Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse (34 page)

Tiffany wrinkled her nose, and Jack held in a laugh.
 
She turned her head, probably looking at Kevin in the kitchen, and lowered her voice.

"I'll try really hard."

"Good."
 
Jack checked the time.
 
"Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Yeah.
 
Thank you so much, Daddy.
 
I love you."

"Love you, too.
 
I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Tiffany kissed the screen before ending the call.
 
He set the tablet down and leaned back in the chair.
 
In the end, nothing had changed.
 
He still had no leads to Erica's killer.
 
But his mood was much improved.
 
He held onto it, refusing to the let the bad thoughts seep back in.

What would help just as well was a nice hamburger.
 
It was a shame he burned that bar to ashes the night before.
 
Their food smelled delicious.

He stepped over the scattered pages of the police report and left the room.
 
His room was on the second floor, the elevator just down the hall.
 
A woman struggled to move three suitcases.
 
Jack whistled as he walked.
 
A simple dinner, maybe a movie, and perhaps he'd take one last stab at the police report.
 
If nothing came up, he'd make plans to go home.

The woman dropped her key card.
 
She stood upright, releasing her suitcases and letting them fall.
 
Jack passed without a word.

"Excuse me, sir," she said.
 
"Could you help me?"

"Nope.
 
Too busy.
 
Next time, bring less shit."

He took the elevator, leaving the woman behind to contemplate her trip planning skills.

Two women were working at the front desk.
 
There were no customers, so Jack decided to take the opportunity for a recommendation.
 
He rested his arms on the desk.

"Excuse me.
 
Where can I get a decent burger around here?"

The women looked at each other.
 
The younger of the two gave Jack a look he recognized.

"Well, there's that new bar on the other side of town.
 
I only went there once, but it was nice."

"Oh, you didn't hear?" the other woman said.
 
"It burned down last night."

Jack winced.
 
"Oh, wow, such a shame.
 
Anywhere else?"

"There's a diner a few blocks over.
 
If you can wait an hour, I'll buy you dinner."

He was tempted.
 
A gift-wrapped one-nighter was within his grasp.
 
The woman was young, flexible, pretty.

But he didn't need the distraction.
 
He wanted to eat dinner and relax before studying the police report one last time.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I can't tonight."

The woman smiled and nodded, shifting in her chair to completely face him.

"Maybe another night."

Maybe, indeed.

Jack left through the front door and climbed in his rental car.
 
Another thing he missed back home was his truck.
 
He loved his truck.

"Okay.
 
It's hamburger time."

The world exploded around him before he could turn the key.

*****

Rob Faraday watched the hotel safely from the end of the block through a pair of binoculars.
 
He crouched on the roof of an office building.
 
The crimson fireball reached for the night sky.
 
Glass shattered and sprayed around the car.
 
A stray dog that wandered the sidewalk sprinted across the street, away from the explosion, nearly causing an accident.
 
Two cars skidded to a stop as their drivers climbed out and gawked.

Rob smiled.
 
It took most of the day to find the bastard, but he did find him.
 
There were only three hotels in Sandy Cliffs.
 
He staked out two himself while paying for the services of a homeless man with the third.
 
All it took was time and luck, and both were on his side when he saw his attacker park and wander into the hotel.

The smiling, jovial bartender was gone.
 
Rob was a werewolf killer.
 
He was trained in hand to hand and armed combat, as well as explosives.
 
He'd spent the past seven years of his life training to be a part of the best werewolf hunting organization in the world.
 
The man that attacked him and destroyed his job, his cover, learned the hard way.

Rob Faraday was not someone you wanted to make an enemy.

He activated the remote detonator with his left hand, the hand with two broken fingers.
 
He wasn't even left handed.
 
He did it to enjoy the irony, to smile at the burning man who'd thought he'd broken Rob.
 
But Rob wasn't breakable.
 
Not by a puppy, and not by any human for sure.

For a moment, he wondered about the man's identity.
 
Most likely a private investigator, hired to find out more about Erica Hernandez's murder.

Poor Erica.
 
There was a good chance Rob was the last person to see her alive.
 
He'd tried to hit on her one last time after closing the bar, when they were heading for their cars.
 
She'd resisted his advances, although he had the feeling he was wearing her down.

The next day, she was gone.

At first, he thought Marie might have killed her.
 
Puppies were known to lose control from time to time.
 
But from everything he'd seen, Marie was more than content to run through the woods.
 
She had no desire to hunt humans.

Someone had killed Erica, but ultimately, it was of no concern to Rob.

He stuffed the detonator in his bag and gathered the rest of his gear.
 
He watched the fire at the hotel through the naked eye.
 
Little figures gathered around the car, yelling and screaming for help.

"Who doesn't love a little fire?" Rob asked aloud, using the man's words from the night before.
 
"Fuck you, you son of a bitch."

He turned and walked toward the door leading down.

*****

It wasn't the first time Jack had been engulfed in a fiery explosion, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last.
 
He was disoriented for a moment.
 
One second, he was shoving the key into the ignition of the rental car.
 
The next, he was blind and couldn't hear anything around him.
 
He thought he heard glass shattering, but couldn't be sure.

Someone dumped warm water on him.
 
Irritation and anger set in at the thought of having to dry his clothes.

It was only when he caught a glimpse of the flame dancing on the dashboard that he realized he was on fire.

He held up his hands and watched as the fire moved across his skin.
 
It was always so beautiful.
 
Red, orange, blue, hypnotic.
 
Jack was sure Victoria would disagree.
 
It was hard to believe something so pretty could be so destructive.

His senses cleared quickly, like they always did.
 
His vision cleared up, his hearing returned.
 
The scent of burning rubber and vinyl filled his nose.
 
Mortal voices weren't far away.

"Oh my God!
 
What happened?"

"Call 911!"

"Was there anyone in there?"

Jack replayed the moment in his mind.
 
He didn't turn the key.
 
Whatever ruined yet another set of clothes wasn't wired in the engine.
 
Whoever was behind the futile attempt on his life had watched Jack go in the hotel.
 
He, or she, had plenty of time to latch an explosive under the car.
 
It was done out in the open.
 
Brazen, even reckless, but effective.

A remote detonator was used.
 
The culprit was close by, possibly still watching.

He tried to open the door, but it didn't budge.
 
The small crowd that had gathered jumped and squealed at the commotion in the car.
 
Jack climbed through the window head-first, and chuckled as he imagined he was climbing out of the General Lee.
 
He loved that show when it was on.

"Shit!
 
He's alive!"

"Somebody help him!"

Jack was barely on his feet when someone tackled him from the side.
 
They fell away from the car, landing on the grass near the sidewalk.
 
The would-be hero rolled away.

"What the fuck?" Jack said.
 
"You asshole—"

Someone threw a huge, thick, smelly, disgusting blanket on him.
 
If Jack actually needed to breathe, the blanket would have broken his lungs.
 
If there was a magic-based cure to his inability to die, the blanket probably would have been a part of it.

He managed to bring himself to his hands and knees when the blanket was whisked away, knocking him back to the grass.

"Would you stupid bastards stop—?"

Someone unleashed a fire extinguisher on him.
 
He was desperate to look at his surroundings, study the faces of the people nearby, but that was difficult to do when carbon dioxide blasted him in the face.

"Damn mortals—"

He reached out, nearly flailing, and grabbed what felt like a nozzle and part of a hand.
 
He ripped the extinguisher away and tossed it.
 
It sailed through the air and crashed into the windshield of a van parked not far away.

The crowd backed up, whispering and pointing.
 
The car was aflame, but Jack was not.
 
His clothes were ruined, tattered, hanging off him.

"Is he…still alive?"

"It doesn't even look like he's hurt."

"That's amazing."

Jack searched the nearby crowd.
 
He searched for a man or woman who looked like they'd just set off an explosive.
 
The would-be mortal heroes stood not far away.
 
He might have had a chance to spot someone if they hadn't
saved
him.

That time had passed.
 
The mortals that surrounded him were bystanders.
 
It was also possible whoever detonated the explosive had done so from a moving car, or on top of a building.

A smile crossed his face as he watched the burning car, frightening the mortals even more.
 
He'd have to buy more clothes, get another rental car.
 
He'd have to find his new enemy, and kill them.

"Maybe I'll stay in town just a little while longer."

The past two days had been rough for Rob.
 
Life was once again dull, boring.
 
He worked at the grocery store during the day, and did very little at night.
 
There was no exciting bar, no beautiful women coming by to see him any longer.
 
He'd spent his nights watching Marie, but there was nothing to watch.
 
The forlorn woman spent half her time in her apartment, and the other half in the woods.
 
He didn't know the exact procedure to follow after a business was set on fire, but whatever it was, she wasn't doing it.

He sat high up in a tree outside Marie's apartment, making sure to stay downwind.
 
Climbing wasn't an easy task, given the state of his hand, but there wasn't anything he couldn't accomplish.
 
His older brother Sean knew this, and if things kept going the way they were, they'd have to let him in the organization.
 
They simply couldn't let his skills go to waste.
 
He knew they considered him a
loose cannon
, had even heard one of the higher-ups use that phrase once.
 
But Sean was one of the more respected leaders, and his word carried weight.

It was only a matter of time before he was hunting werewolves with other like-minded humans.

Rob shifted on the branch, keeping his balance using his bad hand.
 
He held the binoculars to his eyes once again, watching the beautiful puppy.
 
As the nights passed, she seemed to slouch more and more into the couch as she watched television.
 
She ate very little.
 
Rob actually found himself feeling sorry for her.
 
She'd given so much of herself to that bar, only for a psychopath to stop by and destroy it, all because Rob didn't feel like answering questions.

Marie went to the patio door and stared out at the woods.
 
Rob thought any second that he'd see her through the kitchen window moving across the apartment, using the front door and walking to the back.
 
Her ritual was nearly the same on her nighttime jaunts.
 
She'd leave her clothes in a nearby spot before walking into the woods.
 
He never saw her change.
 
He wasn't foolish enough to follow her.
 
With luck, sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of her naked body in the moonlight, and he simply had to wonder
what if
.

She didn't leave the apartment.
 
Instead, she stripped down to her bra and panties, the bikini style, if he wasn't mistaken.
 
Rob knew his panties.
 
He thought for a moment that she would change her routine, maybe change into a wolf in her apartment.
 
That idea made little sense, as werewolves weren't known for the simple ability to open a door.