Authors: Karen Y. Bynum
“The djinn.”
She’d heard of them before. But where? Then she remembered a book she’d read in English class in high school. “Like genies?”
“Sort of.” Standing, he offered her his hand but said nothing more.
Guess this conversation is over.
Still there were plenty of things she wasn’t telling him either, so she couldn’t really complain. For starters, should she tell him about the feeding?
She took his hand, wrestling with her conscience.
“What aren’t you telling me, Bree?”
She flinched. Damn blood-bond. “Uh, well...”
He clamped his powerful hands on her shoulders. She looked up to see his face and he brushed her hair back behind her ears. “You can tell me anything. Always.”
She said it before she lost her nerve. “I fed on someone last night.”
“I thought it might happen.” His voice remained calm, smooth.
“Why? What made you think that?” She wondered why he hadn’t warned her.
“When the soul-sucker fed on you, he awakened a need.” She could almost taste the disgust oozing from his words. But was it intended for her, or Orin?
He continued, “I’d hoped you wouldn’t have to experience the hunger.” His hands dropped from her shoulders. Then he turned away from her to look at the river. “And if you can’t control it, the WC will
make
you control it.”
His unease was a silent plea in her veins, so she changed the subject. “Do we need to be there when the cleaning crew arrives?”
“They’ve already arrived.”
“How do you know?”
“I can smell their magic working.” He faced her now.
Rocking back on her heels, she took a deep breath. The citrus tang flooded her nostrils. “The lemon smell is magic?”
“The smell depends on the type of magic being performed. We might not be able to pick other supernaturals out of a crowd, but we all recognize the smell of magic.”
“You mean you don’t know if someone else is a supe?” She kind of thought there had to be a secret handshake or forehead tattoo that clued them in.
“We can only recognize others like us. I know there are three other vampires in the area. And the unnatural could tell you how many of his kind there are.” His expression turned serious, and her blood grew cold beneath her skin from his concern. “To have a way of easily and accurately determining who’s a supernatural would be of tremendous value to the Witches’ Council.”
Goosebumps spread along Breena’s arms. Her heart skipped a beat as her thoughts raced.
If the Witches’ Council found out about Jenny, if they found out what she could do, they’d take Jenny away from her.
Over her dead body.
Chapter 18
They drove toward the smell. The acidic bite grew stronger the closer they got to Norma’s house. By the time they turned into Dogwood Drive, Breena could’ve practically cried lemon juice.
As they crunched onto the gravel driveway, Breena noticed a shiny pink Cadillac. “What’s going on?”
“The cleaning crew.” Myles parked next to the Caddy.
The sticker in the back glass read
Betty Lou Cosmetics
.
“Since when do witches drive Betty Lou cars?”
“Since 1963.”
“Are all beauty consultants witches?”
“No, but the ones who drive pink Cadillacs are. They’re like field reps, collecting data and running numbers.”
“On what?”
Do I really want to know?
His look hardened. “Humans.”
Nope.
“Why?”
“To make sure there’s enough for–” He cut himself off.
Breena watched his gaze flash to the backseat where Jenny listened, hanging on every word. He didn’t have to finish his statement. Breena felt it flow through her veins, the burn of hunger from somewhere deep inside. The reps made sure there were enough humans to feed on.
“Jenny, Myles and I have to check out the cleaning crew. Hang tight for a few minutes, okay?”
“Humph. I wanna go in too.” Jenny crossed her arms and pouted.
“Somebody has to guard the car, kiddo.” Myles looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You’re a good soldier, right?”
“You bet!” she chirped.
Sighing silently to herself, Breena rolled her eyes.
“Call me if you see anyone lurking around. Animal or human, okay?” Myles nodded.
“Aye, aye, captain.” She saluted.
Swinging open the door, Breena hopped out and followed Myles across the driveway and up the stairs of the front porch. The scent had faded a little, but it still smelled like someone had sprayed lemon Pledge up her nose.
Breena trailed Myles into the house, taking in its astounding cleanliness. She could hardly believe it. Absolutely no trace of blood anywhere. The walls beamed white. The wooden stairs sparkled up at her. The carpet looked brand spankin’ new. She didn’t think Norma’s house had ever been this clean, even as new construction. “Damn they’re good.”
“And fast,” Myles added.
“Thanks.” A redhead with pale pink lips and smoky eyes came down the stairs. A short curvy brunette followed, her makeup also picture perfect. They both wore black skirt suits, pink Betty Lou lapel pins and black and pink polka dotted shoes.
The two seemed to ignore Myles completely, only talking directly to Breena.
“It’s a lot quicker when we don’t have mundanes hanging around.” The redhead pulled her makeup bag around her shoulder and stuck a long slender baton-looking object into the case.
“Mundanes?”
“Non-magical beings, of course,” Short and Voluptuous trilled.
“Are we about finished here, witches?” Myles interrupted.
“We finished some time ago. Just waiting on you, vampire.” Smoky Eyes finally acknowledged him.
“Hey, how do you know he’s a vampire?” Breena asked before she’d even thought it through.
“Oh, the Council knows Myles Young very well. How much longer left on your sentence?” Smoky Eyes glanced at Myles before shooting a sideways smirk at her black-suited friend and snickered.
Myles’s expression remained the same, but Breena felt anger and bitterness crowd inside her. What sentence were they talking about?
He wasn’t in prison. Was he? Of course not, he was standing right here. He twisted the ring around his finger, and Breena couldn’t help recalling the WC inscribed on it. Did it play a part?
“The president wants you to report back to Addison immediately, along with Dimples here.” The redhead flicked a look Breena’s way. “You’re a natural beauty, honey. An artist’s dream with those full lips.” She brushed by Breena.
“Ooh, do we have time, Sandy? I’d do wonders with her eyes.” She sighed wistfully. “Like purple irises.” The curvy brunette gave her coworker-witch a hopeful look.
“Come on, Doris. Things to do.”
“Toodaloo.” Doris waved back, sashaying past Breena.
Breena and Myles watched the two witches get into their pink Caddy and pull out of the driveway. Breena noticed Jenny strain her little neck to watch them go.
Turning back to Myles, she wanted to ask him about the sentence, but instinct told her now wasn’t the time. So she asked, “Who’s Addison and why do we have to report to her?”
“Addison isn’t a person, Bree. It’s a place.”
“Oh. Well, where is it and why?”
“Texas, and because the president said so.”
* * * *
The three made a quick stop at Breena’s apartment to pack a few things. In her room, she found a note from Orin. The queen had summoned him and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be away. He’d signed it,
Yours always, O
. She texted him their destination in case he finished with the queen before they got back from Texas. Actually, it worked out better this way, because she couldn’t imagine how it would’ve been traveling with both preternatural and vampire. And their egos.
On the way to the Charlotte airport, Myles called into the pharmacy to ask for a few days off, and recommended Breena do the same. She did, but she wasn’t happy about the lost money. Hell’s bells, would she even have a job when they came back? At least her next class wasn’t for a few days, so she wouldn’t miss it. Hopefully. Of course, homework hadn’t exactly been top priority of late.
With Myles driving, they reached the airport in record time, and it was only after they’d parked, checked in and boarded that she remembered she’d never flown before. Neither had Jenny, of course, but she didn’t seem even slightly fazed. She’d bounded onto the plane like she did it all the time and immediately claimed the window seat.
The plane lurched forward and her back pressed into the seat. Her stomach felt like it had fallen to the ground as she gripped the armrests. Myles sent her calming vibes, but they really didn’t work until his hand found hers.
“The first time is always a little rough.” He caressed her fingers.
“Huh?” Her libido replaced her nerves in a hopeful kind of way.
“Flying.” He smiled. “A first time with me would hardly be rough, unless you asked for it to be.” His breath tickled her ear.
Breena couldn’t figure Myles out. Most of the time he pushed her away, or focused on taking care of her and Jenny. Or reminded her how young she was, even though eighteen was totally legal. But then other times he’d say something which made her blood race and her cheeks burn.
Leaning close to her, he tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear. When his lips grazed her ear, she shivered.
“Go with it.” He kept his voice low.
Something about his words, combined with the disquiet pumping through her veins, clued her in on the hard, cold fact–more was going on here than Myles making a play.
Of course.
“I like it however you give it to me, sweetie,” she cooed back, softly kissing a trail along his ear.
Myles’s turn to shiver. She felt his response in her blood.
His voice remained low as he pulled her to him. “Of course you do. You’re mine.” He brushed her lips with his.
Breena’s entire body burned with desire.
Strands of her hair fell into her face as her ears began to grow.
Oh hell
.
“Myles, can you reach my bag?” A dull buzz started. Then another. Another. Until it sounded like a roar.
Dammit!
Myles handed it to her. She dug inside for the just-in-case hat she’d packed, and stuck it on.
“Switch with me,” Myles offered.
Gladly.
Having a powerful buffer between her and Jenny eased Breena’s mind, somewhat, but it didn’t lessen the hunger. Buzzing souls sounded all over the cramped plane, with no way to get away from them.
Breena’s sudden panic had taken her sister’s attention off the allure of the world below. “What’s wrong with Bea?” Jenny shifted around in her seat to look at Myles.
“She’s got a little motion sickness. She’ll be okay. Here.” He reached into his pocket and brought out an iPod.
“Thanks!” Jenny put in the ear buds. With her face pressed up against the glass she resumed cloud-watching.
It took every ounce of self-control she had to not turn to her sister and suck the soul right out of her. And it was fading. Fast. “I’ve gotta–”
Myles spun back around to Breena. “I know. Count to thirty, slow. I won’t be long.” Scooting past her, he didn’t waste any time.
She decided it best not to make eye contact with Jenny, so Breena forced herself to turn all the way toward the aisle.
Counting. Right. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi...
A guy a few rows up from them stared back at her. When she’d shifted sideways, so had he. He definitely fit the tall, dark and mysterious stereotype and had long silky hair hanging around his shoulders. But his blank gaze terrified her and something inside her registered that he wasn’t food.
Twenty Mississippi, twenty-one Mississippi.
Breena stopped her count as Myles slipped back into the seat beside her.
“Go to the bathroom. The flight attendant will be waiting. I compelled her, so she’ll do what you ask. Be sure not to touch your lips to hers though, or you might not be able to stop. When you’re finished, tell her to count to ten so you have time to get back to your seat.”
Too. Much. Information
.
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure she’d taken anything in. Her blood was thick and slow in her veins and it felt as if every muscle in her body had cramped with need. The second his hand lifted from her thigh, she raced to the bathroom, nearly knocking over a guy who’d just slipped out of the row next to theirs.
A thin, curly-haired brunette waited in the confined space. Breena stepped in, shut the door and pushed the woman onto the closed toilet. The brunette’s eyes looked glazed over, as if she were dreaming. Maybe she was. Breena hoped so. Her lips parted.
As she angled the woman’s head up, Breena caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were jet black. Hunger raged inside her, but there was also a wave of calm. A confidence she hadn’t experienced when she’d fed on the black-haired girl with the bright pink fingernails.