Kiss at Your Own Risk (5 page)

Maybe it was simply the fact she was the witch’s apprentice and she’d been present for far too many of his torture sessions. Yeah, she was a prisoner like the rest of them, but she didn’t look as uncomfortable as he’d have liked when she was documenting Nigel shoving hot pokers through Blaine’s heart.

Not that it mattered now. They were getting out. Christian could deal with the reality of his new relationship without being under the auspices of the witch.

Blaine passed his hand over the stainless steel window standing between him and freedom. “Christian. Now.”

“You got it.” Christian started to stand.

Mari grabbed his arm. “Wait, Christian, my leg—”

“We’ll have to fix it later, my love.” Christian gave her a quick kiss that turned carnal.

“Christian,” Blaine snapped. “Later!”

“Right. Sorry.” Christian wrenched himself out of Mari’s grasp and jogged over to the window.

What the hell was Mari offering that could get Christian to suck face when freedom was inches away? Made no sense. Blaine eyed the chit as she struggled to her feet. Her ankle was swollen and turning purple. She must have been bitten through the bag. “Christian!” She set her hands on her hips. “I need help.”

Did she really think her ankle mattered right now? “Hey.” Blaine caught her arm and turned her toward him. “Not now.” He gestured at the door. The pounding of schnoodemgon bodies against it was deafening, and the door was bulging from the impact. Trickles of the noxious red smoke were leaking through cracks. “Right now is not about you.”

Mari paled. “How long until that breaks?”

Nigel and Jarvis were weapons out, facing the archway. “Two minutes,” Nigel said. “Max.”

Mari made a small noise of distress, and she looked up toward the ceiling.

Blaine followed her gaze and saw there was a twenty-four-inch vent above his head, plenty big enough for any assortment of mutant predators to fit through. “Christian?”

“Five seconds.” Christian placed his hands on the glass. His palms began to smoke, but he kept them there. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

Jarvis began whipping the sword over his head, faster and faster, until the air crackled with a loud humming. Energy filled the room, and Blaine’s skin prickled. Metal ridges appeared on Christian’s shoulders, and they began to vibrate in time with Jarvis’s humming. Christian was channeling both his own energy and Jarvis’s into his palms so he could generate enough force to break the stainless steel webbing.

Still keeping one eye on the ceiling vent, Blaine edged up next to Christian. He’d never seen Christian absorb energy at this intensity, but they’d decided that it had to be done if he had any chance of breaking through the stainless steel quickly enough. The witch controlled the metal, and it was like a living creature bending to her will.

Christian’s shoulder ridges thickened, and the glass began to vibrate beneath his smoking palms. Blaine could feel the pressure building on the other side of the door. His team was so weakened that they wouldn’t survive a full-scale attack if the schnoodemgons broke through.

It was now or never.

Blaine did an internal scan and felt sparks flickering in his body. He was drying up and the flames were returning. “Can you take it if I add my power?”

Christian was sweating now. “Do it.”

Blaine set his hand on Christian’s shoulder and thrust his own energy into the other man.

Christian gagged and his body convulsed, and then the window exploded.

The glass was still tinkling to the floor when Nigel vaulted through the opening. He was first, as they’d planned. He’d use his knives to take down any assailants. Jarvis was on his heels and the two men disappeared into the mist. Into freedom.

Blaine and Christian looked at each other, and something shifted between them. “You first,” Blaine said.

Christian shoved himself to his feet, ignoring the muscle twitches making his head vibrate back and forth. “No.” Christian walked over to Mari. “I need to go last. Mari’s energy will close the portal. She has to be at the end, and I’m going to go with her.”

Like the men, Mari had been kidnapped by the witch as a child, but that was where the similarity ended. Mari had been gifted with the witch’s tender loving care, and she’d been groomed as her assistant. The witch regularly sent Mari and the other women into the mortal world to retrieve new children or items for her, confident that they were so tied to her they would always come back. The energy signatures of the women had been manipulated to trigger the closure of the portal after they went through it. It always stayed shut for seventy-two hours, a precaution to keep others from following in their path as they went back and forth.

Blaine didn’t like leaving Christian behind, but there was no other option. If Mari went first, she would strand them. He slammed his hand down on Christian’s shoulder. “I’ll see you on the outside.”

“On the outside,” Christian agreed as he put his arm around Mari. She was looking up at the ceiling vent again. Blaine narrowed his eyes and then he passed his hand between the woman and the vent. His hand sparked.

“She’s sending energy up there.” His skull and crossbones mark began to smoke. “She’s betraying us.” His fist caught fire.

“No!” Christian shoved her behind him. “Don’t kill her. She’s knocking out anything that tries to come down there after us.”

Mari was backing away from Christian, and she was staring intently at the vent. Her mouth was moving quickly as she whispered something. Now that she wasn’t trying to hide her energy, Blaine could see a pale green light filtering up, almost like dust in the sunlight. “Stop,” he snarled. “Now.”

“There’s something up there,” she said. “I’m holding it off.”

Blaine swore. “Christian—”

“Go. We’ll be right behind you.” Christian met his gaze. “You really think I’d screw up my chance for freedom? I know I can trust her.”

A loud crash made them both turn toward the interior door. A two-inch crack had opened, and claws were sticking though, trying to rip it apart.

“I hope you’re right. I’ll be watching her once we get out.” Blaine turned and sprinted toward freedom. He hoisted himself up through the window and shoved his feet through first, making sure the tube with his cross-stitching project didn’t catch on the frame.

His skin went numb when it hit the mist, and a prickling sensation crawled up his legs, to his hips. The smoky tendrils began to pull him away from the door. “It’s working.”

Christian grinned. “I can’t wait—”

A loud shriek ripped through the air and Christian swung around as a pair of shapely legs appeared in the vent.
The witch
.

“Hurry, Angelica!” Mari shrieked. “They’re getting away.”

Christian’s face went cold with betrayal at her words. Blaine felt something in his own gut rip apart for the anguish on his friend’s face. Mari had been using him all along.

The witch dropped through the vent. She was wearing Seven for All Mankind jeans that hugged her tight ass and a silver tank top that showed off assets that had been the product of many, many experiments. She set her hand gently on Mari’s shoulder, tenderness she had never showed the men. Her blond hair was tossed around her shoulders, her eyes were frigid green, and she had a ruthless smile on her face that made Blaine’s other fist ignite. Ready to defend himself.

“You boys did well,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

“Christian!” Blaine lunged to get back to the window, fighting against the mist that was tugging him away from the building. He grabbed the frame and hung on. “Come on!”

His friend bolted for the window and he leapt for the opening. Blaine reached through the window, and he caught his buddy’s wrist. Christian’s hand clamped around his, and Blaine stopped fighting the grip of the mist. It sucked him back, and he began pulling Christian through the window with him.

“No!” The witch held up her hands and flicked both of them at the warriors. Noxious goop exploded from her skull and then dozens of tentacles laced with poison spikes shot forth and wrapped themselves around Christian’s torso.

Christian’s face paled and he looked at Blaine. “Too late,” he gasped. “We’re too late.”

“No! Dammit! Hold on!”

Christian’s grip went slack as the strength drained from his body, and his skin turned ashen. Blaine fought to keep his hold on his friend, but the mist was relentless and the tentacles were too powerful. His flingers began to slide off Christian’s wrist. “Hang on, dammit!”

Christian willed his head up and he met Blaine’s gaze. “Live for me,” he whispered.

And then the mist ripped them apart.

It had been fifteen years since Trinity had seen Martin Lockfeed, and all she could think about was how much she had loved him.

Which meant it was time for him to die. Irony at its finest.

Trinity tore across the five-star dining room toward him, and smiled as she saw his eyes widen. Something inside her screamed at her to stop, but it was lost in the sound of the wind as she rushed across the luxurious wood floor. Like a slow-motion horror show, she neared him, closing in on him, on death.

She had to stop. Had to find a way. But her body kept going. Driven by a force stronger than her own willpower (willpower? self-restraint? what’s that?). Less than two yards away, she raised her hand to pound it against his chest and—

Her dad tackled Martin from the side and shoved him out of her path. The two men tumbled across a private table for two, and Trinity slammed her hand down into the empty space where Martin had been. The momentum catapulted her past his table and she crashed into the wall.

Stunned, she staggered backward, dry bits of plaster caking her mouth like a stale rice cake. She had to find Martin. Where had he gone? She spun around, but the restaurant had erupted into screams and chaos. People everywhere.

“Trin!” Reina grabbed her arm. “What have you done?”

“Nothing, yet. Where is he?” Her body was shaking with the need to finish what she had started. It was like this craving, crawling down her spine, into her cells.

“Look!” Reina jerked her through the crowd and pointed.

At first, all Trinity could see was her dad sprawled on the floor, blood oozing from a head wound. “Dad!”

He wiggled his pinkie in response, and she let out a shuddering breath. Of course he would be fine. It was incredibly difficult to hurt him. “He’s good. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. Look to his right.”

That’s when she saw Martin.

He was flat on his back, several feet from her dad, and a pair of dinner forks were protruding from his chest. “Oh, wow. That can’t be comfortable—”

She realized suddenly that her skin had stopped burning and there was no longer a prism over Martin’s heart. The chandeliers had dimmed back to an atmospheric romantic tone. The black widow had hit the road… for good?

Hah. The odds of that? Not so high. But if Spider Woman had taken off for a facial and pedicure, then that made no sense. She’d never left when there was prey ripe for the munching. Oh, man… did that mean there was no one left to kill? “Reina.”

Her friend glanced over. “Yeah?”

Reina’s eyes were gold with black pearlized rims, as they always were when Reina was present at a death.
So not a good sign right now!
Trinity whirled around to look more closely at Martin. This time, she saw the bleak gray tinge coating his skin, creeping up his arms toward his face. The death mites were already bringing out the champagne. Martin was dead.

Her dad had become a murderer to save her soul.

Stunned, she gripped the edge of an overturned chair to keep herself upright. Could she be any more of a failure? Almost thirty years old, and so weak she couldn’t even handle her own issues without her dad turning into an assassin to protect her from herself?

She’d wanted to kill Martin. There had been no hesitation. She could still feel the anticipatory rush of taking his life. All her meditation, all her belief in herself… nothing but delusions.

Despite all her efforts, she would have killed Martin. No one could have stopped her, and in her depraved state, she’d loved that feeling of power. She’d thought it was fantastic to shove the two people she loved most against that table.

Yeah, the motivational speaker she’d listened to on her iPhone this morning had been all into appreciating yourself as step one in overcoming addictions, but who in God’s name could be feeling the self-love right now?
Hi, I’m a murderer, and I think it’s the coolest thing ever that I can’t stop myself from killing people I love. Group hug, everyone?

Numbly, she watched Martin’s date kneel beside him.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” Trinity whispered. She hadn’t gotten better. She’d gotten
worse.

She forced herself to watch as his date leaned close. Made herself listen to the words of anguish. As if maybe, just maybe, something in the woman’s grief would touch a chord inside Trinity and awaken the humanity she was beginning to doubt existed within her.

“Martin, my love.” His date laid her hand on his shoulder and lowered her mouth to his ear. “This serves you right, you cheating bastard. I hope the fires of hell feel good on your lying ass.”

Trinity blinked as his date slipped her hand into his lapel jacket, filched his wallet, then marched out of the room, not a tear in sight.

Reina started laughing beside her. “Oh, man, you have such the knack for falling in love with winners. Did you see that? That’s a true quality relationship right there.”

Trinity scowled at her. “It’s not funny. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m a freaking murderer.”

“Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s a little humorous, you know, given the whole Barry the Serial Killer thing—”

A lady in a black cocktail dress and a look-at-me-now diamond necklace pointed at Elijah who was still sprawled on the ground. “Someone call the police! That man murdered him!”

The shouts of the onlookers sliced through Trinity’s damning self-assessment. She couldn’t let her dad pay the price of the death that should have been her responsibility
.
“Dad!” She jumped up and raced over to him. “Grab our stuff, Reina.”

Reina held up Trinity’s purse. “Still have it from the last escape attempt. Efficiency is always handy when death and destruction are involved.”

“Excellent.” Trinity hooked her dad under the arms and dragged him across the floor. Without the curse in its active state, she wasn’t much stronger than an average five foot four human female. “Wake up. You’re heavy as hell.” Damn his six and a half foot sugar-addicted hide. People were swarming now, shouting at her not to take him outside.

“I’ve got him.” Reina tossed Trinity her purse and then hoisted him up on her shoulder. “Call your mom.”

Reina had been around for Trinity’s last assassination five years ago, and she knew the drill. How pathetic was that? That her best friend knew the family’s process for covering up a murder and moving to a new location? They actually had a process, for God’s sake!

But times like this, she was glad they did. Trinity fished her phone out of her purse and ran after Reina, who was clearing a path with strategically placed laser-like shots of death powder. People were sneezing and turning ashen with indeterminate fear as they stumbled back from the nightmare they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

Her mom answered on the first ring. “Tell me he got there in time!”

“We need a relocation. Now.”

“Oh, Trinity!” Olivia sounded heartbroken. “You didn’t kill someone, did you?”

“I didn’t. Dad did.”

“Dad?” Her mom’s voice was incredulous. “How in the world did he manage that?”

“Mom!”

“Right, for later. Well, thank God it was your father who did the killing today. I’ll be there in three minutes. Find a patch of grass, and I’ll come get you. Bye, hon.” Trinity’s mom had an intimate relationship with Mother Nature, and using plants to travel was one of the more handy benefits. Unfortunately, Trinity hadn’t inherited it. Hadn’t inherited Olivia’s ability to refrain from murdering either. Oh-for-two.

Reina tossed her an amused grin as they hurried down the hall past the screaming patrons. “Your family is too cool. I just love them.”

Trinity grabbed Reina’s arm. “I won’t risk anyone anymore. Call your boss. Tell him we’re going to the cabin in Minnesota. No more deaths.”

Reina let out a sigh of relief. “Good call, girlfriend. That’s the smartest choice. You’re doing the right thing.”

“I know.” But it felt so awful. It was an admission that she was a failure, but she wouldn’t risk any more lives just so she could love herself. Today had been too close, and even if Martin was a lying, thieving bastard, it wasn’t her role to decide when he got his permanent tropical vacation. “Call him.”

“As soon as I get your dad outside—”

Elijah suddenly lifted his head and slid out of Reina’s grip. “I don’t need to be carried.” He landed without a whisper of sound on his feet, then stumbled.

Trinity caught him as he tried to right himself, frowning at his weakness. “That was foolish for you to kill for me. You know how badly that affects you.” It would take him several years to heal even the small scratch on his forehead. Even accidentally stepping on a bug depleted him severely. Taking a person’s life? It would take him at least six months to be able to walk normally again. And his pottery… she shuddered. He’d be sculpting some seriously scary things for a while.

Elijah laid his hand on her cheek. “Oh, Trinity, if you had any idea what your mother and I owe you. I’d kill a thousand times to keep you from doing it.”

The heavy guilt in his tone made her stiffen. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, you owe me?” She was the one who owed them. Her parents had put their lives on hold to help her beat the curse. She owed them so much, and they were part of the reason she’d had to test herself.

She had to be worthy of what they’d sacrificed for her.

And apparently she wasn’t. And that felt really, really good. Not.

Elijah glanced at Reina, as if debating whether to speak in front of her. “There’s something you should know about your curse.”

Trinity stopped walking. “What else could there possibly be?” Things were even worse than she’d thought? Hallelujah. Just when she’d thought life was boring, nothing like a little unexpected bomb to juice things up. “What have you not told me?”

Elijah winced. “When you were a baby—”

The front door burst open and in walked a wizened man with cinnamon-colored skin. He was wearing faded jeans, a battered T-shirt, and an ancient fedora. His beard was ratty and gray against his dark complexion, and he was so hunched he could barely lift his head enough to make eye contact.

And he smelled like overripe banana.

Reina stopped. “Did you catch a whiff of that?”

“Oh, yeah.” Trinity averted her gaze, praying for him to walk past them into the dining room in search of someone else.

But he didn’t.

He looked right at Elijah, and then smiled.

“This is really bad,” Reina whispered. “Welcome to hell.”

***

On one level, it was kind of cool to meet a man whose trail of dead bodies numbered well into the seven figures. It was the first time Trinity had ever been around someone who made her feel somewhat angelic. And it felt good, so amazingly good, to have a brief “I’m okay” moment.

But on a more immediate level, having this particular man come in search of you was not a good thing. Really. Even if he was coming for tea, crumpets, and a friendly warning. He wasn’t exactly known as a first-choice dining companion.

More like your last choice, and your last one. Ever.

He called himself Augustus.

To the rest of the world, he was better known as, “Oh, shit, it’s Augustus.”

He smiled.

They all flinched.

He doffed his tattered fedora and bowed low, showing a tear in the seat of his crusted jeans and an unsettling rash on the back of his head. “My name is Augustus.” His voice was the cultured refinement of a blueblood born with a plaid blazer, a penchant for fine cigars, and membership at the most exclusive of golf clubs. “So lovely to meet you.”

Okay, so his voice made him even creepier. Shouldn’t he sound like a chain-smoking mafia underling who spent his days stalking the fish pier with a baseball bat and an attitude?

Augustus returned his hat to his head, and then held out his hand. “Elijah Harpswell. It is time.”

“What?” Before her brain had registered the insanity of her action, Trinity jumped in front of her dad. “You can’t have him!”

Augustus blinked, as if startled that someone would stand up to him. “No?”

Trinity noticed her dad was edging back toward the door.
You go, Dad!
“No.”

“Very well. Please give me a moment.” Augustus flashed his brown teeth and pulled out an iPhone. He tapped the screen a couple of times, then nodded. “Ah, yes. Did or did not Elijah Harpswell snuff the life from an innocent human with a pair of dinner forks at approximately nine thirty-one tonight?”

Trinity stared at him. “That’s why you’re here?”

Augustus nodded. “It is.”

Okay, that made no sense at all. Augustus was for serial killers, people who tortured fairies and gnomes, and for anyone stupid enough to try to kill a member of the Triumvirate (the ruling body of arrogant, over-sexed men and women who got to make up rules and ruin lives just because they happened to elect themselves to the board in charge of all things Otherworld). When Augustus came to pick someone up, it meant the trial had already occurred, the verdict was guilty, and the execution was less than a week away. No due process for Otherworld nasties who could take down the Triumvirate during an extensive trial process. “But you’re at the top of the assassin food chain. Why would you be sent to deal with the accidental death of one mortal?”

August smiled again. “Thank you for the kind words. I always appreciate compliments. I take my work very seriously.” He cocked his head. “Not many people appreciate my skills, but you do, don’t you?”

Oh, she was so not going there. “I’m sure there’s been a mistake. Elijah isn’t a danger to—”

Augustus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, pink star with barbed points.

“Uh, oh.” She stepped back, and Elijah broke for the door.

Reina leaned forward to peer at it. “Huh. That’s so much smaller than I thought it would be—”

Augustus chucked the star at Elijah’s face.

“Don’t catch it!” Trinity yelled.

But it was too late. Her dad instinctively nabbed the star with his left hand to protect his face. He screamed immediately, and his hand disintegrated into pink dust.

“Drop it!” Trinity leapt across the floor and tried to pry the star out of his hand… but his hand was already gone.