Kiss at Your Own Risk (6 page)

His arm turned pink and then disintegrated into dust, and then the rosy assault raced up his shoulder. He looked aghast as he watched himself turn pink. “This really hurts,” he said. “I had no idea.”

“Dad!” Trinity caught his upper body just as his legs went powdery.

“Trin.” Elijah turned his head toward her as his torso began to fall apart. “I love you, and I will never regret my choice. Tell your mom I love her.”

“You tell her yourself when you get out! We’ll come get you—”

“No one gets out after they’ve been dusted.”

Trinity’s heart dropped at the words she knew were true, and then her dad’s head turned pink. For a moment, the only things in the air were his eyes, staring at her, and then they poofed into a cloud of pink dust and were gone.

“Oh, wow.” Reina brushed her hand through the air where Elijah’s head had been. “I’ve never seen that happen in real life before. That’s pretty creepy.”

Augustus began to sweep up the pink dust strewn across the floor.

Trinity fought back the urge to tackle Augustus and demand the return of her father. Getting dusted herself would not help her dad. “How can I get him back?”

Augustus raised his brows. “No one comes back after I take them.”

Trinity’s legs began to tremble. “Please, there has to be something I can do. We both know he didn’t do anything to warrant being pinked.”

At that moment, Augustus’s phone broke out into the tune of “If You’re Going Through Hell.” He didn’t even bother to answer it. He simply handed it to Trinity. “For you.”

“Me?” She grabbed the phone and eyed the pile of her dad while Augustus knelt down with his broom and dustpan. “Hello?”

Reina pressed her ear up next to Trinity’s so she could listen.

“Trinity Harpswell?” It was a deep male voice with an edge that sounded like fingernails being scraped over a blackboard.

Reina winced, and goose bumps popped up over Trinity’s body. “Yes. Who is this?”

“Press the blue icon, please. We have a deal for you.”

Was he delusional? There was no way Trinity was going to get tangled up with anything having to do with Augustus or his phone. People died around him. Constantly. “No way—”

Reina caught her arm. “Your dad is bubble gum right now,” she said. “What have you got to lose?”

Augustus was sealing her father in a transparent bag. He nodded and tucked her dad in his pocket. “Have a lovely day, ladies.” Then he walked out the door with her dad in a Ziploc.

Trinity pressed the blue icon.

Blaine slammed the fourth bottle of Sam Adams Boston Lager down in the middle of his dining room table. “For Christian.”

Nigel and Jarvis raised their beers. “For Christian.”

Blaine took a long drink of the local brew, but it tasted like sand, and not the good kind. Which aggravated the hell out of him, because he loved that beer. Stolen moments with the boys and Sam A. had been some of the few good memories he had of the Den. And now that he was out? Too pissed off to even enjoy it. He tossed the bottle back onto the table next to Christian’s untouched beer.

Once the mist had dumped his team in the middle of the Boston Common, they’d spent hours searching for the portal, but it was gone. Just tourists, too many damn Red Sox hats, and a bunch of ducks.

It was as if the witch’s lair simply didn’t exist, which, of course, was her goal. They’d finally decided to regroup and figure out a plan that actually involved strategy and some likelihood of success, so they’d secured some new digs and holed up. Cash talked, even money stolen from a psychotic witch who had created the stuff out of the ashes of dead test subjects. Blood money took on a whole new meaning with Angelica.

Blaine’s new place was a top floor condo with a view of the harbor, floor-to-ceiling windows, and an expansive deck. Granite counters, stainless steel appliances, everything the realtor had said was top-of-the-line.

After a century and a half of deprivation, Blaine was going to settle for nothing but the best, and Nigel and Jarvis had bought places in the same building.

And it felt desolate without Christian there to share it.

No one had said it, but they were all thinking it. There was no plan to make, no rescue to attempt. The tentacles were bad shit. Christian was dead.

Blaine shoved his chair back. “I’m getting some more pizza.”

He strode across the hardwood floor into the kitchen, but when he got there, he ignored the food. He fisted the back of a chair, leaned on it, and dropped his head. His fingers dug into the black metal, and he felt the material give beneath his grasp. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Christian.”

“Blaine.” Angelica’s singsong voice danced through the kitchen.

He spun around, flames exploding from him in violent aggression. Sparks singed the wall and the floors and the cabinets, but there was no witch to kill. There was nothing in the kitchen but what was supposed to be there.

Jarvis and Nigel tore into the room, both of them fully armed. “Where is she?” Jarvis demanded.

Blaine shook his head, turning slowly around. “She never leaves the Den.”

“I heard her too.” Nigel’s blades were out and he was ready.

“Oh, Blaine, dear.”

He finally saw that the stainless steel fridge was sparkling. “There!” He hurled a fireball at the appliance and all he got was her amused chuckle.

“My delightful Blaine, you should know by now you can’t hurt me.”

Blaine swore and he let his flames subside to a simmer. Nigel and Jarvis had moved up behind him, facing the fridge. She was right. They’d tried hundreds of times to kill her, and they’d never so much as singed one of her artificially blond tresses. Escape had been the second choice.

The cooling unit shimmered again, and Angelica’s smug visage appeared as a faint shadow in the metal. Blaine’s upper lip curled in disgust and he turned his back and walked out of the kitchen without another word. The overbearing girl-power freak had no control over him anymore.

Nigel and Jarvis followed him, and they silently sat down at the table.

They all drained their beers.

“She’s going to stalk us,” Nigel finally said.

“Blaine!” She sounded pissed now.

He did a quick scan of the living room. There was no stainless steel for her to possess. He leaned back in his chair. “I’m thinking of remodeling the kitchen,” he said loudly. “I find the stainless steel a bit austere for my tastes.”

Nigel grinned. “I was thinking the same thing about my place.”

“Blaine!” she yelled. “Christian’s not dead!”

His hand clenched around the bottle, and his teammates went still. No one said a word.

“But he’s suffering horribly,” she shouted.

The bottle shattered beneath Blaine’s grip, and glass sliced his palm. The witch knew suffering.

“If you bring your team in, I’ll give Christian back to you,” she called out. “Nigel can heal him.”

Blaine shoved back from the table and walked over to the window. The sun was setting, and the city was beautiful. Miles and miles of world for him to explore, whenever he wanted. Total freedom. The witch was lying to get him back. Christian was dead. He’d failed him. No more to discuss.

“Fine. Talk to him yourself,” she snapped. “I just don’t understand why you refuse to trust me. When have I ever lied to you? How come men constantly confuse torture and lying?” she muttered. “They’re just not the same thing.”

Blaine deliberately turned around. He could see into the kitchen from this angle, and the witch’s high cheekbones and long eyelashes were clearly visible. She looked aggravated, and the veins on her neck were popping out as she struggled with something.

Jarvis and Nigel edged their seats over so they could see the show.

The estrogenized dictator made a grunting sound that made Jarvis wince, and suddenly, Christian’s face was next to hers in the fridge. He was ashen and fuzzy, his eyes closed and swollen. “See?” she said. “This poor sweet boy is going to pay for your escape until you three get back here.” She patted Christian’s cheek. “Tell them, my child. Tell them to come save you.”

Christian’s eyes flickered open. He was alive! Blaine sprinted into the kitchen and crouched in front of the fridge. “Hey, man, how are you doing?”

The sky-blue eyes were hazy, and he looked past Blaine. “Nice digs,” he mumbled.

“The best.” Blaine set his hand on the fridge, then swore when it seared his palm. It hadn’t burnt him when he’d used it before. The witch had twisted the stainless steel to her control already. “You’d like it. Got a sixty-five-inch flat screen.”

Christian nodded. “You keep my room open. I’ll be there soon.”

“Hello? There will be no off-site visitation.” The witch dug her fingernails into the side of Christian’s neck, and the warrior’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Tell them to come home, darling. You know you all belong to me.”

“Trio, if you come back for me, I’ll kick your ass for all eternity.” Christian opened his eyes, and his gaze was unfocused. “You’d never let me give up my freedom for you, and the same rules apply.” He raised his hand, and Blaine set his palm against Christian’s. The stainless was cool, and he knew Christian was easing the sting of the steel between them.

Which told him it wasn’t a delusion.

Christian was really alive, and he was in Angelica’s clutches.

Blaine didn’t give a shit what Christian wanted him to do. He was going find a way to bring him home, no matter what the cost. He didn’t care that it was an impossible task. He’d find a way.

Unlike his parents, Blaine didn’t leave people behind. Ever.

***

The moment Trinity’s finger touched the blue icon on Augustus’s iPhone, the restaurant disappeared into a world of blinding white. No contrast, no color, just a juiced up blizzard of nothingness.

Reina’s fingers dug into her wrist. “This looks like heaven. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Augustus is involved, so there’s no chance of pearly gates.” But what was it? Trinity had no clue, but it was kind of unnerving her, given the close proximity of the whole bubble gum dust and murdering incidents and all. “I’m thinking this was a bad choice.” She hit the blue icon again, in case that would, oh, you know, reverse the process and spit them out into a spa or something equally delightful.

No such luck, as there was a sudden din of large bells, and then they were in a cold, dank cave. It was so dark, they could barely see beyond the outline of rocks and the sound of rushing water.

“I agree. Not heaven.” Reina relaxed her grip. “Gateway to Hell? River Styx, maybe?”

Trinity’s stomach tightened. “Not funny, Rei. I’m a little sensitive about Hell these days.”

“I wasn’t making a joke, sweetie.”

“Oh—” A dim light filled the cave, and Trinity quickly looked around. Stalactites hung down from the ceiling, and water dripped into a small pool of shimmering aquamarine water. Exotic pink, yellow, and blue flowers surrounded the pool, and an inviting stone bench sat beneath a palm tree on a patch of tempting white sand. A rainbow colored fish did a double flip before disappearing into the sparkly depths. The sound of bubbling water filled the air, soothing and quiet.

Or not so much. “Oh, man,” Trinity said. “It’s the lobby of the Triumvirate’s headquarters.”

“How fantastic!” Reina pulled out a digital camera shaped like a dagger and began snapping pictures. “What a great opportunity. Death will be so interested in this report. He’s never been invited here.” She walked closer to the sandy oasis. “I could definitely get some points for reporting this—”

“Ms. Harpswell.” A tall, elegant woman in a gold gown stepped out of the wall (um, hello? Solid stone, anyone?). She was wearing black stilettos, a diamond necklace large enough to put her in the next weight class, and her platinum hair was coiffed in a perfect bun.

Trinity had no idea who the woman was, but Reina instantly did a fan-girl squeal. “It’s Felicia Maguire,” she whispered. “The greatest assassin ever to walk the planet. She’s been so good for business. She comes for dinner all the time, but I’ve never been permitted to meet her.”

Okay, yeah, so that was not looking like a good sign that Oh, Shit, It’s Augustus had taken her dad and then sent her off to meet with a premiere assassin.

Reina held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Reina. I’m one of Death’s assistants. It’s really a great pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maguire.”

Felicia gave Reina her fingertips. “Lovely to meet you, my dear.”

Reina took a picture of Felicia. “Can you drop me a hint about your next assignment? I’d love to be there to see you in action. I can turn into vapor, so no one would know if I was observing.”

A soft chuckle escaped Felicia. “My dear, I’m afraid that’s classified material.” She winked. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Done.” Reina bared her neck and gestured to her throat. “It would be a huge honor to have you kill me.”

Felicia raised her brow. “You’re immortal,” she said dryly.

Reina waved her hand. “Semantics. I’ll pretend to die.”

Felicia’s smile warmed. “I like your attitude. Maybe another time.” Then her smile faded and she turned to Trinity. “Today is about you.”

Trinity winced. “Yeah, I’m not really surprised to hear that.”

Felicia strode powerfully across the cave, ditching the elegant walk she’d sauntered in with. She vaulted over a pile of stones, then plunked herself down on the bench. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her splayed knees. If her dress wasn’t so long, she’d be exposing all her girly parts for viewing. Interesting pose. “Here’s the deal, Trinity. There’s a beast running around Boston getting his jollies out of killing too many people. We’ve all tried to take him out. No success.”

Trinity eased down onto a rock. “Um, okay.”

Felicia grabbed the collar of her dress and pulled it down. There was a chunk of flesh several inches long missing. “It thought I was sexy and this was its way of asking me on a date.” She paused to smile for Reina’s camera. “Took me three days to recover, and it wasn’t even trying to kill me.” She let the neckline return to its place. “No one can figure out how to stop it, or even what it is. It changes form and none of us have seen the same image.”

“Oh…” Trinity had a bad feeling where this was heading. One of the gifts of the black widow was the ability to know how to kill any living creature, not simply the ones she was in love with. Of course, the only ones she
had
to kill were the ones she loved. Such a lovely twist. “My dad wasn’t taken by accident, was he?” Had the Triumvirate set up the entire situation so they could force Trinity to help them? If so, that was damned impressive. A little creepy and Big Brotherish as well, but impressive nonetheless.

Felicia smiled. “My, what a smart girl.” She handed Trinity a black kitchen timer set for six days, twenty-two hours, five minutes, and eight seconds. “Your dad’s execution is scheduled for seven o’clock on Sunday night. This clock tracks the official countdown.”

Trinity reluctantly accepted the timer and set it beside her. Her dad’s death was scheduled for three minutes before her curse would expire, assuming she managed not to kill anyone else, of course.

“If you kill our resident psychopath,” Felicia said, “Elijah will be pardoned.”

Reina sank down next to Trinity. “Tough call, girlfriend. That would totally cut into our girls’ retreat in Minnesota.”

Trinity’s throat tightened. “I can’t kill again.”

“Then Daddy dies.” Felicia handed Trinity a sheaf of papers. “Here is the limited information we have on the creature, as well as a contract for your services. Payment for the kill is your dad’s freedom.” She held out a pen. “Here you go.”

Trinity scanned the papers.
I, Trinity Harpswell, do hereby swear that I am a black widow, and I will use my black widow talents to kill the target—
Her stomach lurched and she looked up. “I can’t do it.”

“Isn’t there another option?” Reina asked. “I mean—”

“These were the terms we decided on when we sent Augustus after Elijah. You trade the heart of one beast for your father. Nothing less will do.” Her voice became reverent. “Augustus is extremely inflexible in the administration of his duties. Once he’s set into motion, he simply can’t be stopped. He’s as formidable as he is handsome.”

“Handsome?” Reina echoed. “Hunchbacks and rashes are hot? He smells like rotting bananas.”

Felicia laughed. “Oh, my dear, you have so much to learn.” She fluttered her hand over her chest as if trying to dissipate sudden heat. “Well, Trinity. Are you going to sign it?”

Reina put her arm around Trinity’s shoulder and squeezed. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “Your dad would understand.”