Authors: Nicole Williams
“I’m going to enjoy wiping that smirk off your face the next time I see you,” he said, running his tongue over his lips. “Oh, the possibilities.”
“Bryn!” Paul’s voice was closer, nearly upon us, and it sounded like there were more bodies behind him crashing towards us.
“Time to move on out, boys,” Troy hollered at the men waiting around him. “See ya, beautiful.” He kissed the air in my direction before turning into a blur of light disappearing into the trees. Nothing but the rush of wind announced the departure of John’s army, disappearing as suddenly as they’d appeared. They were gone, but had anyone besides Paul and me survived?
“Don’t touch me!” I shouted at Paul as he ran full-bore my way, but the words wouldn’t hit him before he collapsed into me.
From some place deep within, those places we don’t even know exist until sheer need brings them out, I felt awareness come to the surface. I’d turned this death machine on with near the speed of flicking on a switch, I could turn it off as quickly.
Seeing Paul’s frantic form about to fall around me, I closed my eyes, stalling time. Stalling death. I looked for the switch, searching for it like so much more than my life depended on it, but the darkness swirling inside of me blinded my way.
I could feel Paul’s energy closing around mine when I found it. The switch flipped, followed by an internal sigh of relief, as Paul crashed to a stop against me. His hand went immediately for my cheek, the other searching over the rest of me for any damage done . . . although it felt a bit too explorative over certain areas of my body to be innocent in nature.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes flicking away from mine every blink to search over my body.
I looked into his face, admiring the life and color that still flowed in it. A few months ago, I would have killed him, but somewhere along the way, in the midst of nearly killing William and thinking about and training my gift until I’d gone crazy in the head, I’d gained an understanding of it. Not quite a mastery, but a certainty I was on my way there. The gift was a piece of me, it didn’t define me, and it certainly didn’t control me. I was foolish to let it decide my fate, but leaving William would be the last mistake I’d let it make—although that was really the only mistake that counted and the one I couldn’t reverse.
Pushing this enlightened sense of self aside—at least for now—I answered Paul, “I’m phenomenal. How about you?” I tried sitting up, but he pressed me back down.
“I’m fine, well, actually, I need to tell you something and then I’ll be fine,” he said, leaning down over me. “And since you’re bound up with no where to go, now’s as good a time as any.”
I wove my bound wrists under his arm. “This really isn’t a good time,” I said, lifting them in explanation.
“There’s never a right time with you, but you don’t really have a say in it, bossy. Since I’m the one without the wrist and ankle restraints, my word goes.”
“After tonight,” I said, glowering more with each word, “there never will be a right time with me again if you keep this whole chauvinistic cave-man act up.”
He rolled his eyes, unconcerned. “I had to come to terms back there that I might never see you again,” he said, his forehead lining. “That I might find you dead and I’d have to live with you never knowing how I felt about you.”
I’d just escaped one nightmare to find myself in another. This wasn’t happening. “This
really
isn’t the right time for this.” I shoved myself up to only be flopped back down to the ground. This time he straddled me with his arms, leaning in too close to let myself believe I was misreading his intent.
“So help me, Paul Lowe,” I warned through clenched teeth.
“Just shut up, Bryn,” he whispered, his breath breaking against mine. “Shut up for once in your life or I’ll have to make you.”
I closed my eyes, the only fight I could muster as he closed the remaining distance between us. His lips pressed into mine, warm and pleasant as the morning sun, and when they moved against mine with a passion that would have surely torn down the embattlements of many finer women, I felt nothing.
Nothing but skin coming in contact with mine. There were no tingles, no butterflies, no responses to affirm that I’d been made for anyone other than the one man I’d have to live my life away from forever.
He rested a final kiss on the corner of my lips, his breathing rushed and shallow. “Was that so bad?”
I sucked in a long breath, taking the time to compose myself before I went off on him. Opening my eyes, ready to glare into his, something off to my right caught my attention, where a shadowed figure was bracing himself against an ancient birch.
I didn’t need a ray of moonlight to cast over his face to see the expression covering it. His eyes were staring straight into mine and an emotion that was too extreme to decipher was etched onto his face. The intensity of it scorched its origination point. It could have been anger, it could have been sorrow, but whatever it was, I would never find out. He darted into the darkness, swallowed whole by the night.
“You A-hole!” I shouted, punching my fists into Paul’s chest. “Get off of me and do me a favor, don’t ever touch me again.”
His eyebrows pinched together, like he couldn’t understand what I’d just said or why I’d said it. I may have been the first girl to turn a fire hose on Paul Lowe, but I wouldn’t be the last if he continued to make such miscalculated, brazen shows of affection.
I flipped over and army crawled away from him, needing a football field length of distance in case I couldn’t control myself from slapping him when I finally got these darn restraints off.
“She’s aliiiiiiive!” Patrick’s voice burst through the trees, his arm beckoning the sky in a Mary Shelly kind of way. He jogged towards me, still shirtless and nearly pantless. It looked like he’d been attacked by a rabid pack of werewolves. “Hey, Immortal handcuffs, sweet. I haven’t seen any of this stuff since we high-tailed it out of Newburg.”
I rolled over and sat up, not forgetting to keep my glare aimed at Paul where he still crouched shock-faced a way’s back. “You know how to get them off?”
“I might,” he said, penning his index finger over his chin. “But what are you going to give me in exchange?”
Why did I find myself surrounding by two more-boys-than-men, acting like they’d just fought to win a potato-sack race? This was why women were going to rule the world . . . by the looks of it, one day
very
soon.
“What do you want?” I asked, trying to control my voice.
He popped into a crouch beside me, sliding his neck side-to-side. “What you got to give . . .”—his eyebrows danced and he wet his lips—“that I want?”
I shoved him onto his backside before coming to a stand. I towered over him, the constraints over my wrists bursting through my skin again from the involuntary flexing of my muscles. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there with me right now. Ask him,” I hollered down where Paul was, “if you’d like further explanation.”
“My sense of teasing is completely lost on you,” Patrick said, hoisting himself back up. “It’s a shame, too. Most people tell me my sense of humor is my best quality, only outdone by my otherworldly good looks.”
“I’m surrounded by morons,” I muttered, making certain both the accused in question could hear me, before I began hopping away from them. I was positive I looked like a psychotic Easter bunny terrorizing the woods.
“Bryn?” a deep voice said, breaking into an amused chuckle.
“Hey, Hector,” I said, ceasing my hopping. Had I seen him at the grocery store, I would have never guessed he’d just battled an army of Immortals that outnumbered him six to one. There was barely a smudge of dirt to be found on him. “I know how ridiculous I look,” I offered preemptively, “but can you please just get these things off of me?” I held my wrists out for him.
“I think for the first time in your case,”—he reached around into his back pocket—“I’ve got something I can fix easily for you.” He pulled out a silver set of nail clippers . . . not exactly what I’d been expecting. A machete, chain-saw, and the jaws-of-life were more what I had in mind.
“This stuff if the toughest weak material in the free world.” He clipped the wire around my wrists first; it tangled free instantly. He’d just freed my ankles when the moron twins showed up.
“So you made it out alive,” Hector said, standing. “Did everyone else?” he asked it so evenly I knew he wasn’t just referring to Paul and Patrick—he was wondering it I’d offed any of John’s men.
“I left everyone alive,” I said darkly. “But I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.”
“It’s a good thing. Trust me,” he said immediately. “Death might be the end of it for the person that passes, but it haunts the one who brought it on forever.” His face went blank—transported to another time, I guessed—a time when death had been his life.
“You caught our runaway bunny,” Patrick hollered, smirking at me as he wound through the trees.
“Bite me,” I said, flashing my freed wrists. “Next time you find yourself handcuffed, here’s a tip, don’t come looking for my help.”
He tilted a mischievous brow that was so masterful it made me long for William. “What if you’re the one doing the handcuffing?”
“You remember that extended vacation I mentioned,” Hector interjected, as I worked at keeping my tongue between my teeth. “I’m still on it.”
I extended my appreciation to Hector with my eyes. “Where’s everyone? Are they alright?” I looked over Hector’s shoulder absently.
“Everyone’s fine. They’re cleaning up the mess. Thankfully, smoldering ashes and uprooted trees clean up easier than bodies.”
I swallowed. “
Everyone’s
back there?” I asked, trying not to sound hopeful.
Hector got my gist. “I passed William on my way here and he had an urgent mission he had to get back to,” he said, not able to look me in the eyes.
“I wasn’t aware we were calling getting back to a girl a mission now,” Patrick said, “but hey, works for me. I need to get me more missions like that.”
Hector shot Patrick a look, one of warning or confusion, I wasn’t sure, but it did wipe the smile from his mouth.
“I’ll go help,” I said, my mind flashing back to William’s expression when he’d seen Paul and me. I glanced up at the night sky and in the canvas of a star clustered night, one flashed at me, as bright and beckoning as the sunrise.
Hector gripped my arm. “I’m afraid you’re on the first plane out of here,” he commanded, as if he was delivering an edict at the seat of the Council table. “John’s ego doesn’t tolerate defeat, so we can expect them back. Soon. And if you thought they brought an army this time, just wait.” His eyes drifted behind me where I could hear Paul making his way towards us. His steps were hesitant—so he wasn’t completely oblivious. “And the only way we can protect you is from Montana where even someone as arrogant as John would think twice about ordering an attack.”
Patrick cleared his throat. “Yeah, that theory didn’t work out so well for Bryn and me a while back.”
Hector grinned without emotion. “We weren’t expecting them then. We are now. The element of surprise is gone. John may be brazen, but he isn’t stupid.” He looked at me with feigned reassurance. “You’ll be safe.”
“Thanks for those warm fuzzies,” I said, “but I don’t really care a whole lot about my safety right now. You’ve all risked enough for me and maybe it’s time you start thinking about your own safety. I should just hand myself over to John and we can be finished with this business.” The idea was appealing in so many ways, especially after experiencing the way William had just looked at me. Despite not knowing if it had been anger or disappointment or something in-between on his face, one thing was clear; it was utterly void of any fondness.
“I hate to make our concern for your safety seem anything but chivalrous—”
“But you’re going to.”
Hector shot a look at Patrick and continued, “But we wouldn’t put it past John to conceive of some way to extract whatever is inside of you and turn it into some bottled form of weaponry.”
“You’re saying I’d essentially be the source code for John’s own Immortal version of a weapon of mass destruction?” I’d never allowed that idea to enter my mind, but it should have. I knew John was capable of worse.
“Precisely,” Hector said, looking relieved he didn’t have to explain any further, “and I do apologize that this brings your mission of being out on your own to an end, but we cannot risk your gift potentially being manufactured to be bought and sold by the highest bidder.”
“So the possibilities are endless,” I muttered, my prior knowledge of me being able to kill anyone at the snap of a finger somehow seeming brighter given the recent revelations. “So why go through all this trouble?” I crossed my arms, attempting to sound strong. “Why doesn’t the Council just take me out of the equation? That’s the safest alternative we’ve got . . . the best alternative.”
“When do we sign the petition?” Patrick asked, silenced by either Paul or Hector’s glare.
“That’s very noble of you, but there are several reasons why that is nowhere near the best alternative.”
“I’m sure they’re not better than the reasons to end me.” It was surprisingly easy talking about my death, like discussing the barometric pressure.
“Other than death never being a solution to any problem”—I was taller than him, but Hector had an uncanny way of looking down at you no matter the height difference—“and that we are Guardians—tasked with preserving both Mortal and Immortal life—I highly doubt any of us would be left standing if we did in fact agree to kill you.”