Odd Stuff (31 page)

I looked at the mark, afraid to touch it again. “I have a tattoo?” I whispered.

“It is a mark of kills or destructions. You will have one appear per kill. It used to be considered a thing of beauty amongst the sirens. There were women with entire night skies on their skin. Tattoos came later, a copycat thing, almost. They are very sensitive. Sirens would touch each others, especially during sex.” 

I looked back at Chance. Appreciation filled his eyes.

“What have you
done
to me? What am I?” Even my voice was not exactly mine. Melodic, smooth, and even in my terror, a thing of beauty in itself—it terrified me, and I clutched a hand to my lips. 

“You are Janie Smith,” he replied lightly. “I helped you become what you have always been.”

“I don’t want to be a siren or an elf,” I insisted.

“You aren’t either. You are the only one of you that there is. You can’t be half and half in the world of nature. Either you are a squirrel or a dolphin. There is no half and half. You aren’t half and half. You are something entirely new.”

I looked at the strange creature in the mirror. I bunched my hand into a fist and punched the glass. My skin parted and I bled, but even my blood wasn’t quite right.

I stared at my fist in horror as it fixed itself. I wiggled my fingers, the jewel bright red of the wet blood the only sign that I had just cut myself. I had healed that darn fast. “What am I?”  

He came to me and rested his hands on my shoulders. “I think you are very nearly the same thing as me.” 

“Which is?”

“Absolutely and completely new.”

I shook. I didn’t want to be new. I wanted to be me. I wanted to be plain old frumpy Janie Smith. I wanted to be normal.

Now, I looked like a siren. I felt like I could fly. And I hated it. 

I shook and fell to my knees and he dropped to try to catch me.

And I did the only thing I could. I hit him. I punched his chest and screamed out my terror and beat at him. I hit him and hit him. I don’t even know what all I called him or why he let me. But I beat on his chest and arms and wept and screamed and he let me.

When I wore down, he pulled me close and rocked me like a child. I could still feel bits of me rearranging, forming, becoming less and less me. 

I wept and hiccupped, and he just rocked. 

When I had worn down to a quiet whimper, he kissed my head. He brushed my new silver hair back with his fingers. He rubbed off the tears with the pads of his fingers and rained kisses across my cheeks. He did all of this with the quiet patience of a father soothing a child who was hurting then we were both still. Breathing slowed and he still rocked. He murmured little nothings to me. I didn’t hear half of them past the screaming in my brain. I hung on and still he rocked. 

Finally, I accepted it. There was no going back. I was what I was. I couldn’t exactly undo it and if I could, would I rather have died?

No, I wasn’t foolish enough to think that anymore. I wanted to survive. I was selfish enough not to care if others would be better off without another monster in the world. I wanted to live. I wanted to go to Vickie’s graduation. I wanted to live, to hurt, to love.

I had a funny feeling that I was a whole lot harder to kill off now.

Pulling away from Chance, I decided the whole Chance thing ended now. He was nothing but trouble and I most certainly did not want some jerk who would manipulate me into becoming one of the monsters by lying about my daughter getting kidnapped. I didn’t want him, I wanted my vampire. I didn’t want his glass green eyes or golden retriever sweetness which hid a cold, self-serving asshole. I didn’t want to be whole and all that crap. 

I liked being not whole. I liked being like everyone else. A part of me—the new monster part—wanted him, but I was in charge in my head. I was me. I didn’t give a flying crap about all the metaphysical nonsense. It was like, in that moment, I chose to split in two. Okay, sounds kind of schizophrenic, but if I had to be schizophrenic that was okay by me. They make pills for that. So, I would take them, but I would rather take them and see a nice doctor before I let my decisions be made by a supernatural monster.  

I tilted my head. Okay, maybe I was just nuts. Let’s put that back on the table for debate. 

I shrugged, got up and brushed off my pant legs and hardened my resolve.
I am Janie Smith
. It was about time to left this freaking bar and got on with my life. 

Hmmm, problem. Max.
There was a dead Master Magician in the bar next to the jail. Here was a problem that was going to be fun to fix and far better to think about that immediate concern than traipse around in the mess of my mind. “I never thought I would actually ask this question, but what are we going to do with the body?” 

“She’s not dead. Not entirely.”

I looked closer at Max. “No, man, I think she is all the way dead. Do you have one of those fire blowing things?”

He looked at me, curious. “Bellows?”

“Yeah, those.” I smiled.

“What are you going to do with bellows?”

I looked at him, exasperated. “Haven’t you seen Princess Bride? You stuff it in her mouth and then push down on her chest if she is mostly dead and she will talk…” 

“What?” He had one brow quirked and his head tilted.

“Nothing. Seriously, you old guys have a hard time with pop culture. If she’s only partly dead, what are we supposed to do? I mean, do we call 911, or what?” 

“Yes, we should contact the authorities. I don’t think there is anyway that they can associate you with her state.”

“Yeah, I had something similar happen once before. I drove two guys over the edge with my voice without draining them. They said it was gas or something.”

“Fine, so—” 

“Oh! There is an FBI agent tied up in the other room.”

“I’ll get her for you,” he offered generously, and left.

A few moments later, the nice FBI lady came out and dropped to her knees. “What happened?”

I looked at her and back at the door. “Where’s Chance?” 

“He said something about going. I don’t think he’s fond of police of any kind.” 

“Huh.” I scratched at my scalp. “I forgot your name. Sorry.”

“Shawna Pierson. Sorry, I didn’t get yours either…” She looked at me, her dark eyes searching. 

“Janie, Janie Smith.”

“Is there a phone around? We sould call for help.” Shawna peered around.

“Sure, out front.” I decided being helpful was beneficial

“Great.” She stood. “What happened to her, anyway?”

Okay, here’s the thing. I don’t want to stay and be questioned by the police either, probably why Chance left. It occurred to him things were about  to get sticky, so he bailed. I should probably follow his lead, just this once.  

I smiled, “I don’t know?” I tried. “I was just an innocent person she happened to kidnap?” I hadn’t really meant those to come out questions rather than statements. 

The cop’s eyes narrowed on me. “Uh, huh.” 

“You can call and I’ll stay here.” I made the offer with no plans to stay.

“Uh, huh.” Shawna did not believe me. “How about this…I’ll give you my card. I have a feeling there’s a lot going on in this area I may not know about. I have an equally strong feeling you could explain some of it to me. I’ll make you a deal—you disappear today and I forget I saw you. If something of this nature comes across my desk in the future…things that don’t make a lot of sense to me, give me your number and I’ll call you and see if you can help out. Deal?” 

Work for the po-po? Me, a secret government agent? Heehee. 

That could be cool. Especially now that I had super powers and all. Maybe I read too many comic books, but as Spiderman says, with great power comes great responsibility and all that shit. 

Okay, I edited that. Again, my head, not yours. 

So, I help out the FBI on cases of a supernatural nature. “Deal.” I shook her hand. 

She lowered her gaze, and I thought I caught a flash of gold light behind her eyes before she closed them.
Nah. Impossible.
And I was on the run, right? She headed for the bar proper after I dutifully provided my number. 

Assuming there was an exit the way Chance had disappeared, I decided to go that way. It never once occurred to me that Shawna had not asked me what was up with my new freak look. 

Well, not that day, anyway.

I found a door that went out the back, ran to the alley to the front of the building, and continued running all the way to my car.

I jumped in and turned the key in the—

The keys.
The keys were in my purse. In the bar. 

I slammed my head into the steering wheel. A silver car pulled up behind mine with the whir of a racing engine. A look in my rear view mirror revealed Chance behind the wheel. 

One might think I’d be smart enough to stay away from him, as nothing good has come from associating with him up to that point. 

In this case, the other option was stay and try to explain the whole sordid mess to the nice officers who would do one of two things—lock me up for suspicion or lock me up for being more loony tunes than Bugs Bunny. 

I wasn’t fond of either of the available options.

I was, however, fond of getting the hell out of Dodge.
Or Jefferson. Whatever.
So, I got out of my Focus, locked it, and slid into the passenger seat of his car. “Nice.” I touched the buttery soft interior. There was a flipping TV in the dash on my side. “So, you’re rich, too?” I leaned back into the seat, as he sped out of the lot. 

“Of course. I’m older than time.”

“What are you, again?” I sat forward and fiddled with the stereo controls.

“Not disclosing that yet. Get your hand off my stereo.” 

I found a country song I liked. Something about the boondocks. I turned it up. He had way better speakers than me. Then I muted it. “You got a cell?” 

He handed it over with a heavy sigh. I called Mia. In my absence, Vickie called from the phone I gave her, and Mia had gone to get her from her dad, who wanted me to call him. Mia had fed him a story about car trouble. She asked if I was okay. 

I looked down. I was in a sports car that cost more than a house, wearing a sports bra, and sitting next to God-only-knew-what, after changing into God-only-knew-what myself. “Yes?” I quirked a brow. Since it came out more of a question than an answer, Mia seemed concerned. “Can you and Sven keep Vickie for an hour or so?” 

I couldn’t go back and face them looking like Malibu Barbie on crack.

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

I sighed. “I am gonna be fine.” We hung up, and I turned in the seat to face Chance. “Here’s the deal, jerk.” I placed a hand on the armrest between us. 

“Why are you calling me names?”

I ignored him. “You ruined my life as I knew it, and you are rich. You are going to fund the new-Janie-makeover shopping trip, since I wouldn’t have to
have
a makeover if it wasn’t for you.” 

He shrugged. “Money is replaceable.”

“Great. To the mall, Jeeves.” He sighed, and I turned the volume back up. Since he was the only one in the car, I sang along with the radio. 

He moaned, but I had a feeling it was because I was being annoying, not due to any forthcoming insanity. I half wished I could drive him insane. He deserved it, meddling…whatever he was. 

CHAPTER Seventeen

I could take pain. I could stare at her through it. I gave birth to an eight pound, eight ounce baby, natural childbirth, no drugs. A little burning flesh?

Forgeddaboudit.

This must have somehow been translated to my face, even through boogers and tears—I mean, I couldn’t wipe my face as I was tied up, so I had to look really sexy right about then. But I found a core of steel and decided to let her do her worst with the evil burny rock…and I wasn’t gonna tell her poo. 

I assume she decided the rock wasn’t working. I mean, it worked in that it hurt like a bitch, but it wasn’t making me talk. Since I was willing to take it until the sun set and the reinforcements showed up, she was right. She stood and closed her eyes. When she opened them a moment later, they shone black. 

I wondered what little treat this change signaled.  

“She is a psychic vampire.” Chance tapped his chest. “She is going to suck out your soul.”

For a moment, I thought he was telling her what I was, but not quite. I wasn’t a psychic vampire. I didn’t suck souls. I sucked the electricity…the stuff of brain synapses and all.
Ohhh, dawning realization
. She was gonna suck
me
dry. I realized just then that he was talking about Max. 

That is bad.

Well, I still had a shot. It had to be getting close to dark by now. Vance and Mia would come and…

How?
How would they know where I was, not to mention knowing I was even in trouble to begin with?
I am toast. She is gonna kill me off, here and now. Help isn’t coming.
 

I stared at her as she got closer to me, her movements very nearly sexual. I am straight so I found this mildly disturbing. I tried to think of a smart ass remark, but for the first time in my life, I had nothing. She wore knowledge of my death in her eyes.  

I tried to move away which doesn’t work well when you are tied hand and foot to a chair. “Eek,” I managed. This worked about as well as it had with Vance. Eek seems to have little effect on monsters…so why do girls always say it in movies? She sat on my lap, legs spread around mine, and put a hand, palms flat, to each side of my head at my temples. Her eyes burned into mine, searching for something. 

I felt a tug. She had found a line that went right to my soul. She pulled at it through her hands. I could feel it. It’s like when you are very, very tired and you are groggy…I was becoming like that. I blinked and a pull tugged at my body again. She writhed a little.