Kiss at Your Own Risk Page 4

“A blow to the chest,” she whispered numbly. “He has a weak heart.”

  Elijah swore.

  “Get me out of here.” She hadn’t gotten any stronger than last time; she was just a puppet for murder. Five years of shoring herself up, and she’d accomplished nothing. She’d failed.

  “Okay.” Elijah was all business now. “Reina, get her purse.”

  “I’m on it.” Reina lunged for Trinity’s bag as Elijah turned her toward the back door. His grip was tight on her arm, but Trinity twisted around to take one last look at Martin.

  He was staring right at her.

  They locked gazes, and she saw the flash of recognition in his face.

  And then he smiled.

  Her body began to tremble, and her skin was burning as if it were on fire. She strained against her dad, trying to get closer to Martin. “Dad.” Her voice was strained, edged with violence. “I’m losing it.”

  Martin stood up and waved. “Trinity! Trinity Harpswell!”

  “Oh, hell.” Elijah pulled her toward the exit. “Reina! Help! The curse is making her too strong for me.”

  Reina grabbed Trinity’s other arm.

  Trinity gazed down at the hands trying to hold her. They blurred out of focus, and then her gaze sharpened. She could see every hair, every pore. She could smell the blueberry muffin her dad had had for breakfast. She could hear the blood rushing beneath their skin.

  She smiled. The black widow was back. And it felt good.

  Trinity pursed her lips and blew lightly on her dad’s fingers. Elijah flew backwards with a shout of protest and smashed into an eight-person table against the back wall.

  Reina stared at her, her grip tight. “Don’t do it, Trinity. You need me.”

  “I know.” And then she blew in Reina’s face.

  Reina shrieked and went careening through the air. She landed on the table Elijah had hit. It collapsed and went down under a pile of screams and bodies and shattering china.

  The crash of crystal and shouts made something deep inside Trinity pulse with satisfaction, and her cringe of horror was a mere shadow at the edges of her soul. She laughed softly, amused by her spineless aversion to doing what she wanted to do. The tenderhearted side of her would soon be gone. She would be free.

  And Martin would be the one to liberate her. She turned toward him. “Martin,” she whispered. His smile was gone, his face shocked as he gazed at the carnage of the five-star restaurant. The horror in his expression touched something inside her, and a tenuous thought whispered through her mind. I’m so sorry, Martin.

  And then she launched herself at him.

  ***

  The first wave of schnoodemgons hit Blaine so hard he felt like his body had been ripped apart. Teeth sank into his wrists and ankles, and then his assailants began to pull in four different directions. The air echoed with a high-pitched cackling that sounded suspiciously like the witch when she’d had too much champagne.

  His joints began to stretch, and he realized they were going to pull until they literally ripped his limbs from his body. And since that wouldn’t kill him, that would kinda suck. Cross-stitching would be extremely difficult.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the pain you’re feeling right now?” Jarvis’s sword flashed past Blaine’s wrist, and four schnoodemgon heads went flying.

  “Not even on the charts. Below zero.” Blaine was already stumbling to his feet by the time he hit the ground. His legs weren’t working particularly well, and water was still oozing from his pores.

  Jarvis took out three more nasties with one sweep of his sword. “You’re leaking all over my new boots.”

  “I needed a shower. I like to smell fresh and pretty for the girls.” Blaine sloshed toward the door and swore as more claws raked into him. “Go!”

  As one, Jarvis and Blaine drove through the opening, and Nigel and Christian slammed the door shut. Blaine rolled onto his side as another beast attacked. For a moment, all four men went into battle mode to take out the dozens of creatures that had made it through the gate with them.

  But three minutes of party time left five people and no mutant canines alive.

  The hard edges of Christian’s scales began to melt into each other. For a split second, his body appeared to be a single piece of smooth, molten metal, and then in a rapid flash of movement too quick to decipher, the shiny material morphed into human flesh. Naked and bare, it took less than another three seconds for body hair to appear, leaving Christian with two days’ worth of stubble and dark hair perfectly coiffed. No matter what state Christian was in when he went scaly, he always returned the same: whiskers and gelled hair. Just how the witch liked her men. Christian immediately shoved his hand through his hair and messed it up. “Well, damn. I’m going to miss that kind of fun.”

  “Almost makes me feel a little teary to be leaving.” Blaine touched his hip to make sure his cardboard carrier was still intact as he glanced around the room they’d never accessed before. Just as they’d reconned, it was a foyer, and stainless steel webbing laced through the glass window of the door. Blaine limped over and looked out.

  Nothing to see but gray mist. Beyond the swirling clouds lay freedom. He wanted to slam his fist through the glass and get the hell out, but he couldn’t risk touching the metal. Now wasn’t the time to be getting handicapped by the allergic reaction to stainless steel that the witch had spliced into all the men. Blaine and his team had spent decades learning to work with it in secret. They’d taught themselves to tolerate it, but it was Christian who had developed the strongest talent for manipulating it. It was his skills they were banking on to break through the window.

  “You sure there’s life out there?” Nigel was flexing his arms, trying to work the poison gas out of his muscles. “I’ll be pissed if we get out there and it’s just mist.”

  “It’s a portal,” Blaine said. “The smoke hides her lair from others so no one can see it.” Once they left, they wouldn’t be able to find their way back, even if they wanted to.

  Odds of that? Not so high.

  Christian squatted beside his cargo and untied the bag. It fell away, revealing his girlfriend, Mari Hansen. Her brown hair was matted, her face was pale, and she was trembling. She grabbed for Christian and they hugged tightly for a moment. Blaine still didn’t get what Christian saw in her. The gal was too weak and fragile, and Blaine had a bad feeling she’d never survive on the outside.

  But she’d won Christian’s heart when the witch had assigned her to monitor his demise after a lethal experiment. The minute Mari had walked in to start documenting his decay, something in Christian had woken up. He’d recovered fully, and for that, Blaine would always be grateful to Mari, even if she didn’t set quite right with him.

  Maybe it was simply the fact she was the witch’s apprentice and she’d been present for far too many of his torture sessions. Yeah, she was a prisoner like the rest of them, but she didn’t look as uncomfortable as he’d have liked when she was documenting Nigel shoving hot pokers through Blaine’s heart.

  Not that it mattered now. They were getting out. Christian could deal with the reality of his new relationship without being under the auspices of the witch.

  Blaine passed his hand over the stainless steel window standing between him and freedom. “Christian. Now.”

  “You got it.” Christian started to stand.

  Mari grabbed his arm. “Wait, Christian, my leg—”

  “We’ll have to fix it later, my love.” Christian gave her a quick kiss that turned carnal.

  “Christian,” Blaine snapped. “Later!”

  “Right. Sorry.” Christian wrenched himself out of Mari’s grasp and jogged over to the window.

  What the hell was Mari offering that could get Christian to suck face when freedom was inches away? Made no sense. Blaine eyed the chit as she struggled to her feet. Her ankle was swollen and turning purple. She must have been bitten through the bag. “Christian!” She set her hands on her hips. “I need
help.”

  Did she really think her ankle mattered right now? “Hey.” Blaine caught her arm and turned her toward him. “Not now.” He gestured at the door. The pounding of schnoodemgon bodies against it was deafening, and the door was bulging from the impact. Trickles of the noxious red smoke were leaking through cracks. “Right now is not about you.”

  Mari paled. “How long until that breaks?”

  Nigel and Jarvis were weapons out, facing the archway. “Two minutes,” Nigel said. “Max.”

  Mari made a small noise of distress, and she looked up toward the ceiling.

  Blaine followed her gaze and saw there was a twenty-four-inch vent above his head, plenty big enough for any assortment of mutant predators to fit through. “Christian?”

  “Five seconds.” Christian placed his hands on the glass. His palms began to smoke, but he kept them there. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

  Jarvis began whipping the sword over his head, faster and faster, until the air crackled with a loud humming. Energy filled the room, and Blaine’s skin prickled. Metal ridges appeared on Christian’s shoulders, and they began to vibrate in time with Jarvis’s humming. Christian was channeling both his own energy and Jarvis’s into his palms so he could generate enough force to break the stainless steel webbing.

  Still keeping one eye on the ceiling vent, Blaine edged up next to Christian. He’d never seen Christian absorb energy at this intensity, but they’d decided that it had to be done if he had any chance of breaking through the stainless steel quickly enough. The witch controlled the metal, and it was like a living creature bending to her will.

  Christian’s shoulder ridges thickened, and the glass began to vibrate beneath his smoking palms. Blaine could feel the pressure building on the other side of the door. His team was so weakened that they wouldn’t survive a full-scale attack if the schnoodemgons broke through.

  It was now or never.

  Blaine did an internal scan and felt sparks flickering in his body. He was drying up and the flames were returning. “Can you take it if I add my power?”

  Christian was sweating now. “Do it.”

  Blaine set his hand on Christian’s shoulder and thrust his own energy into the other man.

  Christian gagged and his body convulsed, and then the window exploded.

  The glass was still tinkling to the floor when Nigel vaulted through the opening. He was first, as they’d planned. He’d use his knives to take down any assailants. Jarvis was on his heels and the two men disappeared into the mist. Into freedom.

  Blaine and Christian looked at each other, and something shifted between them. “You first,” Blaine said.

  Christian shoved himself to his feet, ignoring the muscle twitches making his head vibrate back and forth. “No.” Christian walked over to Mari. “I need to go last. Mari’s energy will close the portal. She has to be at the end, and I’m going to go with her.”

  Like the men, Mari had been kidnapped by the witch as a child, but that was where the similarity ended. Mari had been gifted with the witch’s tender loving care, and she’d been groomed as her assistant. The witch regularly sent Mari and the other women into the mortal world to retrieve new children or items for her, confident that they were so tied to her they would always come back. The energy signatures of the women had been manipulated to trigger the closure of the portal after they went through it. It always stayed shut for seventy-two hours, a precaution to keep others from following in their path as they went back and forth.

  Blaine didn’t like leaving Christian behind, but there was no other option. If Mari went first, she would strand them. He slammed his hand down on Christian’s shoulder. “I’ll see you on the outside.”

  “On the outside,” Christian agreed as he put his arm around Mari. She was looking up at the ceiling vent again. Blaine narrowed his eyes and then he passed his hand between the woman and the vent. His hand sparked.

  “She’s sending energy up there.” His skull and crossbones mark began to smoke. “She’s betraying us.” His fist caught fire.

  “No!” Christian shoved her behind him. “Don’t kill her. She’s knocking out anything that tries to come down there after us.”

  Mari was backing away from Christian, and she was staring intently at the vent. Her mouth was moving quickly as she whispered something. Now that she wasn’t trying to hide her energy, Blaine could see a pale green light filtering up, almost like dust in the sunlight. “Stop,” he snarled. “Now.”

  “There’s something up there,” she said. “I’m holding it off.”

  Blaine swore. “Christian—”

  “Go. We’ll be right behind you.” Christian met his gaze. “You really think I’d screw up my chance for freedom? I know I can trust her.”

  A loud crash made them both turn toward the interior door. A two-inch crack had opened, and claws were sticking though, trying to rip it apart.

  “I hope you’re right. I’ll be watching her once we get out.” Blaine turned and sprinted toward freedom. He hoisted himself up through the window and shoved his feet through first, making sure the tube with his cross-stitching project didn’t catch on the frame.

  His skin went numb when it hit the mist, and a prickling sensation crawled up his legs, to his hips. The smoky tendrils began to pull him away from the door. “It’s working.”

  Christian grinned. “I can’t wait—”

  A loud shriek ripped through the air and Christian swung around as a pair of shapely legs appeared in the vent. The witch.

  “Hurry, Angelica!” Mari shrieked. “They’re getting away.”

  Christian’s face went cold with betrayal at her words. Blaine felt something in his own gut rip apart for the anguish on his friend’s face. Mari had been using him all along.

  The witch dropped through the vent. She was wearing Seven for All Mankind jeans that hugged her tight ass and a silver tank top that showed off assets that had been the product of many, many experiments. She set her hand gently on Mari’s shoulder, tenderness she had never showed the men. Her blond hair was tossed around her shoulders, her eyes were frigid green, and she had a ruthless smile on her face that made Blaine’s other fist ignite. Ready to defend himself.

  “You boys did well,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Christian!” Blaine lunged to get back to the window, fighting against the mist that was tugging him away from the building. He grabbed the frame and hung on. “Come on!”

  His friend bolted for the window and he leapt for the opening. Blaine reached through the window, and he caught his buddy’s wrist. Christian’s hand clamped around his, and Blaine stopped fighting the grip of the mist. It sucked him back, and he began pulling Christian through the window with him.

  “No!” The witch held up her hands and flicked both of them at the warriors. Noxious goop exploded from her skull and then dozens of tentacles laced with poison spikes shot forth and wrapped themselves around Christian’s torso.

  Christian’s face paled and he looked at Blaine. “Too late,” he gasped. “We’re too late.”

  “No! Dammit! Hold on!”

  Christian’s grip went slack as the strength drained from his body, and his skin turned ashen. Blaine fought to keep his hold on his friend, but the mist was relentless and the tentacles were too powerful. His flingers began to slide off Christian’s wrist. “Hang on, dammit!”

  Christian willed his head up and he met Blaine’s gaze. “Live for me,” he whispered.

  And then the mist ripped them apart.

  Chapter 4

  It had been fifteen years since Trinity had seen Martin Lockfeed, and all she could think about was how much she had loved him.

  Which meant it was time for him to die. Irony at its finest.

  Trinity tore across the five-star dining room toward him, and smiled as she saw his eyes widen. Something inside her screamed at her to stop, but it was lost in the sound of the wind as she rushed across the luxurious wood floor. Like a slow-motion
horror show, she neared him, closing in on him, on death.

  She had to stop. Had to find a way. But her body kept going. Driven by a force stronger than her own willpower (willpower? self-restraint? what’s that?). Less than two yards away, she raised her hand to pound it against his chest and—

  Her dad tackled Martin from the side and shoved him out of her path. The two men tumbled across a private table for two, and Trinity slammed her hand down into the empty space where Martin had been. The momentum catapulted her past his table and she crashed into the wall.

  Stunned, she staggered backward, dry bits of plaster caking her mouth like a stale rice cake. She had to find Martin. Where had he gone? She spun around, but the restaurant had erupted into screams and chaos. People everywhere.

  “Trin!” Reina grabbed her arm. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing, yet. Where is he?” Her body was shaking with the need to finish what she had started. It was like this craving, crawling down her spine, into her cells.

  “Look!” Reina jerked her through the crowd and pointed.

  At first, all Trinity could see was her dad sprawled on the floor, blood oozing from a head wound. “Dad!”

  He wiggled his pinkie in response, and she let out a shuddering breath. Of course he would be fine. It was incredibly difficult to hurt him. “He’s good. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. Look to his right.”

  That’s when she saw Martin.

  He was flat on his back, several feet from her dad, and a pair of dinner forks were protruding from his chest. “Oh, wow. That can’t be comfortable—”

  She realized suddenly that her skin had stopped burning and there was no longer a prism over Martin’s heart. The chandeliers had dimmed back to an atmospheric romantic tone. The black widow had hit the road… for good?

  Hah. The odds of that? Not so high. But if Spider Woman had taken off for a facial and pedicure, then that made no sense. She’d never left when there was prey ripe for the munching. Oh, man… did that mean there was no one left to kill? “Reina.”