by Melody Raven
Apparently Sam had pushed her a bit too hard. He had to remind himself not to be happy about that.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded.
Claudia circled Bastian as well, eyeing her most trusted man warily. “Oh, Bastian,” she breathed as though she actually felt bad. It was the first time he’d ever really seen her express emotion.
“Grandmother, what happened?” asked Sam.
“She tried to infect Bastian,” said Claudia.
Derek frowned. “The way Sam was infected? So what? He’s fighting it off? How is that possible?” From what he remembered, there was no way for Sam to fight it.
“Heather has underestimated him,” said Claudia simply. “Detective Pierce, I think you’re going to have to take care of this.”
He looked between Bastian and her. “Take care of this?”
“I need you to take the knife from him and stab him in the gut.”
He stared at her in disbelief for a moment as he waited for her to burst out laughing and tell him it was all a bad joke. She didn’t.
“The darkness is stuck inside him and we need to get it out,” she said in a one hundred percent serious tone.
“Then do the witch thing you did with Sam.” It was gross, but it worked and didn’t involve stabbing anyone.
“That witch thing only works on witches.”
For fuck’s sake. “What the hell is he then?” shouted Derek.
“That’s for me to know,” said Claudia, in a downright infuriating tone.
“I can do it.” Sam started for Bastian.
“No.” Claudia pointed a finger at Sam and stopped her in her tracks so fast Derek knew she was doing some sort of witchy thing.
“Let her go,” he growled.
“I’m protecting her,” said Claudia, finally beginning to sound exasperated. “Who knows all the ways Heather messed with his mind? If he were anyone else, I’d be dead already. Now please give him some relief by doing what I say.”
“Give him relief by killing him?”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. Stab him and give him a chance to push the darkness from his mind and body. If you do it in the gut, he will live long enough to be healed.”
Derek agreed that he didn’t want Sam getting close to whatever was going on with Bastian, especially considering what happened the last time the darkness got a hold of her. Still, he looked over his shoulder and met her eyes.
She gave a not-so-comforting shrug. “If she wanted to frame you for murder, there are easier ways.”
Well, fuck. Derek sighed as he approached Bastian. The man was still clutching the long knife and Derek reached for it, expecting Bastian to lash out at any minute, his resistance to whatever supernatural command in his head finally breaking.
But he didn’t move as Derek’s fingers wrapped around the exposed part of the base and pulled it free with a quick tug. He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he gripped the knife more firmly and angled it toward Bastian. He’d shot a few people before, more than most cops, but he’d never stabbed anyone. “Shouldn’t I disinfect it with something?” he asked.
“Get it done,” said Claudia firmly behind him.
He looked over his shoulder and stared right into her cold, calculating gray eyes. “I don’t like you.”
“But you’re still going to do what I say,” she said confidently.
And then he turned around and did exactly what she said. He stabbed the guard dog in the stomach.
Claire popped open another energy drink as the knock came on her door. It was ten at night so she really wanted to ignore it, but she knew it could be important. Considering what Sam and Derek were doing at the moment, it could be life-or-death. She put her eye to the peephole, but it wasn’t Sam or Derek looking back at her. It was Jackson.
Son of a— She was already starting in on a tirade as she unchained and unbolted the door. “I’ve been calling for days without a word and now you show up here without even texting and—”
The second the door was open, Jackson walked past her and inside, glancing around. “I see you’ve done nothing with the place.”
She shut the door, redoing the locks before she turned her rage on him. “What the hell, Jackson? I could’ve used you.”
“You ignored me,” he pointed out, still looking around the apartment as though he was trying to find something.
“And you missed your chance to bask in the glow of being right. Can I help you with something?”
He raised his brows as if he was surprised she’d noticed him looking around. “Oh, no. You know the last time I was here, I got laid?”
She was having a really hard time keeping up with his train of thought and she was trying to remember all the great insults she’d thought of to hurl his way. “I think we can safely say that Sam has moved on from her time with you. Jackson, where were you?”
He smiled but it never reached his eyes. “I’m not very proud of it.”
“Oh no. The little orphan soul sucker might judge you. Just tell me.”
“I ran.”
She blinked. She expected him to say he was shacked up with some model or having a five-way or something. Why she assumed all his excuses would have to do with sex she didn’t want to think about, but running had never occurred to her. “Running from what?”
“You being stupid. I told you going to that club was a bad idea. If something happened and you were captured, I had every reason to think you would out me.”
“Wait. You thought I’d tell people what you were?”
He shrugged. “Maybe not right away. Maybe not voluntarily. But you have information on me that could lead to my death and you’re not exactly the best at defending yourself. Since you weren’t going to take any of my advice, I had to take precautions.”
“If you’d be honest with me and actually help instead of giving vague warnings, maybe I’d listen!” She let out an exasperated sigh before she ran over to the useless book she’d brought with her. She flipped through the pages until she found the illustration that was going to haunt her nightmares for months. “This. Look at this. Is that what I am? Some sort of monster?”
Jackson moved to her side and stood right next to her as he looked at the illustration. His fingers traced over the aged and fading strokes. “Oh, Claire….” he said softly. “This isn’t you. This is the boogeyman.”
“Could you please, just for once, say something that makes sense?”
“The fear that witches have of us isn’t logical or right. When they tuck their little witch babies in at night, they tell stories about the soul suckers who will creep in through windows and suck all their magic away in the middle of the night. It’s not true and it’s not who you are. But you need to know that this is how others see us. If they knew what we were, they wouldn’t see you as a pretty little blonde. They would see this. Do you see why I’m so serious now?”
No. Half of what he said made no sense to her, but the gravity of the situation was finally beginning to sink in. “Then teach me.”
He looked over at her and it was only then she realized how close he was standing. What was it with witches and not getting personal space?
“You want to start your training up again?”
“You tried before and you never mentioned the soul sucking stuff.”
“I didn’t know for sure.”
“Now you do. You function in normal society without inspiring any angry mobs to chase after you, so it has to be possible. Teach me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t think you want my kind of training.”
“I almost killed my boss that night.” The sting of knowing how wrong she’d been about going out still burned. “I almost killed a really nice guy who I might even have feelings for because of this thing in me. This thing that has caused me to lose everyone I know and love. Now that I’m finally getting back to normal with real friends like Sam and Derek and Dante, I’m not going to let this go again. I’m not goin
g to give up like I did before. Not when you’re here and you can teach me.”
Jackson frowned, as though thinking of all the reasons he should say no. Then he reached out and stroked a finger along her arm; she flinched before she stepped back.
He looked up and met her eyes, not seeming surprised at the movement. “How often do you touch people?”
“Why?”
“You want me to train you, answer the damn question.”
She tightened her lips but figured she shouldn’t fight him. So far, every stupid, ambiguous thing he’d done had a reasonable purpose behind it. “Not often. Back at home, sure. But when I was on the streets, you try to avoid people as much as possible and then I was—” She broke off as the barest memory of Tommy Collins caused her throat to tighten. It was a strange mixture of wanting to cry and vomit all at the same time. Not a great feeling and a reminder of the horrible week she’d spent under his control. “I don’t like people touching me.”
“Tough shit.” Jackson suddenly wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and held tight.
“What the—”
“When you almost killed your boy toy, you were touching him, weren’t you?”
She debated trying to pull away but knew there was some point to this. And if Jackson didn’t want to let her go, he probably wouldn’t. “We were dancing.”
“Touch is how we do it. That’s how you got to Heather, remember? You grabbed her wrists and instinct took over.”
“Well, I’m not hurting you now. Are you immune because we’re the same?”
The corner of his mouth hooked up. “Honey, we’re nowhere near the same.”
Suddenly an intense pain shot through her arm and then reverberated through her entire body. Claire gasped in pain but no sound came out as her knees gave way and she started to fall to the ground. The only thing that stopped her was Jackson wrapping his other arm around her back and holding her up before the pain suddenly stopped.
All Claire could do was stand there, gasping for breath. It was as if she’d forgotten how to breathe. The entire room spun and it took her a good minute to get her bearings back. “Why?”
“Because you need to know what you’re capable of. What people are experiencing when you use your powers on them.”
Her entire body felt like jelly and she really wished she could sit down. Instead, all her weight was resting on Jackson, and she hoped he didn’t pull that stunt on her again.
“Now do it to me,” he said in a voice that didn’t sound nearly as insane as his words were.
Her head jerked back as she studied his features for any sign that he was joking. “Are you serious?”
“You need it, and besides, it’s only fair.”
“I don’t need—”
“You don’t have that much magic to begin with and I just stole some. You do need to do this, Claire. It’s okay. I’m a big boy. I can take it.” To emphasize his point, he brought one of her hands up and set it on his bicep. Although his entire hand had gone around her arm, her hand barely made a dent on the size of his arms. Weird thought to have right before she stole his magic, but she wasn’t in the right state of mind.
“What do I do? With Dante, it just happened.”
“You were dancing?” he said. “You were probably so turned on that you stopped thinking. So I need you to just let it happen.”
She stared at his stupid bicep and waited for something to happen. Nothing. She let out a breath. “I don’t think—”
Jackson’s mouth was on hers all of a sudden and she was struck dumb. She stood there, frozen, as his lips moved against hers, too shocked to do anything. She should slap him or pull away or scream, but instead she had to fight the urge to… kiss him back?
The kiss abruptly stopped and he grunted in pain as his shoulders slumped. Claire was filled with warmth. It was almost as if she stood under a hot shower, basking in the glow of the calming heat.
Then Jackson’s hand on her chest pushed her away until they weren’t touching anymore and they were both gasping for air.
“That was amazing.”
“Yeah, I’m a good kisser,” said Jackson between breaths.
She shook her head at him as she ran her hands up and down her arms. Everything felt heightened and brighter. As if there were another level of light that she could see and feel. “It didn’t feel like this before.”
“You never allowed yourself to enjoy it before. With Heather, it was a life-or-death thing, and with your little boyfriend, it took you by surprise.”
She’d argue that he took her by surprise too, but that would require talking about the kiss and she wasn’t ready to go there. Ever.
“So what does this mean? Every time I try to get lucky, I’m going to turn all vampire on the guy? You have sex all the time, right? There has to be some way to control it.”
His brows drew together. “No way you want to hear.”
“For the love of— Please just tell me.”
“Practice.”
Claire ran a hand through her hair and rested it at the back of her neck. Damn it, she’d known he was going to say something like that. “Great. So if I want to be a functioning witch, I need to be a whore.”
Jackson shrugged. “It’s not all bad.”
“You would say that.” She sighed and glanced down at the book again.
“There’s another option.”
“Let me guess. I’m not going to like that one either?” If it was better than the sleep with everyone in New York idea, he would’ve said it first.
“If you find the right person, you could just sleep with them over and over again until you are better able to control yourself.”
“The right person.”
He raised a brow and she wanted to bang her head against the wall for not realizing what he meant sooner.
“You’re a pig, Jackson.”
“Life ain’t all sunshine and rainbows, Blondie. Sometimes you have to roll around in the dirt.”
“And in this case you’re the dirt? Quite a high opinion of yourself you’ve got there.”
“Aw, hon. I’m the best damn dirt you’ll ever find.” As he said it, his eyes drifted lower and scanned her body. Even though her black tank top and gray pajama pants weren’t revealing at all, she suddenly had to fight the need to cover herself with her arms. “So the green-haired goblin got his claws into you, didn’t he?”
“What makes you think this has anything to do with Dante?”
“I don’t like to brag—” He shook his head. “No, I love to brag. Women like me. It’s not exactly a challenge for me to find enough willing participants to work my… problems out on.” He gave her a knowing look. “But you look like the very idea of touching me is making your skin crawl which, might I say, is downright insulting. Especially since I know you liked what I did to you two minutes ago.”
“I liked it because I got a magic sucking high,” she said a bit too quickly.
“If that makes you feel better. If you want to stay into the good witch, that’s fine. And you know, fingers crossed you don’t accidentally kill him and get a target on your back big enough to include the both of us.”
“So my options are screw you or kill my crush by trying to screw him.”
“No. You’re forgetting the option to go on a trip to find yourself and screw your way across the country with a string of anonymous lovers until you have control of yourself.”
“And am I killing them too?”
“The less emotion involved, the less likely you are to kill them.”
“Get out.”
“Claire, I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m telling you—”
“Just stop telling me things and get out.”
“I—”
“Out!” As she screamed, the lights flickered and the book’s pages flipped as a wind ripped through the apartment.
“Fine. But I’m going to be laying low as you once again go off on your own to realize I’m right. My phone might not be on, so
I can’t guarantee I’ll be there in time.”
She kept quiet as she waited for him to leave. He looked down at her and for a moment they had a silent staring contest, each waiting for the other to break first. But eventually Jackson let out an angry growl before he left.
He was full of helpful information, but every time he left, she felt as if she were standing in the wreckage of a tornado and picking up the pieces.
She wanted to believe he was wrong. She really did. But he hadn’t been wrong about anything so far, and she was still tingling from the little demonstration he’d given her. And could she really risk anyone’s life on her hopes that Jackson was full of it? Could she really risk Dante’s life?
Her phone buzzed and she realized it was time to decide because Dante was calling her.
“Maybe I should go home.”
Sam couldn’t have this conversation one more time tonight. “If you say that one more time, I’m going to scream. And it’s not going to be a normal scream, but one of those witchy ones that breaks windows and everything.”
Derek turned in the driver’s seat of his Crown Vic to face her. “Is that a thing? Does property damage just follow you wherever you go?”
“The trust fund helps.” Though, when she was on her magic-free diet, things like that just didn’t happen. Though a bit of broken glass and furniture was worth it to avoid the constant headaches, nausea, and general bitchiness. “Come on. You literally have blood on your hands.”
Derek grimaced. Sam hated to remind him of what he’d just done, but she didn’t want him to go home and dwell. At least if he came upstairs, he could dwell with her. Maybe she could even distract him a bit. Which would be extra great because then she’d be distracted too.
After the clusterfuck of an evening, her mind was flooded with nothing but bad thoughts. Claudia’s method of getting the darkness out of Bastian had worked like a charm. As soon as Derek had stabbed him, the black oozing substance had flowed out, quickly replaced with dark-red blood. From there, Claudia had put her hand on Bastian and they both disappeared, leaving Sam and Derek alone and dumbstruck.
