Hold Me If You Can (21 page)

“You eventually die.”

“But do you know
how?”
She glared at him, angry that he was discounting her story. He wasn’t the only one with a haunting past. “At some point, and no one knows when it will happen, the victim starts to get healthier and stronger and happier. They get this feeling of invincibility and pure euphoria for life, and then they go off on this high and push their limits until they get themselves killed. It’s like a suicide drug.” She hugged herself. “I spent my whole life terrified of every good mood I had, petrified each time I lifted something heavy, got stronger or taller or experienced any of the benefits of actually growing up, afraid that it meant the deedub poison was starting to work on me. Every time I faced a challenge and felt like I could overcome it, I’d do a double take, afraid that it was the first step down that path of suicidal invincibility.”

Nigel was watching her now. Listening.

“I spent my whole life terrified of being happy or feeling good. As long as I was scared, miserable, weak, and afraid of life, I knew I was going to live another day.”

“That’s a crappy way to live,” he observed.

“I know it is. I know now.” She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold, despite the restlessness rampaging through her. “And then the deedub poison finally hit. I got caught in that thrall. I experienced what it was like to feel wildly carefree and unstoppable, to feel that life is about embracing every minute and not caring about the consequences.”

He was watching her closely. “And it felt good?”

“It drove me to my own death.” She kicked at a clump of grass. “But yeah, it felt good not to be afraid.” She looked at him. “And that’s what I want, Nigel. I want to enjoy life, to feel good, to appreciate the fun and the good moods, but I don’t know how.”

“Easy. Get Smutty to work on you.”

“Even if I did want to abandon my brain over to some crazed dream genie, it won’t solve my problem.” She held out her hands, which were black with smut now. “It’s happening again. Just like before. I’m headed down that same path again, toward a future I don’t want, to becoming a person I don’t want to be and can’t stop.” Her palms were blackened now, her fingernails growing longer and twisted, a deep demon-colored bronze.

Nigel brushed his finger over her palm, as if inspecting the change.

She looked at Nigel. “For me, there is nothing more terrible, more terrifying than having your free will to act taken away. And that’s what Smutty and Mari are doing. They’re taking away the free will of your friends. It’s not peace. It’s awful.” She looked at him. “Like when you killed your parents. Your mind and your soul wanted one thing, and you were unable to make it happen.” She searched his face. “You’re betraying Pascal and Blaine by leaving them there. Your own friends!”

Nigel’s eyes flashed with anger. “I am not going to leave them there,” he snapped. “I’m going to get them out. Is that really the kind of man you think I am?”

She blinked. “But I thought that’s what you said? That Smutty will give them a gift—”

“He is. I’m going in there, I’m going to have Smutty give them peace, and then I’m taking them out.”

“What? No—”

He grabbed her arm. “I owe them my life,” he said. “And I’m going to give them the chance to look at a flower and see beauty instead of remembering the acid-laced toothpicks that jammed into their groin if they didn’t stop to smell every flower. I’m going to give them the chance to sleep through the night instead of having nightmares about all the surprise, middle-of-the-night hellions that came to visit them.” He gripped the back of her neck and his thumb caressed her nape with a tenderness that made her whole body tremble. “And I’m going to give to them the gift of being able to kiss a woman and feel the sheer poetic beauty of a female, instead of cringing at the pain and torture they know is coming.” He kissed her once, and again, with such sensual beauty she almost started to cry.

How could this tortured warrior be capable of such beauty? How could this kind of passion have survived this hell? Because this was the real Nigel, not some creation of her Mystic powers. She’d taken away the anger, and this is what had remained. Would it really be that easy for the others? Take away the pain and then they could be happy? Was that all it took? Really? God, was Mari right?

But as Nigel began to kiss her again, so sweetly and so intently, as if he had all the time in the world, and no bad guys were closing in on them and the people they cared about, she realized that he wasn’t actually his true self. Nigel was a man who loved with passion, as evidenced from his reaction to his parents and his need to protect his friends. By taking away his pain, she had also taken away his connection to those he loved, she’d taken away his desire to protect, to bond, and to connect. She’d taken away his fire, his understanding and appreciation of what it meant to be alive.

And she had her answer as to whether Mari was right. The answer was no. Which meant Nigel was wrong too. But how was she going to fix this?

Ah, yes. This is what he’d been living for.

Nigel kissed Natalie again, basking in the feel of her lips. In the softness of her body. His mind was finally at peace, allowing him to absorb the beauty around him, allowing him to experience the full sensations of—

Natalie suddenly grimaced and pressed her hand to her stomach. “We really should have taken Mari’s smut rod when we left.”

“I’m so sorry, babe.” Nigel gently caught her arm. He grasped that she was in pain, but he couldn’t really register it. It felt like he was watching a movie in the distance. He was supposed to do something, wasn’t he? Be upset? But he wasn’t sure why. “We’ll give Mari a call, and she’ll clear up all the negative energy inside you.”

“What?” Natalie smacked him lightly on the side of the head. “Are you insane? Get yourself together, Nigel! This is not the time for serenity—Ahh!” Bronze tendrils of smoke began to drift up from her head.

Uncertainty rippled through Nigel. This was a problem. He could see that it was. Something he should be concerned about, but he couldn’t quite find his way to that place. It was like he was trapped in a gelatinous fog of tranquility.

“You bastard!” Christian shouted the warning a split second before he slammed his blade into the back of Nigel’s head.

Nigel shoved Natalie behind him and whirled to face Christian. His teammate’s face was pale, paler than a living creature’s should be. His clothes were faded, and he looked almost like a specter. A ghostly image. “Holy crap. What happened to you?”

“This!” Christian held up his hand, and Nigel saw it was gone. Christian the Handless.

Nigel felt his fingers tingle, readying themselves for blades. “Where is it?”

“Where is it?” Christian whipped his sword out and had it at Nigel’s chin. “You fucking drew me, you bastard. I’m getting sucked back in.”

Nigel swore. “No, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t—”

“What did you draw in the Den when you were trying to heal Mari?”

“I didn’t—” Nigel stopped, suddenly remembering he had drawn something. He tried to visualize the image in his head, but he couldn’t place it. He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He’d been such a wreck then. He patted Christian’s shoulder reassuringly. “But I’m good now. Natalie cleared me—”

Christian slammed his boot into Nigel’s chest and knocked him down. He lodged the tip of his sword in Nigel’s throat. Pressing.

Nigel didn’t arm himself. His buddy was ticked, and engaging would just escalate the situation. It was time for de-escalation. Peace to everyone. “It’s all going to be fine, Christian. There’s nothing to worry about—”

“I can hear her voice.” Christian pressed harder on Nigel’s throat. “I can hear Smutty’s. I can feel the wind that’s too warm for out here.” He looked around, a frantic, desperate glance that made something cold take root deep inside Nigel. “She’s taking me.” He jerked in pain suddenly and looked down at his left hand. “Shit!” Christian’s left arm dissolved from sight.

“Huh.” Faint alarm pulsed through his serenity. Something was wrong. Peace was an illusion? His mind was shouting at him to be on the alert, to take action, but his body was consumed by a great lethargy, an inability to generate any action or urgency. Nigel rose to his feet just as a white light began to glow over the pitcher’s mound. In the middle of the globe, Mari appeared. “Check that out.”

“Mother of hell,” Christian whispered. He raised his sword and charged the mound.

“No!” Nigel tackled him and brought him down. “Don’t attack her. It’s going to be all right.” Yes, yes, it was. Mari was here to give Christian peace. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it. You’ll feel so good after she gets done with you.” But something tugged at his mind, a nudge that all was not well. That all was not right. But he couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“I’m not going back!” Christian began to be dragged across the ground toward the mound. His face was stricken and sweat was beading down his cheek. “I can’t stop it.” He jammed his sword into the earth, a pickax against the demons of hell. Not really going to be effective.

“Listen to me,” Nigel said. “It sucks to be emotionally tortured. Let her heal your soul, and then I’ll come in and get you. I swear it.”

“You swore you’d kill me before you’d let me be taken.” His sword was ripping a chasm in the field as he was dragged slowly toward Mari. “Kill me.”

Nigel didn’t like the look of terror, of hell, of pain on Christian’s face. “It’s not worth it to die, trust me. Aren’t you tired of suffering? Let her clear you—”

“No, mother fucker! I won’t let her touch my mind. Not again!”

Nigel hesitated. Something felt wrong. Yes, Mari taking Christian was good because peace was the greatest gift he could give his friend, but deep in his mind, something was resisting, something wanted to fight.

Christian was suddenly jerked away from him, tumbling across the infield toward the glowing human bubble. He let out a bellow of fury.

Nigel watched him go. “Christian! I swear I’ll come get you. Let yourself go. It’s worth it—”

Christian looked over his shoulder, saw Mari getting closer. Inches away now, he flipped his sword around so the tip was pointing at his own chest.

“Oh,
hell
.” Nigel broke into a sprint. “Don’t—”

Christian plunged his own blade right into his own heart.

Mari screamed, Christian’s head fell back, his sword dropped to the earth, and then he was swept into the bubble.

“No!” Nigel lunged for his friend, his fingers brushed over the toe of his boot, and then he was gone.

Nigel somersaulted over the mound and landed on his feet. He whirled around and raced back to where the portal had been, but the air was still. It was gone. “Son of a bitch.”

He grabbed Christian’s sword off the dirt and ran his hand over the blade. The blood was thick and purple, and he felt its contamination immediately. It had been a killing blow. Christian was immortal, but even he wouldn’t survive it. He’d be dead within the hour, and his last moments of life were going to be at the hands of Mari. “Son of a bitch.”

He sank to his knees in stunned shock, staring at the blade. Christian had chosen death over being taken. Nigel bowed his head. Why hadn’t he seen that coming? Why hadn’t he understood Christian’s desperation?

He gripped the sword in disbelief. He’d let Christian be taken? He threw back his head and roared with fury, with all the anger that he’d been deprived of three minutes ago. What had he done? What price had he paid for peace? Everything Nigel had wanted his whole life, and he’d gotten it, and it had led to the death of his closest friend? What the hell was he doing? Anger that would unleash killing blades into those he loved? Or peace that would render him incapable of saving his own friend? What was right?
What
was
the
goddamn
answer?

“Nigel!” Natalie’s faint scream penetrated his subconscious, and he sensed the desperation in her voice. He couldn’t
feel
it in his empty-as-shit soul, but instinct made him look up. Natalie wasn’t near him, where he’d last left her.

“Nigel!” Her voice sounded distant now, desperate, fading, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Which was weird, because he always knew every threat, every move, and could sense anything.

Nigel stood up and turned, scanning the field. More and more quickly. A sense of urgency was beginning to build in his mind, even though his body was still relaxed, unable to respond to the threat.

And then he saw her. She was being dragged toward a chariot with six white horses by a man who was too hunchbacked to ignore. Augustus. The assassin had her. How had Nigel missed out on that happening? How had he not sensed it? He hadn’t simply lost his anger, he’d lost everything that made him who he was.

“Hang on!” Nigel grabbed Christian’s sword and sprinted toward the chariot. “Natalie—”

Augustus threw her into the chariot with ease. His body had grown back, and he looked almost whole. “It is my turn to have her,” he shouted at Nigel. “You can come pick her up at her store in two hours.” And then he hurled a three-pointed pink triangle at Nigel.

“I need her now!” Nigel blocked the triangle with Christian’s sword, but his movement was awkward and sluggish. The assault weapon dodged the sword easily and plunged itself into Nigel’s chest.

The pain was impressive.

The fact that every muscle in his body froze up as he was flung backwards onto his ass? Not good.

His feeling of uselessness as he watched the chariot and Natalie zoom over the very spot where Christian had just disappeared? Complete and total hell.

He’d fucked up.

Big-time.

Christian dead. Natalie abducted. Pascal gone. Blaine gone. It was all because of his obsession with peace. His inability to control himself like the man he was supposed to be, which had prompted him to ask for outside aid. Screw that. He was taking his old self back, and it had to be fast, before it was too late to stop the slide. There was only one woman who could fix it.
Natalie.

Slowly, willing strength into his body, he reached up and tried to dislodge the triangle from his chest. But he had as much control over his body as someone who’d been on a six-day bender. Something in the weapon had petrified his muscles, and he had a bad feeling that it was going to last for the full two hours that Augustus had claimed. He couldn’t afford two hours. By then Christian would be dead, and Natalie would be a deedub. Two hours would be too late.

Which meant he had to find a way to get this shit out of his system, and fast, or everything was going down.

***

Natalie had never really considered herself a tea and crumpets kind of girl.

Being chained up to one of her own brass stools, while a crusty old assassin, who smelled of rotten bananas and too many dead bodies, served her tea and virility balls in her own store, was not going to change her mind.

Augustus crossed his legs and picked up a plate of balls. “Would you like some?”

The chocolate scent hit hard, and Natalie’s stomach cramped. “Please take that away from me.” Even as she said it, her arms twitched and strained against the chains. They weren’t metal but were some kind of pink, glowing gelatinous substance that felt cold and clammy against her skin. They stretched with her movements but never gave her room to navigate. They were tight, alive, and keeping her bound.

Where was Nigel? What had happened to him? He’d turned away for a split second when Christian had arrived, and Augustus had grabbed her.

She couldn’t afford to be here. She needed to fix him after she’d pretty much destroyed him. She needed to bring him back to his deadly, out-of-control state of mania to stop Mari. To stop the smut. To help him rescue his friends. Dammit! With every minute, she was catapulting toward hell, and God only knew what had happened to Nigel. For all she knew, he could have joined a meditation choir by now and was on his way to some retreat in Vermont!
Nigel!
She screamed his name in her mind. But of course, there was no answer. Funny, that.

“Nonsense, my dear. Chocolate cures all.” Augustus took a bite, and then frowned when one of his teeth came out lodged in the ball. “Look at that, will you? I’m still not healed.” He sighed and set the plate of goodies down. “Listen, my dear, we really need to talk.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “I’m really worried that I’m going to kill myself.”

Sharp pain hit her in the belly, and Natalie winced. How much more smut could she take and stay sane? Remain herself? “Listen, get yourself bitten by a deedub. Then you’ll be on a high.”

“No, no.” Augustus leaned forward. “You had a passion in you that day that transcended any kind of poison. It was you, not the deedub effect.” He touched her knee. “What were you thinking about? How do you keep your faith?”

“It’s my faith in Nigel that keeps me sane.” Her head was starting to throb, but she knew she was speaking the truth. She wasn’t as terrified and weak as she’d felt before, and the difference was Nigel. He believed in her, he’d showed her she could make love without becoming insane, and he’d showed her that she had strength. She smiled, realizing that somewhere along the line she’d started to feel better. Yeah, the deedub future was a drag, but other than that… she was different.

“Nigel?” Augustus snorted. “He’s an artist, not an inspiration.”

“He’s the one who grounds me. Let’s go ask him.” The scent of rich, decadent chocolate assaulted her nose and her head whipped around as Ella and Maggie came rushing in from the back of the store. Oh, man, she did
not
need a chocolate distraction right now.

“Natalie!” Ella looked horrified. “What’s going on?”

But all Natalie could concentrate on was Maggie. She could sense the dark amber of her blood rushing beneath the surface of her skin, carrying that magical, powerful chocolate to every part of her body. Her skin looked succulent and rich, drenched with temptation.

“Oh, no.” Maggie stopped. “Something’s wrong with Natalie.”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” Natalie heard the denial of her voice, and she cringed. “No, run,” she whispered. “Go…”

But her words were too quiet.

No one heard.

“Go away,” Augustus said. “We’re having girl time.”

Ella was circling, moving closer, a wary look on her face. Ella might be a boring old hedonism professor, but she’d known instantly that something was wrong. Either she had a history of bad news situations, or the hot pink chains had clued her in. Either way, her response had been to step into the fire instead of backing away. A true friend. “Looks like fun girl time,” she said gently. “I’m a girl. Can I join?”

Augustus frowned. “Only if you have suggestions on how to find joy in life.”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Ella got nearer, and Natalie saw she was eying the chains. “Find your passion in life and follow that.”

“But I’m doing that,” Augustus said. “And I hate it.”

The scent of chocolate grew stronger. More tempting. She slowly raised her head and watched Maggie. The girl was standing beside the counter, gripping the edge of it, as if she felt a threat coming on.
Run, Maggie, run.