Hell Bent

Chapter 7

A thing I don’t tell a lot of people: Terric is hilarious drunk.

Mostly because as the drinks go down, his clothes come off. It usually starts with the shoes, then socks, belt, and shirt. Sometimes it goes a lot further than that. I’d bailed him out of jail once for indecent exposure. I’ve never let him live it down either.

So, yes. I was thinking about seeing how many layers he was going to shed here in a very public pub, but he’d only taken off his shoes and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt before his phone rang. Again.

He’d ignored it twice already.

“You going to get that?” I asked.

The waitress had cleared the food from our table, and now five shot glasses were lined up, neat as socks in a drawer, in front of Terric.

He downed the sixth and carefully set it in place at the back of the line like a good little soldier.

“It’s Jeremy.”

“Right,” I said, toying with my third shot that wasn’t even half-empty yet. Another thing I don’t tell people: when Terric drinks, I just . . . don’t as much. Seems like one of us should be sober in any given situation.

“Your boyfriend wants to talk to you, mate.”

Terric looked off over my shoulder, pretending he hadn’t heard what I’d just said. But his heartbeat sped up, and I could see his eyes dilate. Fear? Lust? I sipped my whiskey and waited.

“He’s picking me up,” he said. “Here.”

“Is that a problem?”

He wiped his hand over his eyes. When he took his hand away, his eyes were still closed. He set the fingers of both hands one-at-a-time precisely on the tabletop, as if ready to play a piano.

“I can feel your heartbeat, Shame.” He said it almost too quietly for me to hear over the noise in the bar. But his finger was tapping the tabletop. Tapping in exact rhythm to my pulse.

“I can feel all their heartbeats. I can tell who is healthy, who is sick. Who is dying. I can feel their time ticking away under my skin. It burns there with every beat of their heart. And sometimes, some days, I can’t keep the magic from spreading out to swallow them. Life magic heals, mends, fixes.” He nodded, his fingers tapping, tapping.

“But when I lose control of it, it makes anything grow, accelerate, thrive. Even disease. Even sickness. The living are made stronger, but the dying are accelerated, burned out like old candles. If I refuse to use Life magic, it consumes . . . me. I drown in it, lose my thoughts, my reason. My mind.”

He opened his eyes. Maybe realized those words were coming out of his mouth. Maybe realized who he was talking to and where he was.

I wondered if he’d given up trying to explain to people what it was like to die and come back with magic having changed you. Changed your body. Changed your blood. Changed your needs. I’d stopped trying to explain it years ago.

Let them think I was a burnout. A loser. A slacker.

I guess Terric let them believe he was a success. A winner. A hero.

It didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything to do to fix what we really were. What we both had become: monsters.

Most people did not want to be reminded of how dangerous we were.

But I rarely heard Terric’s fight with Life magic. He never spoke to me about it. Just like I didn’t talk to him about Death magic. I had no idea what it was like to be driven by Life magic. I had no idea what it demanded of him. What it made him do. How it wore him down. How he coped.

“Life magic devours?” I said. “I thought that was Death magic’s trick.”

“Life magic infiltrates, overtakes, possesses. Makes everything grow: plants, people.” A long pause. “Diseases, sickness.” He tipped his head, licked his lips as if remembering the taste of each of those things. “Everything I touch I change. Everything that I touch I force to change.”

“You know there’s a price for letting magic use you like that.”

He nodded once. His eyes were too sober for how much whiskey he’d been drinking. “My life. My . . .” He looked at a loss for words. So I gave them to him.

“Your humanity,” I said.

I didn’t think he’d ever believed me when I said that before. But this time he did.

“When I let go. When I relax, when I just let go and breathe . . .” He stopped talking. Just stared at me.

“It takes over,” I said.

“I become the monster. The magic. I become the hunger. And I don’t want to stop.”

“Ain’t life grand?” I threw back the remainder of my shot.

“I’ve made some bad choices,” he said. “I’ve done some horrible things. When I just breathe . . .” He licked his lips. “I’ve extended . . . suffering. Hospitals are bad. Nursing homes, worse.”

“Good,” I said.

That startled him, but I wasn’t done.

“No, as a matter of fact: thank God. Perfect Terric was really getting on my nerves. It’s good to know you can fuck up like the rest of us lowly humans.”

“Is that what we are? Human?”

“Until the day the monster kills us,” I said. “Or we kill it.”

He smiled a little. “Careful. That almost sounded like optimism.”

“It’s the whiskey talking.”

His phone rang again. He didn’t look at it. Fingers dug harder at the tabletop.

A car horn blared. Paused. Blared again.

“That your friend?” I asked.

Terric took a deep breath, pulled his hands away from the table, then worked on putting his shoes and humanity back on. “Yes.”

He stood, pulled out his wallet and threw some twenties on the table. “Thanks. For this. I’d like to see you at the office again tomorrow. Think you can do that?”

“When have I ever let you down?”

He raised an eyebrow. The horn blared again, taking away his reply.

“Night, Shamus.”

He took a step, reassessed his balance, seemed to pull it together, then started toward the door with a steady gait.

I got up and followed.

“I’m not that drunk,” he said. “You don’t have to follow me.”

“I’m not,” I lied. “Gotta piss. Bathroom’s this way.”

He didn’t argue, not even when instead of turning left to the bathroom, I leaned against the wall near the door. Watched him step out. Waited a minute. Opened the door.

Terric ducked into a Jeep.

The man in the driver’s seat, who I assumed was Jeremy, looked familiar. Short hair, narrow face, and when he shifted so I could see him better, I knew where I’d crossed paths with him before. He was the guy leaving the scene at the alley this morning who pointed at me like he was holding a gun.

What a douche.

Looked like he was reading Terric the riot act.

I was suddenly falling in hate with the guy.

Terric paused in pulling the seat belt over his chest, the door still open. Since his body was turned away from me, I had no clue what he said. But I saw Jeremy’s face change. He shut up. His eyes narrowed. And his heart beat harder. Anger.

Then he looked up at me. Saw I was watching them.

His anger screwed down to tight, red fury.

Oh, that man did not like me. Poor bastard.

I crossed my arms over my chest and made a kissing motion.

He bit off one cussword and looked away.

Yes, I was enjoying this.

“Think I should stop that now?” I asked Eleanor, who had spent most of the last couple hours sitting with different people at the pub and eavesdropping.

She nodded.

Terric shut the car door and the Jeep rolled down the street.

“Too late,” I said. “You should really speak up when you have an opinion.”

Eleanor stuck her fingers into the side of my neck. Ice picks chilled all the way down my spine. “Jesus, woman. A little humor would be nice.”

I rubbed at my neck and stepped back into the pub.

As soon as I was in the main room, I was once again reminded that when I am around Terric, the need to devour and consume life is lessened. Yin/yang, Soul Complements, life/death, and all that. We canceled each other out some when we were in the same general proximity.

Now that he was gone, a tight ball of rage knotted like a fist in the middle of my chest. Death magic was hungry.

Maybe it was time to settle the bill and get the hell away from this place. Away from all these lovely living people.

While we’d been talking, day had stumbled into night. The pub was filled to the walls. I made my way between people standing and yelling to be heard over the noise of the place, and paused by the table.

A woman was lounging in Terric’s seat, arm over the back of the chair, ankle resting on her knee. Knockout pretty. Blue eyes like clear mountain skies, and a soft, full mouth. Her hair spilled down to her shoulders in waves, framing the porcelain white of her skin. Slender build in a tight T-shirt and jeans. My heart, which had been missing for years, kicked over and began beating for the first time.

It wasn’t a come-hither gaze she was holding me with—just an even stare with a glimmer of mischief—but it might as well have been.

I didn’t know her, but I recognized her. Last time I’d seen her, she had a sniper’s rifle in her hands.

“Buy you a drink?” she asked.

I could say no, but there was fresh shot of whiskey already next to my three empty shot glasses. She had a drink too, an Old-Fashioned. All the money Terric had left behind was right where he’d tossed it.

Eleanor was shaking her head and doing some kind of football signal for missed goal.

But there was something about this woman that made me want to say yes for a change. I tugged the chair away from the table and sat.

“So. Is this your first time in Portland?” I asked.

She smiled a bit. “Why? Does it show?”

“Not at all. Visiting friends? Enemies?”

“I’m still undecided on that. My name’s Dessa.”

“I’m Shamus.”

“I know.”

I grinned. “Wondered if we were going to dance around that or not. Are you going to tell me why you want me dead?”

She caught her breath. Then leaned forward just a bit. “Did I say I wanted you dead, Mr. Flynn?”

“No. But that rifle on the rooftop? Kind of a giveaway.”

She took a drink to cover her surprise. Huh. So she didn’t think I’d spotted her. I guess I had the slacker/loser/oblivious-of-the-world act down pretty tight.

“You’re still breathing, though, aren’t you?”

“Apparently,” I said. “Why is that, exactly?”

“I don’t want you dead yet.”

“Comforting. What do you want?”

“A little time.”

A young couple were making their way through the crowd toward the door. The woman was carrying a baby. Just before she got to our table, she sidestepped a man taking off his coat, and a little stuffed toy tumbled to the floor.

Dessa glanced over, spotted the lost toy, saw the woman and baby moving on. She glanced at me, then at the woman’s retreating back.

These kinds of situations were always telling. A woman on the prowl would ignore the whole thing. A woman on a job to get information would ignore it too.

And Dessa . . .

“Hold on.” She stepped out and picked up the toy—a purple turtle—then caught up with the couple and handed it to the thankful mother. She even took a minute to smile at the baby before noticing I was watching her, and walking back my way.

Looked like my assassin had a heart.

“Do you always rescue things in need?” I asked as she sat back down.

She shrugged. “Only when I find them lost and alone in bars.”

Touché.

“So you wanted time,” I said.

“Yes. I want to make you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“You help me, I help you.”

“Go on.”

“I’m looking for a man. A magic user. I want you to help me find him. And kill him.”

Matter-of-fact. Clear. To the point. But her tone had gone too careful. Too even. Hiding her heartbeat, the race of adrenaline. She didn’t just want the man dead, she wanted revenge.

“What did he do to you?”

“He killed my brother.”

I let that settle between us. “I’m not an assassin,” I said.

“You could be.”

“I could be a lot of things. Have you tried the right side of the law?”

“Do you think there is a right side?” She paused for a minute, stirring the ice in her drink.

I just wanted to watch her eyes, her mouth, the way she pushed her hair back so the side of her neck was bare. Thoughts I hadn’t had in a long time stretched out in me.

“I’ve been . . . involved in that side of the law,” she said. “I’ve even worked for that side of the law. And I know my brother’s killer won’t ever be put in jail.”

“Why?”

“He has protection. Government protection.”

“What are they protecting him from? You?”

She smiled again, and I glanced away so I wouldn’t be caught by the warmth of it. “No.”

“Look,” I said. “I’m flattered. But there just isn’t anything in this for me. I’m not seeing why I should get involved.”

“I’ll help you with your problem.” She took another drink and waited.

“And what, exactly,” I said, leaning forward so that our hands nearly brushed, “do you think my problem is?”

She swallowed and had to look away before she could hold my gaze again. “I have information about the government and Soul Complements. Names of the people involved. Information that can keep you alive.”

“You assume I want to stay alive. Maybe you’ve got me wrong.”

The corner of her mouth pulled up and she tipped her head so that a curl of hair slid gently across her cheek and neck. Red against white, like blood on snow.

I clenched my fingers so I didn’t reach up and draw her hair back into place.

“If death is what you want,” she said, “I can give you that too. It will be fast. It will be clean, and it will be glorious.”

She had my full, unbroken attention.

She was not kidding. Her iceberg blue eyes were as steady as if she were looking at me through a sniper’s scope, finger on the trigger. No emotion. Just the sweet promise of death.

Would it be wrong of me to think that at that moment, she was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen?

Here’s the thing. I knew what my future would be. No matter how I cut it, death, my death, was always the card on top. I’d always figured Zayvion would be the one to pull the trigger. But I hated what it would do to him and Allie. They’d carry the guilt of my death for the rest of their life. Because they are like that.

But here, now, this woman—this gorgeous and, yes, kind woman—was a solution I hadn’t considered. I could make a deal with her, and she could make my death look like an accident. No one would carry the guilt. Not Zay, not Allie, not Terric, not my mum. No one would have to know the truth.

“Glorious, eh?” I asked.

“Unforgettable.”

“How about accidental?”

“It can be arranged.”

“So you’re offering my life—or my death—if I help you find a guy and kill him.”

“That’s the deal.”

Tempting. Dangerously so.

I leaned back, lacing my fingers together just behind the shot she’d bought me that I still hadn’t touched.

“Why can’t you kill him? I’ll buy that you might need help finding someone. It’s less likely you think I’m the one who can track him down—plenty of better trackers in this town. But what I’m really having a hard time believing is that you need help killing. Anyone.”

“He’s different.”

“How?”

She shook her head. “You agree to help, I tell you. You don’t, then I’m gone.”

I thought it over. Several things made this seem like a good idea. One: she was hot and had stirred feelings, and a need, I hadn’t had in a long, long time. Two: she had information that might keep Terric, Zay, Allie, and the rest of the Soul Complements safe. Which meant it was possible she either worked for the government or worked against them. Three: did I mention she was hot? Four: that kill-you thing she offered was a pretty sweet way to deal with my ultimate dilemma—my problem, as she called it.

It would, however, be insane to commit to a revenge that I didn’t give a damn about.

It would not, on the other hand, be the most insane thing I’d ever done.

“No,” I said.

It surprised her and she didn’t bother to cover it up. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

She pulled her hair back with both hands and let it cascade back into place. “We would have made a hell of a team,” she said.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Was it the glorious death that turned you off?”

“No. I thought that was a nice touch.”

She smiled. “Well, then. To happy endings.” She held up her drink and I picked up the shot.

Touched the edge of my glass to hers. “To endings, happy or otherwise.”

She nodded, then took a long drink.

I slammed back the whiskey, enjoying every moment of the burn. I only wished it were enough to put out the fire she’d started in me.

A slightly sweet aftertaste coated my throat. I wondered which brand she’d ordered.

“Now that business is out of the way, care to stay for a couple drinks?” I asked.

“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”

“I thought I’d unpack my boyish charms and try my hand at seducing you.”

And the smile she gave me.

It lit up her face. She was, I realized, the kind of woman who knew how to laugh. Who was probably gentle to small animals, and kind to old people. Behind her mask, she was vibrant. Alive.

I wanted that.

“First,” she said, “don’t tell a woman you’re going to try to seduce her.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s fair. Relationships are much more fun when . . .” The pub spun to the left and I braced my hand on the table edge so I didn’t slap it with my face.

“That’s not right,” I mumbled.

Dessa leaned forward. “Second, don’t accept drinks from strange women.”

“What?”

“Well, look at that,” she said. “Your boyish charms are working. I’m just all wobbly in the knees and so are you. Why don’t you come home with me, kitten?”

“Kitten?”

And before I could make any damn sense of that, she was next to me, then standing with me. Her arm was surprisingly strong around my waist, and I wanted like mad to pull her into me. But the pub was coming in and out of focus as I blinked, and the only thing that convinced me I was walking was that the place was moving past me.

“Spiked my drink,” I said.

Now we were standing outside.

“Yes, I did.”

“Naughty girl.”

She sighed. We were moving again. Around the corner. “I am sorry about this. You could have just agreed. It would have been easier.”

“You knew I wouldn’t. Otherwise why spike the shot?”

“I wasn’t sure I could be convincing enough. One thing you need to know about me, Shamus Flynn? I never give up.”

I would have told her the one thing she should know about me is I never do things the easy way, but the world was a blender of light and darkness. I didn’t know what she’d dropped in my drink, but it was not a drug or magic I was familiar with.

That worried me.

Could I use magic to get myself out of this? Sure, if I could concentrate long enough to trace the glyph of a spell.

So: no.

Could I just drain down her life?

Strangely, and really, most frighteningly of all, I couldn’t even think straight enough to do that. That drink had pushed magic—even Death magic—way out of my reach.

“Here we are,” she said. “You can just relax. Lie down. Let me take care of everything.”

“I don’t even know your last name,” I mumbled. I thought she was easing me into the back of her car. I was pretty sure I heard a car door open.

But I’d gotten that wrong too.

She’d popped the trunk. And gave me a shove down into it.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I laughed as the world spun and shook.

“No. I am completely serious about this. Deadly, even.”

She leaned above me, her lips slightly open as she adjusted something near my head. And all I could think of was I should kiss that woman.

What can I say? I like a woman who can surprise me. She’d certainly done that.

Too bad I couldn’t move.

“You should be comfortable,” she was saying. “And don’t even think about using magic. It won’t work.”

Too late. I was already thinking about it. But that was about all I was doing. Because the lumpiness I was lying on wasn’t the spare tire and crowbar. It was Void stones. As a matter of fact, the entire trunk was lined with them, completely canceling my ability to draw on magic.

The woman knew how to plan ahead. I wondered if she’d lined the top of the trunk too.

“I’d tell you to get some sleep,” she said. “But this is going to be a bumpy ride, so just try not to get a concussion.”

As the trunk slammed shut, I noted that yes indeed. The inside of the lid was lined with Void stones too.

Damn. I really should have kissed her.