Blood Debt (The Blood Sisters Book 2) (3 page)

****

The café
smelled of cinnamon and coffee. Swirls of nutmeg danced across the tip of
Amanda’s tongue as she washed her face in the bathroom. The reflection she saw
in the mirror didn’t seem much like her at all—too pale; the splattering of
freckles across the bridge of her nose was too much like Jessica’s.

Amanda’s
skin had always glowed, but now, dry patches across her barren cheeks and
around her cracked lips had taken up residence. She steadied herself by holding
onto the basin as vomit rose in her throat.

Her
breath quickened. Amanda was glad for the cramped bathroom because the toilet
was nearby as she wretched, her stomach heaving. She might have been a grown
woman, but Jessica had always been there when she got sick, and Amanda missed
having her.

The
contents of her stomach swirled in the toilet, full of bubbles and a sickening
green color that was unnatural. It wasn’t like she had just eaten a bag of
spinach.

Yuck,
spinach. Amanda did her best to avoid vegetables whenever possible. Amanda
wiped the corner of her mouth with her hand and flushed the toilet. She took a
deep breath to steady herself and closed her eyes.
You can do this; you can do this.

I can’t do it. I can’t. Jessie!

Amanda
pushed the thoughts from her mind as she exited the bathroom. The café was
small and filled with cute little cat figurines on shelves, each with a coffee
cup in hand. Every surface had adorable dollies and blooming flowers inside
vase. She tried to focus on how homey it was and act
normal,
like everything was okay. On the inside, she was shaking.

If it was
this bad now, Amanda didn’t want to know how she would feel by
nightfall
.

At the
counter Duncan was paying for her cinnamon bun and already Amanda could taste
its gooey warmth. As far as foods went, it was near perfect and it would be
just what she needed to perk up, feel like herself.

But then
Amanda’s steps froze. Something was amiss. Someone was crying out in pain.

A family
at a table was having lunch, and they seemed perfectly normal. A tall slender
father with peppered hair, a mother with beautiful makeup and designer clothes.
She probably went to the salon every four weeks on
schedule
, but underneath she was a cracked old house with fresh
paint
thrown
on top.

Pill
popper. Drinker.

The
daughter had pigtails and inside cried with so much rage, she lashed out;
Grabbed Amanda through the anger in her mind. Amanda didn’t need to lift the
sleeves of her shirt to see the bruises. She felt them
on
her own
arms
as if her own
bones had been cracked and fused back together. Amanda was drawn to her because
of her pain and her quiet suffering.

Blond
pigtails and sad green eyes when she should’ve been happy, carefree. She stared
down at her food, fully retreated into herself. Amanda ambled around the table
and knelt beside the girl. “You’ll be all right, you know.”

The
little
girl
bristled. She sat up
straighter and fearfully gawked at her parents. Before anyone could say
anything, Amanda pushed the purple sleeve of the little girl’s dress up and saw
the bruises.

“Now,
just
wait
a second—.” The father rose
from his seat, expecting Amanda to rise up too, but instead, Amanda just smiled
at the little girl.

“I’m
going to show you something magical.” Amanda held her hand above the little
girl’s arm with a nervous jitter. She had to hurry. She heard Duncan rushing
from behind; he was worried. Nervous. Amanda knew she couldn’t go around
healing people in public, but this child was so little and hurt so badly.

So little
and alone, like a fragile baby dove. She didn’t deserve the pain, just like
Jessica didn’t deserve the life they had led. No one did.

Amanda’s
fingers wiggled back and
forth,
stretching out. The healing energy flowed from her hand, almost as it usually did,
but it was glowing brighter. Its web of ribbons sparkled like condensed busy
city streets. Inside her chest, the healing energy rumbled louder than ever and
Amanda could barely ignore its churning power.

It cast a
glow on the little girl’s awestruck wide eyes, reflecting in their magic. The
bruises on her arm faded away and all that was left was pink and perfect skin.

“Are you
an angel?” The little girl asked. “I dream of angels all the time.”

Amanda
was about to answer, when the mother seized Amanda by the arm. “What the hell
are you?” Her words were spoken calmly enough, but Amanda heard a warble in her
voice and the stink of whiskey on her soul drowned out the nutmeg of the place.

“We’re
sorry,” Duncan said as they caught up to Amanda. “We were just leaving.”

Amanda
rose up and faced the mother. The rage in her chest grew and her nostril
flared. She yanked her arm back, pulling it free. She might as well have hit
the mom with her full force, because the mom crashed to her knees and Amanda
was flung back.

She
would’ve fallen, if not for Duncan. He dragged her toward the front door as the
husband pursued. “Where are you going? I want to press charges! She hit my
wife!”

Hit his
wife? Please. That woman put her hands on Amanda, everyone saw it, still Amanda
couldn’t stop herself from yelling.

“Just
like she’s been hitting your daughter you mean?” Amanda’s words slurred
together as if she was the drunk, but far from it.
 
Venom rose up in her, unlike anything that
had happened in the past. The rage in her chest, she could barely contain.

“Amanda,”
Duncan chastised her as if she were a child. A bad, unruly
child,
but that wasn’t the truth, was it? It
wasn’t Amanda’s fault the world wasn’t ready. They might be running out of time
to understand that a war was going on. The battle of good versus evil was
happening right under their noses and someone needed to do something about it.
People needed to pick a side and stop being so idle.

“Amanda,”
Duncan sighed and she felt his disappointment. He shook his head with exasperation,
but still, his eyes were kind. “You just can’t do stuff like that. I know how
bad you feel for people, but—.”

He
sounded just like Jessica and that thought put a lump in Amanda’s throat.

Duncan
pulled her from the café, but Amanda caught sight of the television just at the
last moment and pointed at it. “Duncan.”

“We don’t
have—.” His eyes scanned the newscast on the television under an image of a
rundown pub. A bar. His bar. Suddenly Duncan’s emotions jumped into his throat
so intense that it pulsated into Amanda’s brain. Headache surging, Amanda
remembered the pub from the time Jessica had trashed it and broken some guy’s
nose. Amanda barely got there in time to drag her away.

Amanda
didn’t need to hear the report to know what happened. All she needed to see on
that television screen was the word ‘Massacre’.

Massacre.

Blood was
spilled. The world would rue the day the Bloods were born.

W
hat was once broken, was made whole again.

Ravaged by
fire, Jessica was pulled through the earth. Her skin was torn asunder, charred
and burnt beyond repair, made whole by the evil curse branded
into
her soul. If she even had a soul left to
speak of. Her skin regained
its
youthful
appearance, but it wasn’t purity.
Instead,
it was something unspeakable.

Evil.
Death renewing. Every lasting life nestled inside a curse/

Things
after that got fuzzy. Jessica could remember Lourdes. Remembered how she
whispered something to her about…revenge.

Then the
beatings started, heaven
help
her,
Jessica remembered the beatings. The anguish of unrelenting pain. Lourdes,
queen of the underworld, may have been able to heal her, but the pain etched
through her remained. That pain, those screams, would follow Jessica
everywhere.
 
even if right now, she could
barely even see.

Eyes
swollen shut, Jessica tried to rub her face, but her arms were tethered to the
wall by thick chains that clanked when she moved. They chaffed her wrists and
caused them to burn with a powerful itch.
 
Distracted by how much her head hurt, memories of Earth flooded through.

Jessica!
Amanda screamed as Jessica was
pulled back to the underworld echoed. The pain in her little sister’s voice was
harder to
bear
than
her own. Leaving her behind was best for Amanda, but that
didn’t make it easy.

It just
made it worse.

I’m sorry, little sister. So sorry.

Aunt
Gwen, or what was using Aunt Gwen’s body, got the drop on Jessica because
Jessica was weak. She should’ve been on guard, not let down her walls because
Gwen was family. It was a mistake Jessica paid for with her soul, for eternity
if Duncan couldn’t find a way to save her. If Duncan…

Thinking
his name brought the image of his face. Soft lines around his eyes, how his
brown hair fell over one eyebrow, and a smile that could curl the toes of just
about any lady. Somehow through all the options, Duncan had picked her, of all
people. He certainly didn’t like things the nice, easy way did he?

Theirs
was a future that would never be. Prisoner of the underworld, Jessica was
somewhere humans couldn’t follow. Humans…

Images
flashed in her mind of blood. Thick blood so red it was black and it coated her
hands. Jessica blinked her eyes open, her damp and haggard red curls blocking
her vision. Through the parting of the veil were the walls of her cavern, but
there were no humans here. Only Jessica and the longing spreading in her heart
to complete her mission.

Kill
Amanda Blood. Bring her to Lourdes.

No,
Jessica wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Sounds
echoed outside of the chamber. Lourdes must’ve known Jessica awoke and was
ready for her next session. Tears Jessica thought long dried, clung to her
lashes, but she didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to be a victim. She needed to
find a way out of this mess like yesterday.

 
Jessica Blood was no man’s damsel, no victim
and certainly no woman’s punching bag. She could be master of her own
destiny,
if only she could find a way…if only.

The
memory of the Black Scorpion’s bar flashed in her mind. Men, friends, lay dying
on the floor. Blood ran like a river as their screams and cries echoed through
the small room. On the counter, Ron slumped unconscious.

So much
death. Was that on her? Had Jessica…killed all those people because Lourdes
demanded it? Jessica wouldn’t; she couldn’t! Her mission was to save, not to
destroy. Not to…Vomit rose in her mouth at the idea that she could be turned
into such a weapon. Such a creature of death.

The image
of herself strolling over to the bar played in her mind. Jessica pulled Ron’s
collar so he flipped down to the floor. On the ground, his mouth twisted in
pain, but his eyes were still lidded. Jessica’s mind pulsed with an order.

Kill him. Show Duncan
Jasper,
he cannot so easily escape us. Kill his
dearest friend and be done with them, Jessica.

“Lost in
thought, are we?”

Jessica
snapped her head toward the entrance. Her skin chilled at the sound of
Lourdes’s voice. The demon had an
effect
on her like no other, and, as the queen strolled passed the threshold. With her
rigid posture, her regal black dress glided across the stone slab, her
commanding presence was one demons couldn’t say no to. They fell in line as
servants to their master.

Twisted
and black, her dress showed the tormented faces of all those she had
imprisoned. Wracked with agony and writhing in terror, they shifted and
changed; as one disappeared, another popped up. Those poor souls, all of them
begging for salvation, but Jessica wasn’t a savior. She hadn’t even figured out
how to save
herself—
if such a thing was
even possible. After what she did at the Black Scorpion’s bar…

Jessica’s
eyes narrowed. “Why did you have me kill those bikers?”

Lourdes’s
eyes were
slanted
like a cat’s and atop
her head, black curls so messy they resembled thorns. A simple set of green
horns crested, barely visible through the mess. “For their
interference
a hundred times with my legion,
is that not enough for you? For what Duncan did, stealing Amanda from me, he
needed to be taught a lesson.”

Jessica
squeezed her eyes shut. Just like
that,
she was a tool for evil? Nothing had ever felt as dirty, grimy, if she washed
for a million years, her skin would never come clean.

“And so
did you. For refusing my orders, but I blame myself.” Lourdes sighed. “I was
rash. I sent you in too early; that won’t happen again, dear Jessica. Faithful
servant. Next time, I’ll make sure you’re ready before you fetch my prize.” Her
lip snarled.

Jessica’s
spine
shivered. She knew what that
meant—more torture, more suffering. More pain than she could endure, but she would,
because Lourdes wouldn’t allow her to die.

“I must
say, I didn’t realize having you down here would change so much.” Lourdes
smiled; twisted and evil, it lit her face. “All this time, perhaps I’ve been
chasing the wrong sister.”

“Good.” Jessica’s
answered sharp. “Keep me and let her go.”

Lourdes’s
laughter echoed through the chamber. “I’ll have both. I like a complete set,
but having you here is going to advance my plans faster than I expected. Heaven
and Hell both are ripe for the taking. Having you take up the mantel as
commander of my army will tear the fabric of the underworld open even further
than it already has. Oh, Jessica,” Lourdes’s slurred her words like a lover
might in the heat of the moment.

Leaning
over she stroked Jessica’s face and Jessica revolted, thrashing her head back.
“Don’t touch me.”

Lourdes
snarled and yanked on Jessica’s hair. “I will touch you, kill you, and do
whatever I want to you. A little mouse like you can’t stop me. Haven’t you
learned yet, that you can’t resist me?”

The
answer was no, but it wasn’t so simple. Jessica’s resistance to Lourdes
couldn’t last forever. Like a battery,
eventually
her will to fight would be drained. Already her limbs ached to find
Amanda and do whatever necessary to fetch her. Drag Amanda into the underworld
kicking and screaming so Lourdes could go free.

Lourdes
pushed Jessica back and gripped her throat. It starved off Jessica’s air and
she gagged, feeling that rush of panic. “You will become my commander. You will
do more than just bring
me,
Amanda.
You’ll bring me everything my heart desires. Hell, Heaven. Anything. You’re in
my service, Jessica Blood. I won’t ever let you go.”

But she
did, Lourdes released her hand and backed up. Jessica gasped for air and relief
flooded in with it. Jessica gripped the stones with her fingernails and watched
the queen head for the exit.

“I will
post guards outside. They’ll let me know when you’ve changed your mind. When
you’re ready to talk.” Lourdes waved her hand at Jessica as she left, just like
that.

Well,
that was simple. That was…

A
tightening against her
lyrnx
. Jessica
gagged and grabbed at her throat, feeling the skin concave around her esophagus
and ligaments. Couldn’t breathe, as if her throat was crushed by invisible
hands. Jessica tilted her head and gagged for air. Her legs lashed out from the
pain.

Lungs.
They were on fire. Desperate for air, but her throat compressed onto itself,
like a crushed coke can.

Jessica
knew there’d be no end. She would suffocate and die, only to be brought back
for it to happen again and again. That pain, that panic, would go on forever
until Jessica lost her will to resist Lourdes.

Or until
her mind couldn’t handle the pain anymore—until all that pain and death drove
her insane.

The urge
to
breathe
overpowered her. Jessica’s
whole body screamed with rage, even as her hands fell to her side and
consciousness drifted away. In the space between life and death, Jessica saw
the moment where she slid the dagger into Ron’s heart, back at the bar.

Only she
hadn’t.

Instead,
she put the handle in his hand, gripping
his fingers tight around it, but why—why would she want to frame Ron for all
those murders? Why—.

And then
Jessica bent over and whispered something in his ear. A secret, just between
them. Maybe there was a way to beat Lourdes at her own game after all. Have to
be careful, have to quick. Like chess Jessica had to stay two steps ahead, but
she could do that—couldn’t she?

It was
worth finding out.

The next
time Lourdes brought her back to life.