Kiss at Your Own Risk (19 page)

Mari stared at her. “I mean, I can’t deal with any of it. I want to go back to my room and meditate and—”

Oh, well, that wasn’t quite as impressive. “Where’s my warrior girl? Are you going to sit back and let some murderous philanderer give you smut? Or are you going to stand up for all that is large-breasted and estrogenous and take control of your life?” Oh, that was good! Maybe this wasn’t a mistake. This would be so empowering for Mari to take her own life into her control against a man.

Mari hesitated.

Angelica could tell Mari was so close to seeing the light. To finding her strength. Just one more dig and Mari would be empowered. “If Smutty dies and you become smut girl, exactly how long do you think it will be until you’re more interested in carving Christian up than saving him?”

Mari blinked. “I wouldn’t—”

“You would. It’s what smut does. It hops you right on that express elevator to demonhood and all sorts of nasties. Makes you cuckoo girl, and Chrissy goes bye bye.”

“Oh, wow, that’s not okay.” Mari took a breath and stood up. “You’re right, Angelica. I’m not letting some jerk cover me in smut.”

Angelica clapped her hands with delight. “That’s my girl! Let’s go find Smutty!”

Mari nodded. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere in Boston, I think.” Angelica hurried down another path, the one that led to the portal.

Mari didn’t follow, and Angelica turned around. “What?”

Her apprentice looked shocked. “You’re going outside the Den?”

“Of course I am. Why?”

“You haven’t left the Den in two hundred years.” Mari broke into a run and caught up. “You wouldn’t even go outside that time we all got tagged by that vampire and he said he’d kill us if you didn’t come out and meet him.”

“Well, yeah, he was pissed that I’d stolen his daughter. There was nothing to discuss.” And, quite frankly, a ticked off vampire was outside her range of skills, every bit as much as un-melting her Blackberry had been. She’d made the conscious decision to specialize, which meant in the Den she was as powerful as Death on a battlefield. Out in the real world… not quite as confident. She used her powers for torture, not for offensive tactics or warfare. Who knew what the people of Boston were like? Okay, yes, so maybe she had consciously decided to avoid the outside world for the last couple of centuries. Nothing like an ex-husband and the threat of losing your empire to motivate a girl to go adventuring. “But that’s why you’re coming with me. You’re an expert on Boston.”

Mari shot a sharp look at her. “I’m coming along as the expert?”

“Of course you are.” Oh, yes, it was time to elevate her most prized girl. Angelica stopped outside the portal and yanked open the weapons cabinet she’d set up for girls to arm themselves on their way out, and disarm themselves on the way back in. She grabbed several of the new daggers Prentiss had been so impressed with. “My dear, I’m so proud of you. I would trust no one else with a mission of this importance. Not only will you save yourself, but you will also save all the others, and the men in their care.”

Mari drew her shoulders back and a sense of authority settled over her. “You can count on me.”

“I know.” Angelica put her hand on Mari’s shoulder. “Someone needs to take over the Den when I retire, and I want it to be you.” Which was true, in a vague sort of way. Of course, she never planned to retire or die, so it was kind of a moot point, but if she did decide to pack it in, Mari was the only one even close to talented enough to run it, even if she did still have that soft side to her.

But once Mari got the curse… oh, yes… different story.

Maybe Angelica would retire after all. A tropical beach, stocked with manly, half-naked island boys all at her disposal? Might be nice…

“Angelica!” Napoleon’s voice bellowed through the forest.

Angelica squawked and whirled around. “Oh, dear Lord, here he comes.”

“The jerkoff?” Mari glanced over her shoulder, her face curious. “If he’s here, why don’t we just kill him instead of trying to find Smutty? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Angelica grabbed another handful of weapons and began shoving them in every pocket, in her bra, and stashing them in her skirt. “He’s very difficult to kill.”

“So? You’re very good at killing.” Mari turned toward the woods as Napoleon shouted again. This time closer. She hefted a flamethrower. “It’ll be a lot more efficient.”

“No! We need to—”

Napoleon burst out of the woods. He was stark naked, as erect as the Tower of Pisa (and yes, still just as off-center as the famous building), and the muscles in his quads were flexing. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were dancing with delight. “Oh, my,” he panted. “I didn’t realize you were going to play with my predator instinct by fleeing. I am greatly enamored of that move.” He let out a low growl and began to advance toward her, his body lithe and lean like a wild cat hunting his prey. “I’m going to have you for dinner,” he said, a guttural growl low in his chest.

Angelica’s lower belly convulsed and she caught her breath as the man of her fantasies began to stalk her. Her warriors were putty in her hands. But not Nappy. Nappy would pin her against the wall and hammer home until he was through, no matter what she wanted.

Moisture began to pool between her legs, and—

“By all that’s well-endowed and tanned,” Mari breathed. “I finally understand what you’ve been telling me, that some men are simply too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

Napoleon set his hand on his boytoy and let out a small groan as he continued to close the distance between them, a slow, precise walk of a man who was enjoying every second of the anticipation until he would be inside her.

“One shoe,” Napoleon demanded. “The left one. Take it off.”

Angelica immediately toed off her shoe and flicked it at him. Napoleon snatched the Manolo out of mid-air, then ran the spiked heel down his chest. Scraped a circle around his nipple, leaving a raw red trail behind. “Mark me, woman,” he growled.

Oh, yes, hot mama coming to you—

Mari hoisted the flamethrower and shot him.

“No!” Angelica tackled Mari and wrenched the flamethrower out of her grasp. It shot upward and set the tree on fire as the two women tumbled to the ground. Angelica whipped it around, and then aimed it at Mari’s face.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she went utterly still. “You’re going to shoot me?”

Angelica suddenly realized what she was doing. Shooting Mari because she’d tried to hurt Nappy? Holy blue balls. She whirled around and aimed the gun back at Napoleon, who was still patting out the flames that were dancing on his skin.

Dear Lord, she couldn’t bring herself to kill him. Couldn’t let anyone else kill him either, apparently. Because she still loved him. By all things that were grossly unfair and highly disadvantageous, how could she still love him enough to want him alive?

“Oh, wow, that didn’t even bother him, did it?” Mari was on her feet now. “What now?”

There was a feral quality to Napoleon’s smile now. One that said he was ready for things to get rough. The kind of edgy sex that made a girl a little scared, but oh, so curious.

“Time to go.” Angelica grabbed Mari’s arm. “The portal still closes after you, right?”

“Yes, of course, but I kind of think that magical fire-guy over there isn’t going to be deterred for the full three days it’s supposed to be shut down.”

“We’ll take what we can get.” Angelica yanked Mari backward, and she saw the instant that Napoleon realized what she was doing.

He let out a howl of outrage and leapt through the air, torpedoing toward them like an overgrown coconut launched from a catapult. Mari screamed, and then they fell through the portal. It snapped shut with a loud sizzle, and then there was an explosive boom as Napoleon face planted into the blockade.

As the mist closed around them, Angelica strained to listen, to see if Napoleon had broken the safeguard.

Then through the mist, she heard a distant roar of fury. “That was a very serious error in judgment, my love,” he called out, his voice echoing through the vortex. “Now there’s no deal. Smutty dies, and I’m still taking your body.”

Mari looked over at her. “What deal?”

Oh, yeah, that was exactly what she needed. Admitting to Mari that she had to rescue Smutty because she couldn’t handle trading a night of sex with him in exchange for the safety of her kingdom. Not that it would actually save her empire if she did sleep with him. Nappy would take the sex, mess with her mind, and then manipulate them all.

“I could feel how much you want me,” Nappy continued, his voice becoming more distant. “You won’t be able to resist me, and we both know it.” His deep, masculine, and entirely smug laugh echoed through the chamber.

And she knew he was right.

She didn’t need the curse for her girls.

She needed it for herself.

Trinity was so happy to discover that stepping off a building and free-falling toward the earth with nothing but a very non-birdlike companion to keep her safe was not high on her list of preferred activities.

A loud roar rocked the night as they plummeted toward a grisly and splattered death, and she looked up to see demon-dog sailing through the air above their heads. It landed with a thump on the opposite roof, and then disappeared from sight, its raspy breathing fading as it moved into the distance.

Either that, or it was getting fainter because they were getting closer and closer to the asphalt… “Um, Blaine?”

“Have a little faith, my dear.” Blaine ignited the air beneath them, and the force of the explosion halted their freefall and shot them upwards.

Travel by explosion. Who knew fire could come in so handy? Maybe she would trade in her Subaru and get a little feisty with fire once she was a free woman…

They landed next to an exhaust vent, and Trinity quickly scanned the Boston skyline to make sure Dark and Grisly hadn’t done a one-eighty to come check them out. Yeah, it needed to die, but there was no good plan on how to accomplish that right now, so for the moment,
keep on running, fur head.

“Good to see the guys having fun,” Blaine said, satisfaction evident in his tone. “It’s been a long time.”

Trinity followed Blaine’s gaze and saw the bogeyman lurching across the rooftops after Nigel and Jarvis, who were whooping and hollering as they played chimney tag. They were keeping a two-building lead on it, and Trinity saw the men pause more than once to let their pursuer catch up.

How about that? The men really weren’t in any danger now that they had space to run.

Hmm… wonder if she could outrun the curse? Get a little fit, drink some Gatorade, and hit the trails? Brilliant.

“That looks interesting.” Blaine was looking over her shoulder, back in the direction of the bar where they’d first met the Beasty Boy-Girl-Bug.

She turned and saw a glowing white light rising up from the alley where her “Twin” had done the suicide stabbing mission. It was like an angelic beacon, growing larger and larger. She frowned. “It looks like one of my visions, but it can’t be—”

Holographic Trinity suddenly bounded up into sight from behind the building and landed lightly on the roof. She raised Jarvis’s bloody sword over her head and let out a howl of victory that Trinity could hear even though they were a good half-mile away.

“Hey! I survived!” How fantastic was it to see her perky face? Granted, it was a little creepy to see herself howling like some pre-adolescent werewolf on his first hunt, but alive was alive, and she’d take it.

Blaine nodded. “That means you can go ahead and kill the Chameleon without worrying about dying.”

Trinity grimaced, her elation fading fast at Blaine’s suggestion. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I could actually make myself dive into the gullet of a smut monster—”

Blaine set his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

Trinity blinked. Yeah, assisting his girl with tough tasks was the role of a man, and she appreciated Blaine’s willingness to help her do what it took to save her dad, but drop-kicking her down the throat of a rabid mutant wasn’t exactly what fantasies were made of. “Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s still that whole curse problem if I kill anyone.”

“Hey.” Blaine rubbed her shoulder and she looked up at him. “I get that you have aversions to killing, but you should know that if that’s the only way to save your dad, it’s not that big of a deal.” He smiled and brushed his hand over her cheek. “It wouldn’t change that you have a good heart, no matter how many people you kill.”

Her throat clogged at the honesty in his words. Yeah, he had weird values when it came to violence, so it wasn’t as if he represented the general sentiment in society, but she could tell he really didn’t think that it would make her a bad person. And that just felt so, so, good. “I really wish I could see myself as good. But—”

He placed his thumb over her lips. “Don’t let other people’s opinions affect your own sense of self-worth. Your view of yourself is the only one that matters, trust me.” He rubbed her lower lip. “I’ve tortured my best friends thousands of times. Doesn’t bother me. Doesn’t bother them. Because we know that garbage isn’t what matters.” He put his hand over her heart, above the swell of her breast. “Right here is what counts.”

She searched his face, and saw he lived by those words. “How do you get there? How do you just get over all the stuff you do?”

“You decide and then do it.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that easy—”

“No. It’s not easy. But it’s doable.”

She frowned at him, realizing that he really didn’t see the big deal on becoming a death monger and not letting it bother her. Truly. He simply didn’t think it made her a bad person. Her throat tightened and she stared blankly across the city, fighting the urge to fall into his arms like some blubbering girly girl, begging him to convince her she was okay—

As she watched, her look-alike suddenly rose up into the air, like a balloon that had gotten a helium enema.

Trinity set her hands on her hips, watching herself float up into the night sky. “Now, that’s weird. I can’t fly—”

It let out a loud shriek, then its hair turned into some tangled mass of damage, it got all shadowed and gray, then it tore across the night sky right toward Blaine.

He swore, but before he had any chance to move, the apparition raised its prismy fist, which appeared to be clutching a snowball. It plunged the white sphere right into his chest and ripped out a holographic vision of his heart. Raised it high to the sky with a loud shriek, and then a spectral Blaine tumbled off the roof, plummeted to a silent thud on the cement below.

***

Trinity gaped as her holographic self turned toward her. Eyes were blazing black like some coal miner’s worst nightmare and there was blood dripping from her hand, where Blaine’s heart still beat.

For a moment, the two stared at each other, then the image smiled, a delighted grin that could only be described as wolfishly gleeful. And then it slowly faded from view, until all that was left was a glittering hand and a beating organ.

And then even that blinked out of sight.

Hello, future self. Welcome to the world of the dementedly-insane, murderously-inclined black widow.

“Sweet Mother Mary.” She was going to be sick. Pass out. Something. So, yeah, the anticipation had been killing her, but the
reality
of going eight-legged? Worse.

It was supposed to be the other way. The anticipation worse than reality and all that. Yay for bucking tradition.

“I need a minute.” Her legs stared to shake, and Blaine caught her as she sank onto the tar paper roof. “Did you see that?”

His grip on her waist was firm. “Yeah. Split end hell.”

She stared at him. “Split ends? Are you even a guy?”

He stiffened. “It’s a sign of my security as a male that I can talk about hair.”

“Hair?” She stared to laugh, a freakish sound eerily reminiscent of the hologram. “You noticed my beauty gaffs? What about the murderous look in my eye? What about the cackle of glee when I ripped your heart out? Did you happen to notice that?” Oh, wow. Stomachache.

“Well, yeah. Saw that too. Hard to miss. It was my heart, after all.” He eased her down to the tarmac, supporting her as she sat.

She bent her knees and hung her head between them. “I can’t be like that. I—”

“Hey.” Blaine sat behind her, knees on either side of her hips, and began to rub her back. “That was only a vision. It’s not reality.”

She shrugged off his grip. “Listen, I appreciate the attempt to lull me into dreamville, but the truth is that my visions always get it right. It’s part of the curse.” She hunched over and pressed her hands to her gut. “I feel like I ate a live squid—”

Blaine yanked her so she was facing him. “Trinity. Calm down.”

She shook her head and pulled away. “I’ve been calm! I’ve been meditating until my brain is so dead that I forget how to speak, and it’s not helping!” She scrambled up and a black bug scurried beneath her foot a split second before her shoe came down right on top of it. “Crap!” She yanked her foot up. Nothing left but beetle guts and shell. Dead. “Do you see that? It’s starting already!” She scooped the beetle off the roof. “Look at it! First the beetle, then you, and then—”

A small smile quirked the corner of Blaine’s mouth. “It’s a
bug
.”

“Easy for you to say! If you were a bug, you’d be a little more empathetic! A life is a life, and I clearly can’t even keep a beetle alive. What’s next? Puppies? Guinea pigs? And then people? Everywhere I go, I’ll just knock someone off. Maybe I’ll develop a clubfoot so that I can take out anything without breaking a stride. Just a ‘hey, good morning, check out my new Manolo Blahniks,’ then whap! Stilettos in the eye sockets! And—”

Blaine fisted her hair and slammed his mouth down over hers.

What? Hello? So not kissing time! She was having a meltdown—

He kissed her deeper, harder, and his hand slid down to her butt. Caressing. And oh, my, it did feel good to be touched. He’d seen her future self, and been an eyewitness to the ruthless offing of an innocent bug, and he still wanted to touch her?

Even her mom had given her the hairy eyeball for a year after she’d killed Barry in cold blood while he was wearing his candy cane pajama bottoms.

But Blaine’s holding her so intimately was a visceral statement that he thought she was okay. That there was someone in the world who didn’t think she was this awful freak. Some of the pain in her stomach eased, and she sagged against him.

Blaine broke the kiss but didn’t release her. He just looked down at her. “You capable of listening now?”

Now? Listening? “What?”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he had a look of utterly male satisfaction on his face. Me-he-man. Me-conquer-panicking-female-with-mighty-kiss. Me-pound-chest.

If she wasn’t so loving the feeling of not losing her mind, she would definitely be offended by his attitude. As it was, she was more in the camp of “more, more, more” right now. If he kissed her constantly for the next week, would her brain be so distracted that she forgot to murder anyone?

Almost worth a try. You know, if Augustus wasn’t trying to find her and incinerate her, and if her dad wasn’t going to be roasted over a Sunday night bonfire. You know, except for those small details.

Blaine tunneled his hand through her hair, like he was game for the kiss-for-a-week plan. “I meant, are you no longer bordering on a complete mental collapse?”

She thought of the holographic killer bitch and her body tightened again. “Not so much. Give me a sec and I’ll be right back there.”

He was quiet for a moment, like he was thinking, before he spoke again. “You heard of Darwin?”

Well, that was a totally logical question. “Darwin who? What are you talking about?”

“The law of natural selection? Only the strongest survive?”

Oh, that Darwin. Of course that made sense. Girl freaks out, kiss her until she’s at least a reasonable facsimile of mentally sane, and then bring up Darwin. “I don’t—”

“Stupid beetles get stepped on.”

She stiffened. “Well, I think that’s a little judgmental.”

“The beetle is about a thousand times faster than you. If it was smart, it wouldn’t have been there.”

Okay, it
sounded
like he was pretty sure he had a valid point. Just couldn’t quite figure it out. “What are you saying?”

“It’s a natural process. This way, we get smarter beetles who can give birth to smarter babies, who will in turn continue to make their breed stronger.”

“That’s so callous. I—”

“No, babe. It’s not callous. It’s the only way to look at it.” Blaine released her (sadness!) and walked over to the edge of the roof. He clasped his hands on his head as he watched Nigel and Jarvis fade into the distance as they led the giant killer demon away from them. “I’ve seen over a hundred men die at the hands of the witch. Boys. Young men. Seasoned warriors. In the end, they all made the choice to die instead of live.”

Trinity looked down at the squashed beetle in her palm. “I find it hard to believe that this guy chose to become pancake fodder.” The poor baby needed a funeral. An epitaph. She walked over to a small storage shed on the south side and knelt by the corner.

“Yeah, well, if he didn’t choose it, then he at least allowed it to happen.” Blaine turned toward her. “We choose our destiny, Trinity, including bugs.”

“Well, yeah, of course you’d see it that way.” She peeled up a bit of tar paper and laid it on her palm. Not much of a coffin, but it would have to do. “You’re this macho warrior who loves to kill, who’s in total control of your life—”

“I’m in control?” He snorted. “When I was four years old, my father sold me to the witch for a pittance, and I heard him make the deal. He stood by and let the witch rip my arm off to kidnap me. And then he left me there.”

Trinity stared at him. Okay, starting to feel a little like a jerk here. “Why?”

“Because I was the older brother, and my dad didn’t like it.”

Trinity set her victim on the tar paper, making sure each smushed body part made it from her hand to the blanket. “That makes no sense.”

“Back then, the older brother was everything, and my dad wanted the younger son to be the one to get all the benefits. I was in the way.”

Wow. So feeling the love for being an only child right now. “What about your mom?”

Blaine’s jaw flexed. “She watched the whole thing. Sat there the night before on my bed. Told me she loved me and that I should never forget it, no matter what my dad did to me. And I believed her.” He looked over the skyline, his back to Trinity. “And then she turned me over to that bitch.”

Yeah, okay, that majorly sucked. “I can’t imagine being betrayed by your parents.” She tucked the beetle more securely in his new home. Not like she could make up for squishing him, but after Blaine’s story, she was feeling the need to do some nurturing. What if her victim had a little beetle family waiting for him somewhere?