Martinis with the Devil, Part One Page 13

  “Come on, Quinn,” I whispered. “Fight!”

  Eli continued to pour energy into her, but nothing was happening. I saw his lips moving. Was he praying? Or reciting some sort of healing incantation? Quinn’s body remained completely limp, and I noticed her skin seemed to have lost its color. She looked devoid of life. Dead. More tears escaped down my cheek. I’d told myself a long time ago I wouldn’t get attached to people like this anymore. Because they always died. But here I was, faced with mortality once again.

  I saw Eli’s glow begin to fade, like a comet burning out. The light unwrapped itself from Quinn’s body, bleeding back into Eli’s light, which dissipated a moment later. In contrast to the light that had been there a second before, the night seemed more black than it ever had. He turned slowly to face me, his golden hair shining in the streetlights. His silence said more than his words could have.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Not Quinn. She can’t be…”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  He pulled me onto his lap, strong arms holding me against his chest, holding me together.

  “She can’t be gone,” I repeated. “That’s mean she’s going to—”

  Quinn’s chest rose and fell.

  We both froze. Her chest rose again. Then fell.

  Her eyes opened tentatively, as if she wasn’t sure how to use them anymore.

  “Quinn!” I shrieked.

  “Zy,” was all she could manage.

  “Oh, God! You were dead! You came back!” I leaned over her, wanting to touch her but not wanting to risk it with the black poison spreading up my limbs.

  Her eyes, widened, scared for a moment. “Did you…”

  “No, it wasn’t me. Eli saved you,” I explained.

  Her eyes moved around, searching until she saw Eli’s face. “Thank you,” she sighed.

  “No need to thank me for something like that.” His face was grim. I think he was still in shock that she was alive.

  One of the NHTF trucks rolled past, bringing the reality of the riot back to us. “We need to get both of you out of here,” Eli said.

  “And Riley,” I added, cutting off as an intense wave of pain and dizziness rocked my body.

  “Zy, your arms!” Quinn protested weakly.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m fine.” To prove my point, I stood up, at which point my body weaved convincingly beneath me.

  “You don’t look fine,” came Donovan’s voice from behind me.

  I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist. I knew I’d be fine, because this rescue shit was starting to piss me off. In fact, this whole riot/witch attack/poisoning/best-friend-near-death-experience had really put me in a foul mood. And I had cried. In front of someone else. Lame. “I just need to get out of here,” I said, removing Donovan’s hand.

  “You need an antidote for that,” Quinn said, gesturing at my arms.

  “Commander Hunter should have some. They keep all that stuff in the vans,” Eli said. He helped Quinn to her feet and we began to walk down the street.

  “So you saved her from that vamp,” I said. “That’s good news.”

  Eli chuckled. “She saved herself. By the time I got there she had staked him. She’s a pretty tough chick.”

  I felt a wave of something that felt suspiciously like… Nah. I just really needed a martini. And a soul wouldn’t hurt, either.

  We made it to the NHTF’s medical van. I insisted that Quinn lay down on a stretcher to be examined. I sat on the back bumper, resting my cheek against the cold metal of the door. “Hey, D, can you go get Riley? I don’t want them to take him to jail or something.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He sauntered off, casting me a look over his shoulder. He knew it was very rare that I asked for help.

  Eli had headed off in search of Hunter. I searched the crowd for him, and saw he’d found her. They were a dozen or so yards away, Eli all pale and glowing, Hunter a stark contrast with her dark brown skin and black hair. They stood a little closer than was strictly necessary for two people conversing. He pointed back to where we were and she followed him over.

  “Eww, that looks bad,” Hunter said when she saw my arm. She climbed up into the van past me and started rummaging through some cabinets at the back.

  “I’ll be alright,” I muttered. Eli cast me an amused look.

  A moment later she returned with a huge needle. “Which cheek?”

  I stared at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She laughed. Was she enjoying this? “No. Pull down your jeans.”

  I stood and started to roll down the denim. “Eli, do you mind?”

  He blushed—actually blushed—and turned around to face the other way.

  Hunter didn’t make me strip totally. After I revealed a couple inches of flesh, she jabbed the needle in. The medicine stung like hell. “Alright, you’re all set,” she said.

  “Thanks.” I rebuttoned my jeans.

  “I’ll send a medic over to look at your friend,” Hunter said. “That’s a little beyond my area of expertise.”

  Eli turned back around and helped Hunter hop down out of the van. “Thank you, Marissa. You’re a life saver,” he said quietly. She smiled flirtatiously and walked off.

  What? All she did was give me a freaking shot. Jesus Christ.

  Luckily we didn’t have to wait long before a lanky guy in scrubs came over and examined Quinn. He proclaimed her to be fully recovered, but gave her a dose of the same stuff I’d gotten, just to be safe. I noticed the needle he used was about ten times smaller than the one Hunter—no, Marissa—had stabbed me with. Nice.

  Through the smoke I saw Donovan approaching with Riley slung over his shoulder. “Hey, doc, can you wake up my friend? He got juiced accidentally.”

  “Sure,” lanky doc said. He pulled out another syringe.

  Donovan laid Riley out in the back of the van, and a couple minutes later he was blinking his eyes in confusion. His gaze settled on me first. “Did we die?”

  I grinned. “Yeah. You missed it. It was epic.”

  Riley groaned and sat up, rubbing his forehead. “I can’t handle your humor right now.”

  “You mean, not before you have a cocktail. That’s cool, Donovan’s taking us out for drinks.”

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Eli asked.

  I turned. “Yeah, I do. I’m totally over this riot.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Donovan said, helping me and Quinn out of the van.

  Eli just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

  I really hated it when he got all holier-than-thou. “Sorry, Wings. We came, we kicked ass, we almost died, and now we need some alcohol.”

  “Doctor?” Eli asked, trying to get some backup.

  “I’m not getting in the middle of this one.” The doctor raised his hands in a gesture of neutrality. “I’ll just say that if I thought it was going to kill them, I’d intervene.” With a smile and a nod to me, he strode off.

  Eli and I squared off. He wore his best superior-being-exasperated-by-the-commoners expression, and I donned my smuggest smile. “I’ll probably be here the rest of the night cleaning this up,” Eli said. “But can I expect you to be sober tomorrow so we can get back on the job?”

  I shrugged. “Probably.”

  “Fine. Come by HR headquarters.” And with that, he turned and stalked off.

  “That guy’s got a major stick up his ass,” Donovan said, shaking his head.

  I cast one last look in Eli’s direction. “Yeah, whatev. Let’s go.”

  “Mmmm.” I sighed as I set down a frosted martini glass, having just drained my first beverage. “That really hits the spot.”

  We were sitting in Cherry, an upscale supe bar downtown, located aptly on East Cherry Street. Since Alexander had burned One-Eyed Willie’s to the ground, this was the next best choice. Donovan sat on my left, trying to suavely put his arm around my shoulders, and Riley on my right. Quinn sat on the opposite side of the table, sandw
iched between some of Donovan’s pack members, and judging by her eye-batting and lip-pursing, she’d forgotten all about the fact she’d almost died an hour earlier.

  And I was well on my way to forgetting, too. Forgetting I had to keep the HR alive, and kill Alexander, and try to talk some sense into my sister. Definitely forgetting about Eli, and his annoying, bossy, pretentiousness. Commander Hunter and him were probably having a great time cleaning up the ashes of Fifth Ave right now, canoodling and talking about what a pain all the supes are. Especially those Anam Gatai.

  “I’ll go get another round,” I said, standing abruptly.

  It wasn’t until I was leaning up against the bar that I realized Donovan had followed me. I really needed to pay more attention. “I’ll help carry the drinks,” he said.

  “Sure.” I looked over at him. “Hey, thanks for showing up and saving my ass tonight. You know how much I hate all that rescue business, but I have to admit I was probably a goner.”

  His hip brushed up against mine, and I felt a wash of his warmth. “Yeah. I was pretty scared there for a minute. I could see you from a ways off, fightin’ like mad to keep off that wave of lunatics. I didn’t think I was going to make it in time.” Those bright eyes of his, green as the Irish meadows we hailed from, held real sincerity. Or, at least it seemed real. He was also a really good bullshitter.

  “Well, you did. We live to drink another night.” I grinned and turned away from the emotions in his eyes.

  Donovan grabbed my hand. “Zyan—”

  The bartender saved me. “What’ll it be?”

  “I’ll have a chocolate cherry faerie bomb, he’ll have a Jameson on the rocks…” I paused and turned to D, hyper aware of the tingles running up my arm from the warmth of my hand in his. “Sorry, guess I should let you order for yourself.”

  He smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll always love Jameson. Some things change. Others never do.” His words were laced with not-so-subtle double meaning, and the expression on his face was making me uncomfortable.

  I turned back to the bartender and rattled off a long list of drinks. He nodded and spun away to start whipping everything up.

  Donovan was still holding my hand. He was a patient shapeshifter. I finally turned my gaze back to him. “Are you gonna keep that?” I flicked my eyes down to my hand.

  “I’d like to,” he said. He raised my fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I’d like to keep all of you.”

  “You had all of me before. It wasn’t good enough.” I pulled my fingers back.

  His eyes went stormy. “I was dumb. Idiotic. And I’ve regretted it ever since. What do I have to do to show you how sorry I am?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know, D. I just can’t deal with any more complications right now, okay?”

  “I’m not a complicated person, and there’s nothing complicated about us. I want to be with you, okay? Nothing could be simpler.”

  He was right. Well, about him not being a complicated person. It had been blissfully simple being with him. He had this soothing quality about him that always made me melt.

  “I’m not trying to pressure you, Zy.” He had me locked in his gorgeous gaze again, his eyes sucking me in. “I’ve made up my mind. So I’ll wait as long as it takes.” Reaching forward, he pushed a strand of hair away from my cheek, letting his fingers trail over my skin. He was so close that his breath tickled my skin. “And to prove to you that my intentions are pure, I won’t even try to kiss you right now.”

  His lips floated inches from mine. He said he wasn’t going to kiss me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t kiss him. The question was, did I want to? Well, the fact that I was even indulging the question meant yes. Had he really changed? Boyfriends rarely did. Yet he seemed so sincere…

  Donovan straightened abruptly. “Trouble,” he said, in response to my startled expression.

  “What kind of trouble?” I asked. But then I heard what he’d probably felt through his pack psychic-link thing. The growls and hurling of insults that were the precursor of a bar fight.

  I turned around to see two lines of weres and shapeshifters facing off in the back corner of the room. Some of them were from Donovan’s pack, the others from a werewolf pack. I could practically see their hackles standing up. We strode over.

  “What’s going on here?” Donovan asked, his brows pinned together.

  “This jackass says Cherry is their hangout, and we can’t be here,” said one of Donovan’s pack members.

  I rolled my eyes. “I thought you weres had stopped with all this stupid territorial bullshit.” Since Evo, the weres had quit getting in fights like street gangs. A kind of mutual understanding—scuffles were bad publicity.

  “Things are changing,” said one of the weres in the other pack, a tall brunette wearing full body fishnet with a leather skirt and bra. “We’re tired of being told what to do, and having to play nice just because the world is aware of our existence.”

  “So, what are you going to do? Act up and get thrown in supe jail?” Riley asked.

  I hadn’t realized he was standing there, on the other side of Donovan’s crew. He stood apart from both groups, because he wasn’t a member of either. His eyes weren’t on tacky hooker chick, though, they were on Dan, who stood across from him. Hadn’t it been just a few days ago that we were all hanging out at Will’s, without a care as to who was part of which clan or pack?

  “We’d like to see the humans try,” said another woman standing next to fishnet girl.

  “I’ll bet you guys just came from the riot, huh?” I asked. “Nice work. Societal chaos is a win-win for everybody.”

  “Shut up, soulsucker. Nobody asked your opinion,” hissed another werewolf.

  Man, but they were a mouthy bunch. “Well, since you’re promoting the absence of rules, you wouldn’t want me to raise my hand and wait my turn, now would you?” They were really killing my buzz and that was completely uncool. “Let’s just go back to our drinks, and remember we’re all part of one big, happy supernatural family, okay?”

  “No deal,” said fishnets, glaring at me through fifty layers of black eyeliner.

  “Come on, Kiki,” Dan said, touching her on the shoulder. “Let’s forget about it.”

  Kiki whipped around like she was going to devour Dan. “If a boyish crush is more important than your pack, then just leave, okay? You can be a free agent like your little boyfriend over there.”

  Dan cast an apologetic glance over at Riley, but kept his mouth shut. Packs were all-important to weres. Riley was an anomaly for not being a part of one. Clearly Dan wasn’t willing to give up what he had, despite his feelings for Riley. I groaned. This night was getting even more sucky than it already had been, which said a lot.

  “Well, if you’re determined to fight, it’s a hell of a fight you’re gonna get,” Donovan growled. I’d forgotten how intense he could get when he was pissed off. His brogue thickened when he was mad.

  “What’s going on here?”

  A faerie suddenly stood on the edge of the crowd. Selfora, the owner. “This pack told this pack,” I pointed at each group respectively, “that they had to leave because this is their hangout. We’ve tried to be reasonable, but it isn’t happening.”

  She nodded in understanding, her blue-black hair shimmering. Her wide almond-shaped eyes scanned over each group. “This type of behavior is not conducive to a pleasant atmosphere,” she said in a musical tone. She pointed to Kiki. “Please take your pack and leave.”

  Kiki’s face pinched up in fury. “Are you serious?”

  “Very,” Selfora said with a gentle smile.

  It was then that Kiki did the stupidest thing yet. More stupid than picking a fight for no good reason. And more stupid than insulting me. She tried to hit Selfora. And everybody knows you don’t fuck with faeries, because they’ve got some wicked nasty magic that makes even the most skilled witch drool with envy.

  So, first Kiki’s fist hit an invisible wall six inches in front of Selfora’s fac
e that sent her blasting backwards into her friends. Then all the shifters in Kiki’s pack, including poor Dan, were simply swept by an invisible, soundless wind, kicking and screaming, out the door and onto the street.

  We could see them through the windows, cursing and threatening. One of the weres pulled down his zipper and started urinating on the side of the building. There was a sudden flash, and a little bolt like lightning jumped out and zapped his…. well. He screamed and ran off with his pants down around his ass. Like I said, you’re just dumb if you mess with faerie magic.