Spell Bound (Darkly Enchanted) (13 page)

His intense concentration as he listened to something outside the room actually calmed her. She didn’t hear anything but he obviously did. Something that set him on edge.

After a few seconds, Borelli made a sharp motion with his head for her to follow him.

Slipping off her heels, she watched as he opened the door and looked both ways. Then he waved her into the hallway that connected these small rooms to the dressing room at the end.

Where Leo waited.

Borelli dogged her heels, a gun the size of a small cannon in his hand. They reached the dressing room in seconds. No one appeared in the hall as they slipped inside.

“Leo,” she whispered. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”

His dark head popped up from under the vanity table where he’d probably been playing his PSP. His eyes widened when he saw Borelli and he looked back at her with fear in his eyes.

“It’s okay, bud.” She smiled at him as she shrugged into her hoodie and pulled on her sneakers. No time to change the shorts. “He’s here to help.”

Leo looked again at Borelli, who swiped a quick look at Leo before returning his intent gaze to the dressing room door. Her brother took a second to make up his mind before he moved to her side.

She grabbed his hand and her backpack…

And froze as her skin tingled. Someone was using a spell to search for them. Someone powerful.

Oh, shit. They’d been found—

Borelli grabbed her shoulder and shook her, breaking through the fear that’d nearly paralyzed her. He didn’t say a word, just motioned toward the door at the rear that led to the back alley.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Holding tight to Leo’s hand, she’d barely pulled him through the door when the shooting started.

Chapter Six

The dressing room door muffled the first few blasts.

But as the wood splintered under a barrage of bullets, the sound of the gunshots pounded her ears.

“Get to the end of the alley and wait for me there,” Borelli hissed before he turned back into the room.

He fired twice, the sound reverberating off the walls of the narrow alley, making rats scurry from their hiding places. Leo flinched but never hesitated as Shea forced him to run faster down the alley.

Stopping where he’d told her, she put Leo between herself and the brick wall of the building and watched Borrelli.

Walking backward to keep an eye on the door, the
grigorio
continued to shoot. Gunsmoke hung in the air, the stench thick and choking.

When he reached them, Borelli slung Leo over his shoulder like a sack of flour and grabbed her arm. Then he ran like hell.

She had a hard time keeping up, but she kept her mouth shut. Her heart flooded with adrenaline and fear made her stomach roll. Afraid to slow them down, she concentrated on not stumbling. As a kid, she’d learned to run on deer trails in the forest in her bare feet, her dad right behind her, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

“Shit.” Her foot snagged on something and she nearly fell. Gabriel dragged her until she had her feet under her again.

“Concentrate or we’re dead,” he hissed. “I can’t carry you both.”

He was right, damn him.

They didn’t run long, but it was a flat-out sprint up the alley. Shea’s lungs burned and her calves sang with pain.

But when Borelli skidded to a halt, she wanted to scream at him to keep going.

Until she saw the three men at the end of the alley.

Borelli nearly dropped Leo in his haste to put the boy behind him and against the wall of the building. Then he grabbed Shea’s arm and pulled her behind him, as well.

He kept his gun leveled at the men, two of whom had guns aimed at them.

The other was a boy, tall for his age, but still only a child. Maybe fourteen or fifteen. He looked like an angel with strawberry-blond hair and a face full of curves instead of angles, though his body was almost painfully thin, at that awkward stage between teen and man.

He smiled then, sweet and innocent. His expression sent a chill through her entire body. Goddess, the vibe she got from him slithered on her skin like slick black oil. He was anything but innocent.

Borelli’s voice hissed between his teeth. “We need to get to the tan car behind them. When I tell you, grab the kid and follow me.”

“Hello,
grigorio
.” His voice just beginning to deepen with age, the teen made the title sound like a curse.

Gabriel never looked away from the two men with the guns. “Don’t even try it.” Borelli stared straight at them. “You’ll both be dead before you pull the trigger.”

The teen laughed, a weirdly young sound. “You wouldn’t dare shoot that thing in my vicinity, would you,
grigorio
? A bullet is such a small thing to alter. One tiny flick of the air and it can land somewhere you didn’t expect.”

As if to demonstrate, one of the men squeezed off a round, straight at Borelli’s head. Shea gasped, but the teen waved his hand in the air and the bullet veered away and lodged in the building.

Goddess, the boy was
grigori
, like Gabriel. Cold terror spread through her body. This is what Dario wanted to turn Leo into. Oh, Goddess, please—

“You know, you’re right about bullets.” Borelli’s gun didn’t so much as waver. “But then, I never was much for machinery.”

Faster than her brain could process, Borelli’s hand, still holding the gun, shot out and connected with one of the men’s chins before tossing a left hook at the other.

As the men fought, Shea kept her eyes on the teen. He stood to the side, his unwavering gaze stuck on Leo. Waiting.

Shea hated waiting. Damn it, she wanted him to make a move so she could do something. Not only had her dad taught her how to drive, but he’d taught her how to take care of herself, too.

Finally, the teen’s eyes narrowed and he began to inch forward, seeing a tiny gap in the fighting between Borelli and the other two men.

Come on, bastard. Come on.

He came at her first with magic. His
arus
brushed against her and she braced herself against it. It was so cold, it burned. A fierce hatred fueled it, one she couldn’t fully grasp. She only knew it hurt, and her head began to pound.

Steady
.

When he was close enough, her fist swung out and clipped him on the jaw. Pain radiated up her arm at the force of the blow and the kid rocked back on his heels. But a second later, he smiled and slugged her back.

She saw it coming, knew it would hurt like hell, but she took it like her father had taught her. And when it didn’t drop her, the boy’s smile finally faded.

And hers spread.

“Hey, kid. Didn’t your mom tell you it isn’t nice to hit girls?”

She grabbed his shoulders, catching him off guard. Then she pulled him forward and kneed him in the groin with everything she had.

He hadn’t been expecting it, stupid kid, and he fell to the ground with a strangled screech, clutching his balls.

“Run, now,” Borelli yelled as he finally knocked one of the men to the ground and kicked the other away. “The car.”

Shea obeyed mindlessly. She picked up Leo, her brother’s arms wrapping around her neck, the warmth of his body sinking into her skin. Hugging him tight, she ran.

They were nearly to the car when the men caught up to them. One grabbed for Leo, the other hit Borelli with enough force to knock him into her.

She stumbled against the car and hit her hip hard. Still, she twisted, struggling. She had to get Leo away. Had to—

Someone began to scream, someone close.

A shaft of pain shot through her head, nearly blinding her, but she struggled toward the car, holding onto Leo as tightly as she could.

She didn’t realize until the man grabbing for Leo fell away that he’d been the one screaming. He dropped to the ground, writhing and waving his burning arms, the flames quickly spreading.

“Get in the car!” Borelli shouted at them. “Get in the car!”

Her mouth hanging open, she stood there, motionless.

Blessed Goddess. Leo. Leo had done that.

“Sissy.”

Startled by the sound of his voice, she turned to look into her brother’s deep brown eyes. She saw his fear so clearly, it jumpstarted her body. She turned to wrestle open the front passenger door and slid in with Leo.

Boosting him over the backseat, she said, “Stay down and don’t move.”

She watched while he did that then turned to see Borelli slide into the driver’s seat.

The car came to life with barely a sound, a fact that struck her as funny. With all the rest of the drama, there should be roaring engines.

The thought didn’t last long as Borelli pulled a tight U-turn and peeled out in the opposite direction. Turning to look through the back window, she saw one of the men lift his arm, point the gun and shoot.

“God damn it, get down.” Borelli palmed her head and shoved it onto the leather seat, even as he turned the next corner one-handed and at nearly fifty miles an hour. “I don’t want you to get fucking shot.”

He took another turn without braking, his hand still on her head, and she heard a small “oof” from the backseat. Habit made her say, “Watch your language.”

His fingers tightened in her hair. He wanted to respond. She could practically hear the words on the tip of his tongue.

He didn’t. Instead, he released her, replacing both hands on the wheel.

Sitting up, she let her gaze roam over their foul-mouthed savior. Except for a split lip, a decent-sized bruise on his cheekbone and a bloody tear in his pants at the knee, Borelli looked okay.