by A and E Kirk
She bounced off the Dumpster and crashed to the ground. I smiled.
A vision hit me, short and ugly.
“Aurora,” Cristiano warned.
But I already knew, and barely dove out of the way as a scythe-like claw shot down and nicked my shoulder before it stabbed deep into the ground, cracking the asphalt. The culprit? A serpent demon, thick as a dozen anacondas, swinging down like Spider-Man, its face a corpse-grey, concave mash of hideousness.
“I’m busy!” I screamed, and ignoring the pain in my shoulder, raised my hand. “Go away!”
A streak of white light exploded across the space.
With amazing speed, Corpse Face twisted into a coil. My blast of power zipped through the center of its loop and dynamited into the building’s overhang. The hellion slithered onto the roof and out of sight with a slurping wet hiss. Chunks of tile and wood tumbled down from my blow. I ducked and flung my arms over my head, but while debris showered down around me, not a single piece struck my body.
Lucky.
A screech rippled the air. The flying baboon demon circled once above, then tucked its wings and dove.
“Aurora?” Cristiano called.
“You still feel like killing something?”
He ripped off his blazer. “I thought you would never ask.”
He sprinted forward and leapt onto the Dumpster in one bound. The metal groaned. No sooner did his feet touch than he launched into the air.
The baboon demon swooped. Its jaws opened wide, so ready for my throat that it missed the real threat. Cristiano slammed into the thick, feather-coated body, and wrapped his arms around it in a relentless, crushing grip. The beast let loose a shocked screech of pain, and then spiraled off course, crashing out of the alley. Gunshots ripped out.
Something came at my face. I ducked, electricity zipped off my fingers. Glass shattered to powder.
Heather wobbled onto her feet, holding the neck of a bottle in her hand. “Did you really think I’d come alone?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I held up my hands and wiggled my fingers. “I’ve got powers now.” I threw a knot of sizzling, jagged light.
Which should have zapped her hard, but just before it hit, the petals on Heather’s flower bracelet popped out and rotated. Spinning like helicopter blades, they jettisoned her up into the air where she flipped out of the way and landed deftly on her feet.
Wow. That was…pretty cool.
She jerked her free arm and a blade sliced out of her other bracelet, lying flat atop her hand. It wasn’t long. Once she made a fist it only protruded four, maybe five inches past, but it was more than enough to pierce my heart.
That was cool too.
Well. Crap.
Heather ran at me. I scrambled back and shot a blast. The bracelet still rotating, she flipped into the air and out of the way, then brought her feet down on my head. I ducked, but her heel caught my shoulder where the demon’s knife-tail had nicked me, and I dropped, pain shooting through my arm.
With a cry of victory she kept rotating and stabbed the blade down. I rolled. Sparks flew as the sword jutting from her fist cut into the asphalt. While she was bent over, I caught the back of her head, twisted my fingers into her hair, and yanked her face-first into the ground. She went down with a satisfying crunch.
I started to stand, but Heather backhanded the rotating blades into my face. I felt the wind, heard the whir, and spun away. A lock of my hair sliced off and an edge of the metal clipped my chin. White dotted my vision. I heard the crunch of footsteps near my head. I reached blindly. Felt a leg. Squeezed. Heard a sizzle.
Heather screamed.
I shook the stars from my eyes and jumped to my feet. I wasn’t really steady, but neither was Heather. She slapped at the flames charring a hole in her white sweat pants. The drizzle built into a pelting, hard rain, helping douse the fire. Head down, I barreled into her, catching her wrists as we thudded into the wall. This time I kept her pinned. Her flesh bubbled beneath my touch. The agony in her shrieks was music to my ears.
I looked into her eyes and smiled back at the fear I saw in them, and that’s when a vision flashed. So inconvenient.
Corpse Face gripped the edge of the roof above, watching us. Watching me. It flung itself off, curling into a ring as it fell, spinning like a wheel and turning its scythe tail into a working buzz-saw ready to split me in two.
Maybe not so inconvenient.
I released one of Heather’s wrists and reached an arm up. Power cracked out, cutting through the rain with a steaming hiss. The circumference of the light doubled in size for every inch it left my hand so by the time it reached Corpse Face, it engulfed the slimy serpent completely, pulping it into a haze of black mist that vortexed into the ground.
Score one for the good guys.
“Fiamma!”
Silver slashed across my raised arm. At Cristiano’s warning cry, I flinched back in time to keep Heather’s dagger from slicing arteries and bone, and my arm clean off, but it cut deep. Pain lanced hot. Heather lashed at me again. I caught the knife with my hand. Heather’s eyes went wide. She pushed with all she had. If the metal was cutting my skin, I couldn’t feel it.
I smiled again and crashed my forehead into her face.
Heather cried out. I didn’t. Her eyes closed. The knife broke off in my hand as she fell. My first head-butt gone right. She crumpled in an awkward heap. It was quiet except for my ragged breathing.
I threw the bloodsoaked blade down with a clatter. “I am not boring!”
Something advanced on me.
I whirled, arms up.
Cristiano stopped and raised hands in surrender. I dropped my defensive stance and my inner spotlight began to fade.
Cristiano raised his brows. “After everything she said, calling you boring is what upsets you?”
“Yes!”
Cristiano struggled, then failed to hide his grin. His arms pulled me tight against him, his cheek resting on top of my wet head. “You are not boring, Aurora Lahey.”
I leaned into him. I so needed a hug right now. And his were exceptional. We stood and let the rain pour down upon us. I became completely soaked through, but was nowhere near cold. The adrenaline from battle still surged. I was hot and hyped up.
I jabbed a shaky finger at Heather and yelled into his chest, “Now we drug her!”
I reached for Heather’s wrist, but that stupid bracelet was in the way. I kicked it. Ow! The metal petals twirled like a ceiling fan and retracted to its center until all that remained was the clunky flower bracelet. I grabbed her arms, tried to get her up, but trembled so bad my knees gave out. I thudded onto my butt, splashing into a pothole.
“Nice!” Instead of getting up, I kicked and splashed in more puddles. “I don’t believe this! Well, I’m sure not your pathetic Aurora-bora now, am I?” I kicked Heather’s prone body again, then slapped my palms on the wet asphalt and yelled, “Wench!” Cristiano worked to stifle a smile. “Sure! Laugh! Tell me to calm down and stop freaking out!”
“If you wish to ‘freak out’ as you verbalize it, I see no reason to stop your emotions, as long as they are not a danger to yourself.”
“Or others, of course!” Not sure why I was still yelling.
His brows knitted. “What?”
“As long as I’m not a danger to myself, or others!”
Cristiano gave a short, confused shake of his head. “Why would I care about danger to others?” He captured Heather’s wrist and in one smooth move, pulled her worthless hide over his shoulder, then he offered me a hand.
I took it and jumped up. When I wobbled a bit, Cristiano placed a hand around my hips and held me to his side. I latched an arm around his waist for support, and we limped for the car. Check that, I limped. Cristiano was steady as a rock.
“We give her extra drugs! Double! No, triple the recommended dose!” I wasn’t sure why I continued to yell, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
“I think not.” His voice held a hint of amusemen
t.
“Oh, now you’re worried about her?!” Yep, still yelling.
“Not in the slightest,” he said mildly. “But I believe your wish to drug her only stems from your current high level of agitation and adrenalin. Once you return to a more even-tempered state of mind, you would regret your decision. I am only considering your well-being. We will administer no drugs.”
“Really?” I looked up at him. Things seemed a bit blurry, but it could be the rain in my eyes. “You think you know me so well? Have all the answers?”
Not that he was wrong. Necessarily.
“Hardly,” he said. “But you must now agree with my original assertion that she is a threat.”
I thumped his chest. “Don’t say it! Don’t you dare say it!”
“Say what?” Cristiano looked down at me, droplets hovering on his long lashes.
“You know what,” I snapped.
“Do you perhaps refer to the American phrase…” He quirked a smile. “I told you so.”
“Yep.”
“I would never dream of saying such a thing.”
CHAPTER 85
Cristiano dumped Heather in the trunk for the ride to the airport. I didn’t argue. During the drive, I flitted in and out of consciousness, the windshield wipers acting as a sort of lullaby. Despite Cristiano blasting the heater to its highest level and aiming all the vents to blow onto me, I shivered violently, sending pain reverberating through my body.
Armani, my avenger and defender—such a strange new normal—brushed the hair off my face and cupped a hot palm against my cheek. The soft touch washed a wave of comfort so strong the shivering lessened and even the pain dimmed.
“It will be better soon,” he whispered.
I believed him.
But when we pulled up in front of the plane, the idea of walking at all, let alone climbing the stairs into the jet, seemed impossible. Before Cristiano cut the car’s engine, my door opened, the sudden blast of cold air sent my shivers to near convulsions.
“Whoa, Honcho. You said it was bad, but this looks like she’s been rode hard and put away dead.”
I lifted my lids, heavy as boulders. “Th-th-thanks a l-lot.”
“No offense darlin’,” Horus drawled.
“Take her inside,” Cristiano said.
“Sure you don’t want me to get the other one instead? You’ve got that look.”
“What look?” Cristiano yanked the trunk open.
“Come on, you know what look. And I believe you mentioned we need that swamp rat alive.”
“Just do as you are told. She shivers. Fix it.”
“Ten-four, Double H, but when you need the body bag, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
“D-d-double H?” I managed to ask.
“When situations spiral into crisis mode, he becomes the Head Honcho. Nobody better.”
Horus lifted me easily into his skinny arms. Although he held me gently against his chest, every step seemed to poke another one of his bones painfully into my body. I must have moaned because he said softly, “Sorry, Fiamma, but don’t worry, we’ll get you fixed right as rain soon enough.”
Speaking of rain, it was still coming down and near freezing, feeling more like hail or snow.
But a moment later I no longer noticed, because a soft wind rustled up underneath my clothes, separating the clinging fabric from my skin with warm, billowing air. The luscious heat began to erase the chill from my bones and dried my clothes at the same time. So fancy. My trembling slowly subsided.
The g-forces from the jet’s takeoff brought more pain. Someone ministered to my wounds. Liquid trickled over my skin. A faint antiseptic aroma coincided with an uncomfortable sting despite the delicate touch so carefully applied. Cristiano muttered words of comfort. Next I knew, he was talking to Horus.
“You must follow my instructions precisely, do you understand?”
“I’ve got it all under control, Honcho. I know just what to do.”
“And what you must do is exactly as I have instructed, then return immediately. Should I write it down?”
“Nah. Relax. I’m good. I’m better than good. I’m bordering on normal.”
There was a loud noise as a fierce, cold wind lashed through the cabin, whistling shrill and whipping damp red curls across my face. I focused enough to see the plane’s door was open. Through the clouds, I could see that lights twinkled thousands of feet below. Horus gave Cristiano a thumbs–up, then leapt through the door.
Without a parachute.
Something soft, warm and purring almost as loud as the jet engines pushed its way under my hand. Helsing. I couldn’t see him but breathed easier knowing he was there.
Cristiano secured the door, the wind immediately dying, then he knelt in front of me. “One final task to accomplish,” he said. “Then you may rest.”
CHAPTER 86
Voices were rising, edging into my sleep. Something told me waking was a bad idea. I was snuggled up comfy and warm, enjoying a perfect fuzzylicious, cozy numbness that I wanted to submerge deeper into. Fingers dragged gently through my hair. It felt good. The steady rhythm soothing...
“I will kill you!”
Heather.
I jerked up. Then stopped as pain stabbed in sharp, hot bursts. Everything was blurry. Not much light. She could be coming from anywhere.
“Easy,” Cristiano said. I felt his arms around me, easing me back down.
I didn’t fight it, happy to find a comfortable position and determine what didn’t hurt. Uh, my teeth. Maybe. Everything else rated at least a ten-plus on the Richter scale of prolific pain.
I blinked. A lot. Took in my surroundings. I was on the couch, my body snuggled in Cristiano’s lap with my cheek resting against his chest and plenty of pillows behind my back.
He held an ice pack over my hand, the ravaged knuckles sporting a neatly wrapped cloth bandage. Gauze was taped over the knife wound on my arm, some dried blood stained through. I reached a tentative touch to the butterfly bandages on my cheek and chin, feeling the heat and swelling on my face.
I yawned. Ow. My face felt like one massive bruise. And apparently, I’d just reopened a split lip. “Thanks for the patch job.”
“Perhaps you can thank me by not putting me in the position to do it again.” Cristiano dabbed my lip with a cloth that must have had some numbing ointment because it suddenly felt better, then he resettled his arms around me and rested his cheek on the top of my head. “Never again.”
I relaxed into his touch and closed my eyes. A wave of warm and fuzzy rolled over my body, some of my aches and pains smoothing away. I sighed, ready to drift off again into sweet slumb—
“Hey!” I jerked away. “Ow. Okay. We need to talk about personal space.”
“Do not worry. I have no objections with the way you invade mine.”
“Yeah, I got that.” I wanted to scramble quickly out of his embrace, but I was stiff and sore, and grunted against an ache around my torso that made it hard to breathe, let alone move with any speed. It was a pathetic struggle. “Get off of me,” I said, even though I was on him. “What is it with that power of yours?”
Cristiano’s brow creased deeply. “Actually, I am far more interested in discussing your power. I have never seen anything like it. Perhaps you would like to share?”
Uh-oh.
“I prefer not to answer at—you know what? It’s none of your business!” I snapped, finding it impossible to muster the coordination to get up. He pressed a gentle hand on my back, propelling me to my feet. Once the wave of wooziness passed, I slapped his hand away. “Enough with the touching.”
Cristiano laced his fingers behind his head and lounged back. “I was simply tending to you on the couch when you reclined into me.”
My memory being so spotty, that scenario was possible.
“Well, next time don’t be so…”
“Accommodating?” He shrugged. “I cannot promise that amount of restraint. I am not one to deny myself the pleasure o
f such an attractive female’s touch.”
I rolled my eyes. “What time is it? Where are we?”
Cristiano sighed. “I am not kidnapping you.”
“More worried about getting grounded, genius.” I yawned. Ow. I licked my lip and tasted blood. Great. “I have to get home.” And find a way to explain my beaten-to-a-pulp status to my family. That should go over well.
“We telephoned your parents, remember?” Cristiano looked concerned and rubbed my shoulder as he handed me a cloth for my lip and headed to the kitchen. “I had Horus contact an associate and initiate a snow storm in the mountains. All the roads are closed. Any travel prohibited. No one can get in or out of Gossamer Falls. Your parents were—”
“Not thrilled. Yeah. It’s coming back to me.”
“That is putting it nicely,” Cristiano said. “After the call, I felt it best to shut down all telephone communications to the town. I imagine your parents are even more ‘not thrilled.’ ”
“Yeah.” Heather muttered with disgust. “Aurora's parents were crazy before. I can only imagine the monsters they’ve turned into now.”
“Monsters?” I said. “You’re one to talk.”
Heather was trussed up and out of commission. Her wrists were encased in electronic super shackles that, according to Tristan, stopped hunters from using their powers. A chain from the ceiling was attached to the shackles and kept Heather’s hands and arms pulled taut above her head. Her ankles were ensnared by thick silver manacles with chains embedded in the floor. This luxury jet was equipped with some frightening accoutrements.
The skin around the shackles on her wrists bubbled a horrific wreck of pink and black, some scorched skin peeling like burnt paper. Blood and orange ooze stained down her arms in trickles. She had a split lip, along with little gashes and scrapes all over her skin. Her face was swollen red and blue. Globs of snotty, clotted blood dried on her mouth, chin, and chest. One pant leg was singed, her fiery pink flesh visible through the charred hole of the muddy and ravaged-beyond-recognition Novo sweatsuit.
