WeirdNights (2 page)

The sweet little knife-wielding granny launched herself at
him. He stumbled backward when he caught her and she managed to scratch him
with her knife before he disarmed her.

It burned and blood poured from the wound.

“Lady.” She tore around in his arms and he had to wrestle
her down to the ground. “I am really not in the mood.”

With a wrench, he managed to roll her over and tie her up so
she couldn’t cause any more harm. He sat down on her legs. His side ached where
she’d stabbed him.

Foy and Braxton tore down the stairs. He pointed at the
victim before they could speak. “I’ve got her. You guys feel like handling this
poor woman on the table? I’m bleeding over here and I’d rather not move, if it’s
all the same.”

“Satan will avenge this,” the old woman screamed and Jonah
rolled his eyes.

Foy glanced between Jonah and the victim before helping to
free the woman. Jonah laughed. “You let me know how that goes, lady.”

“You know.” Braxton spoke through clenched teeth while he
bent over to tie up Jonah’s assaulter’s legs. “If you had waited for me, you
wouldn’t have gotten stabbed.”

“I heard a woman screaming. I reacted.” He’d never been able
to stop the reflex. Ever. No amount of training and patience coaching from Foy
rid him of the need to immediately respond to a woman’s cry for help. At this
point, he doubted he’d ever be able to turn it off. Stop, think and make a
rationale decision didn’t work for him when it came to a damsel in distress.

“That’s going to get you killed.” Braxton finished tying
Granny, and Jonah got off her legs.

His side ached and bled heavily, not a good sign. He
probably needed a stitch. Or fifteen.

Foy freed the girl and wrapped her in a blanket he’d found
somewhere. Jonah hadn’t been paying attention to his movements. Their mentor
had done this thousands of times. If anyone would know how to comfort the
would-be sacrifice, it was Master Foy.

Braxton tugged the sweet little old Satan worshiper to him
and then swung her over his shoulder like a bag of golf clubs. She fought and
screamed. The whole scene made Jonah’s head ache.

“Why did we move this up a day?” He looked straight at Foy.

“Because this young lady would be dead if we hadn’t.”

Foy had an amazing gift to see visions of victims when he
meditated. Nothing like that ever happened to Jonah when he cleared his mind. The
others he trained with all seemed to have small doses of mystical abilities
too. Everyone but Jonah.

Knowing that anyone else would have no idea what he spoke
about, but that Foy always somehow understood what he meant, he let himself ask
a question that seemed forever on his mind.

“Did you make a mistake when you picked me?” Had he just
been pitying the boy whose parents lived but didn’t want him? When everyone
else in the program had been alone in the world because of death, not
abandonment? Had he just felt like if he didn’t give Jonah a shot there would
be nowhere else for him to go?

“No.” Foy shook his head then charged up the stairs with the
woman in his arms. “You’re bleeding. Go to the ER before you pass out.”

That was apparently all his Master had to say on the
subject. Jonah sighed, clenching his teeth. Finally, when he could take a deep
breath, he looked at Braxton. “Do you need help here?”

“Nope.” Braxton patted the Satan-worshiper on the back. “I’ll
take care of this.”

Jonah didn’t have to ask what he meant by that. Sometimes
things had to be “taken care of” by making people who wanted to cause the world
paranormal harm disappear. He’d done it himself. If Braxton really had this
under control, Jonah would go find a doctor and get himself on the way to
healing.

Clutching his side, he limped up the stairs. He rounded the
corner out of the house and a gust of cold Chicago winter hit him in the face.
He couldn’t help but think about how lovely Mindy looked in the moonlight when
he’d followed her earlier.

There had been a time when he’d charged in to rescue her. And
he’d failed her. Horribly. It was no wonder she hated him as much as she did.

Mindy stormed through the door of the martial arts studio
where she worked. Then she rounded the corner toward the private residence in
the back. Master Foy lived on the Highland Park premises with whatever member
of his blood-oathed students whose presence he happened to require. For now
that was Jonah. And that was who she needed to see. Immediately.

When she moved to Chicago, Jonah helped her get a job as a
receptionist so she could train at the studio too. Few of the students knew the
seemingly innocuous mansion, featuring a small martial arts studio in the front
of the building, had a dual purpose. Most simply knew about the teachers for
those who wanted to study karate. Only a select few knew Master Foy ran a
program for those seeking blood oaths to combat evil…

Jonah had been picked out when he was a small child to
receive the training and he worked at Foy’s side fighting back that which would
hurt humanity. Mindy hoped, after her own dealings with a demonic clown left
her permanently altered, the master would let her into the program too.
However, Foy looked straight at her and shook his head silently before walking
away in silence.

That was fine. The man could take his program and shove it. She
felt lucky to get to work for him so she could pay her bills. Beyond that, she
didn’t need Foy to teach her how to be strong enough to fight evil. Martial arts
made her stronger, leaner, and she’d found a good collection of books in the
library for study of what she needed to know.

Her days of selling software for a tech company in Austin
were behind her, destroyed by the events that had bleached the color from her
hair. She would devote herself to making sure no one else ever went through
what she had.

She banged on Jonah’s door. He was going to answer some
questions before she gave him a piece of her mind. Mindy waited a few seconds
and, when she didn’t hear any noise, she banged again.

A groan sounded in the room and a few seconds later the door
creaked open. “What?”

Jonah stood in front of her, shirtless. She took a step
back. In her months in Chicago she’d never seen Jonah not fully clothed. Her
imagination hadn’t done him justice.

Broad shouldered but still lean, his muscles were well
defined and his naked chest made her mouth go dry.
Oh damn. Why did he have
to be so…perfect?
Jonah might as well have been carved out of stone. Add
his high cheekbones, big brown eyes and sleep-tousled brown hair, and he
defined physical perfection.

Her cheeks heated up. Somehow, she had to remember the
external yumminess cloaked a man who disdained her and constantly pointed out
her flaws.

She dropped her eyes, intending to look away from his
half-nudity—his lower half remained covered by black pajama pants that had a
red stripe up the side—when her eyes caught a large bandage.

“What happened?” She reached out to touch his skin above the
injury. Realizing what she’d done seconds after she did it, she snatched her
fingers back. His skin had been surprisingly soft.

Jonah’s gaze tracked her movements and she sighed. One more
thing he could add to the list she felt he kept somewhere of all the things she
did wrong.
Touching Jonah without permission while he stood nearly nude in
his doorway
would now join
falling on her face
and
tripping over
her bags
.

“I got stabbed.” He cleared his throat. “At the house you
were breaking into. Satan worshipers had a young woman tied to a table. Glad we
got her out, but I took a stab for the cause.”

Mindy swallowed, digesting his words.
He’d been stabbed?
“My god, Jonah. Have you been to a doctor? You shouldn’t ignore that. It could
fester or something.”

“I got stitched up by one last night. Coming up with
believable stories so they don’t call the cops is getting harder and harder. But
I think I convinced them I’m just a weirdo who cut himself cleaning his own
knife.”

He turned and walked deeper into the room. Foy’s students
didn’t live in luxury, despite the size of the house. Jonah’s digs weren’t much
more than a dorm room and even Mindy, who didn’t have much, lived in an
apartment bigger than this. Did he ever feel stifled?

“What can I do for you so early in the morning?”

“It’s nine.” She looked at her watch to make sure she hadn’t
screwed up her timing. “Hardly dawn.”

“It’s too early for me when I’m out running around all night
fighting evil.” He yawned. “Did you sleep at all? Your eyes are all red.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” She rubbed her eyes. White
hair, red eyes. Maybe she’d become a demon herself.

“Just worried about you, sweetheart.”

Those stupid nicknames
. She gritted her teeth. “I’m
fine. I came because you’re wrong.”

He leaned back on his bed wincing and touching his side. She
knew firsthand how much a wound could hurt when it first attempted to heal. Her
face still hurt on occasion and six months passed since the hellhound confused
her with a chew toy.

“I’m wrong on what subject? Or just wrong in general?” The
tightness of his voice told her how much he ached.

She sighed before opening her purse and picking up the
aspirin on top of it. Mindy poured two into her hand and brought them to him. “Take
these.”

“I don’t like medicine. I have to basically be dead to take
that stuff.”

“Let me ask you something.” She sat on the edge of his bed. “Do
you want to be holed up in here for weeks? Or would you rather take two
aspirin, diminish some of your pain and let your body heal so you can get back
to whatever it is you do all day?”

Truthfully, Mindy knew exactly what Jonah did with his time.
She couldn’t let him know it—he’d think her a stalker, which might be a
legitimate guess at this point. Jonah spent his days either teaching with Foy
or working as a waiter at a chi-chi restaurant downtown. He was—according to
her fellow receptionist Jana—very popular with the female clientele. All of
Foy’s blood-oathed students were trying to earn enough to individually open
their own studios to continue his teaching in other towns.

Mindy’s friend, Dodie, had gotten engaged and would soon be
married to one of Foy’s other students, Christian. Dodie’s fiancé recently
opened his own place. Christian worked nights as an exotic dancer while he
saved up to buy his dojo. Jonah grumbled about it, but he couldn’t dance, so
there was no way he earned in tips what Christian had nightly.

That was okay. Mindy preferred Jonah not be gawked at by
thousands of women. She’d want to claw out their eyes, even though she had no
right to feel that way.

Jonah held out his hand. “Give me the aspirin.”

She placed the medicine in his large hand. He took the pills
and swallowed them without water. “Happy?”

Mindy shrugged. “No.”
Yes
.

“You were about to tell me I was wrong about something.”

“Yes.” She stood up, needing to be away from his bed. It
felt too intimate to sit on his mattress while he lounged against his
headboard, half-naked, watching her with hooded eyes. Now she knew his gaze had
come from pain, not some desire to ravish her, but her stupid imagination
wanted to take the image and run with it.

She needed to focus. Or maybe she really, really needed to
get laid. Either way, she had to get control of herself, fast.

“How or when was I wrong?” He rubbed at his face. Jonah must
really be hurting and quite exhausted to show as many symptoms as he did. The
man usually walked around like human steel—nothing touched him, nothing
bothered him.

She smiled at him. “You know what? I’m really sorry I woke
you. We can talk about it later.”

Mindy turned and headed for the door.

“Mindy.” He called out her name and she turned. “Tell me. What
am I wrong about?”

“It’s nothing.” She fled into the hall. After she closed his
door behind her, she leaned against the wall.

Jonah didn’t have to know his mistake. If he did, he’d try
to stop her from doing something she needed to accomplish.

Her head buzzed with excitement while she walked down the
hall toward her desk. When the demon landed in Austin, it had brought all kinds
of paranormal activity with it. That was normal for a demon infestation. But
there had been no rising demon in Chicago. Jonah had stopped it the night
before.

There was no reason for the activity in the neighborhood
except that there was, in fact, a haunting going on. Jonah didn’t know
everything about the paranormal. She read and read on the subject.

Sometimes ghosts could haunt entire neighborhoods and she
would bet her life savings that it was a coincidence that the Satan worshipers
lived on the block. There was a haunting going on too.

And she intended to stop it, without Jonah knowing anything
about it. Until afterward because she would admit, even to herself, that she’d
have to brag. If for no other reason than to watch him change his opinion about
her. When she finished, no one would be able to think of her as cowardly or in
need of protection again.

* * * * *

Jonah drummed his hands on the table in front of him. Braxton
played poker in complete silence. He’d always liked the other man, but he might
as well have been playing it on the computer for all the conversation he got.

“I call it.” Braxton finally decided on his next move.

With a laugh, Jonah threw down his cards. “I got nothing,
man. Bluffing the whole way.”

Braxton nodded, flipping over his own cards to show his full
house. “I won.”

“Yep.” Jonah nodded. The other man had beaten him again. So
far, he’d lost fifty bucks and given that, thanks to his stab wound, he was
going to miss work for the next couple of days, he should stop losing his
money.

He leaned back in his chair. Mindy had been right. The
aspirin helped, not that he planned to tell her.

“When you asked Foy that question. The one about making a
mistake with you, what did you mean?” Braxton took a swig of his beer.

“Wow. Look at you. Downright chatty today.”

Jonah looked out the window. He’d talk about this with
Christian—hell, the sad truth was he’d probably dump the whole thing on Mindy
because he had no filter where she was concerned—but on Braxton? Did they have
that kind of relationship? He’d brought it up in front of his fellow
blood-oathed brother. Did that mean he had obligations now to share with him?

“Look, never mind, I thought you might want to talk, but I
really don’t have to…”

“I’ll tell if you tell.” Jonah sat forward. “Why are you
here? Why did Foy call you from San Francisco?”

“All right.” Braxton stretched his hands over his head. “You
first.”

“I asked Foy if he’d made a mistake with me because I don’t
have any special powers to speak of. All of you can do something and I’m really
ordinary.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal. Jonah could only expose his
soft underbelly so far. “So I thought maybe he’d made an error in choosing me.”

“Master Foy doesn’t make mistakes like that.” A muscle ticked
in Braxton’s jaw and Jonah wondered what that signified. Why would his question
have gotten the other man so tense?

“He makes errors.” Jonah knew he should probably not push
this. They never insulted their Master. He’d given them all purpose. Jonah
would die for him if need be. But he couldn’t let Braxton’s statement go
unchallenged. “He picked the wrong woman and look what happened to him.”

Braxton nodded, looking away from Jonah. Silence descended
on the room. When Braxton went silent there was little to do about it.

Still, they’d made an agreement. “Why did Foy call you back
from San Francisco?”

Braxton stood up from the table. He looked down at Jonah
when he spoke. “Sorry, brother, I really have no idea.”

* * * * *

Every step Jonah took tugged at his stitches and he knew he
should be sitting down somewhere watching daytime television. Only, he needed
to see Mindy. A nagging feeling had started in the back of his neck. What had
that morning been about? She’d obviously shown up for a reason.

At noon, she should be working the desk. He knew her
schedule because he made sure to come through the door around lunch time every
day to lay eyes on her. In the beginning, he pretended it was out of some sort
of sense of duty to keep her safe. He’d been responsible for her getting hurt
in Austin and he’d brought her to Chicago so she could train in self-defense
with the best teachers he knew.

Now, however, he didn’t delude himself anymore. He came
through that door at noon because he wanted to see her. Badly. And seeing her daily,
smelling her perfume and being in her presence brought him a modicum of relief
from his dangerously forming obsession for her.

What would he do when she started dating again? That was
bound to happen. Her boyfriend had been murdered in front of her. How long was
the waiting time to date again after a man you were going to break up with is
killed while you’re strapped to a chair? Maybe he could ask someone.

Entering the room, he stopped abruptly, jarring his
stitches. Mindy wasn’t sitting where she was supposed to be. Debrah, a very
nice elderly woman who lived in the neighborhood and usually helped with the
books, sat in Mindy’s chair instead.

Jonah put on his most charming smile. He’d learned how to
fake a mood from the queen of deception, his mother. Most of the time he tried
to avoid this part of himself.

“Hi, Deb.”

She grinned back. Sixty, with gray roots and brown hair, her
face held no wrinkles. None of the women in Foy’s neighborhood ever seemed to
age at all. He might suspect witchcraft, but it was just plastic surgery.

“Jonah. You are looking very fit.” Deb had told him outright
the year before that her bed would always be available to him if he cared to
join her in it. He didn’t. Still, her eyes roamed his body and he tried not to
wince.