by KB Anne
His eyes narrow on mine. “You’re taking extreme measures to try and bring Lizzie back. Why shouldn’t I cling to the chance that we can bring back Nan?”
“He does make a valid point,” Ryan says. “Besides, as the son of Clayone, he’s the alpha. He should be able to convince his pack to side with us. Persuasive power in numbers.”
Scott frowns. “How does that help with Carman?”
Alaric latches on to the idea. “Declan always wanted the power of the alpha position. He won’t give it up easily. She’d lose her army.”
“Well,” I adjust my pack, “lets pick up Lizzie and head to Kilkenny. Maybe the coven has a spell or an idea how to exorcise evil from an ancient Maleficium sorceress.
You don’t sound very optimistic. Can’t you at least pretend to try? We did bring back Ryan, Scott shouts loudly in my head.
I throw my head up and stare at the sky. Fine. I guess I can at least try.
How big of you. This goddess crap is really going to your head.
I frown at him. You have no idea.
Ryan clears his throat. “Can you two at least pretend to be human? All this internal conversation makes a wolf feel left out.”
“Is weetle Ryan feeling wonely?” Scott says, giving him a noogie.
“I’m not a dog, you know,” Ryan says, trying to sound mad but failing miserably. He’s never been an angry person. That emotion belonged solely to me. But with Ryan back, my brother with me, and Alaric at my side, I just can’t seem to get angry at anyone.
“You’re glowing,” Alaric whispers in my ear.
“I’m happy I have all of you with me.”
“No, I mean you are really glowing.”
I glance down at my body, and yes, in fact, I am glowing.
What in the hells?
I remember the prophetic line I said to Ryan about seeds taking root. Was I talking about my own future?
21
Carnie Life for Me
I adjust my backpack straps. “Let’s haul out.”
Ryan’s head pops through his sweatshirt hole. “You’ve always wanted to say that, haven’t you.”
“Actually, yes.”
“Truck driver wannabe or Young Guns fan?”
Ryan remembers my obsession with 80s and 90s Western movies. I mean, there’s not much better than a Charlie Sheen, Emilio Estevez, and Kiefer Sutherland trio. They had their own trí cumhacht going on. Plus, Emilio’s naked ass was the first man butt I had ever seen. I have made up for lost time since though.
“Both?”
“Nice,” he says, shaking his head.
“When you two are done, I want to go over our plan,” Scott says, throwing his own backpack in the truck we’ve borrowed from Sam.
I glance at Scott. “Because our plans have gone so well thus far?”
“A few hiccups along the way, but yes, we’re all together. Plus Alaric.”
Alaric rolls his eyes as he tosses his bag in the bed of the truck.
“And Lizzie, albeit not exactly in the manner I thought she’d travel with us. But still, we’ve got to start somewhere.”
Lizzie looks like Lizzie, more or less. Her hair’s a tad wild, but it becomes her. Her eyes are glassy but open (a side effect of Granda’s spell). I gave her some of my clothes to wear, so she’s rocking ripped black jeans, a black novelty T-shirt with a Harry Potter quote because, you know, witchy coolness and all, and a pair of black Converse sneakers I brought with me though I have no idea why since I always wear Docs. Maybe I had a sixth sense that I’d need them for Lizzie.
Scott ticks off items on his fingers. “Gigi, you grabbed Clarissa’s athame?”
I roll my eyes. “Duh, of course.”
“And I’ve got my sword, so we both have a magical instrument.”
Ryan punches at the air. “Do I need a magical instrument other than my fists?”
I open up the truck door, anxious to get moving. “No. You and Alaric are plenty magical enough.”
Ryan circles around Lizzie. She’s able to move but unable to see or hear. “Amorin’s spell on Lizzie . . . will it hold ’til we get to Kilkenny?”
“It’s supposed to,” Scott says but hands Ryan a dagger.
Ryan stares at it. “Will it burn me? It looks silver.”
“The handle’s ivory. You just can’t get stabbed in the heart with it.”
Ryan carefully takes it from Scott’s hands. “I thought I was all the magical instrument I’d need.”
“Well,” Scott says, tilting his head toward Lizzie—he’s not entirely sure she can’t see or hear us. “Better safe than sorry.”
Alaric sticks his head out of the driver’s side window. “Whenever you guys are ready.”
“Shotgun,” I shout, as I hop in next to Alaric. Sphinx jumps in beside me and rests his head on my lap.
“No funny business,” Scott warns as he climbs in the back.
“There’s nothing funny about the way I feel about this girl,” Alaric murmurs, gripping my hand. Every time we touch, my body does this weird flip-floppy thing. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it—or if I ever want to get used to it, because the feeling is so strong and powerful, and it makes me feel so, so alive.
* * *
We’re barely even on the road to Kilkenny, when Lizzie starts squirming around in her seat between Ryan and Scott.
“I think she has to go to the bathroom,” Ryan says.
“Didn’t she go before we left?” Scott groans, reminding me of Dad.
Ryan cringes. “I didn’t make sure she went. That’s not written in the boyfriend manual for obsessed werewolf faeries.”
I throw my hand up to my forehead. “I was so concerned with gathering magical instruments and creepy spelled objects that I forgot.”
“Hold on, there’s a gas station up ahead,” Alaric says. He pulls into a parking spot.
I lean over to kiss him. “Where are we?”
“Just outside of Kildare.”
“That’s it? How long until Kilkenny?”
He winks at me. “Only getting longer if you don’t get moving, sweet thang.”
“Do not call my sister ‘sweet thang,’” Scott grunts.
Alaric turns around to face him. “You have a lot of rules about dating your sister.”
Scott scowls. “You ignored rule number one. Don’t date my sister.”
“Too late for that, brother.”
Scott opens the door for Lizzie, and she hops out. We walk side by side toward the convenience store. It’s almost like old times, except of course for the invisible magical bindings around her arms and legs. And the fact that she wants to kill me. Can’t forget that part. Gods know I’ve tried.
We walk past a group of people dancing around in circles, which is strange because there’s no music playing. I’m all for dancing to the beat of your own drum, but this goes beyond that. Drugs maybe?
I shake my head and ignore it. We pass another group, this one made up mostly of guys who are shouting at each other. One with a shaved head throws his hands into another long-haired guy’s chest. They keep getting louder and more physical with each other. I glance over my shoulder. My eyes meet Alaric’s. He’s already out of the truck and following me with Scott and Ryan flanking him.
A loud crash tears my attention away from the fight and toward a group of women clawing at each other near the entrance of the store. We sidestep around them just as the front window shatters on the sidewalk.
“Woohoo,” a skinny tall guy shouts as he sprints out of the front door, almost plowing us over.
An employee runs out, his fist pumping in the air. “I’m calling the police! Damn kids,” he grunts, glaring at us.
I hold up my hands. “I’m innocent.”
He scowls. “For now.”
Scott circles around me. “What’s going on out here?”
The store clerk stabs the emergency number into his phone. “The damn festival. And they must be handing out drugs like candy, because i
t’s been going on all day.”
Something strange is happening. I pop into everyone’s head.
What makes you say that? The fighting, the theft, or the group of girls streaking?
I’m the only one who can hear Ryan’s thoughts, but their boy parts picked up the naked-girls part without any assistance from me. We all turn toward the road where a dozen or so girls our age are ripping off their clothes like they’re auditioning for an episode of Naked and Afraid, but they don’t seem that afraid to me.
“I think we ought to check out the festival,” Scott says, tearing his eyes off the herd of full moons running past us.
I close my eyes. I’ve seen more than enough naked bodies for a while. “Why?”
“Does any of this behavior appear normal to you?” he whispers, pointing at groups of people turning into howling morons. And, yes, many of them are howling to the sun.
I roll my eyes. “Fine. But let me take Lizzie into the bathroom.”
After a short stop in the bathroom, we walk through the store. The clerk who called the police earlier is pacing back and forth, muttering to himself.
“I need to distract them. I need to distract them,” he says as he slaps his face.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I call up my magic to be ready. “Who do you need to distract?”
“You!” he says, popping a bottle of champagne and tilting it toward us.
I throw up a shield before a spray of gold liquid (he didn’t even use the good stuff) hits us. I quickly lead Lizzie outside before the clerk resorts to shaking and opening every fizzy alcoholic beverage in the place. I mean, I’ve been to keggers at the U of Pitt, but geez, it’s not even noon. Lizzie’s lips tilt in that sideways grin of hers that I always called devious. It never fit her good Jehovah’s Witness side, but now it totally fits.
“Do you know anything about this?”
She shifts her hands as she shrugs, as if to say, “I can’t hear you.” And now I know, she totally can. Granda’s spell has clearly lifted, and the whole glassy-eyed stupor has been an act. My gods, she should win an Oscar.
I grab her arm, push positive energy into her, and drag her back toward the truck. “Come on.”
The guys are standing together with their mouths open. They didn’t even bother entering the store behind us because they’ve been completely distracted.
“What are you . . . ? Oh,” I murmur as another pack of naked people go running by, but this time they’re each carrying someone and there are twice as many. “Let’s figure out what’s going on. Ryan, you’re on Lizzie duty. Scott, you watch her too. Alaric, you come with me.”
“No funny business,” Scott calls after us as we take off at a run.
“Never!” I shout behind me, though with all the nakedness there’s a lot of irony in that statement.
We fly past the festival entrance gate. No one even yells at us for not buying our tickets. Now, I’ve never been to an Irish festival, but money is money. A patch of negative energy hits us. My green energy blocks it off and, because we’re holding hands, it protects Alaric too. Since our little excursion in the woods, my magic has grown stronger. I send out a ball of energy with my free hand and use it to guide us to the source of power. I’m guessing it’s got Maleficium sorceress all over it.
“Hey, Alac,” yells a voice vaguely familiar.
If Alaric were in wolf form his hackles would stand on end. He twirls around and throws me behind him as if to protect me.
As if.
I duck around his frame and prepare to square off with Declan. I never liked that wannabe alpha.
“Hello, Declan,” Alaric says, his voice low and threatening.
“Well, if it isn’t our fearless leader returned from the dead. Oh, wait,” he says, putting his back to Alaric and addressing the people behind him who must be pack members, “he wasn’t dead. He left us.”
I recognize the energy signature of several, but there are at least two dozen more I’ve never seen before.
Alaric slowly crouches into a defensive position. “I didn’t leave. I was kidnapped and tortured.”
Declan doesn’t appear to be the least bit concerned. He should be terrified.
“Right, and you just so happen to show up here with your girlfriend in tow. It looks like abandonment to me.”
“Back down, Declan, or I’ll . . .”
Declan steps up to Alaric. “Or you’ll what?”
“Take my rightful place as alpha.”
Declan turns toward the pack. The back of his neck is just inches from Alaric’s mouth, tempting him, tempting me. “Oh, I don’t think so. That vacancy has been filled by me.”
He twirls back around. His eyes flash yellow. He’s challenging Alaric here in a crowded festival with strange happenings occurring everywhere.
Then it hits me. “It’s a distraction. Where are Ryan and Scott?”
But Alaric goes full alpha male on Declan. “You. Will. Kneel. To. Me.”
Normally, I’d find his alpha voice sexy, provided he doesn’t try to conquer me with it. Now, with the realization that Declan is distracting us, not so much.
“Maria. Where’s Maria?” I shout.
Declan hesitates when I mention the witch’s name, then quickly covers it up. But it’s all I needed to see. I spread my hands out, palms up, and send some energy balls out to clear the air and find that kinky ancient witch at the same time.
“It shouldn’t be long now,” I say.
“What shouldn’t?” Declan says. There’s worry in those nasty yellow eyes.
“Whatever crappy trick you pulled on everyone at the festival. I’m lifting it as we speak.”
His lip curls. “You can’t lift it. You haven’t got the power.”
Alaric glances at me. Go ahead. He asked for it.
I prowl toward him. “Haven’t got the power?”
He stiffens as I circle around him.
“I am more powerful than anyone in this world.” I fail to mention that there might be some Fomorian monsters that could give me a run for my magical power, but it’s not my destiny to kill Balor. I also don’t mention I can’t actually harm another living being. A poker player never shares all her cards. Neither does a tarot card reader.
“Are you going to let your girlfriend act like she’s more powerful than you, son of Clayone?” Declan says.
Alaric smiles at me. “Actually, yes, and she’s not lying.”
“I will not be cowed by her,” Declan snarls and lashes out with his fist.
I swat it away. “You’re not even making an effort. You can do better.”
He lunges at me. I slip away from him and flick my wrist. He lands flat on his face. A few snickers erupt from the pack members.
“Why you little—”
“No, no, no.” I wag my finger back and forth. “Thou shalt not call me names.”
“And why not, skank whore?” He snarls and jumps at me.
Alaric growls and blocks him.
“Now, you’ve upset your alpha.” I put my hand to the side of my mouth as if talking to Declan in confidence. “I wouldn’t if I were you, especially if you’re calling me names I’ve heard since elementary school.”
I throw my hand at him and knock him on his ass. He lands with a loud thud. Alaric laughs with me. I’ve never played around with my magic before. It’s a lot of fun.
I tap my finger to my chin. “What should I do with you now? Hang you upside down?” I raise my hand and Declan’s body copies the motion. It hangs in midair, no rope, no apparatus, just a hanging werewolf.
“Or should I drop you down?” I motion to drop my hand.
“Stop, stop,” he yells. “I submit.”
That was actually close, because I wasn’t sure if I could actually drop him on his head. That would probably injure him, and clearly rules are rules (as much as I try to break them).
“Don’t submit to me,” I say. “Submit to your alpha.”
“He’s no alpha, letting his wi
tch torture me.”
Alaric lunges at him, rips him out of the air, flips him so they’re standing face to face, and bares his fangs at Declan. “How’s this for dominance?”
“H-how d-d-did you . . . ?” Declan frowns. He can’t understand how Alaric is able to partially shift. None of the pack can. They don’t realize those are actually Fae fangs and claws, not a werewolf’s, but now I do. That’s why Maddie could partially shift too. He’s also part Fae.
“I submit. I submit.”
And the alpha wannabe loses his position.
Alaric releases him. He drops to his knees. The rest of the pack follows.
I put my hands on my hips and walk up to Alaric. “Well, that was easy.”
He rolls his eyes and grabs me. “You are unbelievably sexy when you act all badass witch.”
“It’s not an act,” I tease.
We both know that’s not true.
I like when you talk in my head.
I like when you talk in mine.
He reaches for my lips, but he doesn’t have to work too hard because I’ve already found his. Our power exhibition caused energy to surge through my veins, and kissing Alaric further fans the flames.
“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Scott says, ripping Alaric away from me like he’s a rag doll.
The pack growls in disapproval that their alpha has been challenged in such a profound way.
“Settle down,” Alaric says in a commanding voice. The pack silences.
“Did we miss something?” Ryan asks, leading Lizzie along beside him.
“Well, Alaric has been returned to his alpha status, and I learned I can play with my food—well, toys.”
Scott holds up his hands. “I don’t even want to know what you mean by that. Apparently whatever magical plague was causing all the disruption has disappeared, so let’s get moving.”
“Oh, that was me too. I’ve got a gift. I should become a carnie. Travel the open road,” I say as I saunter past him.
Someone jerks me by the collar. Breas.
“Predictable as always. I warned you I would find you,” he says, wrapping his arm around my throat.
