Chasing Magic (27 page)

But it had.

Something small flew through the air; Terrible batted it away with his hand and went down.

Holy shit. The speed, it was a packet of that speed, and Terrible’s eyes were just opening again when his attacker—Lex’s assassin, Devil, it had to be him—pulled his foot back and kicked Terrible in the ribs.

Chess was already moving, trying to get up and simultaneously trying to attack, trying to push the man or hit him, trying to do something. She got a look at him, one that chilled her even more; snub-nosed and heavy-browed, almost as big as Terrible, with the flat dead eyes of a man used to doing his job with brutal efficiency.

Flat dead eyes like Terrible’s were when he was working.

Terrible jumped up before she could do much more
than launch herself forward, putting himself between her and Devil. His fist connected with Devil’s face, but Devil used his knife as he stumbled back, slicing a thin line from Terrible’s right elbow to his wrist.

Terrible hit him again, his left fist jabbing forward and up; Devil jerked to the side at the last second so the blow landed on his shoulder instead of his throat.

Another right from Terrible hit his nose. Blood started pouring from it; the man’s grin beneath it was horrible, red hiding his lips and staining his teeth. He struck again with the blade, another cut on Terrible’s arm. Devil didn’t look like he was trying very hard to cut deep; it was as if he was happy to just paper-cut Terrible again and again. What the fuck was he doing?

Running away, that’s what he was doing. Terrible hit the man again; as he stumbled sideways a dark-blue car, one of those anonymous modern semi-sedans, hopped the curb with its passenger door open. Chess caught a glimpse of the driver before Devil threw himself into the front seat and the car squealed away.

“What was—” she started, but no one heard. Terrible was tearing across the street with his keys in his hand.

Chess ran after him. “I’m going with you.”

She could see the argument he wanted to make plain on his face. But she could also see his impatience, the knowledge that arguing would take more time than unlocking her door.

He barely waited for her to finish sitting down before gunning the Chevelle; they jumped off the curb in a fury of noise and exhaust.

Terrible routinely drove at speeds that made her nervous until she’d gotten used to them, but she’d never seen him really open up the Chevelle before. They tore up Forty-seventh after the blue car, closing the distance. Fast.

And obviously being seen. The blue car turned left,
swerved left again into an alley, jumped onto the on-ramp at Highway 300 with the Chevelle right on its ass. Chess braced herself. It didn’t help, didn’t make her heart stop pounding like a fucking jackhammer in her chest, but it at least gave her something else to focus on besides the idea that if the driver of that blue car decided to tap his brakes, they’d be picking her up off the highway in garbage bags.

Together the two cars wove through traffic, from the right lane to the left and back again. The blue car took the interchange exit at Highway 101 and started to run the cloverleaf. Ugh. Driving in tight circles at crazy speeds: just what she needed when nerves were making her stomach twist up on itself in a way that made the few bites of food she’d taken earlier feel like balls of lead.

When they hit the stretch of highway between ramps, Terrible swerved around the sedan and started to nose in front of it. Tires screeched. Chess thought the sedan spun out; she didn’t know for sure, though, because the Chevelle definitely did, and for a too-long, too-sickening moment, the world was a blur of light and noise. Then they started to move again, back up the entrance ramp. The wrong way.

She forced her eyes to stay open, forced herself not to cover them up. If he thought she was scared—if he knew she was scared—he’d want to slow down. He might even stop and make her get out. For whatever reason—love? Loyalty? Death wish? Maybe all of the above; probably all of the above—she didn’t want to do that. She was in it, and she was staying in.

Horns blasted. Blinding headlights swerved out of their way. The blue car ran over the shoulder and back into traffic, with the Chevelle following.

Terrible started to pass the blue car to cut it off. Again the driver slammed his brakes and spun, then ran into a
parking garage beneath a lonely-looking building off—Of course. Off Thirtieth, they were on Thirtieth. Lex’s hired killer, in Lex’s territory. She hadn’t even thought of it; just the presence of the Chevelle in this area could be trouble. At least it was getting dark out, more so by the second. Maybe they wouldn’t be so noticeable.

Terrible slowed as they passed into the shadows. The Chevelle’s headlights discovered a few abandoned cars huddled between faded white lines on the cement, empty husks of cars hiding from the world.

And, as they turned to pass the ramp to the next level, as they drove around the elevator bank or office or whatever it was blocking the center of the garage, they saw another car. The blue car. Not shrinking back against the crumbling cement wall, but planted right in the center of the aisle, doors open. Engine still running.

Empty.

Outside the garage dead weeds reached in a wheat-colored tangle for the sky, a tangle with streaks of green as new growth wound its way in, naked in the headlights’ glare. The weeds shook slightly. Maybe from the wind, maybe from Lex’s hired killer and the car’s driver. Shit.

Terrible’s palm slammed into the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

“He probably didn’t get—”

The greenish dashboard light illuminated his glare. “Ain’t fuckin leavin you here.”

His eyes narrowed further when she opened her mouth again. Right. Suggesting she go with him wasn’t a good idea, either.

Okay, then. She lowered her gaze and saw what she’d managed somehow to forget in all of the noise and terror of their little joyride. He’d been cut. His arms glistened dully with blood, brackish in the semi-light. She reached out a tentative hand. “We should—”

He snatched his arm away, throwing the Chevelle into reverse and stabbing the gas without speaking. Yeah. She got the message.

For the second time, Lex’s hired muscle had managed to ambush him. For the second time, Lex’s hired muscle had managed to injure him. For the second time, Lex’s hired muscle had gotten away.

And for the second time, Lex’s hired muscle had managed to accomplish all of that because Terrible had been either distracted by her or unwilling to risk her getting injured. Mother
fuck
. Lex had found himself a weapon, all right.

Her.

No tandem showers after they got back to her place. No nothing after they got back to her place, in fact. He’d practically growled at her when she tried to bandage him up, and he headed for Bump’s almost immediately.

Which left her with nothing to do. Nothing except drugs, anyway, which was a given.

Putting a thick wall of narcotic peace between herself and the events of the day helped, but not enough. There were still the previous days to deal with. She’d lost something important, something that mattered. She’d lost Elder Griffin’s friendship and approval.

Now she was in danger of losing something even more important, and fury thrummed through her body as she set the alarm on her car and pounded on the side door—the hidden door—at Lex’s house.

The guard who opened it for her started to step aside. She didn’t wait for him to finish, shoving herself past him and storming up the stairs. Lex was probably in his room. As far as she knew, he hadn’t moved into another one.

And if he had? She’d just fucking check them all.

His door was closed but not locked. Not that it mattered.
She had her pick case, although she didn’t think she needed it. Even with her pills making her insides fizz with fake cheer, she was pissed enough that she thought she could kick the damn thing off its hinges if she had to.

She threw it open instead, stalked halfway into the room before she realized Lex wasn’t alone. He had a girl with him, next to him on the low blue couch.

Oh well. “Call him off, Lex.”

“Hey there, Tulip, ain’t this a sweet—”

“Call him
off
, Lex. Now.”

Lex glanced at the girl—a curvy little blonde; Chess didn’t pay any more attention than that—and jerked his chin. “Gimme a few, aye? Head you down on the other room, dig, watch you some TV.”

The girl glanced at Chess, then back at Lex, before standing up. “Aye. Be there, I will.”

Chess felt her long up-and-down gaze as she passed, and ignored it. Fuck her.

The door closed. Chess gave it a five count—not that it mattered, since the girl was probably standing right outside with her ear to the door frame—before she spoke again. “I mean it.”

“Ain’t know what you talking on there, Tulip.”

“Don’t fucking— Yes, you do. Now call him off.”

Lex leaned back and lit a cigarette. With his feet up on the low coffee table, he looked like he was having a pleasant chat with a friend, perfectly relaxed. Maybe not just relaxed, either; a few feet away, a vodka bottle missing its cap sat next to a couple of shot glasses, one of which had a semicircle of burgundy lipstick on the edge. “Why’d I do that?”

Shit. She hadn’t expected that. “What— Because, that’s why. Because this is bullshit, and—”

“And? And what? Causen you asking me to? Damn, girl, had the knowledge you got some selfish shit in that head you got, but ain’t—”

“Self— What?”

“
What
what?” His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck thinking you got there, I give up causen you run over here and gimme the asking to? Ain’t some fuckin game, this ain’t.”

“You don’t need him dead. You know you—”

“Aye? You gimme the tell, then, what it is I’m needing. Seems to me I recall makin the offer he come on working for me, I did, and he gave me the nay on that one. Knew what were on when he done it, too. Maybe oughta be givin the chatter to he now, aye?”

“Don’t fucking pass—”

“Aw, fuck this.” He stabbed out his smoke and stood up, crossed the few steps to stand in front of her. “Ain’t having this chatter with you, I ain’t. An ain’t callin no shit off, neither. Told you an he both I got plans, I do.”

She met his glare with one of her own. “Right. Such great fucking plans you need to use me to carry them out.”

She had him with that one. She had him, and she knew she had him because he smiled a too-casual smile. “Aw, I dig it. You all on the angry side causen it you putting the danger on, Tulip. Ain’t me. Be you. An ain’t that a low-bone?”

So much for having him. “This is not me doing this.”

“Oh? You sure on that one?” His smile changed, just enough so her heart gave a tiny jerk in her chest. She knew that smile. Knew the look in his eyes, too.

The urge to take a step back was almost overwhelming. She refused to do it. No. No fucking way would she let him see that he was affecting her, even the tiniest bit. She would stand her ground. “I didn’t hire somebody to kill him.”

“Oh nay, nay, you sure ain’t done that one. But what was it you did? Aw, right, I gots the memory now, I do. You was spending you nights over on here with me, aye,
an playin like you wasn’t to he. Aye? That one were it, weren’t it?”

Had he gotten closer to her? “That’s not—”

“Thinkin it is, I am. Thinkin all them nights we had ourselves a damn good time over here—ain’t we, Tulip?—you letting Terrible have himself the belief you all alone in you own little bed, aye?”

His eyes loomed over her, bigger than they should be. Yeah, he was definitely getting closer; she smelled the faint spiciness of his skin and the alcohol on his breath. People said you couldn’t smell vodka. They were wrong.

Looking like a pussy sucked, but her only other option was to stand there and let him kiss her. Because that was definitely what he looked like he was getting ready to do, and knowing she wasn’t exactly available for kissing didn’t matter a damn bit to him. If anything it would make it more fun for him; it always had, hadn’t it?

So she took a step backward, then another, subtle steps that she hoped seemed casual. Mistake. It only seemed to egg him on, and somehow she’d let him maneuver her so her back was almost to the wall.

“Guessing he thought something on between you and him—maybe even there was, aye? Seems to me he playing awful damn mad in that death-yard he finding us on that night. Like maybe thinking had heself the right to be so mad.”

This was not good. Not good, really not fucking good. Her heart hammered in her chest as if it was trying to take flight. As if it was trying to escape. She’d never seen Lex like this before.

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d seen Lex like this before. More times than she cared to count, she’d seen Lex like this.

She just didn’t remember him being this … “insolent” was the only word she could think of. Insolent. He was trying to get to her, not just because he wanted to
turn her on but because there was some kind of point to be made by doing so. Because he had some kind of point to make to her.
About
her.

And, shit, she was afraid he was making it, because her eyes stung and her chest ached, and because no matter how much she didn’t want it to, her stomach was tingling—her stomach and everything below it—and her lungs refused to expand enough to let her take a deep breath. No. What he was saying wasn’t … It was true but he wasn’t getting it right, he—

No. He had it exactly right. He had
her
exactly right.

“So now … now you here all pissed up at me, aye, only maybe I ain’t the one deserving it. Maybe you gots youself all meaned up causen you the one sold him out at the start, aye? An causen you know you keep on doing it.”

“Fuck you, Lex.”

“Ain’t that why you here, Tulip?” His fingers touched her hair; she was flat against the wall now, with her only option for escape being to duck down and spin away. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

At least, fuck, she wanted to believe that was why she wasn’t moving. Please, please let that be it and not because she wanted him to do what he was about to do, not because she saw the flames and wanted to shove her hand into them because she deserved to burn. Not because all she was really doing with Terrible was destroying him right along with herself, and whatever sick fucking part of her it was that enjoyed that shit saw a way to do it even faster.