Everyone perked up at the sound of that.
“But…blood offering?” Carly questioned, looking a bit queasy.
“It only requires a few drops of blood,” assured Madsen.
“Hell, what’re we waiting for?” said Mark, nodding to me. “Let’s get this show on the road, before she has to hit the road.”
“Blood magic is not something to be trifled with,” said Madsen. “With a pagan ritual as powerful as this, it presents a threat to the host. When cast, the stone’s energy would literally rip the hex’s blight out of Katrina’s body, no matter how deep it may be rooted. It could very well kill her. Only until it’s absolutely necessary should we ever consider using this.”
Reese was already shaking his head.
“Do it.”
Everybody froze, all four pairs of eyes slowly sliding over to me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Reese demanded. “You heard what Madsen just said—”
“Blaine can already get inside my head,” I murmured, slumping back into my chair. “When we were driving up here, he touched me, and he saw my vision. He saw how I’m supposed to die. And when he demanded to know about it, I told him about what happened with Lucinda. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it… It’s only a matter of time before this gets worse.”
“No.” Those amber eyes flared like raging flames as Reese took my hand. “We’ll find out where he’s keeping the Sanctus blade, one way or another.”
“I know we can’t kill him, for obvious reasons, but why don’t we just kidnap him?” asked Mark. “You know, go all Casino Royale on his ass, and beat the answers out of him till he tells us where the sword is.”
“If I recall, that didn’t turn out so well for the interrogator,” I grumbled. “Besides, we’re talking about the same guy who escaped silver shackles and a literal prison cell after being shot and repeatedly tortured. If Mr. Reynolds couldn’t hold him, we wouldn’t stand a prayer.”
“We can always offer him an incentive,” Mark offered.
“Like what? Cold beer? This isn’t Shawshank.”
He seemed to ponder this, stroking his chin for added effect. “I got it!”
The whole room shared in a collective eye roll, waiting for the moronic punch line. Sure enough, Mark delivered.
“Lap dances.”
Carly immediately slapped him in the arm.
“Owww!” he howled. “What? The guy’s still human, right? If someone like Kat offered me that in exchange for imprisonment, I’d save her the time and handcuff myself.”
“Could you try to be serious?” Reese growled.
“Oddly enough, Mr. McDowell has a point,” said Madsen.
Everyone’s heads, including Mark’s, snapped to the doctor, openmouthed.
“Not about the method,” Madsen amended. “But the underlining concept has promise.”
“What are you talking about?” I begged, praying the outcome didn’t end the same way Mark’s had.
“You need to get closer to him.”
“Closer? He went from sleeping next-door to literally being in the same house,” I said. “You don’t get much closer than that.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I’m suggesting.”
Everybody gawked at him in horror.
“You don’t seriously mean—” Reese couldn’t even finish the thought, springing up from his seat. “No.”
“If you have a better alternative, I’m all ears,” said Madsen, watching the Mage pace the length of the room.
Reese cut him a lethal glare. “Anything would be better than that!”
“The Angel of Death is never going to lend his blade to us, no matter how noble the cause may be. And the Crown Prince of Hell isn’t going to disclose where he’s hidden the one in his possession. Not to Kat, not without trust,” he said, gesturing at me. “She needs to give him incentive. She needs to convince him.”
“Of what?” Reese seethed. “That she…wants him? Kat can barely stand the thought of being in the same room with that psycho, let alone…” His words fell away as everyone’s gaze redirected to me.
I remained silent, feeling the immobile floor somehow spinning beneath my feet. “I can’t.”
“I’m not sure there’s another option,” Madsen muttered. “We don’t know how much time we have left before the hex takes over. It’s at least worth a shot.”
I couldn’t stop shaking my head. “Blaine may be crazy, but he’s not an idiot. There’s no way in hell he’d buy into that. I can’t go from telling him I hate him to suddenly asking to become best friends. If anything, he’ll find a way to take advantage of the situation. We don’t know anything about how this hex even works. For all we know, being around him that much could accelerate the process!”
“Alright, what’s the alternative?”
I searched every dark corner of my mind, hoping for a light bulb, a lifeline, anything at all. But there was nothing. No saving grace. I had but two choices: Admit defeat, or venture to the last place any sane person wished to travel—behind enemy lines.
Chapter 25
World Outside
I needed to convince Blaine that he could trust me. Should’ve been easy enough.
A.) He fancied me.
B.) He was nuttier than a bag of raccoons.
All I had to do was throw in a few smiles, an occasional compliment, maybe some eyelash batting. Easy-peasy, right?
Wrong.
So utterly, horribly wrong.
If he’d been your average, run-of-the-mill lunatic, it may have worked. But Blaine could sense and even smell my emotions, which made things infinitely trickier, especially when my anger had me destroying small portions of the manor, one bit at a time. As it turned out, that little bite I’d given Blaine came with a lot more punch than I had bargained for. It seemed whatever drugs I’d been given had still been lingering in my system to some degree, because as the day progressed, the more aggressive my runes became. I was growing stronger.
Assuming Blaine slept in the master bedroom at the far end of the hall, I chose my living quarters to be as far away from his as possible. He suggested a closer room, but I assured him I’d be fine, finding a lovely handcrafted canopy bed awaiting me. The mattress was relatively soft, although the comforter smelled a little musty, making me wonder when the last time someone had even slept in here, if ever.
It was only eight o’clock when I turned in, ready for sleep to grant me a temporary reprieve from all this. I’d made it through the night just fine…until a certain dream had me up in a frenzy. I awoke in blind hysteria, my runes already lit. The moment I shot upright, the energy pulsated from my hands, shooting out on all sides. The force struck every one of the canopy posts, splitting them in half.
I shrieked as the wooden beams crashed all around me, and the fastened canopy sheet followed in suit, blanketing down on me like one of those animal capture nets, ensnaring me beneath its material. With the heavy posts collapsed on the floor, I struggled to wrestle my way out from under the fabric, finding Blaine standing in the entranceway already shaking his head.
“Don’t even start.” I slumped back under the canopy, wishing I could die.
My morning didn’t fare much better. The tiniest fleck of frustration had me ripping off another few doorknobs, a sink faucet handle, and even the showerhead. By the time I entered the kitchen, I realized something. If I played my cards right, I could use this to my advantage. Kill two birds with one stone.
Blaine wanted me to play along. Fine by me.
“I want to take you up on your offer,” I announced, taking a seat at the island across from him.
Blaine’s focus had been concentrated on whatever book he was reading, but the declaration definitely earned his attention. “Offer?”
“The night of my Rite. You said that you’d help train me, to help me control my powers. I want to take you up on the offer.”
He leaned against the counter, taking a long moment to look me
over. I waited with baited breath and prayed I didn’t appear too suspicious. Could he smell the lie? His eyes studied my face, and it felt as if the guilt was painted across my forehead.
He finally set down his coffee mug. “Is this really what you want?”
“No.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I appreciate the honesty.”
He could tell.
Crap.
“I don’t want you to train me,” I clarified, “but you’re the only one who can. Being that Reese is a Light Mage, his runes don’t work the same way as ours do.”
“So you’re asking me as a last resort?”
“Pretty much.”
He nodded, seeming to consider. “When do you want to start?”
***
“Do your worst.”
There we stood, in a training room. I’d combed every inch of the manor, and had never spotted it. Though, I couldn’t blame it on being dimwitted. The entrance to the basement stairwell was made of the exact same wooden paneling as the length of the walls, making the doorway undetectable to the naked eye. It wasn’t until you pushed on the specific plate that it opened. Tucked away in the far end of the basement, the training room was about the size of a basketball court, lined with exercise equipment along with an entire wall decked out in various weapons.
I gawped at the dagger Blaine set in my hands. “You want me to stab you?”
He smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”
This wasn’t common cutlery. The hilt of the dagger was adorned with filigree, and the blade had to be at least ten inches long. By the looks of it, I guessed it was an antique.
“Are you crazy?” I looked up at him, immediately realizing who I was talking to. “I mean, obviously you are, but I didn’t think you were suicidal.”
Blaine laughed. “It’s not silver.” Seeing my unwillingness to even test it out, he came up and took the weapon back from me by the tip of the blade. He held it between his fingers, letting me take note that it wasn’t burning his skin. “Unless by some miracle you can manage to decapitate me, I’ll be fine,” he assured. “Just try to avoid the eyes. From what I hear, that is not a pretty healing process.”
He extended the dagger back to me, allowing me to wrap my hand around the hilt. “I thought you were going to help me control my runes,” I said.
“We’ll get to that, but you also need to learn how to fight without relying on them. If the Angel of Death really does have it out for you, then you won’t have the luxury of using any magic to defend against him.” He took a healthy step back and beckoned me to follow. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I positioned myself, readying the blade, and he immediately shook his head. “What?”
“Your body’s all wrong.”
“I’ve never heard you complain about it before,” I ribbed.
“Your stance is wrong,” Blaine clarified, unable to fight the grin pulling at his lips. “You have your fighting arm angled behind you. Here.” He came over, turning my whole body to the left. “When you’re facing your opponent, you want your dominant side—which for you is your right—to be coming forward. When you’re turned the other way, you’re leaving the entire unarmed side of your body exposed. Plus, when your fighting arm is further back, you’re losing most of your reach, making it that much more difficult to strike your attacker.”
Made sense.
“This way,” he said, repositioning my feet, “your attacker has to find a way past the knife in your hands to get to you. And always try to leave your free hand up guarding your throat. It’s the most effective area to strike, even with our kind.”
With my newly acquired position, Blaine urged me once again to come at him. I wasn’t going to lie. The idea of being allowed to stab Blaine sounded pretty good. In fact, it was a fantasy of mine. Only, it was much harder than it looked. Even without any weapons to defend himself with, he averted every swipe, strike, and slash I threw at him. Every move was so effortless, it only fueled my fury, making me all the more imprudent.
At last, he caught my arm, the knife still a healthy distance from his neck. “You’re exhausting yourself.”
“Am not,” I panted.
Yeah, real convincing, Kat.
“I can smell your anger, as well as see it,” he remarked, pointing at the glowing rune on my arm. “The more energy you waste on ineffective strikes, you’re only giving your opponent the upper hand by wearing yourself out.”
I pulled away, tossing the blade aside, unable to bottle my annoyance.
“You already have the necessary skill set,” he sighed. “I’ve seen it for myself. Our bond gifted you my fighting abilities. You just need to learn how to tap into it, and maybe brush up on a few techniques. It won’t be that hard, I promise.”
Still peeved, I bent down to reclaim the dagger when it suddenly slid away just out of reach. I took another step forward, and yet again, it skittered across the floor. I shot a dirty look up at Blaine, seeing his finger crooked toward the dagger. No doubt magic. “Will you stop it?”
He shook his head. “Leave it. I want to see what you can do with hand-to-hand combat.”
“I’m not going to learn anything if you keep jumping from subject to subject,” I scoffed.
“We’ll come back to it later,” he assured. “Anger and sharp objects don’t generally mix well. If you pick up the blade again, the only person you’re most likely to hurt is yourself. Let’s stick to fists till you dial it down a few notches.”
I took a moment, pretending to collect myself, when in fact I really needed it to catch my breath. God, didn’t he get sick of always being right?
And the prospect of fighting him only became less and less appealing as I looked back at him. Having tossed aside the hoodie he’d been wearing, Blaine showcased his lean, inverted triangular frame in all its glory, hidden beneath nothing but a fitted black wife beater tank top and a pair of workout sweats. I could even see the ripples in the shirt’s fabric where his six-pack rested. Match that with toned biceps, broad shoulders, and defined pecs, I felt about as threatening as a basket of kittens.
“Okay, show me what you’ve got.” Blaine motioned me forward, still not bothering to take any stance. He stood not five feet ahead in front of me, his arms laxly at his sides as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Without anything to go off of, and admittedly self-conscious of any further criticism, I held up my hands. I’d taken self-defense courses before, so I at least knew to bend my knees and keep my elbows tucked in. Except…which side was I supposed to turn my body toward again?
Crap.
Was the technique for punching the same as knife-fighting? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. With Blaine’s eyes homed in on me, on my body, anxiety hit in full-force. Desperately grasping at any scrap of memory for help, I still drew a blank.
How the hell was I ever going to pull this off? Every time Blaine touched me, it took everything I had not to run away screaming. And now? I literally couldn’t stand in front of him without becoming flustered.
One look at him, and I already knew whatever I was doing had to be wrong. I immediately dropped my hands.
Blaine sighed. “If you’re that uncomfortable, we don’t have to do this.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I need to learn.”
He nodded. “You had it right the first time.” Blaine adjusted my stance so that my dominant leg and punching hand were positioned further back, like how I’d been when first holding the knife. “Make sure to stand square. The power of your punch starts in your legs. Keep them bent, and use your hips to guide your body.” He demonstrated beside me, illustrating the perfect technique. Just as he said, the energy travelled up his torso and into his arm, allowing him to throw a forceful jab. Blaine repeated the action, purposely slower to further illustrate each step.
After showing me various punching methods, my ‘teacher’ wanted to see if I could put his lesson to use. To say it bruis
ed my ego all over again would’ve been an understatement. That challenging brow, that smirk teasing at the corner of his lips, that condescending nonchalance; it all made my blood boil. Time and time again, I managed to punch into nothing but air as he casually sidestepped and parried each attempted strike like he was facing off against a toddler. At one point, he even yawned!
That was the last straw. The moment I pulled away from him, my runes reignited as I clenched my fist. Without my permission, the power brewing inside me exploded, clearly deciding to show Blaine who was boss. Something shot off the small bench in the corner and hurled right at the back of Blaine’s head, smacking him in the base of his skull.
I nearly yelped, uncertain of what I’d inadvertently thrown. The entire section of the room was covered with weights and weapons, all of which could do some serious damage.
I expected him to scream or curse, or do…something. Instead, he just looked baffled. Something thudded behind him on the floor, and he turned around to see what I now realized was a water bottle.
“Cute,” he smirked, kicking it back over to the sidelines.
A freaking water bottle? Seriously?
Not only had I involuntarily Hulked out, I couldn’t even do that right, picking the least effective weapon known to mankind. In all of human history, no one’s autopsy report was ever going to read ‘death by water bottle.’ Along with the damn thing being only half-full, it didn’t even have the decency to be well-made. It was one of those stupid environmentally friendly bottles where the plastic was so thin, you could crinkle it up in your hand. I might as well have hit him with a party balloon.
“May we proceed? Or do you wish to continue your tantrum?” he asked, getting an eye roll for an answer.
I wasn’t sure if he had started taking it a little easier on me, but my self-esteem got a much needed boost for the next half-hour after I managed to land a couple decent punches. Sure, they only connected with his arms and chest, and he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by them, but at least I wasn’t swinging uselessly at the air.
Covetous: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book 2) Page 26
