We’d escaped the motel on the outskirts of the city, but traded it for a crowded thoroughfare right smack dab in greater Tijuana. I didn’t know enough about the city to tell if that was a good or bad thing. Normally, if I was being hunted, I’d want to find a populated area and blend in with the crowd. It was the whole herd mentality thing. However, it all depended on the Tikal’s capabilities.
If this was Vegas, and I was looking for someone, I’d have the cabal’s considerable assets on high alert. I knew Venus had people in the casino security forces, the cops, and the local feds under her spell. They could bring a lot of resources to bear; especially if the target was a criminal. Venus got her person, and the law got its crook. It was a win-win.
I also knew she had bellboys on the payroll, meter maids, cocktail waitresses; and if the person running was naïve enough to think the original succubus didn’t have the prostitutes that prowled the fringes of the strip reporting on all the John’s they serviced, well . . . they might as well turn themselves in. It was preferable to having a cracked-out nightwalker hold you hostage with a rusty razor blade to the balls until the cabal’s imps showed up.
So, I flipped the script. “If I were Tikal, what would I do?” I let the thought simmer, and felt my paranoia spike.
I could feel every eye on me. The street was crowded with locals on their way home from dinner, tourists bar hopping, and businesses trying to make a buck. Any of them could be working for the Duke. Of course, me sitting in a car with my cock hanging out, plus three co-eds, might have something to do with all the attention.
“All they’d need to say is keep an eye out for a gringo with no pants,” I gulped, and used my hands to cover my junk.
“We need to move,” I muttered to myself as I kept one eye on the crowd, and turned the other on Butters.
I opened my mouth to repeat myself, but stopped.
Butters was about two shades too pale, her hands trembled, and tears leaked down her face. “I killed him,” she whispered. “I killed him . . . I killed him . . .” she repeated over and over again.
I wanted to scream at her to suck it the fuck up and get out of the car. The last thing I needed was some guy disguised as a florist sticking a nine-millimeter through the window and popping me in the dome. It might not kill me, but I was getting tired of getting hit in the head.
I tried to push the scenario to the back of my head. Maybe I’d seen one to many movies, but Butter’s wasn’t the only one freaking the fuck out. The difference was, I’d been through a scrape or two in the past few months, and I knew how to handle it. Shock wasn’t something to ignore, and screaming at her would only make it worse.
“The first kill is always the worst,” I was just lucky mine had been a homicidal, nympho water Fae.
I took a deep breath, and gritted my teeth as I turned to look at her. “Butters,” I said in a steady, calm voice. I didn’t want to spook her.
“I killed him,” she kept muttering and stared straight ahead.
“Butters,” I felt my irritation grow, but didn’t snap.
“I killed him.”
“Butters,” I reached out, like a person would when facing an abused, cornered animal, and lightly touched her hand.
She reacted just like I knew she would. She flinched away from me like I’d scalded her, and summoned her fire. A small sun appeared in the air between us, and the temperature in the car went up fifty degrees. Skella was still high as a fucking kite, and Night was unconscious from burnout; so, the only person about to suffer from a case of next-level dehydration was me.
“Sandra,” I remembered her first name, “it’s okay,” I reassured her with my best smile.
For a few seconds, she looked like she was going to bolt. I fixed the smile in place, and waited for her rational mind to regain control. Gradually, the temperature in the confined space lessened, and the ball of fire winked out.
“Cam!” she wailed. Some women are dainty and cute when they cry. Like the rest of her, there was nothing cute or dainty about Butters. I could feel snot on my skin as she hugged me for dear life; like a life raft in a storm.
“It’s okay,” I did my best to soothe her. It wasn’t my forte, but a few minutes of back patting and hair petting, and she wasn’t a slobbering wreck anymore.
“I . . . I killed him.”
I was getting tired of the obvious statement, but I let her continue.
“One second, he was a living, breathing person; a father, brother, son. The next, I’d literally melted his heart,” the waterworks looked like they were about to start up again, so I got ahead of them.
“Butters,” I placed my hands on either side of her face, and focused her attention on me. “The man had a machine gun trained on you, me, and Night. If you hadn’t done what you did, we’d all be dead. You bought us the time we needed to escape. You took one life, but you saved four. The cosmic scales are in your favor.”
It was a solid argument, and it worked, but that didn’t stop another round of crying while she came to grips with it. Taking a life changes someone. I’d been so focused on training and staying alive that I’d barely thought about killing Chloe. Sure, she’d just thrown me out of a window, so there was no doubt in my mind she was trying to end me. The machine gunner hadn’t been shooting at us. He would have been a few seconds later if Butters hadn’t acted, but she would always have that nagging doubt in her mind that maybe the man wasn’t trying to kill her. Also, I was a bit of an asshole, and Butters was a good person, so it hit her harder than me.
Throughout all of this, my shoulder throbbed in pain, and after a time, I couldn’t take it anymore. I hissed as she squeezed harder, and she finally realized what she was doing to me.
“Oh, gods,” she let go of me. “I’m so sorry. You’re . . .”
If I’d known the secret to making Butters forget about her own issues was to have someone else in need of her motherly attention, I would have started whining earlier.
“I’ll be fine,” I pushed the pain back down. By now, we were old friends. “What we need to do is find somewhere to lie low.”
“Lie low . . . yeah,” as she leaned away from me, she used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears.
She took a second to compose herself, and when she looked back at me, I saw the same Butters who’d been willing to guard the door while we tried to escape through the bathroom window. I gave her a genuine smile. Not to make her feel better, but because I was glad to have this Butters back. This Butters was a badass.
“What should we do?” she asked, like I had all the answers.
“We need to get off the street. They’ll be looking for a shot up Camry,” I looked around at the surrounding buildings, and spotted a hotel a block away.
It was an improvement from our previous digs, but anything was upscale from that petri dish. We were going from a Motel Six to a Red Roof Inn. Either way, four walls and a solid door between us and things with claws and tentacles was what we needed.
“I also need pants,” my hands still covered my junk, and I couldn’t get out of the car like this.
“On it,” and just like that, Butters jumped out of the car and hustled off.
If I didn’t know her better, I’d be worried she was abandoning me; but she wasn’t the type to turn her back on her friends.
“A selfish bitch, a drug smuggler, and a guy she hit with her car.” I didn’t have the right to judge her choice of company, but anyone would agree with me that, at best, we were a bunch of cautionary tales.
When five minutes turned into ten, and then fifteen, my paranoia started to get the best of me. I was busy debating how far I’d get on foot before some abuela called the cops on the naked gringo when the driver side door popped opened. I let out what I thought was a very manly yelp as Butters reentered the car. In one hand, she had a plastic bag filled with goodies, and in the other was a magnetic key.
“We’re room one-fifteen,” she informed. “It’s in the back with a direct shot into an a
djacent alley. That’ll take us out to a busy street, and from there, we can lose anyone chasing us in the crowd. There’s a bus stop and a train station within five blocks, so we’ve got options.”
It took me a second to realize my mouth was hanging open. Not only had she gotten us a room, but she even had an escape plan. Personally, I hadn’t thought much past getting pants.
“That’s hot,” I couldn’t help myself.
If Dani, Xamira, and Lilith weren’t proof enough; I seemed to have a thing for strong women.
Judging by the redness in Butter’s cheeks, she could see my dick reacting to this newfound attraction.
“Pants,” she blurted, practically throwing the bag at me, and turning away to look pointedly out at the city’s nightlife.
I grabbed the bag and hurried to comply. The pants weren’t Under Armor’s latest and greatest. In fact, they chafed my shaft just slipping them on; but beggars couldn’t be choosers. They were also meant to be mementos for fat, American tourists. They were covered in mariachis in sombreros playing guitar. If I wasn’t careful, someone was going to call the cultural-sensitivity police on me.
Once I’d slipped them over my half chub, I had about three inches of extra space in the waist. All the fighting and running for my life kept me in excellent shape. There wasn’t a belt, and the drawstring looked like it would snap if I tried to tighten it.
“You grab Night, and I’ll grab Skella,” Butters commanded as she hopped back out of the car and opened the back.
As the mighty buyer-of-pants, I had no choice but to listen. As we headed for the hotel, I was pretty sure I could have walked naked through this crowd and gotten less attention. Eyes followed our progression. An amazon woman with a possible model thrown over one shoulder, and a shirtless guy carrying an unconscious girl, who was having trouble keeping his pants on, wasn’t exactly a common site. Even in Tijuana. It would be on Facebook Live in a second back in the States. Here . . . I hoped there wasn’t a Tikal strike team monitoring Instagram.
I sighed in relief when we reached the hotel, and locked the door behind us. Our new hideout wasn’t much better than the old one. The layout was nearly identical: a main bedroom with a small, attached bath; except we’d traded a queen bed for two twins. There wasn’t a damp, moldy smell permeating everything, and the bathroom looked like it had been cleaned since the last occupant. We were moving up in the world.
I cringed when I saw the small, ventilation window above the toilet. I wouldn’t be able to look at a window like that ever again without envisioning Skella, complete with slimy tentacle wrapped around her neck, being unceremoniously yanked off her feet through the opening. The skinny girl was lucky her neck hadn’t been snapped like a twig. With a shudder, I walked back into the main room and made sure to draw the shades across the window that showed the parking lot and the aforementioned alley. As far as escape routes went, it would do in a pinch. All in all, it wasn’t half bad.
We deposited Night and Skella on the same bed. Neither were in a place to complain about it. Part of me wanted to arrange them in a compromising position so they freaked out when they woke up. That made me smile, almost as much as the thought of sharing the other bed with Butters.
With our charges safe and sound, we stood there awkwardly for several seconds. “So, what now?” she asked.
After seeing her in action, she should be the one making the plans. I was fresh out of good ideas, but the way she was looking at me said she was one “I don’t know” away from freaking the fuck out; so, I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Sleep,” I sighed.
“Sleep?” she glanced at the bed before looking back at me.
“I don’t know how long burnout lasts, but Night needs to recover,” I pointed at the girl who was already drooling on the comforter.
“It could be an hour, a day, or a week,” Butters shrugged. “She’s not a particularly strong Caeli mage. The strongest thing she’s had to face in class are baseballs being chucked at her shield.”
Talking it out seemed to help put Butters at ease, so I went with it. “What class?” I grabbed the chair and motioned for her to take the edge of the bed.
“We take a women’s self-defense class,” she looked embarrassed, but I thought that was pretty damn smart.
“They teach you to handle pissed off Nosferatu?” I joked.
She chuckled. “No. It’s meant for creeps sneaking up behind you in a dark alley. Maybe a shifter that gets a little too drunk and starts thinking more with his animal side. Perhaps a rogue Fae that’s trying to trick his way into your bed. You know . . . college campus stuff.”
I nodded like I did know. “Well, if I’m ever stopping by UCSD, sign me up. Your sensi sure as shit knows what he’s doing.”
“She definitely does,” Butters replied, and I held up my hands in surrender for my assumption.
The conversation trailed off, and I felt my body relaxing into the chair. There wasn’t much of a cushion to speak of, but when you’re tired, you’re tired; everything feels like a Tempur-pedic mattress.
My eyes had just started to close when Butters let out a small cough. I snapped back awake and focused on the formidable woman. She looked unsure of herself, but I could tell by the look in her eye this had nothing to do with killing the cartel gunman. This had everything to do with me.
“Cam?” she tentatively began. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I sat back up in the chair; waiting for the questions I knew were coming.
“When we were fighting for our life, I know a bullet got through Night’s shield and hit you; but you didn’t bleed. We needed to be unseen, and that fog came out of nowhere. We needed a distraction, and next thing I know, the jeep is upside down, and you’re running to the car with Skella. There’s no way you’re human,” the way she said it, it was more a question than statement. Like she wanted me to be normal.
“Sorry, no,” I could have tried to lie to her, but I stood by my earlier impression. Due to her appearance, she had a sixth sense for bullshit.
“Changeling?” she asked, a hint of hope in her tone.
I knew why she was hopeful. Changelings were at least half-human, and if she was crushing on me like I knew she was; that wouldn’t make things too weird.
I chose my words carefully. “I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was young. I started showing signs of these gifts a few months ago. I don’t really understand what I am, but I guess a changeling is as good a definition as anything.” None of what I said was untrue.
“Plus, I don’t know what the hell a half-Aesir is called.”
“Okay,” she breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a bit. “That brings me to my next question: your magic?”
“It’s called glamour,” I began.
“No,” she shook her head and cut me off. “Your magic,” she reiterated.
“I don’t . . .”
“Yes, Cam, you do,” her affectionate tone took on an edge. Like a mother scolding her child when they’d pooped in the tub. “I took a Fae 101 class freshman year. We had a guest speaker who came and talked to us. All the mages were invited to an after-hours social so we could learn the difference between Faerie and human magic. You remember when I touched your hand back at the other hotel. We both felt each other’s magic. I didn’t feel that with the Fae.”
“So, I get Fae gifts from one side and human magic from another?” I ventured. I knew it wasn’t true, but I was taking a shot in the dark just as much as she was.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I didn’t even think mixing human and Fae gifts was possible. All the research done on changelings says their Fae genes override their human ones. They get the Fae gifts, even if their mom or dad was a human mage,” she turned to me, and there was a glint in her eye I hadn’t seen before. “You could literally be the first person to have your human half in harmony with your Fae half. It would be . . .” she trailed off thinking about the possibilities.
I e
nvied her a little in that moment. She was busy thinking about the future. She had no idea how deep a pile of shit we were in. We’d be lucky to get out of this alive, but it felt cruel to crush her with that realization.
“I’ll tell you what. When we get out of here, I’ll be your guinea pig. Test me all you want, and let’s blow this mystery wide open,” I smiled, and she blushed. “Are you a biology major or something?”
“A duel with sports medicine,” she replied. “I don’t know if I want to be a doctor or work with professional athletes.”
“If you ask me, you could be a professional athlete,” I said before I could reign it in.
She blushed a vibrant red and laughed while she unconsciously smoothed her pants. “If you want, I can teach you some magic?” I could tell she wanted to keep the conversation going. She was building up her courage to make a move, and that was fine by me.
“Since I have no idea what I’m doing, I’ll take any help I can get. Plus, it seemed like fire worked fairly well against the Nosferatu.”
“It’s a good weapon against them, but they heal fast,” she informed. “And unlike regular vampires, they aren’t hampered as much by the sun. Their flesh masks help filter the light, and makes it so they can walk around in the day. They still prefer not to. If they get hit hard enough to drop their mask, and they’re in the open sunlight, it’s going to mess them up.”
“Good to know,” I mused.
If I could learn to do what Butters did, and add human torch to my resume, that would be sweet. Some seriously powerful people hated my guts, and I’d take every advantage I could get.
“Take a seat on the ground, cross-legged, and try to control your breathing. My teacher always told me to find my center and imagine a candle. Being an Ignis mage, I guess it’s a good visual. It’s going to take some time to find your center in the first place, and even longer to be able to call upon the flame at will,” she cautioned me. “I’ve been taking lessons since my magic manifested at twelve. It’ll take you years, maybe longer. It’s easier for a kid to learn than adults; we just naturally have a lot more going on up here, so don’t get frustrated,” she poked her temple for emphasis.
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