by A M Boone
“I don’t know. Santi, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, it was my burden and my burden alone, and—”
He gently rested his hand on mine. It was warm, and pulsed with his magic. “It’s going to be okay. Maybe the shyster will save you, maybe he won’t, but if he doesn’t, I have some magic.” His other hand sparkled with blue and pink lines of energy.
Well, he was right about that. He could probably explode some heads or something if—or when—things went completely downhill.
We made quiet conversation as I drove to the police station, making sure we both knew what story to tell. Anthony went out to Cube more than a month ago, and neither of us had heard anything from him since.
When we got to the police station, Anthony’s parents were already there, staring us down. Ugh. Couldn’t they mind their own business—
Okay. Bitter. Hella bitter. Their only son was murdered, they had the right to want to know what happened. Even if he was a piece of abusive garbage.
As soon as we walked in, three police officers escorted us to back rooms. Two went with me, and one with Santi. To make sure we weren’t telling conflicting stories, most likely.
Hopefully, Santi wouldn’t get worked up… It could end badly for him.
If they killed him, I’d find some way to make them pay—magically or otherwise.
The older police officer unlocked the door to a tiny interrogation room. All that was in it was a table and three chairs, two on the left side and one on the right. A camera in the upper right hand corner blinked with a green light. Well, this was possibly my final resting place.
He took a seat across from me and shined a flashlight directly into my face. He pulled out a voice recorder from his pocket and started recording.
“State your full name.”
“Eliana Cecilia Delacroix.”
I needed to stay as calm as possible. Vincent probably knew I was here, and he wasn’t going to let me get killed by a run-of-the-mill pig.
“And you’re Anthony Harrison’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“All right. When was the last time you saw him?”
“A bit more than a month ago. He said he was going out to Cube, and I never saw him again. I’m terribly worried.”
Ugh. That was so cliché.
“Did the two of you have a happy marriage? Ever fight?”
If you could call being beaten by a socio whenever you looked at him the wrong way, fighting.
“No. I was—we were—happy.” I forced a smile. If they knew our relationship was rocky, it’d just make me look suspicious.
“How are you related to Santiago Dominguez?”
“He’s my best friend. The three of us had been as thick as thieves ever since middle school.”
“Any feelings for him?” He leaned across the table,leering at me, and I leaned back, shivering.
Oh, you had got to be kidding me. They thought I told Santi to kill Anthony so I could run off with him?
First. Maybe I did have some feelings, but that was no one’s business but my own.
Second. Santi would never—okay. That was a lie. He would. He’d said it himself.
“No, not at all,” I lied. “He’s my best friend. I wouldn’t ruin that.”
Even though we both wanted to.
“Mrs. Harrison says you work for Vincent Aldana now? Is that true?”
“Yes. We started working together about a month ago. I’m an assistant of his, along with Lily.”
He turned to the other police officer, who’d just been staring at me ever since we went into the room. “We’ll have to bring him in for questioning later…”
I swallowed down laughter, even as I wanted to vomit. There was no way in hell Vincent would come all the way out to the boonies to get chewed out by power-hungry cops.
“Why did you move out of your apartment? Mr. and Mrs. Harrison said that they went there, but you’d broken your lease and moved into another apartment in Rose Creek.”
“Vincent—Mr. Aldana—saw Anthony and I’s previous apartment and deemed it unacceptable for living in, so he subsidized a new one.”
“I see. And why didn’t you file a missing person’s report?”
Oh, fuck me. I didn’t have an answer for that. I paused, trembling. I needed to come up with a lie and quick, or this could be where I rotted forever.
“Well, I—”
Screams from outside cut me off.
“Excuse me,” the other police officer said and left. The interrogator followed behind him.
I sat in the room, fidgeting slightly. What did I do now? Just wait for them to come back? Should I try to text Vincent or Santi? No. There was a camera, and they’d probably bust in and blow my brains out if I even tried to reach for my cellphone.
But hopefully I’d given the right answers. Should I have been more emotional? Tried to cry a little? Maybe I seemed too calm. Someone who’d been with someone for twelve years should probably be more distraught, but truth be told, now that he was gone forever, only relief went through me.
Strange that two years of hell could negate ten years of happiness—
A deafening explosion rocked the building, and I tossed myself under the table, screaming.
Was it Vincent? Had they pushed Santi too far and he pulled a Carrie?
I hid under the table, reeling, my ears ringing. Did I try to go out and see what happened? The last thing any of us needed was for this rickety old building to collapse on me and squish me flat.
My hearing slowly came back, and I could hear people talking. Vincent and Felicia?
You had got to be kidding me. This was what he meant by “taking care of it?” Bringing the building down? That looked so suspicious.
Wait. No. The woman’s voice was lower than hers, and the other person’s voice was androgynous. They were chattering in some unknown language. Was it a human language? Supernatural? Were they victims or culprits?
I got up and jiggled the doorknob. Locked.
Fucking fantastic. I was going to die in here. Stuck in a tiny interrogation room in a podunk police department. My heart pounded in my ears.
Footsteps. Someone stopped in front of my door, and the doorknob fell off.
I pushed the door open. Santi.
“Oh, thank god you’re all right,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. “Do you know what the hell happened? Did you pull a Carrie?”
“No, and no,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe there was a gas explosion?”
I covered my mouth and nose with my sleeve as smoke and fire crept down the hallway. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here!”
The building trembled and groaned as we ran towards the exit. Santi tossed away pieces of metal, concrete and wood that fell from the ceiling using his telekinesis, holding my hand the entire time.
Were we even going to make it before the entire building fell down?
“Ana, we’re going to make it,” he said softly.
I coughed again, the smoke burning my eyes, as we wandered towards the exit. Had this place been this big the first time?
“Ana, I’m gonna try something!” he cried. “Grab my waist and don’t let go, we have to get out of here before—”
He was cut off by a crashing noise from the second floor. I swallowed. That was probably the roof collapsing. My heart pounded away against my ribs as I wrapped my arms around Santi’s waist.
He broke out into a sprint, focusing his psychic energy around his hands, and jumped through the window.
We tumbled and hit my car, just as the building collapsed in on itself with a boom that made me clap my hands over my ears.
We sat there, both reeling for a few moments. The ringing in my ears finally faded, and I turned to Santi.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“A bold move,” I said, chuckling. Had I finally cracked from the stress? Was it the adrenaline pumping t
hrough my veins? “But yeah, I’m fine.” The hit didn’t even hurt.
“Good.” He burst into laughter as well, and we just sat there, laughing for the longest time. We were alive. Covered in soot and with torn clothes, but alive. My heart finally started to slow.
A few police officers were sitting around dazed and confused, while Anthony’s parents were nowhere to be found. Strange. This wasn’t adding up.
Santi looked up and went pale.
“What’s going on—?”
That hooded figure was standing near the edge of the parking lot, surveying the damage. What the hell? Did it blow up the building?
I rushed towards it, scowling. “What the fuck? Why did you try to blow me up, and—”
It choked out something that sounded suspiciously like my name, then turned away from us, trembling.
“Wait a minute, you can’t just—”
I reached for its shoulder, but before I could grab it, it threw another smoke bomb on the ground.
I went back over to Santi, coughing. “I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore.”
“Do you think he did it?”
Ugh. The way he said that… Santi wasn’t much of a hateful person, and it was one of the things I loved about him, but his vitriol towards Vincent was palpable.
I shrugged. “Could be. Could be the weird goth wannabe following me around… All I know is that I want it to stop.”
“Should we leave?”
“Did everyone else get out okay?”
“Don’t tell me you’re going back in there.”
“No, of course not. I just… what if Tony’s parents are still in there?”
What if they died? That’d look hella suspicious.
“So? They looked the other way while he was beating you. They deserve it.” His eyes flickered blue.
“Santi…”
“I still don’t understand how I could have been so blind. How I couldn’t have seen it. Truth be told, now that I know… All the little pieces are coming together.”
It was weird. As time went by, those two years felt more and more just like a horrible nightmare. Maybe it was Vincent’s magic.
“I was just good at covering it up.”
He rested his hand on my shoulder.
* * *
The fire department and ambulances showed up about five minutes later and examined the remains of the building. Two firefighters pulled out Anthony’s parents from under a few beams. They were a bit bruised up, but otherwise no worse for the wear. Lucky them.
Santi and I both declined to be examined, and just lingered around my car.
Then I got a text message. When’s your winter break?
Vincent. Because of course it’d be Vincent. Where the hell was he when I was trapped in a collapsing building? My stomach twisted into a knot.
It starts this Friday and goes until the sixth. Why?
You’re going to be spending your winter break with me at my apartment.
What? Why? I can’t even see my parents???
I could see him sighing and running his fingers through his hair in my mind’s eye.
As I was typing out a response, he appeared next to me. “Miss Delacroix, Mr. Dominguez, good evening. Are you all right?”
Strangely, he was dressed casually, in just a white button down and black slacks.
Santi pursed his lips, but said nothing, a light blush coming over his cheeks.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“I decided it’d be for the best to deliver this message in person.”
“What message?”
“Someone tried to kill you.”
Chapter Eight
“What?” I cried. “How? Why?”
“I told you this when you made the contract. I’m not without enemies.”
“I thought you’d done it as a distraction,” I said, shaking.
“Do you really think I’d do something so vulgar as to blow up a building?” He quirked an eyebrow.
“All right, you got me there… But why? I’m not a threat…”
“It’s not you they want. They want to hurt me. I didn’t think the news that I had gotten a new assistant would spread this quickly, but it has been over a month…” He tossed his hair back.
“Well, I’m fine. Santi saved me.” I gave him a small smile, and he matched it.
“Good. Mr. Dominguez,” he said, and Santi stiffened, “keep an eye on her.”
“Hey,” I cut in, glaring at him, “I’m a grown-ass woman, I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone to ‘keep an eye on me.’”
“I’m not going to let history repeat itself,” he said. The light caught his eyes in a strange way, and I shivered again.
“I’m fine,” I said, more firmly this time.
“This isn’t a suggestion, Miss Delacroix. It’s a command. Until I can figure out who did this and take care of them, it’s not safe for you to be alone.”
“Take care of them.” We all knew he meant killing them.
I gave him a small, uncomfortable look. “This is what I meant by a gilded cage.”
“I’m doing this for your own safety.”
Santi blew a bit of hair out of his face. “If you really cared about her being safe, you wouldn’t have tricked her into a contract.”
We both stared at him.
“Santi… I did this out of my own free will. One thing for another.”
“Personally, I don’t think what Miss Delacroix does in her spare time is any of your business.”
“But is this really any better?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Vincent’s never hit me or screamed at me, so I feel like I’m doing pretty well.”
“Yet.”
The look Vincent gave him could turn someone to stone. He balled his fists, his eyes flashing black, before taking a deep breath and turning away from him.
His shapeshifting was slightly different today. A lither build and longer hair… Something about him seemed fey, even slightly feminine, but still alluring. Even his voice was a bit lighter. Maybe it was a cubi thing.
“You know what? This isn’t worth this. Know this. If I wanted to, I could kill you like this.” He snapped his fingers, and Santi went pale.
I glared at him, but he ignored me, still staring at Santi. Why was he going around threatening my friends? I mean, sure, okay, demon, possessive, but…
On the other hand, he did chuck him out of a fifth story window…
I glanced at his hand. Five fingers. Maybe… Maybe what Neil did was just a fluke. Maybe I was overreacting.
“I’m stronger than I look.” He gave him a sidelong glance, his eyes flickering blue.
“I’m not some prize to be won,” I snapped.
Vincent rolled his eyes. “How old are you again? Twenty-six? And you haven’t even gone through your Blossoming?”
What was a Blossoming? I’d have to ask Santi about it later. It probably had something to do with his powers…
“So? I could still take you.”
He let out a quiet snort of laughter. “I wasn’t even trying last time. If I used a fraction of my true strength, you’d be a smear on the wall before you could—”
“Vincent, cut it out! Now.” I glared at him again, and my hands and eyes tingled. “I’m not going to repeat myself. Leave. Santi. Alone.” My voice came out louder than it should have, and they both stared at me like I’d grown a third arm.
“It’s nice to know that you have at least some semblance of a spine,” Vincent said, crossing his arms.
That strange tingling went away, and my vision dimmed for a moment. I stumbled, and both Santi and Vincent caught me.
“Are you all right?” they said in unison, then gave each other the evil eye.
“I’m fine.” I rubbed my eyes. “Just tired.”
“I’m leaving,” Santi said. “I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
“Y-yeah. Monday.”
He glanced around, then vanished in a gentle flash of
pink light.
“He really does love you,” Vincent said idly. “He’d probably smother me with a pillow in my sleep if he thought he’d get away with it.”
It probably wouldn’t even work. Did he even have to breathe? Or sleep?
“All living creatures have to breathe, Miss Delacroix.”
I stared at my shoes, my face red hot. “I thought I told you to stop reading my mind.”
“It’s not my fault you’re an open book.”
“Only because of the contract.”
“That’s true.” He stretched out. “The type of contract I made with you gives us an unbreakable bond. I can sense where you are and connect with you telepathically.”
Gross. Like some magical GPS.
“If you must be so vulgar…”
I rolled my eyes.
The two of us just stood there in silence. I’d admit being around him made me feel safe. If anyone else tried to kill me today, Vincent would just murder them, so at least I had that.
He pulled out his cigarette case and lit one with his magic. Did smoking even do anything for him? Did human drugs even work on demons? This created more questions than it answered.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked. “After what Neil did…”
“After taking, I feel fine. It’s nice to know you care about me that much.”
I smiled at him, and he matched it. For once it was genuine and warm, and my chest grew a bit tight.
Anthony’s parents made a beeline for me, still coughing. Mr. Harrison had a black eye and his left arm was in a sling, while Mrs. Harrison was limping slightly, and both were covered in soot and bruises, but were alive. One worry out of the way. A few emergency workers ineffectually followed after them, but no one could stop Boomers on a crusade.
“And that’s my cue to leave. I’ll see you Wednesday night.”
“Wednesday night,” I echoed.
He tossed his cigarette on the ground, and disappeared in a shimmer of light, leaving me at Anthony’s parents’ mercy.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, are you okay?” I had to at least fake that I cared about their well being. Santi was right. They didn’t give a fuck about me when their son was beating me, so why should I give a fuck about them?
“We’re fine,” she said. “But what happened? Someone blew the place up?”
