Death Match (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 2)

by A. Blythe

  Catch! Reed's voice echoed in my head.

  Catch?

  As the Jann reeled back for another strike, Reed tossed me his sword.

  Let me repeat—Reed tossed me his sword.

  A Protector never hands over his sword. The majestic sword isn't just another weapon to them. It's part of their essence. We may as well have boned each other right on the field because tossing me his sword was one of the most intimate gestures he could make.

  I brandished the sword and, when the chains reared up like a double-headed snake poised to bite, I sliced straight through the copper links.

  The Jann's mouth dropped open as the pieces fell to the ground. It seemed he'd never seen a Protector's sword at work before. They weren't your typical metal blades. The chains may have been forged from copper, but the Naphil's sword was forged from the tears of angels. Or something like that.

  Pinky took advantage of his momentary surprise and enveloped him in a pink bubble. Not a protective bubble, but the kind that bounced and floated. By the time he was airborne, he was in tears, begging to be released before the bubble popped and he fell to the ground. He was skilled enough to wield copper chains but not so skilled that he could burst his own bubble and get himself down to earth. I almost felt sorry for him.

  "Why doesn't he shift to mist?" Cyrus asked, shielding his eyes for a good view.

  "He'll still be in the bubble," Pinky said. "It's airtight."

  "Can't he change form to something bigger?" Cyrus asked.

  Pinky shrugged. "The bubble will expand. I designed it to be flexible."

  Holy Plasma Plane. She designed another strategic spell. Pinky was really coming into her own.

  "Can't we just do that to the other three?" Cyrus asked, gesturing to Puberty Jann's teammates, who were currently in a huddle across the field.

  "There's no honor in a win like that," Reed predictably replied.

  I handed Reed his sword and retrieved my yantoks. "Thanks for the help."

  "My father gave me this sword. He carved the hilt himself."

  I touched the ornate handle. "An angel, huh?"

  He smiled wryly. "Depends on who you ask."

  So Reed's father had a bit of the devil in him. It was a relief to know he wasn't one hundred percent Boy Scout. Nobody could be that good. It was unnatural.

  "Look out," Cyrus called.

  It seemed the huddle had dispersed. The Ifrit had shifted to his preferred form and was heading straight for us.

  "Is that a large lizard?" Reed asked.

  I looked at him askance. "Do they teach you nothing in angel school? That's a Komodo dragon." Supersized, of course, courtesy of djinn magic.

  "Does it breathe fire?"

  I knew what he was thinking. If it breathed fire, he could control it.

  "No, it has a venomous bite."

  The Ifrit inched closer to us.

  "Then shouldn't we be getting out of its way?" Reed asked.

  I folded my arms. "In a minute. I want to see what he does."

  Pinky studied the Ifrit's new form. "Do we need to run in a zigzag pattern?"

  "It's not a crocodile," I said. Then again, it might be fun to try and confuse it. If nothing else, it would entertain the crowd. This was a show, after all.

  I decided to do something I didn't get the chance to do at the gala. I danced.

  Even the other two mages stopped preparing their next spells to observe my bizarre fighting moves.

  "What are you doing?" Reed asked.

  I slid my feet backward across the AstroTurf. "Ever hear of the moonwalk?"

  The Komodo dragon stopped partway across the field and cocked its head.

  "That's not dancing," Reed objected and demonstrated a few steps that would've made Fred Astaire proud.

  "Um, guys," Pinky said, pointing to our opponents. "Still fighting."

  "I'll handle the Ifrit. You three take the mages."

  "You can't take him on alone," Reed objected.

  I winked, already knowing what I intended to do. "Watch me."

  Pinky twitched both hands and my yantoks flew back to me. "Don't lose them again."

  I gripped Luke and Leia and took off in a sprint toward the Komodo dragon. The giant lizard saw me coming and decided to charge me. Just as we were about to collide, I went airborne, tucking into a somersault and landing on its back. I wrapped my arm around its elongated neck and pressed both yantoks into its rough skin.

  "Stun!"

  Its body jolted, but the magic wasn't enough to subdue it. Its bony plates must have absorbed much of the energy.

  The lizard continued to run and I slid further down its back. I was trying to hold the yantoks and the lizard's body at the same time. My grip loosened and I fell hard on my back.

  The lizard didn't waste any time. It skidded to a halt and turned around. I couldn't raise my yantoks in time. The sharp teeth sank into my flesh and I cried out, dropping the weapons. I clawed the ground and pulled myself out of range before he could bite again. I felt my blood pressure weakening as blood spurted from my calf. I'd go into shock soon. The venom would make sure of that. Komodo dragons didn't necessarily kill their prey during the first attack. The prey wanders away, wounded and weak, until the Komodo dragon tracks it to its final resting place and enjoys a tasty meal.

  I didn't want to be the Ifrit's Big Mac.

  As I pulled myself across the AstroTurf by my elbows, dirt began to stir in the infield. Near home plate, Cyrus and Pinky were holding hands and chanting. I couldn't see Reed or the other two mages from my prostrate position.

  The dirt spiraled into the air, spinning in a counterclockwise direction until a small tornado formed. The Komodo dragon was wholly focused on finishing me off, oblivious to the unnatural disaster looming behind it. The tornado spun into the outfield and sucked my pursuer inside the cone, its arms and legs flailing wildly.

  My heart rate slowed dramatically and my head dropped to the ground. I tried desperately to stay awake, to see whether my friends were okay.

  My eyes had turned to slits by the time the Ifrit reformed and dropped to his knees in front of my teammates. He lowered his head in submission and the roar of the crowd drowned out every other sound.

  "We won," Pinky yelled gleefully and I promptly passed out.

  19

  The Protectorate healer was an elderly woman by the name of Lana. She had to be old, even by Naphil standards, because her skin was wrinkled and she wore her gray hair tied in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. The first thing I noticed, though, were her kind eyes, the color of which matched her hair.

  "Remain still, Miss Winters. Please let me look at your leg."

  Although her accent was barely perceptible, I still noticed it. "How are my teammates? Is everyone okay?"

  "You are the only one in need of a healer." She paused. "On your team, at least."

  "No one died?"

  "Not today."

  I was relieved. Although I knew it was inevitable, I didn't like the idea of anyone dying during the games.

  "Is Lana short for Svetlana?"

  She nodded as she set to work, unwrapping the makeshift bandage and examining the wound. "People used to tell me Lana was such a pretty name, like Lana Turner." She shrugged. "It used to annoy me. I didn't know who Lana Turner was until someone finally showed me a picture."

  "She was beautiful," I said. Lana Turner was a famous actress in classic Hollywood films. I'd seen her in The Postman Always Rings Twice and The Bad and the Beautiful.

  "She was." Lana smiled faintly. "So I stopped being annoyed and started saying thank you whenever someone mentioned her."

  She put her face close to the side of my calf and sniffed. Was she smelling my wound?

  "Venom, I think," she said and licked.

  Gods and stars, the batty old Naphil literally licked my wound.

  "Definitely venom," Lana said, more to herself.

  From the corner of the room, I heard a rumbling chuckle.


  "What are you doing here?" I asked Reed. He stepped out of the shadows. Whatever injuries he'd sustained on the field had already healed. Lucky bastard.

  "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said.

  "I think Lana's coming on to me," I said. "She gave me tongue. Maybe you should find a healer who isn't so attracted to me."

  To my surprise, Lana laughed. The sound was almost musical. "I like her, Grayson. I can see why you'd want to heal her."

  I jerked my head in his direction. "He wants to heal me? I thought it was Colony Games policy."

  Lana shrugged her hunched shoulders and reached for a cloth. She dipped the cloth in some kind of yellow ointment and pressed it gently against my wound. It stung, but only briefly.

  "Grayson made sure you were assigned to me," Lana said and winked at him. "He knows I'm the best there is."

  "Lana's been one of our healers since I joined the Protectorate," Reed said. "She predates me by a number of years."

  From the looks of her, if I had to guess that number, I'd say a hundred.

  "A hundred?" Lana queried. "Don't be absurd. It's far greater than that."

  "Double shit on a sundae," I said. "You're telepathic, too?"

  She put a fresh bandage on my arm and smoothed it. "One of my many talents."

  "It's one reason she's such a good healer," Reed explained. "She can identify the pain, what happened. The patient doesn't even need to be conscious, as long as the brain is functional."

  I had a habit of cloaking my thoughts around Reed anyway, but my defenses tended to wane when I was injured. It was hard to keep a mental barrier in place when I was grappling with pain.

  "Well, thankfully, I'm conscious," I said.

  "The ointment will suck out the venom," Lana said. "I'd like to see you in three hours to reexamine the leg."

  "Three hours." I saluted her. "I'll be here."

  Lana gave Reed an accusing look. "You said she'd be combative and disagreeable. I think she's been a lovely patient."

  I glared at Reed. "Are you trying to make me look bad?"

  He folded his arms across his chest. "I think you manage that all on your own."

  Lana gently patted my shoulder. "Ah, young love. How I miss it."

  "Young love," I sputtered. "Quick Reed, grab the ointment. I think the venom has spread to her brain."

  Lana laughed again and music filled the room. "It's true what they say. Youth is wasted on the young."

  "See you in three hours," I said.

  As soon as she left, I hopped off the table and winced as my foot hit the floor. Pain shot straight up my leg, jolting my heart. Reed grabbed my shoulder.

  "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

  "I'll be back in three hours, as promised." I unsheathed a yantok and extended it downward. "And I don't need an escort."

  "You need to rest," he said. "Your leg needs to heal before the next match."

  I said a quiet word and watched the yantok glow.

  He drew me closer. "You're going to taser me for caring about your well being?"

  "Trust me, this is far worse than a taser." I held it between us, to prevent him from moving any closer. My pulse accelerated, probably my body hard at work trying to get rid of the venom.

  His dark eyes were fixed on my face. "Let me come with you. Make sure you're okay."

  "I'm fine," I insisted. "And if I'm not, I have my follow-up appointment in two hours and fifty-eight minutes."

  He sighed. "Why are you such a porcupine?"

  "Why are you such a do-gooder? There's no Protectorate rule that says you have to be nice to a djinni."

  "It has nothing to do with rules."

  I studied his earnest expression. "Although I guess since I'm sort of human now, maybe you are required."

  "I'm not."

  "No one is that nice for no reason," I said. Everybody had an agenda. It was the way of the world.

  "I never said I didn't have a reason."

  I narrowed my gaze, trying to figure him out. Usually, I could see the angles. Reed had me stumped.

  "It's because you're too close to it," he said cryptically.

  "Too close to what?" I paused. "You see me as some kind of damsel in distress, don't you?" This was Flynn's theory. He accused Reed of being my Prince Charming, coming to my rescue on multiple occasions.

  "No one could accuse you of being a damsel in distress, Alyse," he replied, seemingly amused by the thought. "Even in your cuffs."

  "You're a Naphil," I said. "You're genetically programmed to play the role of hero."

  "Hero? I believe you labeled us as monks."

  I had, at one point, espoused my theories on the Nephilim, which may have included accusations of a monk-like existence in the romance department.

  "You can be both," I said. "Monk heroes are definitely a thing. You'd look great in a chougu."

  "One of these days," he said, his breath warm on my neck, "I'm going to show you exactly how wrong you are about the Nephilim."

  My knees weakened, but I forced myself to stand up straight. The ointment still had work to do.

  I pulled away from him and wiped the spot on my neck where his breath had touched me. Cooties and all.

  "Why don't you just go back to your seat and watch the rest of today's matches?" I asked. "That would be more useful."

  He smiled. "But not nearly as much fun."

  Heat spread through my body. If my legs had been up for it, I would have sprinted out of the room. Was he exercising some kind of Naphil mind control? He was telepathic. Maybe he could control my thoughts the way he controlled fire.

  "I told you I don't need an escort." I sheathed my yantok. "I'll see you back here in two hours and fifty minutes."

  "As you wish."

  I could feel his eyes on me as I hobbled away.

  Dear gods. What was happening to me? Flynn had been a youthful mistake, but Reed? They couldn't be more different. Thankfully, they had one thing in common—I had no intention of sleeping with either one of them. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever.

  Flynn was waiting for me in my hotel room a couple of blocks from the stadium. I didn't need to ask how he got in. Despite the large supernatural presence, the hotel rooms weren't djinn-proof.

  "You should have let someone else handle the Ifrit," he said. "You weren't up for it."

  "Thanks for playing Monday morning quarterback. Now leave."

  "How's your leg?" He ignored me, crossing the room to inspect my calf.

  "It's fine." I waved him off. "The Protectorate healer is on the case. She wants to see me in a couple of hours and make sure her heavenly ointment has drawn out the demonic venom."

  He stopped and eyed me suspiciously. "A Protectorate healer? Who decided that—Captain Bold and Beautiful?"

  "Reed made arrangements for me. So what?"

  I continued to the bathroom before he had time to get a good look at me. I was desperate for a shower. I needed to wash away the stench of battle. Plus, I was pretty sure there was Komodo dragon piss in my hair.

  "Why does your hair look like it's been tossed in a blender?" Flynn asked.

  "Gee, you've always been so free with the compliments, Flynn."

  He scrutinized my face. "Why is your skin glowing?"

  My hands flew to my cheeks in a panic. "Like my yantoks?"

  "No, like a happy person," he said suspiciously.

  "My skin is not glowing."

  He moved to block the bathroom doorway. "Holy Plasma Plane, Alyse. Are you hot for the Naphil?"

  "That's none of your business, Flynn," I said. "It hasn't been your business since the Academy. Not that our relationship kept you from being hot for other trainees."

  His shoulders slumped and he gave me an apologetic look. "You know I'm sorry for the way I treated you."

  "Are you?" I asked sharply. "You never really said."

  "Well, I am," he said. "And I'm not saying this out of jealousy."

  "Why would you?" I asked. "We're lo
ng over and you have Tessa now. Sweet, flexible Tessa who somehow doesn't seem fazed by the fact that you're a djinni."

  "She was fazed," Flynn said. "Trust me. I think she's still trying to accept it. She doesn't have a Third Eye, remember? She didn't know about any of us until you accused her of being a secret mage and forced me to reveal my true nature."

  Here we go again.

  "Flynn, I told you I'm sorry a hundred times. Look at it this way, now you know she really loves you. If she was looking for an excuse to leave you, she was handed one on a silver platter."

  "Sometimes she asks me to sleep in the guest room," he admitted, raking a hand through his dark hair. "Usually after she has a nightmare where I turn into a giant snake and squeeze the life out of her."

  "But you only shift into mammals," I said.

  He rolled his eyes. "Not the point. Alyse, she's still learning about us. This whole thing has been a huge eye opener."

  "You should tell her to talk to Detective Thompson. I've been teaching her about Ghuls..."

  Flynn's eyes widened slightly. "That's a great idea."

  "What is?"

  "You can teach Tessa, too. Let her join your little sessions with the detective."

  I blew out an exasperated sigh. "Flynn, Thompson is PTF. She's not learning for fun. She's learning so she can track her parents' killers and exact vigilante justice."

  Flynn looked surprised. "She told you that?"

  I shrugged. "Well, I imagine that's what she wants. That's what I'd want."

  He chuckled. "I know exactly what you'd want."

  "I don't know if she'll go through with it when the time comes," I said. "And if Reed found out, he would definitely stop her."

  Flynn stared at me, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. "I don't like the idea of you with a Naphil. It's unnatural."

  "Relax, I'm not with, nor am I hot for, a Naphil," I said and pushed past him into the bathroom before the conversation degenerated. Who was I kidding? It was already there.

  He gave me his infamous smoldering look. "If it's simply a matter of passions running high after a good fight, I might be able to offer you some assistance with that."

  "No thanks, Flynn. I'm at room temperature."