Malice in Wonderland (10 page)

I folded my arms across my chest with a frown. “Ignoring you is less harmful to your health than the other things going through my head.”

“Is that so?” he asked with a hearty chuckle. His eyebrows lifted in what appeared to be genuine amusement. “Well, I’m
game,
hit me with your best shot, sexy.”

“Okay, Pat
Benatar
,” I snapped, refusing to look at him because his smile managed to aggravate me to no end. "And don't call me sexy."

He shook his head. "Ah,
Dulcie
, you are sexy, so why fight it?" Then he narrowed his eyes as if studying me. "In fact, to this day, I have yet to see another woman who can rival you in the sexiness department." He allowed his eyes to follow the lines of my body while I slowly simmered with anger. "All that fairy beauty rolled up into one delectable, little package.
Sexy, sexy, sexy and then some."

"Enough," I said, glaring daggers.

"Hmmm, and you're even sexier when you're angry."

"If you're trying to piss me off, you're succeeding," I responded, unable to deal with his impish grin any longer. Instead, I tried to divert my eyes to the view outside my window. It didn't amount to much more than pitch darkness, occasionally punctuated by the halo of the headlights against a tumbleweed or lonely tree. 

"Okay, okay," he said. “You win. No more sexy talk."

I didn't say anything, but tightened my arms around myself as I continued staring outside, wondering how much longer it would take to get wherever we were going.

"Come on then, out with it. What’s got you so pissed off?” Knight pressed.

I glanced over at him and felt my jaw clench. “Do you really need to ask?”

“Are you mad about the
Quillan
thing?” Without waiting for me to respond, he continued. “Because if you are, you can stay pissed about it. I’m never going to change my mind about him no matter what you or anyone else says. I think he’s a rat and
wouldn’t
trust him as far as I could throw him.”

“Because you’re jealous as hell of him,” I spat back before even thinking about it. And, after I did think about it, I regretted it. Why?
Because I didn't have the patience or the interest, really, in getting into some long-winded argument about whether or not Knight was jealous of
Quillan
.

Knight remained quiet for a second as he cocked his head to the side and appeared to
ponder
the thought. Then he frowned. “Maybe I am."

I was so surprised, I didn't even respond; although Knight also didn't allow me the chance.

"I’m not so sure I’d call it jealousy though. I think it’s more because I don’t believe he deserves your forgiveness, or your kindness.” He glanced over at me then. “He’s like something that just crawled out of the slime compared to you.”

“Getting a little dramatic there, don’t you think?” I muttered, not appreciating hearing him talk that way about someone whom I considered my friend.

He shrugged. “Call it whatever you will, but I'm not going to change my mind.” He took a deep breath and faced me again, apparently not concerned with safe driving. "
Dulcie
, I know you think he's your friend and you're all about protecting those you're close to, but I think you're wearing blinders in this case."

"Well, lucky for you, we all have a right to our own opinion," I answered snidely.

He didn't seem
fazed by my comment, though. "T
hat's the beauty about you,
Dulce
—you want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt and you believe in second chances." Then he paused. "I, however, do not."

I looked at him, my eyes blazing. "You don't believe in second chances?" I repeated. He nodded, but before he could respond, I added, "Funny, but that's exactly what you're asking me to give you—a second chance."

He shrugged,
then
nodded again. "Yes, I guess you could say I am. But, giving me a second chance and giving
Quillan
a second chance are two totally different subjects."

"How are they any different? A second chance is a second chance regardless of whom it's for. And
, let me remind you that
according to you, you don't believe in second chances."

"Where
Quillan
is concerned, I don't," Knight said emphatically. "I don't trust him and I don't like him. I don't like knowing he could rat us out at any second; or that he knows exactly where you are, should your father ever decide to come after you. There are too many unknowns with
Quillan
and you mean too much to me to ever gamble on
Quillan
being a decent person. That is a bet I would never take. So go ahead and be pissed off with me all you want, but at the end of the day, your safety means more to me than some insignificant ... elf."

"Then I guess we can agree to disagree," I said, falling silent. Neither of us said anything for a few seconds, until the quiet began to make me uncomfortable. I reached over to turn the radio on, but Knight grabbed my hand, apparently not in the mood for music. I pulled my hand away.

“So is that why you’re pissed off with me? Because of him?” he persisted, eyeing me with those undeniably beautiful baby-blues.

“Yes,” I grumbled. “I guess so.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“Ugh,” I ground
out,
irritated that he could read me so well. I mean, yes, the whole
Quillan
thing still bothered me; but really, there was so much more. “There are so many things you do that piss me
off,
I’d have to start a list!”

He looked at me again with a strange expression, one that didn’t appear in the least bit offended or upset. In truth, he looked amused—like he enjoyed ruffling my feathers. “How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways?” he asked with a boyish grin.

I took a deep breath, suddenly losing the wherewithal to respond. Instead, I focused on my fingers, mindlessly tapping them against my knees. If a genie in a lamp could have granted me one wish, I would have wished that we'd already arrived wherever
it was that
we were going, just so I could take my leave of the infuriating Loki.

Luckily, I was spared the need to respond when the lights on the dash suddenly started
spazzing
out, glowing incredibly bright and then dimming away to nothing. They flashed five or six times intermittently before dying altogether.

“What the hell?” I started, alternately looking from the dashboard to Knight's surprised expression.

“Weird,” Knight responded as the humming from the engine suddenly stopped. I half wondered if the car was even still running.

"Did it stall?"

"
Shhh
," he answered, holding out his hand just in case I didn’t understand English. Before I could tell him where to stick it, the Denali slowed to coasting, losing all of its momentum as the seconds ticked by. Knight turned the key in the ignition, which resulted in only a clicking sound. Apparently, the thing was dead. He pumped the brakes a few times until we came to a stop, then put the car in park and tried to start it up again. But, as with his former attempts, it clicked a few times and … nothing.

“You’re kidding,” I started as Knight pulled the keys o
ut of the ignition and sighed. Then h
e relaxed back into his seat. I could read the question of
what do we do next?
playing
over his face. "Did we run out of gas?"

He frowned at me. "Do you really think I'm such an idiot that I'd run out of gas in BFE?"

"I won't answer that question," I answered as my mind raced with what course of action
s
hould be taken next. "Where's your cell phone?" I asked, realizing mine was still in my room on base. Since our business was labeled "top secret," all cell phones that weren't Resistance-issued were banned.

Knight fished inside his pocket and produced his cell phone (which was Resistance-issued), but after he tapped it and held it up to the windshield, I realized he didn't have any cell service.

"No bars," he said grumpily.

"Jumper cables?"

He shook his head. "It's not the battery. I think it's the starter."

"Great, this is just freaking great."

Hopefully, no one was planning on traveling this road because it wasn’t like we could pull to the side of it. There was no side. Instead, we were stopped dead in the middle of the road. On either side of us lay the uneven terrain of large rocks and dirt. The moon and stars twinkled down at us through the sunroof, almost as if to say, “Hey, at least it’s a nice night.”

“Unbelievable,” I muttered while unbuckling my seatbelt, suddenly feeling the need for some fresh air. Who knew how long we'd be stuck out here?
Probably all night, if I had to guess.
It wasn't like we were on a well-traveled road and neither of us had any way to call AAA for a jump-start, or failing that, a tow. Nope, we were shit outta luck and then some.

“You’re magical; you can fix it,” Knight said, glancing over at me with a hopeful smile.

I frowned, feeling more irritated because there was no way I could fix it. “In order to fix it, I need to know what the problem is, and I know zip about cars.”

That was one of the limitations of fairy magic—although I could heal myself, defend myself, and sometimes even make things out of thin air, if the task involved required background knowledge of the subject, it made things tougher. And to say I knew nothing about engines was an understatement.

“All you can do is
try
, right?” Knight asked, raising his brows in question. "Besides, I can guide you. Together, we should be able to fix it."

"What a shame that you aren't magical," I said, frowning.
I
n this instance, it was a real shame for both of us.

"I seem to have other tricks up my sleeves," he said, but there was no humor or playfulness in his tone. No, he seemed worried—I could see it in his eyes. And wondering why he was worried started to worry me.
Why? Because t
here were only a handful of times that I'd witnessed
anxiety in the Loki
and it wasn’t something that filled me with confidence.

I didn’t say anything more but took a deep breath, guessing he was right. Maybe together, we could figure out how to start the engine again. I leaned over to open my door, assuming we should look under the hood to better understand what the problem might be. When I tried to open my door, it was locked. “Um, in order for me to fix the problem, you need to let me out,” I said, tugging on the door handle, as proof it was locked.

Knight wore a puzzled look on his face and seemed to move in slow motion as he hit the unlock button. When I retried the handle, it still wouldn't open. His frown deepening, he tried his door, but it, too, was locked.

“What the hell is going on?” I started.
Watch
ing Knight shake his head, I got a sinking feeling deep inside my gut.

“Use your magic to break the glass,” he said in a serious tone.
"Now."

I didn’t wait for him to explain why. The look on his face told me something wasn’t right, but just what the "something" was
was
the scariest part. Instead, I shook my hand until I felt a mound of fairy dust slipping through my fingers. Facing the window, I threw the dust at it, and watched the moonlight glint off the shimmering particles as they bounced against the glass. I closed my eyes tightly and imagined the glass busting out, with all the pieces dropping on the ground outside. I was also careful to imagine all the broken shards disappearing, leaving nothing but a safe, clean sill. Opening my eyes, I knew what was coming next, and covered my face with my hands as I heard the sound of glass shattering.

“Go,” Knight said. I glanced over to find him right beside me, clearly ready to climb through the window behind me. I started to push myself through the large opening, but being faced with a big ass potential fall once I got to the other side, I paused. At that same moment, I heard what sounded like the monotonous ticking of a clock. Confused, I suddenly felt Knight’s hands on my back, thrusting me through the window. I blinked, and in that brief millisecond, felt the cold night air against my face. That feeling was soon replaced with the rocky terrain of the road. Hitting the ground knocked the wind out of me. When I felt Knight's body on top of mine, I forced myself up,
completely at a loss as to what was happening. When I tried to sit up though, Knight held me down, covering my body with his.

"It's going to blow!" he yelled into my ear.

Before I could ask him what the hell was going on, I heard the explosion. It was so
loud,
I felt my brain rattling between my ears. For a moment, I half wondered if my eardrums had just been blown clean out of my head. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly in an automatic reaction and felt Knight
tightenin
g
his arms around me. He pushed my face into the ground as he shielded me with his body
. T
he sounds of flying shrapnel
were thick in
my ears. Knight jerked against me and I could hear the thrumming of his heart.