Killing Strangers
“I’m sorry, the what?”
We were practically running down the hallway now. Blaine paid no mind to the parking lot attendant as she hustled out after us through the side exit.
“Excuse me, young man, but where do you think you two are going?” the old woman barked.
Blaine came to a stop, turning to address the busybody for the briefest second. “You never saw us.” He pulled me back along as her uptight expression was suddenly wiped vacant.
“I never saw you,” she muttered absentmindedly, turning and heading back inside without further protest.
“What did you just do to her?” I demanded.
“We have far more pressing matters here, love,” said Blaine, ushering me inside the parked Cutlass.
The part of me that wanted to argue—which was a very, very large part—was silenced as I looked back at him. I could see the tension in his jaw, the worry wreaking havoc inside his eyes. This wasn’t a trick or some sick little game he was playing. Something was really wrong.
***
Tires squealed as the Cutlass floored it into Blaine’s driveway. My neck snapped like that of a crash test dummy as the Dark Prince slammed on the brakes.
“Don’t invite anyone inside,” he ordered. “Not your friends, not your aunt. Understand? No one.”
“I can stay at my place,” I said, pointing right next door.
Blaine’s gaze hardened.
“Fine,” I conceded, rolling my eyes for effect. “Your house it is.” I knew he wouldn’t give in to the suggestion, and I had to suppress the grin threatening to expose myself. I couldn’t afford to seem too eager at the prospect of staying at his place.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“If the Angel of Death really was out to get me, why didn’t he just finish the job? I doubt Mr. Warski posed that much of a threat,” I said disbelievingly.
“Firstly, unless they’ve fallen, angels aren’t allowed to be seen by humans. Secondly, that wasn’t actually Death that attacked you. What you experienced was a waking omen, meaning he’s on the hunt.”
I gave him my best “uh-huh, sure” face.
“Trust me, if he had found you, he wouldn’t be so sloppy as to do it in the middle of a public venue.” I rolled my eyes, reaching for the door handle when his hand claimed mine. His hardened gaze could have cut through steel, making my insides go still. “Please, just do as I ask, and stay inside.”
Swallowing down the lump suddenly caught in my throat, I nodded and climbed out of the car. The glorious purr of the classic engine ignited once more as I headed in the house. Blaine pulled the car back around and floored it off down the street. Wherever he was going, he couldn’t seem to get there fast enough.
Well, this was something.
There I stood, alone and welcomed inside the Dark Prince’s home, allowed to venture freely. Unsupervised. Prying the boots off my feet, I kicked the front door closed and threw all the locks into place. After tossing my coat onto the rack, I yanked every last window shade down and began my search.
If I was highly classified information, where would I be hiding?
Despite my initial assumption of the downstairs, I decided it would be best to not leave any stone unturned. I wasn’t the type of person to rifle through other people’s personal belongings, but I happily made an exception in this case. Sadly, all the cabinets and drawers were either empty or filled with nothing of consequence.
Making my way upstairs, I was met with further disappointment to see the first two bedrooms were literally bare. Not so much as a moving box inhabited the space. I could see the door to the Master Bedroom cracked at the end of the hall, but any interest vanished as I snuck a peek into the only other room.
An office.
Rich mahogany furnishings occupied the space, the scent of coastal beach soap lingering in the air. Blaine always smelled of it, hinting he’d spent a great deal of time in here to leave a signature like this so quickly after moving in. I took a seat at the desk, nearly jumping out of my skin at the sound of my cell phone going off.
“Hey,” I sighed.
“I got your texts. What the hell’s going on?” demanded Reese.
I relayed everything—or at least, almost everything—to him, from the fortunetelling place to the attempted murder in the hallway.
“But you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I left school,” I assured. “Right now I’m at Blaine’s place.”
“…Come again?”
I half-laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. “Yeah, I know. He said the place was protected by wards and stuff to keep anyone else from getting inside here, so I’m safe—at least, for now. Blaine thinks it was the Angel of Death who attacked me at school. Do you know anything about him?”
“Is he there?”
“Death?”
Reese sighed. “Blaine.”
I chuckled, continuing to scour through the desk drawers. “Sorry, blonde moment. No, he ran off to go investigate his theory. I’m just in here doing a little reconnaissance work.” Any amusement died as I finally brought myself to ask what I’d been dreading to even articulate. “Did you ever read anything about Blaine being able to control people? Like, have power over their minds?”
Only silence answered.
“Reese? You still there?”
“…You talked to Madsen.” It wasn’t a question.
“Earlier, about visiting Lucinda. Why?”
“Oh…” The sudden awkwardness was goddamn palpable.
“Reese, what aren’t you telling me? Did Madsen find something?”
He exhaled roughly. “Remember what my father’s journal said, about Blaine?”
“Vaguely.”
“It talked about his powers of persuasion.”
‘His influence is nearly impossible to resist, thus turning anyone he captivates into his unwitting servant.’
“Yeah, so?”
“I lent the book to Madsen for him to cross-reference,” Reese muttered. “Blaine’s rune, the Mark of Sitri, it’s recognized as the primary sigil utilized in accordance with his specific powers of persuasion. It’s part of a ritual… A hex, more specifically.”
“Like, for a mating bond?” This should’ve been good news, great even. So why did Reese sound like someone just ran over a basket of puppies?
“Madsen still can’t find the full details on the ritual, so he won’t be able to backtrack in order to find a cure.” Reese cursed under his breath.
“What aren’t you saying?”
“The hex…it works like a slow-acting virus. It infects the victim, but it can incubate in the person’s system for days, weeks, even months before symptoms manifest.”
“Symptoms?”
“When the Crown Prince of Lust chooses a mate, his Mark is the source of their bond. And it’s the same sigil used for his persuasion. It slowly infects the mind, gradually brainwashing the victim to the caster’s will. Eventually, the hex—”
“Turns you into his unwitting servant.”
“I mean, we can’t say for sure if this is the hex Blaine used on you or not,” Reese tried to assure.
Blaine’s last words to me before I fled Mystic Harbor hit me like a bullet train. “‘I know you hate me. But you will change your mind, someday.’”
***
Is that why Blaine hadn’t come for me sooner? Because he had to wait for his hex to fully go into effect? If he was here now, did that mean…? How much time did I have left? The grandfather clock chimed at a quarter after six, and I still hadn’t heard a peep from my arch nemesis. Fine by me. What wasn’t so fine: I hadn’t found anything in my entire search of the house. Calling it quits for the time being, I grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and an apple from the counter, heading into the family room. Seeing as how I wasn’t sure how long I’d have to wait in here, I shot Hannah a quick text, asking her if she could cover for me. The last thing I wanted was to worry my aunt, so if I wouldn’t be coming home tonight, I knew it would make her feel better thinking that I was just crashing at Hannah’s place for a sleepover.
With all my bases covered, I plopped down on the loveseat in the corner, nuzzling up with a fleece blanket and a plush pillow. Despite being psychotic, Blaine did have good taste. The couch was comfy, the blanket was warm, and he had a killer music collection. A record player sat beside me, along with an impressive catalog of vinyls. Putting on Joe Bonamassa’s Dust Bowl, I cracked open my soda can and angled the reading lamp behind my head, trying to let the sounds of “Slow Train” drown out my thoughts.
Was it really going to happen? Would I really wake up one morning and be evil? Would I suddenly be throwing myself at Blaine? Was I going to become some brainwashed sex slave, convinced that I loved him? My mind involuntarily conjured up an array of disturbing images. Was I really going to become a Princess of Hell?
Resolute in my decision to stay awake, I picked up the novel resting on the coffee table and started reading, taking in a healthy swig of caffeine to boot. The effort apparently wasn’t enough though, because I couldn’t remember anything that happened after page ten before my eyelids sank shut.
A wood paneled wall materialized before my very eyes as my insides danced and churned in anxious anticipation. I flinched at the touch, feeling familiar hands graze the skin along my arms. I turned just enough to catch a glimpse behind me of his natural, raven-black mane and gleaming icy eyes in the candlelight. Goose bumps raked across my bare legs from the cold, but every inch of me went flush as Blaine pulled me against him. He swept the hair away from the right side of my neck and tugged down the collar to my linen gown past my shoulders, baring my entire neckline. His lips pressed to the back of my shoulder blade, slowly moving their way up my neck as his hands caressed my waist.
“I love you,” he whispered tenderly into my ear. His breath cascaded down my jaw, and any apprehension inside me vanished. I angled my head and raked a hand through his tousled mane as our mouths met. His hair was nearly to his shoulders, revealing a natural wave to it that wasn’t noticeable when shorter. He was so beautiful.
A gasp escaped my lips, inciting a mania within him at the very sound, and that passion enveloped every fiber of my being as his kiss deepened. He whirled me around to face him, simultaneously tearing the shirt off his very frame. Blaine drove me back against the wooden wall, and I outright moaned from the ecstasy his mere taste gave me as his hands dropped down to my thighs.
Sweeping me up in his arms, he carried me across the unfamiliar room, setting me down on an equally unfamiliar bed. Such unspeakable delight lit up his face, his eyes, as he took in the sight of me. I gripped his shoulders, silently demanding his lips as he lay over me, but Blaine suddenly pulled away. The bright smile decorating his mouth curved into an immodest grin as he slowly eased himself down the bed, down the length of my body.
“You belong to me now,” he purred, pulling my legs apart to accommodate him. He rested back on his knees, and shivers shot up into my core as he took his time sliding up the skirt of my nightgown over my thighs. I had to bite back the impulse to cry out. Inconceivable pleasure poured into every last inch of my body, feeling his lips bear down on my exposed thigh.
My entire body jerked, wrenching me right out of my dream and landing me face-first onto the floor as I toppled clear off the couch with a scream. I tried to breathe, but my heart was thundering inside my ribcage so fervently, it seemed to rob my lungs of the required space.
What the hell was that?
Recognition hit me harder than the hardwood floor beneath me as I realized that wasn’t the first time I’d dreamt that. The night of my Rite, after Blaine had bitten me. Fighting the demonic fever, I’d fallen unconscious, sharing in the exact same nightmare. Only now, it had gone on for even longer, and had felt even more real.
Still lightheaded and flushed, I towed myself back up on the couch. It was just then that I noticed the light bulb flicker in the reflection of the mirror across the room, immediately followed by an unexplainable tug from within my chest. It practically threw my unsuspecting frame off the couch again, desperate to pull me towards the front door. Had that been what forced me out of the dream?
As soon as I entered the foyer, I was yanked to the side window. I immediately spotted Hannah’s Prius rolling up into her driveway across the street. She and Sam climbed out, and to my horror, Hannah started heading towards my house.
Hadn’t she received my text?
I yanked out my cell to see “Failed” labeled beneath the message.
Double crap on a cracker!
The last thing I needed was to arouse suspicion with my aunt, and lying about where I was sleeping at night definitely looked like a cause for concern. The moment Hannah knocked on my door and asked Jenna where I was, I would officially be screwed. Dialing her number, I cursed under my breath when Sam answered instead.
“Well, if that ain’t a fine how-do-you-do,” he laughed.
“Can you give the phone to Hannah?” I pleaded.
“She’s heading over to your place right now—”
No kidding! She was already halfway up the driveway, leaving me no choice. I ducked back into the kitchen and slinked out the side entrance. I leapt over the bushes dividing Blaine’s house from mine, scaring the wits out of the poor girl as she came up the walkway to the front door. Hannah shrieked.
“It’s just me,” I whispered, yanking her over to the side of the house when my aunt’s shadow cast in the front window.
“What the hell?” Hannah sneered, holding a hand over her thundering heart.
I explained how I lied and used her as an alibi, but it didn’t seem to clear anything up on her end.
“You told Jenna that you’d be sleeping across the street, when in reality you’re, what? Lurking in the front bushes?”
“What? No! I’m staying next…” Oh crap.
Hannah’s eyes expanded, looking at the house I’d unintentionally motioned to. “You’re staying next door?” She squealed, practically bouncing with delight. “Are you seriously hooking up with the new guy?”
I buried my face into my hands.
“Awww, come on now. Don’t be stingy with the details, girl. What are you two doing?”
“He’s not even home,” I confirmed.
“He’s what?”
Yeah, come to think of it, the Angel of Death would’ve been easier to deal with…
“He just ran out quickly to go…grab some stuff,” I clumsily countered.
“What? Like more ‘protection’?” She teased. “Did you guys already use up his supply?”
“I’ll talk to you later,” I sighed. “Just, please, please, don’t say anything to my aunt.”
“Only if you tell me what he’s wearing.”
I shook my head.
“Is he even wearing anything?” She snickered.
Just as we shared in a laugh, headlights blinded us as a vehicle pulled up into Blaine’s driveway. Without even looking, I knew it wasn’t him. The Cutlass had a very distinct, and much louder, engine. This vehicle only let out a gentle purr as it rolled up to us.
“That’s not Kat, is it?”
Hannah and I stepped aside to see a handsome face staring at us from behind the wheel.
The stranger beamed an irresistible smile as he rolled the window all the way down to get a better look at me. “Indeed it is.”
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” I asked. Nothing about him looked remotely familiar, and he most definitely had a face worth committing to memory. His bright porcelain teeth gleamed with boyish mischief, only offset by eyes that appeared nearly black in the limited light. His hair was dark, the sides closely shaved to the scalp while the top was a bit longer, slicked back pompadour-style. The slightly cultivated five o’clock shadow added a rugged quality to the appealing ’50s Americana vibe he radiated to perfection. I would have guessed he was probably a couple years older than me. And though he wasn’t bulky by any means, his black and white leather racing jacket did little to hide the taut muscles of his arms and chest concealed beneath the fabric.
“Oh, I met you briefly,” he confirmed, “but I doubt you’d remember.” That charming smile did little to wane the chill raking up my spine as I took notice to his hand draped over the top of the steering wheel. And he didn’t miss a beat, winking at me as my eyes snapped back up to meet his. “Blaine has told me so much about you though.”
My stomach hollowed out.
“I just swung by to pay him a visit, in fact.”
“Well, he’s not here right now,” I attested.
“That much I inferred.” He chuckled, taking another long look up and down my body. “How about I take you for a ride?”
“What?”
He just gave me a knowing stare, accompanied by a pirated grin.
I grabbed Hannah’s arm, taking her with me as I backed away. “No, thank you.”
“But your friend wants to,” sighed the stranger, looking to Hannah next. “Don’t you?”
An all too familiar vacancy suddenly washed over her face as Hannah nodded with a dopy smile. “I wanna go for a ride.”
I continued pulling her away, but she suddenly started batting her hands at me. The harder I tried, the more aggressive she became, nearly pounding her fist into my cheek that I narrowly dodged.
“Will you stop?” I growled to the stranger as Hannah continued wrestling against me, desperate to reach the vehicle.
He popped the locks up on the passenger door. “Then get in.”
I reluctantly nodded, and just like that, he told Hannah to return home. She suddenly shrugged and happily went on with her business, skipping down the driveway back to her own house across the way as if nothing had happened.
“I can always order her back here,” the driver taunted, seeing me make no effort to join him. “And I have a feeling she’ll be far more cooperative, too.”
The fact that my Omen rune hadn’t ignited was the only ounce of comfort I could take from the situation. “Where might you be taking me?”
“To pay your boyfriend a visit.” The stranger stole a look across the street to where Sam and Hannah were still hanging out in her driveway. “Should I invite them instead?”
That strange tug in my chest continued beckoning me toward the car, clearly wanting me to get in. Against all better judgment, I did. Whatever this stranger was up to, I had a far better chance of defending myself against him than Sam or Hannah ever could. Now I knew why Reese refused to have friends. When you had a supernatural target on your back, everyone you cared about had one too. They’d always be at risk so long as I was in their lives.
I kept my right foot drawn up as I settled in the passenger seat, ready to snatch out the blade strapped around my ankle.
Ten minutes into the drive, and all I knew was that we were heading north.
The stranger finally laughed, breaking the silence that had settled between us. The sudden outburst sent my fingers wrapping around the knife’s handle, prepared to pluck it out at the slightest movement.
“Anyone ever teach you it’s not polite to stare?” the stranger chuckled.
It wasn’t like I could help myself. My eyes kept drifting back to the tattooed rune on top of his hand. “You’re a Mage,” I said softly.
“Well, aren’t you clever. What gave me away?”
I shot him a dirty look, but the devil in his smile had my body pressed against the passenger door, as if those two extra inches placed between us would make any difference. “How about you keep your own eyes to yourself?” I countered. It wasn’t like subtlety was his strong suit, either. He’d spent the better half of our ride so far staring at me rather than the road.
“What can I say? I appreciate beauty when I see it,” he simpered. “I like the whole look. You have a Taylor Momsen vibe about you. Very rocker chic. Can you sing as well?”
“My concerts are limited to the inside of my shower,” I admitted.
“Well, then I definitely want to see that performance.” I could only imagine what kind of mental image he’d drawn up for himself as his eyes roamed over me again, his blatant immodesty making me cower so close against the passenger door I was practically sitting on the handle.
“Relax,” he laughed. “I’m not in the habit of messing with someone else’s mate. Especially my brother’s.”
Wait…
What?