Awesome.”
“Now you’re angry with me?”
“No.” Kara dropped her head to his chest. It hurt to talk with the deep cuts extending out from her lips. “I’m not going to say you saved my life, ’cause I had it covered. But I’ll tell you this—I’ve never been happier to see you.”
Julian’s chest puffed up, as if he didn’t mind hearing it, but then he looked at Kara’s face and glowered. “Your cheeks. I’d like to bring him back so I could kill him again.”
She touched the edge of her mouth, drawing her finger along the jagged ridge. “He didn’t cut too deep. I guess he didn’t want to leave any doodles on me.”
Julian leaned close and licked the corner of her lip. A shudder ran the length of his body and his breathing picked up. Then he exhaled against her skin, his long, warm breath feeling as if it was knitting her skin back together faster than her Demiáre healing could ever have accomplished.
When he was finished, he closed his eyes and his head lolled slightly to the side. Kara touched her face, amazed it was completely healed. “Are you feeling okay?” His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t respond. “Julian?”
His eyes shot open. “Yes?”
“What’s happening to you?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”
They left the green car parked outside the splattered barn and rose into the air, Kara in Julian’s arms as his black wings beat against the current. He headed toward the shimmering ocean in the distance and plunged them both in the deep water where the waves hadn’t begun to break.
The cold water was a shock, but it felt wonderful on Kara’s skin, rinsing away some of the horror of the night. Julian felt so firm and real under her fingers, she couldn’t imagine he was the same being who’d just disintegrated a man with a shout.
He ran his hands over her skin, scrubbing her with salty water, then sifting his fingers through her hair. “I think you need some herbal.”
Kara almost snorted the water she was treading. The night was dark, but the gently rolling ocean beneath them was even darker. “I hope I didn’t just attract every shark in Imperial Beach.”
He cast his gaze down, as though he were probing the brine for what lay beneath. “I can keep you safe.”
She realized then that he wasn’t moving his legs. It was as though he was simply standing chest-deep a mile away from the shore. Giving up, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Unfortunately, Demiáre females couldn’t walk on water.
His skin was so damn warm, the heat coming off his body soaked into her chilled muscles. “I don’t need you to keep me safe.” She couldn’t start needing him. “I only want to know why you’re here.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
She shifted her weight and glared at him. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know the answer.”
“Oh.” She closed her eyes. “At first, I thought you might be a black-wing playing a trick on me.”
“And now?”
She opened her eyes again. “I think you’re the man I loved…my bondmate.”
“Bondmate?”
She released a slow breath. “It’s an attachment that can happen when two Demiáre sleep together enough.” She would leave the part about bodily fluids to his imagination. “We coupled when people said it shouldn’t have been possible, and I think it did something to bond us together.”
He smiled, just the slight upturn of his lips. “I doubt I would forget something like that. I remember the night you attacked me in the alley very well.”
Kara gasped. “I attacked you?” She squeezed her legs tighter around his waist and splashed water at him. “I don’t think so.”
He chuckled. “I have very few memories. That kiss is fairly easy to retrieve.”
Her smile faded, but her voice was level. “One kiss still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
He looked up into the sky, his eyes seeming to trace the stars. “I wandered after I woke. I have a feeling I’m not supposed to be here—” his gesture encompassed everything around them, “—but something draws me back to you.”
Her heart stuttered. She didn’t know much about black-wings, but she had the feeling he wasn’t supposed to be here either. “Have you ever heard of a Shadow Rising?”
He shook his head, looking perturbed. “No. And you might consider spending your time telling me your stories, instead of asking what I don’t know.”
She saw his frustration and bit back her tart reply. “It’s when a Demiáre—one of my kind—comes back as an Aniliáre. At least that’s what the prophecy said was going to happen. Aiden didn’t believe it.”
“Aiden…” he growled. “Yes, you’ve spoken of your friend Aiden. Why didn’t he believe it?”
“You mean your friend Aiden. And he didn’t believe it because it had never happened before.”
“And you think that’s what happened to your Julian—to me?”
“Well, here you are. You’re either a really good actor…or you’re him.”
He scowled. “Why would I have the need to act for anyone? I’m a god.”
Seeing what she’d seen tonight, she could hardly argue. “From what I’ve heard, Aniliáre aren’t always the nicest guys. They might do something mean just for the fun of it.”
He thought about that and nodded, his eyelids growing heavy. “Perhaps that’s true. I had fun tonight.”
Kara’s gut clenched, hoping the passenger’s blood had ventured off into the wider Pacific by now. “Glad you were entertained.”
When Julian’s eyes closed again, they both started to sink. “Hey! Wake up.”
His head jerked. “Damn it, woman. What is it?”
“You were about to go under, Your God-ship. Why don’t we head back to the apartment now? You look tired.”
He folded his wings around her and a moment later, her feet were flat against the porcelain bottom of her bathtub, and Julian was experimenting with the faucet, trying to get the hot water working. Her light pink sweats were soaking wet and riddled with darker splotches
of pink. Julian had lost Jaxon’s black tank top somewhere along the way, but the jeans looked okay.
Still shivering, Kara kicked off her flip-flops, then she peeled off her wet clothes and threw them in the bathroom trashcan, pushing them down with her foot to fit beside the clothes that had been ruined earlier in the day when she’d been run down on her scooter. If she added in her only interview suit, that was three outfits destroyed in as many days. In all her years of hunting, that had never happened before.
“His name was Steve,” she said. “It would have been helpful to find out who he was working for before you splattered him.” She put a hand to her stomach, trying not to think too deeply on it.
Julian peeled the jeans down his legs and threw them to the tile floor, splashing water everywhere. Shit, if they leaked water to the apartment below, Kara was the one who’d have to fix the ceiling. She yanked the curtain closed and wrapped her arms around her torso.
Julian took Kara by the shoulders and shifted her under the steaming water. “He was seconds from killing you, and you think I should have stopped to interview him?”
“Well, when a girl gets targeted twice in a day, she wonders why.”
Now with both men permanently out of the picture, she had no way of finding out why they wanted her dead. She got the feeling, though, that this was all business and hadn’t become personal until after she’d broken Steve’s face in the alley.
Julian regarded her. “He was a witch. What dealings do you have with them?”
She closed her eyes and submerged her face in the warm spray, debating how much she wanted to tell him. After a minute, she brought her head out and opened her eyes. “Plenty. My friend Abbey is a witch. That’s what I thought I was until I learned I was Demiáre. Anyhow, about six months ago, Abbey was hurt and she hasn’t healed yet. Her uncle is holding me responsible, but I don’t think he’d want me dead. If he kills me, he won’t get what he needs to cure Abbey.”
“Which is…?”
“The blood of the Aniliáre.” She waited for recognition in his eyes of what she was saying, but it didn’t come. “You know, the blood of a black-wing.”
