Rae paused, spiders crawling across her spine as she turned, scanning the quiet street. The rain had washed everything out, creating a dull, grey view with pops of colour from the sparse umbrellas. Cars parked along the road, pedestrians walking, and shopping much faster than a leisurely stroll as the rain beat against them. There was nothing out of the ordinary, so after a second she slipped into her car, locking the door before turning the ignition. She may have had the charms, but she still needed the blood to be able to activate them. And unfortunately, hers wouldn’t do.
* * *
Magic was one of those things that if it worked, it was life-changing. But when it didn’t work, it could cause total mayhem. Rae grew up amongst that mayhem, her father a witch, and while her brother had inherited some of his magic, Rae hadn’t. Not even a single drop.
Absolute bullshit, but she got over it pretty quickly when she realised that Miles wasn’t exactly special. Governed by the witches, but classed so low they had their own specification, Miles had been branded a mage due to the dilution in his blood. He had focused access to his aura – or whatever the fuck it was – which allowed him to create his chi, but other than a few party tricks, he couldn’t do much. No spells, no potions, and definitely no arcane, unless creating a flame on a single finger counted. Which was awesome when they were kids, but pretty anti-climactic as adults in a city full of supernaturals.
But one thing Miles had inherited was his blood, because while it was too diluted for the Magicka’s stupid standards, it had enough of the special enzymes required to act as a reagent for charms. So he sold it on the black market for people like Rae, his enzymes reacting with spells, and essentially activating them.
Which was exactly the reason why she pulled up outside her old place after almost a year, the familiar brick just as worn as she remembered. The front door had been changed, as had the fascia which stuck out against the rest of the run-down street. Although, the fence had been smashed, creating sharp spikes that matched perfectly with the attached neighbours’.
Her name was no longer on the tenant’s agreement, but she still sent her brother what little allowance she received. The townhouse had been split into two flats, with Rae and Miles renting the bottom one since she’d turned eighteen, six years ago. It was in a rough area, so it’d remained reasonably cheap over the years, but they didn’t care, because it had given them both freedom and shelter.
The door whined when she opened it, the corridor and staircase that connected the two flats surprising clean, painted in a startling white that she was sure would have been even brighter on a sunny day. Miles’ flat was directly to the left, the lock scratched as she inserted her key and stepped inside.
The stench of mould, and rotten food assaulted her nose immediately, the room stuffy as she clicked the door shut behind her. Empty bottles clinked as she knocked them, the floorboards squeaking as she moved to set her bag down on the side table beside the sofa, followed by her jacket.
“Miles? You home?” Thick curtains had been pulled across the front window, and when Rae pulled it back, she accidentally pulled it off the hooks, releasing a cloud of dust. “Shit,” she said, coughing, unable to reach the pole to reattach the curtain, so leaving it where it fell in a heavy heap.
The living room looked like it needed a good clean, the floor covered in various crumbs, while glass bottles and beer cans sat on almost every available table surface. The rug that used to be in front of the TV had been rolled to the side, leaving a relatively clean space in the centre of the room. The fabric of the sofa had been burned, cigarette holes spotted randomly on the cushions. She didn’t want to know what had happened to the blanket that draped across the back.
She didn’t need to see the kitchen to know it was likely in a worse state, and mentally made a note to return with bin bags to clear up the place. Not wanting to linger any longer than she needed, Rae walked past her old bedroom to Miles’s, hoping he still had some stock of his blood left for her to borrow.
His bedroom was unlocked, inside a dark void as Rae blindly slapped against the wall for the light, finally finding it beneath her –
Pressure around her throat, the light flickering on with a dull whine as her back slammed against the door, head knocking back with a crack.
Rae blinked up at the calm face, at odds to the fingers tightening, stealing her breath. Her fucking target stood over her, his expression that of someone entirely uninterested. Which was almost insulting considering his hands were starving her of oxygen.
Reacting in pure panic she reached up to scrape her nails down the arm, not even breaking skin before she lifted her knee, and hit him right between the legs. His oomph of air confirmed her hit, and as she went to knee him again he shifted his hips, fingers loosening a fraction. Her fist hit his jaw next, but his head barely moved while her knuckles seared with pain. He looked more surprised than hurt, but she was able to twist from his grip and scramble beneath his arms.
Her shoes slipped on the wood, heart racing so hard the blood pumping through her ears drowned out everything else. She opened her old bedroom door in a panic, throwing herself beneath the long unused bed. Her hands reached in the dark, silently praying to any God that would listen that her brother hadn’t sold the charms she’d left there. Pushing past cuddly toys and old clothes, her fingers brushed against something cold –
She was yanked from beneath the bed, hauled to her feet and slammed once more against a wall. Rae attached the cuff around his wrist, the click loud even against her heavy breathing. It seemed to stop him for a second, his brows furrowing as he stared at the cuff attached, the long chain that connected to an identical one around her right wrist. Pulling it, he twisted her in his arms, using the chain to cut against her windpipe.
“Wait!” she said, barely able to push the words out. “If you kill me, you'll never find out who wants you dead.”
Chapter7
Titus
“If you kill me, you'll never find out who wants you dead,” she said, voice rough from where he’d held her. She was already bruising, knuckles swollen, likely broken from where she’d sucker punched him in the jaw.
It took a second for her words to register, his beast’s growl quieting to a gentle hum as he waited with a surprised patience at the back of his mind. He no longer called for blood, but instead was fascinated by the women with hair of startling red. She squirmed against his chest, her nails failing to tear at his skin. With a single movement he spun her, releasing the chain that joined them from her throat to press her harder against the wall.
Her face was flushed, breathing laboured as she sucked in a lungful of air. He expected anger, or even fear, not a mutinous expression with only her deep green eyes hinting at the earlier panic.
“Do you know the damage you’ve done to my car?” she said with an angry hiss, nose scrunching up.
“Excuse me?” Titus blinked, a small laugh dimming the anger that burned hot in his gut. “You shot me in the fucking chest.”
“Exactly,” she said, reaching up to stroke the mark he’d left on her pale throat. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Yeah, well I’m a bit harder to kill.”The audacity of this fucking woman.“Now, who the fuck are you?”
She lifted her head, lips pressed firmly into a stubborn line.
Titus gritted his teeth, his fist creating a dent beside her head when he caged her in. She flinched, but didn’t drop the rebellious tilt of her chin.
