Holiday Magic

by Tl Reeve

  She’d not made it halfway from her car to the porch when a dark figure moved out of the woods behind a row of cars. He saw a flash and heard the shot. The woman ducked as if she could dodge a bullet. Another pop in the night, and the man had reached the woman. She let out a muffled scream and momentarily tore free of the man’s grip.

  Nate took the shot while he had it. He couldn’t risk the man dragging his potential mark to the van parked at the far end of the lot. The bullet hit the mark in his leg, enough to slow him down, but not lethal. The woman crumpled forward as soon as the man released her, landing on her knees and holding her head, tucked, protected. Nate was at her side in seconds.

  “Come on,” he said gruffly, pulling her to her feet and dragging her by her arm to his car.

  They’d made it about ten feet when the blonde had the gall to kick him. He tightened his grip on her biceps, aware his fingers were likely cutting into her skin enough to leave bruises. He shook his head and shoved the woman against the side of his car. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Now? You want to do this now?” he grumbled, opening the passenger door for her. “In.”

  “No.” She struggled against him and he almost felt sorry for her.

  “Hey, are you interested in living?” He wanted to laugh at his own clichéd question. But it made her stop fighting him, so that was something.

  “Seriously?” She pressed her lips together, unsuccessfully pushing away a smirk.

  “Get in the damn car.” He rolled his eyes and shoved her in. He was both relieved and confused that she didn’t try to make a break for it when he went around the car and got behind the wheel.

  “Does that usually work for you?”

  “What?” He had moved on and was trying to decide what to do with this woman now that he had her. Keep her safe, clearly, but did he need to take her to headquarters? Or should he try to find Hobbs in the madness inside? That option seemed ripe for mishaps. Too many people. He’d be putting them all at risk.

  It was better to get her away from Festival to a more controlled location. And nothing was more controlled than Gaius Aeden’s headquarters. The building had to be state of the art and more secure than any prison to handle the genetically advanced and super human.

  “Are you interested in living?” the woman mocked. “That works for you?”

  “Seems to have.” He raised an eyebrow at her, taking his gaze off the road to skim her for injuries. She appeared to be okay.

  “For now,” the woman mumbled, sulking. Nate stole another glance her way and found her cupid lips were in full on pout, but her eyes flashed with determination. “So what the hell is this?”

  “I’m saving you.” He smiled at the absurdity of the statement. At least, he thought he was saving her. It was possible that this was not the person he and Hobbs were there to protect. When he looked at the blonde again she was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and an unamused look. Then her face fell and the color drained from her cheeks. He had no idea what brought about such a change. “What? It works for me.”

  “You shot that guy.”

  “Seem to have,” Nate replied.

  “You shot. That guy. He could be dead.” Her voice shook. Reality must have caught up with her. This was a normal civilian response, but he needed to get them someplace safe before he could worry about her mental state.

  “Can you hold off on this for about thirty more minutes? Now isn’t the best time.” He hoped she was sensible. She seemed sensible. Of course, he’d known her for fewer than five minutes, and only if five minutes counted as knowing.

  He eyed the woman again. Full dark-blonde hair just past her shoulders, pale green eyes, and skin that longed for more days outside in the sunshine. His gaze trailed lower, and damn it, if he wasn’t checking out this woman’s sweater-covered breasts. She was preparing for a meltdown and he was considering just how much more than a handful those breasts would be once he freed them from her shirt and bra.

  “That guy. You shot him,” she was muttering, looking down at her shaking hands as if they were new to her. “Oh, God, I might be sick.”

  And just like that, Nate was back from fantasyland.

  “No, not in the car,” he growled. He’d just bought this vehicle as a present to himself for solving his last case, the one that had baffled half the state’s finest for ten plus years. He rarely indulged himself, and this time he’d indulged big. She narrowed her crisp eyes at him, and he tried to take the bite out of his tone. “You’re fine. Take a deep breath.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Who the fuck are you?” he replied, matching her stern tone.

  Her knuckles were white as she gripped the inside of the car door. Her breathing was erratic, and her face still deathly pale. “Are you serious? You’ve kidnapped me and you don’t know who I am?”

  “That famous, huh?” He teased, hoping some humor might help.

  More color left her face. “Pull over.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Pull over or I’m going to hurl in your car.”

  Nate couldn’t argue with that.

  “Don’t try to run.” He warned as he slowed and pulled over. Those green eyes narrowed at him again before the woman opened the car door and sucked in the fresh air, dry heaving onto the shoulder of the road. He nervously eyed the road behind him. They really didn’t have time for this. That guy hadn’t been there alone. “Hey, look, I hate to be insensitive, but could you hurry? We need to get going.”

  “Oh sure, yes, let me help you abduct me.” The woman moaned around dry heaves.

  The light from the waning moon washed across her pale skin, turning it creamy. Nate cursed Festival and all the hormonal bullshit that came as a result of so much magic in the air. There was a reason rumors of witches dancing naked under the full moon in the dead of winter existed. The reason was that too much power in one place made people nuts. And horny.

  The fact that he found himself turned on by a woman who was dry-heaving on the side of the road attested not only to power of Festival, but also to how long it had been since he’d gotten laid. Clearly too long.

  “Sounds like you’re empty, so let’s go.” He shifted the car into gear and then cursed again when the blonde leapt out and took off running into the woods. “Big fucking mistake, blondie.”

  Aubrey’s heart pounded as she snaked her way through the trees. Don’t run in a straight line was what she’d learned in the last campus active shooter training she’d attended while working as a TA. Of course, keeping one’s footing while running was helpful.

  In the darkness, she’d nearly rolled her ankle twice, but thanks to ballet lessons from the ages of two to eight, she managed to keep her feet under her. And that was about all those lessons had been good for.

  Ducking behind a cluster of shrubbery, Aubrey winced, rubbing her forearm from where tall, dark, and jackass had tried to squeeze her into submission. Footsteps sounded nearby. She sucked in her breath and held it. The footsteps passed. She let out her breath and then screamed when a hand pulled her up by her hair.

  “Gotcha.” A horse-faced man chuckled. This was not tall, dark and jackass. “Now, sweet angel, what’s all the trouble?”

  “I don’t know,” she said through teeth clenched in pain. Please, stop breathing on me. His breath was foul, and she was still slightly nauseous from the last adrenaline rush. The man pulled out a knife. Perfect.

  “I hear you’re something special.” The man hissed in her face, spit flinging from his curled lips to her cheek. Bile rose in the back of her throat, but she pushed it down.

  “Uh, not really,” she managed. Unless being a mere human in a family of witches made her special, and from personal experience, Aubrey knew better. It made her painfully ordinary, but not special.

  The man grinned and held up the knife in front of her face. “Well, why don’t we find out.”

  Before she could attempt a sound, t
he knife fell to the ground. The man’s body landed hard beside the weapon not long after. A tiny delayed yelp found its way out of her mouth.

  Tall, dark, and potentially deadly stood between two trees, empty-handed. The man on the ground cursed and scrambled to his feet, the hair on the back of his head wet with blood. Aubrey’s gaze fell to the bloody rock that had hit horse-face, and then she lunged for the knife still on the ground. A loud pop of a gun firing nearby caused her to jump.

  A hand was pulling her up and shoving her back the way she’d come.

  “Run!”

  The knife fell from her shaking hand as she picked up her pace. If the adrenaline running through her body hadn’t been distracting her, she would have been embarrassed by how she was acting like a damsel in distress. Dropping a knife when Less-Than-Charming had a freakin’ gun? On the other hand, at least, he wasn’t trying to slice into her. Of course, she didn’t know what he wanted to do with her, but as it currently seemed to involve keeping her alive, she decided to trust him. For now.

  Another shot rang out and her chest heaved as she struggled to breath, run, and not trip, all at the same time. It seemed like a simple task. It felt nearly impossible. And now she was glad she’d dropped the knife. Impaling herself on her own weapon seemed like a very dissatisfying way to die.

  The man, who had insisted he was trying to help her, was suddenly at her side, grabbed her upper arm and pulled her faster than her feet wanted to go. Somehow, she didn’t collapse.

  They made it back to the car, Aubrey gasping for air as she pawed at the passenger door.

  “Sorry, Blondie, you’re going to have to drive,” the man said through a clenched jaw, tossing her the keys.

  “What?” She nearly dropped the keys. After catching them, she turned her full attention on the man who was both abducting her and saving her. He was bleeding. A lot. “Oh shit, you’re—”

  “Car. Now. Drive,” he demanded, wincing as he slumped into the passenger seat. She scurried around to the driver’s side and hastily got behind the wheel.

  “Where am I going?” she asked, pulling onto the road. She wasn’t headed back to Festival and she half wondered why she hadn’t turned the car around.

  “In two miles take a left,” the man replied.

  She nervously shifted her gaze over to him. And immediately regretted it. “Shit, that’s a lot of blood.”

  “Yep.” He fumbled in the glove box. Various items tumbled out to his feet on the floorboard. “Fuck.” Apparently, what he was looking for wasn’t there.

  “Okay, I’ve got to get you medical attention.” Aubrey shifted into a higher gear and floored it. The sudden acceleration shoved her body back against the seat.

  “Jesus, woman, what are you doing?”

  “Excuse me? I’m driving the car.”

  “Like you stole it,” he grumbled.

  “You’re going to bleed out,” she replied.

  “And so you’re trying to kill us before I do?”

  She sighed and slowed, casting a sideways glance at the man in the seat next to her. He didn’t look good. He was pale, his skin clammy. She thought back to her drive in earlier that evening. She didn’t know the area very well, but she knew she hadn’t seen any sort of medical facility on the way out. She’d turned off the highway an hour before reaching the barn, and there was an urgent care about fifteen minutes back on the highway. This guy wouldn’t make it that long.

  “Shit,” Aubrey mumbled. The man didn’t respond. She turned her head and surveyed the situation. He was out. Cold. “Fuck. Damn it.”

  She mentally scanned the road all the way back to town. There had been a sign for some sort of cabin oasis not too far up the road. If she could get him there, get a room, and get him in said room, well then she might be able to work with that.

  The sign for Treeline Cabins indicated available rooms. Why the hell not? She veered off the road, and found a place to park. Car half in a spot, she hunted for the trunk release. Hopefully, her sultry kidnapper had a blanket, or a jacket, or something in the trunk to cover his smoking-hot gunshot wound. Blanket retrieved, she threw it over him, and then rushed inside the main office of Treeline Cabins. An elderly gentleman, about two years past death, sat behind the desk smoking an unlit pipe.

  “Uh, one room please. Two twins, preferably,” she said, trying not to seem desperate. Time ticking away, she wanted to jump over the counter for a key.

  “Sorry, ma’am, only one room left. A queen.” The old man smiled feebly. “There’s some sort of shingdig going down not too far up the road. House is nearly full up.”

  “Oh, right. Good. Well, then that last room, I’ll take it.” Aubrey fumbled around in her pocket for the credit card she’d slipped into the back of her jeans earlier that night when she’d bought gas on the way out of Waldenburg. The rest of her purse was in her car at the party.

  “Just you?” The elderly man looked around the vacant lobby as if someone might be hiding behind the half-living Ficus by the Van Gogh poster.

  “My boyfriend is in the car. In fact, I don’t suppose you have someone who could help us. He’s had a bit too much to drink. Not sure he’ll make it to the room.” She smiled apologetically.

  “I’ll call Ralph.” The elderly man winked at her as he took her credit card with one hand, using the other to grab the walkie-talkie sitting on the counter.

  Aubrey was grateful she wasn’t asked for identification that she didn’t have. She scribbled out her signature on the paperwork, and fought the urge to tap her finger on the counter while waiting for Ralph to arrive.

  I should just call the police. I should ask this nice man to call the police and an ambulance.

  A burly teenager lumbered into the reception area. “You need help, ma’am?”

  She nodded and motioned for him to follow her, the key to her cabin in hand. She’d call the police after she helped her kidnapper. This is nuts.

  “We’re in cabin ten,” she told Ralph.

  “I’ll grab the golf cart and meet you around back,” he replied, disappearing behind the main desk. She rushed out to the car, staring at the map the elderly man had given her. Cabin ten was just up the road, which was perfect, as she didn’t want the other kidnappers to see kidnapper numero uno’s car off the road. Not that they were near the road any longer, but she didn’t want to risk it.

  This was not the way this night was supposed to go. But really, when was any night supposed to go like this?

  “Your boyfriend is in a bad way,” Ralph muttered while dragging the man into the cabin.

  “You know, he always thinks he can handle one more shot.” She shrugged. “And he never can.”

  Ralph nodded as he considered that. He left her boyfriend on the bed and gave her a nod. “G’night, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Ralph,” She replied, locking the door behind him. Phase one of saving her kidnapper’s life complete. Phase two obviously needed to involve making sure the man didn’t die. But how? What am I doing?

  Aubrey stared at the man on the queen-sized bed. She didn’t know exactly how to remove a bullet. She’d seen it done on TV, and in movies. But she’d also seen people running up the sides of buildings, and she wasn’t about to try that. Plus, maybe the bullet went clean through.

  “Okay, I can do this,” she whispered, now standing next to the bed. Carefully, as if she might wake him, she knelt on the bed beside him, her hands shaking a little as she reached for his shirt. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

  Her stomach lurched at the sight of so much blood. She slid her finger near the bullet hole and took a deep breath. Whatever damage she did in retrieving the bullet could be repaired. Struggling with his dead weight, she managed to get him turned in such a way that she could see the bullet had in fact exited his shoulder.

  Something in her stirred and told her that she could fix him. Her rational mind was thoroughly confused. She definitely was not a doctor. Wincing, she pushed her hand flat against the wound
on his back and closed her eyes. Maybe she could at least stop the bleeding. She really wished she knew what she was doing.

  2

  Nate’s body throbbed like he’d been beaten to a pulp. His side ached, and his head spun. Last thing he remembered was watching Blondie barrel down the road like a Bond villain. His first guess was that they’d crashed. He certainly felt crushed. But he also felt a warm, soft, naked body pressed against him. Maybe he was still asleep and dreaming.

  Opening his eyes, he found himself staring into a pile of golden locks on his pillow. Blondie wasn’t naked, but was stripped down to her bra and underwear, half covered by the sheet wrapped around them. He slid out from under her arm and headed for the bathroom.

  His clothes were thrown into the tub, blood smeared on the floor. A sweater was in the sink, still damp. Blood, he assumed, given the rest of the scene. He gingerly touched his chest, staring at the pink, but sealed, flesh in the mirror. His skin looked as though he’d bumped against a hot pan on the stove. He turned his torso to the side and found a similar scar on his back, the exit wound.

  Nate moved his clothes to the floor and climbed into the shower. His sore muscles welcomed the hot water, although his new scars were particularly sensitive to the heat. He studied the red swollen skin as the water pounded his midback, trying to figure out what she’d done. She could have cauterized the wound, but from the look of the flesh, she would have done it days ago. He was really sure he hadn’t been out that long.

  Once he’d toweled off, he went to work rinsing the blood out of his clothes in the sink, and then hung them to dry. His boxers, which he’d been wearing when he’d awakened, were dry and thankfully not bloodstained, so he put those back on and headed into the bedroom. Blondie was still out cold.