Magic, New Mexico: Made for Her (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 2

  If she hadn’t already used the restroom, she’d pee her pants now too. “M-Mr. Merrick.”

  “I like what you have done with your hair.” His sneer was enough to tell her otherwise.

  She resisted the urge to touch her bun. Going from her natural brown to blonde had seemed like a good idea three months ago, but he’d recognized her anyway.

  “I commend you for hiding in plain sight for the past three months,” he said, a little too casually. “Well played. I had to…convince a witch to scry for you.”

  A witch? Seriously? Donnie smothered the rising snort.

  His eyes glittered. She’d never been able to decide if they were grey or silver.

  What was she thinking? His eye color didn’t matter. Right now, her life was on the line. He must know by now what she’d seen in the vision the dagger had shared with her that night. The sight of him standing over the ancient weapon, clutching it to his chest as a magical glow enveloped him was etched into her memory forever. The years had fallen away from his face, fine lines smoothing as he became younger before her eyes.

  There was no unseeing what had happened. And there was no hope of escaping his wrath.

  “Come, now, my dear.” Mr. Merrick grasped her by her elbow. “Do not even consider screaming. You will be dead before you finish, and no one will ever identify me. You know as well as I that I can pull off such a feat.”

  ~*~

  Mikhail sipped his coffee and pretended to be engrossed in whatever was on his iPad screen, for the sake of the humans still in the shop. None of the other customers, or Rhonda for that matter, would ever suspect he was using his vampire-enhanced hearing to listen to the amusing conversation happening in the employee break room. The man-child, Jake, was nothing more than a nuisance. Of course, Donnie would shake him quickly.

  The back door opened and both voices faded. They must be outside now. Another moment or two, the outer door would close and Jake would return to his post behind the counter, wearing the appropriate expression of Donnie’s rejection. That would be the perfect time for Mikhail to exit the shop and intercept her.

  Someone in the back room made a small, high-pitched sound. With any luck, Jake had taken a knee in the groin.

  A stench of undiluted fear filled the coffee shop and Mikhail straighten in his chair. That was Donnie’s fear; he knew the flavor. He half-rose from his chair.

  Boom!

  The slam of the door echoed through the shop, rattling cups and spoons. Every human head in the place jerked up, faces lined with stunned confusion.

  Mikhail lowered himself back into the chair and stilled his body to better listen. Nothing. No voices at all. What was going on back there? Movement outside the floor-to-ceiling windows caught his attention. A tall, familiar man strode into view. Everything about him was pale. His white-blond hair, his pewter eyes, and his sallow skin.

  Nathrach Makkor.

  Or, as of two-hundred years ago, Ash Merrick. The same son-of-a-bitch who had taken the last thing that had mattered in this world to Mikhail.

  Irina.

  A wave of anger seethed through Mikhail, and his fangs extended again. What in Hades was that snake doing in New York? And who was the poor, unfortunate soul stumbling along on his other side?

  A woman peered around Ash, her hazel-green eyes wide with terror. Curses, it was Donnie. Her gaze locked with his, begging for help. Normally, having his meal absconded by another would not bother him. Such things happened in his world on occasion. But Donnie was his, not Ash’s. Principle alone demanded intervention.

  He gave Donnie a slow nod. Relief flashed in her eyes, but would she still feel the same if she knew what he planned for her after he settled his score with Ash Merrick?

  ~*~

  Donnie didn’t dare ask where Mr. Merrick was taking her. Knowing wouldn’t change anything. The way his fingers dug into her biceps was message enough that once they got there, things would not go well for her.

  Mr. Merrick stopped at the entrance to a dark alley.

  Please don’t go in. Please.

  He jerked her arm, and she stumbled as he pulled her toward the dank darkness between two buildings. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach, and a knot lodged in her throat. She was as good as dead.

  What’d happened to Mikhail? It’d looked as if he intended to help her, but that was four and a half city blocks ago. The lump of lead in her stomach sank deeper. His nod had been a good-bye, not reassurance that he was looking out for her. People didn’t just come to the rescue of complete strangers, no matter what all the feel-good stories on social media indicated. She was on her own.

  “Look at me, Donalda,” Mr. Merrick demanded. No, commanded. And she couldn’t seem to resist him.

  Her gaze met his. Whoa! What was up with his pupils? The normal round centers had elongated into narrow vertical slits.

  “Come.”

  Fuzziness blurred the edges of her thoughts. There was a reason she shouldn’t go into the darkness with him, but what was it? But, how could she think with the cold, hardness of the city spinning around her? The lights, the people.

  “I only have a few questions for you. Simple ones,” Mr. Merrick murmured. He slipped his arm around her waist and leaned in, his gaze intensifying. “Then you can go home.”

  Home? That sounded good. Comfortable. Yes, she’d like to go home to her little place in Chicago. No. Wait. Her apartment must be rented out by now. She gave her head a shake. Nope. Still fuzzy.

  He smiled. It was a compassionate smile, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can even ride back to Chicago in my personal limo. There is one small matter we must discuss before we go, though. Come along, now.”

  He was going to drive her all the way back to her apartment? That was nice of him. It’d be great to be home again. Not on the run, scared of every shadow. And she could visit her mother. Her heart filled with longing, and her will to resist drained away. All she had to do was answer a few questions. “Okay.”

  She let him guide her farther into the alley. Debris and trash squished under her shoes, and the stink of week-old garbage assailed her nose. Blobs of god-knew-what dotted the asphalt, and ooze seeped from a large dumpster ahead. How weird that her usual gag-reflex hadn’t kicked in. For the first time in her life, the smell of rotting food didn’t make her retch.

  Five steps in, Mr. Merrick raised his free hand and waved it in a circle above his head. “Out!”

  The word seemed to tremble with terrible authority. Three scruffy cats and at least twenty rats bolted past them toward the street, and disappeared around the corner. Some shouts and a couple of high-pitched shrieks came from beyond the alley entrance. Two shadowy humps squatting next to the dumpster stood up and moved in the same direction. Vagrants. And they didn’t seem to see her and Mr. Merrick as they passed.

  Another tug on her arm had her stumbling along behind him as he pressed deeper into the acrid dimness, farther from the safety of the crowds. She frowned. Why did that matter?

  Mr. Merrick spun to face her. “Where is it, Donalda?”

  “What?”

  “Carnwennan.”

  An overwhelming urge to say nothing about the dagger flooded her senses. A warning that could have come from only one being—or object, actually—on the planet. The object of this discussion.

  Donnie licked her lips. “Wh-what’s a Car…when…non?” Playing dumb might buy her a few seconds at most, but she’d take whatever time she could get.

  “My. Dagger.” Mr. Merrick’s teeth were clenched together.

  “Your eyes are glowing.” An eerie, molten silver.

  He jerked her forward so she was practically nose-to-nose with him. “Last chance, little thief. My patience with you is thin. Give me Carnwennan, or you will know pain unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”

  Her mouth was moving, but all her words stuck in her throat.

  Mr. Merrick straightened. “Have it your way.”

  He shoved her aw
ay from him. She flailed her arms and tottered backward. This was going to hurt. The impact of her butt on the pavement jarred her teeth together. Something warm and wet soaked through her thin cotton skirt.

  Gross. Just, gross.

  Normal city noise rushed back, crowding the dark alley with the sounds of people walking, horns blaring, and the steady drip of she-really-didn’t-want-to-know-what nearby. What’d just happened?

  She looked up at Mr. Merrick and her breath caught in her throat. Something was happening to him. His body had turned all shimmery, and glowed a sickly, yellowish color, casting long, writhing shadows along the grimy walls of the alley. This was wrong, all wrong. The urge to run consumed her, but her body wasn’t getting the message.

  What the hell? The pall cleared, and Mr. Merrick was gone. In his place loomed the largest snake she’d ever seen. At least forty feet long, with a body as thick as a tree trunk and two shiny white fangs as long as her hand. Its skin was pasty-yellow, but its eyes were silvery-gray, like Mr. Merrick’s.

  “Holy. Fucking. Shit.” What else could she say? Her ex-boss had turned into a giant snake right in front of her. People didn’t do that.

  She scooted backward across the pavement until her shoulders hit a wall of brick. How had she ever underestimated the amount of trouble she was in?

  Get up. Now!

  She scrambled to her feet and pressed her back against the wall. Something wet oozed down the backs of her legs. She’d have to deal with that later, if there was a later. She slid her foot sideways one step…two…three. If she didn’t make a break for it soon, she’d be trapped between the dumpster and the slithering horror only feet away.

  The snake made a dry rattling sound, like a laugh. The noise grated down her spine as he matched her pace. “There isss no essscape, foolish girl,” it said. “Humansss are not allowed to sssee and sssurvive.”

  Her mouth went dry. He was going to kill her.

  The snake surged forward so fast that all she saw was a blur of yellow. The sound of his scales scraped across the pavement. Time seemed to slow, and details took on mesmerizing clarity. The shimmer of his plate-like skin. The gaping chasm of his impossibly wide mouth. A drop of golden liquid hanging suspended at the end of one fang. Venom. Death. Hers. He reared his head back to strike. So, this was how her life would end? In a dirty New York alley, pierced by the fangs of a man who was some sort of snake shape shifter? Reality snapped back into focus as she cringed, closed her eyes, and waited for the blow.

  And waited.

  Why hadn’t he killed her? And what was all the hissing and growling about? She opened one eye, then the other and peeked upward. Something black and misty swirled around the snake’s head. The long body thrashed from side-to-side, but the darkness still clung to him.

  Suddenly, the mist shot toward her. A sense of pressure built inside her ears, then released with a soundless pop as a man dressed in black stood between her and the snake. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

  Mikhail!

  Thank god. She took a step toward him, then stopped. Mikhail, who wasn’t just a man either. What kind of nightmare had she been dragged into? “What are you?”

  “The only thing standing between you and death.” Mikhail’s tone was still, calm, unperturbed by the machinations of mere mortals.

  She gave her head a shake. Where had that thought come from?

  Should she get closer to him for protection, or listen to the primal urge to run that tickled at the base of her skull? Was the dagger—Carnwennan—sending her another message, telling her to get away?

  The snake made several short hiss-laughs again. “Mikhail Chernessski. It hasss been a while. A few ccccenturiessss by my count.”

  Centuries? That could be true for Mr. Merrick, but Mikhail couldn’t be more than thirty-five. Maybe.

  Whatever Mikhail was, and however old he really was, he did seem to be trying to stop her ex-boss from killing her. She took a step closer to her would-be savior.

  “What isss she to you, Chernessski?” Mr. Merrick’s head bobbed as his body undulated back and forth, his eyes glowing an eerie silver bisected by the elongated pupils.

  The tickle became more urgent. It had to be Carnwennan, and the message was clear: time to leave. Neither of the men—or whatever the hell they were—were paying attention to her. If she moved quietly enough, she might make it out of the alley before they realized she was gone. She pivoted, so she could keep her eyes on the confrontation, and navigated around the dumpster. One foot back, then the other.

  Mr. Merrick opened his mouth in a grotesque parody of a grin. “Ah, I sssee what happened. You had her marked asss a meal when I interrupted.” He arched his head back, his sides heaving with snake laughter.

  She froze. “M-meal’?”

  Mikhail didn’t look at her. Unease roiled in her gut.

  “Thisss isss ssso tragically wonderful,” Mr. Merrick rasped. “You mussst be the world’sss mossst incompetent vampire, Chernessski. You can’t sssave her any more than you could sssave Irina.”

  Vampire? Those were a thing too? Dammit to hell, Mr. Merrick was right. Mikhail might save her from her ex-boss, but only so he could drink all her blood. Because that’s what vampires did, right?

  “It is not like that, Donnie.” Irritation laced Mikhail words.

  “But, it isss,” Ash countered, his glee evident in his tone.

  Mikhail’s hands formed into fists. Another pop of pressure, and the Mikhail-mist launched toward the snake’s head again.

  It was now or never. Donnie turned and ran like her life depended upon how fast she could move. Which it did. Her sneakers slapped through puddles of filth as she bolted for the entrance to the alley.

  Chapter Three

  Two hours later, Donnie’s hand trembled as she grasped the handrail and huffed and puffed up the final steps from Penn Station to the street level. It was hard to say which city was more oppressive in the summer, Chicago or New York. One thing was for sure; she’d never, ever sat in a squishy pile of alley-sludge in Chicago. She tugged the material of her skirt away from the back of her sweaty leg with an annoyed huff.

  This night had turned out to be longer than she’d expected, but she could blame that on paranoia. As if an antique psychic dagger that once belonged to King Arthur wasn’t weird enough, she’d spent the last two hours subway-hopping to keep a snake shape shifter and a vampire from tracking her. With her luck, though, they’d both be waiting for her at the locker rental place.

  She reached the top step and let out a gusty sigh. The odor of urine, rotting garbage, and car exhaust wafted by her nose. The trademark stink of any major urban area. A couple walking by didn’t even glance in her direction, New York being the city that never sleeps and all. Even though it was almost eleven at night, the streets were full of people. How many of those people were some sort of paranormal creature? And of those, how many would want to eat her for a meal?

  Or rat her out to Mikhail or Mr. Merrick?

  A shudder ran down her spine. No time to contemplate that. The locker rental facility would close in five minutes, and it was still two blocks away. If she didn’t get there, retrieve the magic dagger, and pay the locker rental fee, then she’d have to wait until they opened again in the morning. Roaming the streets of New York for ten hours wasn’t an option any more than returning to her room over Beans ’n Things was.

  Mr. Merrick had already found her there once, and he could be waiting there for her to come back. Unless he had his “witch” scrying for her again. That declaration seemed a lot more plausible now than it had been this time last year. How naïve she’d been back then. Now her survival meant staying one step ahead of the creatures hunting her, and that meant it was time to leave New York.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder. No sign of the snake on steroids or the blood-sucker. Looked like all the train hopping had paid off. She moved down the street, her gaze surveying and her brain analyzing any potential threats. Where could she go that
would be safe, though?

  Three minutes later, she reached her destination. The shop keeper nodded in her direction. “Cuttin’ it close, aren’t you? Doors close in two minutes….” His eyes widened and his shoulders stiffened. “Holy Moses! What didja fall into, a pile of shit?”

  “Got mugged in an alley.” Please don’t ask questions or call the cops. “Don’t worry. I have enough to pay for my rental.”

  He appeared to be weighing his options, then shook his head. “Take your time, lady. Sounds like you’ve had a rough night.”

  “Thanks. Won’t take me long.” She moved to her locker near the back of the shop, opened it, and drew out her duffle. “Are you in there?”

  It was important to keep her voice at a whisper, although she’d seen crazier things in the last few months than a woman talking to her luggage. So, maybe it didn’t matter.

  A sense of reassurance wrapped around her. Carnwennan’s response to her question. The blade was still in the duffle.

  “Good.” She hefted the strap over her shoulder, paid her rental fee, and made her way back toward Penn Station. Once there, she ducked into the women’s room. The odor of stale cigarette smoke assaulted her nostrils. The bathroom was rank, but it was also empty.

  She set the bag on a sink. “We have to get out of New York.”

  Carnwennan responded with a feeling of agreement.

  “Well? Where should we go?” The picture of the setting sun in an azure sky rose in her mind. “West? Where, west? What city?”

  No response.

  “Answer me.” She gave the bag a shake. “Where?”

  This time she envisioned a gigantic cacti, its broad paddles reaching toward the bright, burning sun. That narrowed it down to a desert, but which desert? The Mojave? Death Valley? Those were the only two she knew of that were west, but there had to be others.

  “Argh! I should throw you in the Hudson and let you find your veil to the other realm from there.” It was an empty threat. Throwing Carnwennan away anywhere would never stop Mr. Merrick from hunting her. He’d made it crystal clear what happened to humans who knew about his world.