Magic, New Mexico: Made for Her (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 3

  A surge of protectiveness rolled over her. Carnwennan’s way of reassuring her. All she had to do was trust an ancient inanimate object with a conscience.

  Yup, she was on the last train to Crazytown. She let her shoulders droop. “I don’t know how we’ll make it. I can’t afford airfare, or much of anything else.”

  They were so screwed. She unzipped the bag, dug through her clothing until she found her down jacket. Carefully, she lifted one edge of the jacket, then the other, until the ancient weapon was exposed.

  A stunning artifact. Every time she looked at it, she could swear it lived and breathed like she did. Carnwennan meant “white hilt”, or so she’d discovered through careful research. The pommel and grip were made from a single piece of creamy alabaster. Close enough to white as far as she was concerned. The curving twin dragon tails that formed the quillion were silver. Even the scabbard of aged white leather was a work of art inscribed with graceful gold, scrolling letters. Runes, but not any she was familiar with.

  Donnie propped Carnwennan on top of the open duffle. “I sure hope no one walks in on us.”

  No one would, though. They never had. If Carnwennan had magic enough to keep a connection open with her from halfway across the city, then it must have magic enough to redirect people away from them. Human people, at least.

  A vision of her hand wrapping around the dagger’s hilt rose in her mind, then they both disappeared. The word “cloaked” rose to the forefront of her thoughts.

  “Wait. Are you telling me that if I hold your hilt we’ll be invisible?” That would be seriously cool, as long as she wasn’t caught hitching a free ride on a bus or a train. It’d take only one person sitting on her to blow her cover. There was nothing she could do but trust Carnwennan to work its magic and dissuade people from doing that.

  “What about Mr. Merrick? Will he be able to find us? He said he had a witch find me.”

  A negative sensation.

  Frustration boiled in Donnie’s chest, and she shoved her fingers through her hair. “You couldn’t have told me this three months ago?” She could have avoided Mr. Merrick and his witch all-together. “I was almost killed tonight. Twice!”

  She turned away from the sink and began pacing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  A vague sense of not arguing with the Fates buzzed around her, which made no sense. Then, a blast of urgency left her gasping. Why was Carnwennan suddenly stressed? Was Mr. Merrick nearby? She glanced at the bathroom door, half expecting it to be ripped off its hinges by the crazy snake-man.

  It didn’t happen, of course. Not yet anyway. She glanced at her watch. They’d been in one place long enough. It was time to go.

  ~*~

  Donnie peeked out of the bathroom door. The world was a more comfortable place now that she’d wiped the dried slime off her legs and changed into a clean pair of jeans. Carnwennan was strapped to a cheap faux-leather belt around her waist. The dagger’s grooved handle was cool against her palm. She gripped it as if her life depended on not losing her physical connection. Which it did. The plastic bag holding her ruined skirt was a different story. She’d ditch that in the first trash can.

  Fewer than a dozen people occupied the concourse area. Penn Station was never empty, even this close to midnight. She slipped through the doorway and strode along the corridor, following the signs for Amtrak.

  No one seemed to notice her, but that was par for the course in New York. Direct eye-contact wasn’t a thing here. So, she might be invisible, or she might not.

  A man dressed in black stepped off the escalator ahead, one arm wrapped around his middle as though he was hurt, and a purple bruise under his cheek. She froze.

  Mikhail!

  He looked the opposite direction down the concourse. God, he was gorgeous as sin even with the blood trickling along his hairline. But, dammit, he’d targeted her as a meal, not as a woman. That, in her book, marked the start of a dead end relationship.

  Well, that and the whole blood-sucking vampire thing in general.

  Still, her heart urged her to let go of Carnwennan and go to him.

  He turned his head again, his gaze sweeping over her. The cloaking trick had better work, or she was about to become dinner. He strode toward her with a determined expression. Her heart slammed against her chest and her throat constricted. He was walking right…past her. Not stopping.

  She let out the breath. That was way too close.

  Mikhail stopped. Oh, no. No, no, no. Had he heard her? His head turned, his nostrils flared, then he stepped toward the door in the wall. The door to the women’s room. He must have figured out she’d been in there. Weren’t vampires supposed to track scents better than a dog? She glanced at the lumpy plastic bag in her hand, then back at him. He scanned up and down the concourse, then walked into the bathroom.

  The skirt had her scent on it, but Mikhail couldn’t smell it because it was cloaked. But, what if it wasn’t cloaked? There was only one way to find out. She turned toward the subway turnstile. A sense of worried curiosity came from Carnwennan.

  “I’m setting up a distraction.” Donnie murmured the words. Who knew how good Mikhail’s hearing was.

  She kept one hand on Carnwennan’s hilt as she lowered herself to crawl under the turnstile. This was silly. What if she set off an alarm? That would get Mikhail’s attention for sure.

  But no alarms rang, which was nothing short of a miracle. The ground vibrated, and the roar of a subway train pulling into the station filled the air. If she didn’t pick up her pace, she’d miss it would be walking to Carlsbad.

  She raced down the stairs and stepped onto the platform as the doors slid open.

  Keep going, farther down…away from the stairs. Three cars should do it.

  She stood to one side of the opening and swung the bag back and forth. The moment the doors started closing, she flung the bagful of stinky skirt, and the built-up momentum carried it through the diminishing gap.

  Splat.

  Good-bye skirt.

  Inside the train car, two men who were clearly a couple, startled upright in their seats and stared at the blob of plastic-encased damp gray cloth.

  “Where the hell did that—”

  The doors pressed closed, cutting off any more of their conversation. No one would ever believe their story about how a nasty, cloth-laden bag popped out of thin air one night on the subway.

  Not her problem, though. Her problems were much more life-and-death related. If this idea worked, her supernatural pursuers would chase the bait and she’d have bought herself some time.

  She moved toward the stairs.

  A blur of motion on the stairs froze her in place.

  What the what?

  The blur paused on the last step, solidifying into the shape of an all-to-familiar man.

  Mr. Merrick!

  He must have been close to have caught her scent so fast. It looked like his right cheek had been ripped halfway off his face, and that patch of white had to be bone. Blood dripped from the hanging flap of skin onto the front of his suit, which itself appeared to have been shredded by claws. He sure didn’t seem concerned who saw him now. Had Mikhail done all that damage?

  She crouched behind the rail of the up escalator. Invisible or not, there was no reason to risk the chance that he might somehow sense her.

  Mr. Merrick limped-ran toward the last subway car with an inhuman burst of speed. It looked like he was going to jump…he did! His body blurred and lengthened, turning the sickly yellow of his inner snake.

  Thunk!

  He landed on the roof but would he be able to stay there? The snake slid backward, its tail dropping over the end of the final subway car and wrapping around one of the hand grips. He appeared to hold on by sheer force of will. Muscles rippled and his body flattened against the metal roof as the car disappeared into the dark tunnel.

  A smug gloat came from Carnwennan. Clearly, the dagger approved of sending Mr. Merrick off on a wild goose chase. The down side was
how much more pissed he’d be once he caught up with them again.

  Donnie quietly released the breath she’d been holding and stepped onto the bottom step. Another movement from above caught her attention, and she suppressed a groan. For one glorious moment, she’d thought she was home free, but now Mikhail had shown up again.

  Would this night ever end? At least she was invisible, and he seemed too busy contemplating whatever vampish thoughts were on his mind. Like thinking of all the ways he could suck her dry, and where to dispose of her body. She pressed herself against the right hand rail, because better safe than sorry, right?

  As he passed, her gaze was drawn to his arm still clutched across his middle. Was that blood wetting the black material underneath? He did seem paler now than he had been upstairs, and there was tension around his eyes and mouth. He’d been hurt worse than she’d first thought. A band of guilt tighten around her chest.

  Her fingers twitched again, and a warning rose from Carnwennan. Don’t touch the vampire. She nibbled her bottom lip while studying his profile. How could someone so hot be so dangerous?

  No, no, no. This was bad. She’d watched enough T.V. to know all she needed to know about his kind. He was a vampire, and she was a midnight snack. If she was going to survive, she had to get back on track with Plan A. He was a big boy, and had been around long enough to take care of himself. The sooner she was on a train heading west, the better.

  ~*~

  Nine days later, Donnie stood in front of yet another bus station. Even though it was only nine o’clock in the morning, the desert sun beat down on her head as she gaped at the completely insane knife strapped to her waist.

  “El Paso? This is our destination?”

  She sank down on a bench outside the El Paso Union Station. There were nothing but fumes left in her tank, which wasn’t surprising. She’d spent the last week and a half hopping from train to bus to train, over and over. And the whole time, sleep had been her enemy. How many times had she dozed off, only to wake with a start, full of fear that her hand had slipped from Carnwennan’s hilt and exposed them both to their unwary fellow passengers? There was no telling how anyone would react to the sudden appearance of a woman armed with a sixth-century dagger the length of a small sword.

  She flexed her free hand and stifled a groan as she stretched the constricted muscles.

  A negative sensation came from Carnwennan. Super. El Paso wasn’t their destination after all. An image of yet another bus, this one displaying “Carlsbad” above its windshield, flashed through her mind. Was this trip-from-hell ever going to end?

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you would just talk to me. You know, with words.”

  The answering sensations communicated limitation, restriction, power, frustration. Huh. Was Carnwennan trying to conserve its magical resources, or had Mr. Merrick drained it so much there wasn’t enough juice in its batteries for mind-speak?

  The familiar reassurance that they were almost there eased over her.

  “That’s what you said in St. Louis.”

  A sense of exasperation laced with more frustration came from Carnwennan. Donnie sighed. “All right, all ready. I’m going.”

  She pushed herself off the bench and passed through the doorway of the red brick building. For once, she’d love to yank the doors open and see how the travelers inside reacted when they didn’t see anyone walk in. But that might lead to discovery. It’d be better to slip in behind the guy ahead of her.

  Cool air-conditioned air prickled her bare arms, raising goosebumps. A soft sigh escaped her. If only she could stay in here for the rest of the day. Maybe find a quiet corner to take a nap. But, no. She had to get them onto that bus.

  Her gaze searched the tiled entry. There it was; the bus schedule. Of course, the next bus for Carlsbad didn’t leave for another three hours.

  So much for almost being there.

  ~*~

  Donnie ground her teeth and watched the backend of the bus shimmer into a mirage of heat as it continued down the highway. It seemed that the-middle-of-hell, not Carlsbad, was their destination.

  Carnwennan vibrated with the suggestion that it was safe to release its hilt now. Which made total sense, because only an idiot would be hanging around in the one- hundred-seventy-five-degree oven of a desert.

  “You got us stranded in the middle of a freaking furnace at the hottest part of the day.” Buses didn’t just break down, then miraculously start working again two seconds after she’d followed the driver out the door.

  Says the invisible woman having a conversation with a magical talking knife in the middle of the desert.

  How was she not losing her shit here? She released the dagger’s hilt and gave her hand several sharp shakes. Blood flowed back into her cramped muscles. Relief. She reached for the bottle of water she’d swiped from a vendor in El Paso, and pulled it from the side pocket of her duffle bag. Guilt, the gift that kept on giving, burned in her chest. Guilt for stealing the dagger. Guilt for taking all those free rides across the country. Guilt for using her invisibility to cop food and water along the way to avoid discovery. There was no way to escape the feeling either. She twisted the cap open and brought the bottle to her lips. Tepid water slid down her parched throat.

  Ah.

  So much better. She recapped the bottle. Oddly, her disposition seemed to improve. “You know, if you don’t make it back through your veil, you could get a job as a GPS. They’ve been known to drive people to the edge of cliffs.”

  Carnwennan’s humor fizzed through Donnie’s chest, followed by a solid feeling of reassurance. It was nice to know that even an inanimate object could appreciate a joke at its own expense.

  Donnie’s grin faded as her gaze was drawn to a small cloud of dust moving toward them, cutting through the sage and cacti on the other side of the highway. “As long as it isn’t Mr. Merrick who finds us.”

  The dust cloud became larger as it got closer. Without Carnwennan’s magic cloaking them, they were vulnerable. Chances were pretty good it wasn’t Mr. Merrick, unless he had super-fast healing powers and instant transportation to this exact spot the moment she let go of Carnwennan’s hilt. No. This cloud must be from a vehicle, and the only ones who’d drive the narrow dirt roads out here would be local yay-hoos. It was easier to believe she’d left both Mr. Merrick and Mikhail on the East Coast.

  Something shiny flashed, and a vehicle blasted out of the dust cloud. A pick-up truck, older model, mid-twentieth-century vintage. The reddish-brown body bounced on its chassis as it sped across the dirt track of desert roadway. She couldn’t hold back the chuckle welling in her chest. Good luck finding that thing in a sand storm out here. It’d blend right in.

  Whoever was driving was not slowing down. There was no chance this was their ride. She stepped off the road next to a dusty boulder, uncapped her water bottle, and brought it to her lips. The sun flashed off the windshield and the truck barreled across the empty highway and past her. Strains of AC/DC’s Back in Black blasted through the hot air.

  She coughed and waved her hand as the dust cloud enveloped her.

  Lunatic.

  The skidding of tires on gravel drew her attention back to the old truck. What kind of maniac slams on their brakes that hard on a dirt road? The truck fishtailed to a stop. The dust cloud floated over the truck, obscuring it before continuing its silent trek out into the desert alone. The world around Donnie seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for the driver’s next move.

  No, wait. That was her holding her breath. She exhaled slowly. The backup lights came on and the truck rolled back toward her. Could this be their ride after all?

  The pick-up stopped just far enough ahead that she couldn’t see the driver. The radio was off now too. She leaned to her right as the passenger door opened, and her gaze locked with the driver’s.

  “Hello, Donnie.” Mikhail said with a small, deadly smile.

  Well, shit.

  Chapte
r Four

  Donnie stared at the vampire with her mouth open. There were two choices, here: fight, or flight.

  Or both.

  She drew back her arm and threw her open water bottle at him. It clipped the edge of door frame and spun, the precious liquid spraying a glittering fountain through the hot air. Mikhail flinched back. Good; he hadn’t expected her violent reaction. That should buy her a couple seconds head start.

  She turned and ran like every creature of Hell was after her, not just the vampire. A sense of déjà vu filled her. Now would be the worst time for Mr. Merrick to show up.

  The slam of a car door reached her ears. He was after her now, for sure. In the nature programs she’d watched as a kid, predators often gave up on prey that was too hard to catch. She would be the elusive prey, avoiding him until he quit.

  Are you kidding? You saw how fast he moved in the alley.

  Yes. She was at a huge disadvantage. That was reason enough not to make this easy for him.

  Carnwennan bounced against her hip. This must be the height of irony, running into the desert with no hat, no sun screen, no water, and no survival skills, just to escape a vampire.

  She slowed. A vampire driving a pick-up truck…through the New Mexico desert…in the middle of the day? She came to a stop, the sound of her heart thudding in her ears. Something was very wrong with this picture. She looked back over her shoulder.

  Mikhail stood thirty feet away, leaning against the passenger door with his arms folded across his chest. The sun beat down on him, not his smoking remains.

  Something like this could only happen to her. “I-I didn’t know vampires could be out in the sun.”

  “There is much you do not know about vampires.”

  Shoot her now, but his gentle, accented voice still tugged at her nether regions. “You going to tell me why you aren’t you a pile of ashes right now?”

  “Are you going to tell me why you wear an ancient sword cinctured to your waist?”

  “No.” A woman could get used to having that voice around.

  “Well, then.”

  This was going nowhere fast.