Amaretto Flame (20 page)

“It's a shame your brother won't be here to
take care of this for you,” the man holding the knife said. With
that, he swung his arm out and the knife slid across my arm,
opening a gash that began weeping blood immediately. That's when
the door opened, and in walked Jackson. His face was dark, his eyes
narrowed. My stomach dropped a little at the look on his face. It
was...murderous.

“I'm not her brother,” he said, his voice
cold and low. I stared at him, trying to absorb the twist that had
just made itself known to me. The men were taken off guard for a
fraction of a second, and then they sprang into action, going
toward Jackson and forgetting about me momentarily. I strained
against the ropes on my arms, but they weren't budging. I looked
around frantically, thinking I could use some sort of magick to
free myself, but hesitant to drain any more power than
necessary.

I watched as Jackson kicked at the man who
was holding the knife. He dodged, and the other man landed a blow
on Jackson's shoulder, sending him backwards a few inches. He was
like a machine, though. He kept coming forward, dodging and
swinging out, managing to get a few really good hits in. He moved
with purpose and each time one of the men got close to him, I felt
the pressure within me soar to almost unbearable heights. I kept my
lips clamped together, though, as the hunter with the knife swung
his arm out toward Jackson. I saw the blade graze against the
tanned skin of his forearm.

It was like I was watching in slow motion. I
could almost see the skin opening up on impact, but as the hunter
pulled the knife away, the only visible thing on Jackson's arm was
a tiny white line, as if he'd already had a scar there. I gasped,
but didn't have much time to think about this, because the next
moment, Jackson was behind me. His arms went around me and the
chair, and he tilted me back so that I was looking directly up at
the hunters who were coming our way.

“Let it out, Slayer,” he whispered into my
ear. My mouth opened and the pressure that had been building and
dancing within me came rushing out, making the walls rattle and
pictures crash to the floor. I watched the fear in the eyes of the
men as they realized they had probably bitten off more than they
could chew with me, and so help me, I cherished it. I enjoyed their
fear, and I don't know if they felt any pain before their life
forces left them and they turned into dust on my living room floor,
but I hoped they felt a lot. I was the destructive face of the
Goddess, the winter wind that kills the blossoms, and raw power
coursed through me.

Then, when it was finished, I sagged back
against the chair and felt Jackson gently put it upright again. His
hands worked on my bindings while I tried to fight the darkness. I
knew there were so many things I needed to ask him; puzzles that I
needed to put together in my mind, but I just didn't have the
energy do to much more than stare at the floor where the piles of
dust were, the huge knife between them. When my hands were free, I
managed to pull them around to inspect the damage on my wrists,
which were rope-burned and red. Blood covered my entire right arm,
and my face as well.

Jackson came around and knelt down so that I
could see his face. “You're hurt,” he whispered. Without another
word, he put his hands on mine and closed his eyes. I could feel
the tingling, which was comforting in a way, but at the same time,
reminded me of the horrible scene at the bar. It felt like it had
happened a few days ago instead of just a few hours ago.

“Open up to me, Olivia,” Jackson whispered.
“Hurry. We have to get out of here.” I understood what he meant. I
was doing that thing again where my 'walls' were up and he was
unable to heal me. Good. I didn't want his pity.

“I'll heal naturally,” I said, my voice
coming out harsher than I'd intended. He opened his eyes and looked
up at me for a long moment. I refused to make eye contact.

“Fine,” I heard him say, and then he lifted
me up over his shoulder and carried me out the door. I wanted to
fight him; to refuse to be in his presence for one more second, but
I couldn't do it.

“Where are we going?” I demanded, my body
sinking into the warmth and the tingling that was Jackson. “Put me
down.”

“We're going to talk to someone. I think I
have some explaining to do,” he answered, putting me in the
passenger-side of his jeep and buckling the seat belt across my
lap. “And I'd really like it if you would hear me out.”

I frowned as he walked around the jeep and
got in, starting it up and pulling away from the driveway. “I guess
I don't have a choice,” I answered. “But that's only because I'm
weak right now and unable to fight you.” I could hear the bitter
note in my voice and bit my lip. I didn't want him to know how
badly affected I was by Paula and the scene before. I saw his lips
curl up into a small smile, though, as he glanced toward me.

“Even at your strongest, Slayer, you still
wouldn't be able to fight me,” he said, and then patted my knee. I
rolled my eyes but stayed silent. As he drove, my mind flashed back
to what had happened in the house. I'd watched the knife cut
Jackson and I'd seen his skin heal before the knife had even been
finished cutting. That in itself was amazing. I'd never encountered
healing powers that strong before. But there was something else.
Just before the hunter had cut me, he'd said something...

“
It's a shame your brother won't be here
to take care of this for you.”
Then, he'd sliced my arm open.
My brother. My
brother
, as in Everett, wouldn't have been
able to take care of that for me, because
he
didn't have
healing powers. Then Jackson had stormed in like the grim reaper
himself, and had declared that he was not my brother. The Venator
had never been after Everett at all. I turned my head to the side
to look at Jackson's profile.

His copper hair shone in the dim light inside
the jeep; warm, golden eyes looking out over the road. I choked
back the tenderness for him that filled me up, because even though
he'd betrayed me, he still came to my rescue. The truth was still
hitting me with more force than the hunter's fist had packed when
it punched me in the stomach. Jackson turned his head toward me and
our eyes met.

“The hunters were after
you
,” I
whispered.

Everything was sort of a blur to me. I
slipped in and out of consciousness as we drove through the small
town of Staves, although I was constantly aware of Jackson being
beside me, as if he were an extension of myself. I was vaguely
irritated by that, but consumed by other thoughts. So many
questions swirled around inside of me.

Was it really a coincidence that I was sent
to Staves when the Venator were searching for a Wise One that lived
here? Was it a coincidence that I had become fond of him? What was
the Goddess trying to tell me with recent events? I didn't have the
answers, and I was honestly too tired to try and unravel things at
the moment.

I became aware of the fact that we were no
longer moving, and opened my eyes wide. “Where are we?” My voice
was thick and all I wanted to do was sleep.

Jackson shifted his body in the seat and
looked at me. “I need some help to explain everything to you, so I
brought you here.” His eyes glanced up and swept over the view in
front of the jeep. Sitting amongst the large oak trees was a house
almost as big as the one I'd been staying in. This one was
definitely more cared for, with a well-manicured lawn and
neatly-trimmed hedges. It sat at the end of a long, curving drive
like a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence.

“Okay,” I said, “but where is
here
?”

“This is my mother's house,” he replied,
before getting out of the jeep and closing the door. Great. This is
exactly what I wanted to be doing right now. Actually, I should be
calling Ivanna, and creating some kind of game plan to deal with
the hordes of Venator that were probably descending upon the town
of Staves to collect their debt from Jackson, whatever that might
be. Instead, I was with the man that betrayed me, getting ready to
meet his mother.

My door opened, and Jackson helped me out of
the jeep. I tried to avoid his help, but when I swayed on my feet,
he bent down and swept me up in his arms, carrying me toward the
house.

“I can walk,” I grumbled, although I wasn't
sure I could walk the entire way without resting. I didn't mention
that part, though.

“Stop being such a stubborn ass,” he
muttered, and then gave me another little amused smile. I decided
to ignore that and just focus on whatever he was bringing me here
to tell me. Obviously that the Venator were after him for one
reason or another, and he was probably going to request help from
my coven. That part was no problem. We'd do anything to thwart the
hunters' plans and save innocents, but I knew that probably meant I
wouldn't be able to go straight home. It also meant that Jackson
might be a part of my life for a bit longer than I had planned. I
sighed at the thought. All I really wanted to do was go home and
forget about Staves.

We reached the porch, where a light pooled
over the painted boards and illuminated the matching wooden rocking
chairs on either side of the door. Before Jackson could knock or
walk in, the door opened and a woman emerged. Her hair was the same
shade of copper as Jackson’s, but hers was tame - falling around
her shoulders in smooth ribbons. She had a kind, heart-shaped face
with high cheekbones, and chocolate-colored eyes. Jackson put me
down gently, and when he held onto my arms for a moment, I mumbled
about being fine. My clothes were still damp and blood was drying
on my face and was still leaking slowly from my arm. I felt like a
half-drowned, beaten rat.

“Hi, Ma,” Jackson said, stooping down to kiss
her on the cheek.

“Jackson,” she said with adoration. Her eyes
smiled at him, crinkling slightly at the corners. She smiled warmly
at me and said, “Olivia. I'm glad you're here. Come in.” As she
turned to lead us into the house, I glanced at Jackson, my eyes
full of questions.

“I know it's late, Mrs...” I let that linger,
because Jackson hadn't told me her name.

“You can call me Claire, Olivia,” she
replied, shutting the door behind us. “And actually, it's early.
About three am early, but I don't mind.” She turned to me and
pointing off to the right, she said, “Through that door you'll find
the restroom. I've laid some dry clothes out for you, although
they'll probably be a little big. You'll find towels for cleaning
up in there as well and when you're finished, I'll see what I can
do about your arm.”

“Thank you,” I said, truly grateful for the
possibility of getting out of these clothes. I didn't waste any
time taking her up on her offer. In the bathroom, I used the towels
she'd set out to clean off most of the blood, feeling a little bad
that they were ruined. The clothes nearly fit; a super-soft t-shirt
and khakis that were a few inches too long. I didn't have a brush
but I dug around in the waitress apron from my uniform and found a
rubber band that I used to pull my hair back from my face. I put my
clothing into a small pile and then exited the bathroom, following
the voices to the brightly-lit kitchen.

Plates with thick sandwiches and slices of
fruits waited at the table, and at the smell of the food, my
stomach growled. Before I had a chance to be embarrassed about it,
Claire gestured to the seat at the head of the table.

“I really appreciate this,” I said, gesturing
down at the clothes. The next moment, I felt the strange shifting
in the air that signified magick, and my entire body felt very
warm. I tensed, looking around for some sort of attack.

“It's okay, Olivia,” Jackson said. “She's
healing you.”

I glanced at Claire as the warmth
intensified, and became nearly unbearably hot in my arm where the
gash was. Her eyes were closed, but a small smile was on her face,
and then the heat was gone. I looked at the cut and saw that it was
completely healed. The only trace of it was a small white line, as
if it had been healed for months now. I even felt a little kick of
energy running through me.

“You're a healer too?” I asked.
“Amazing.”

“No. I'm not a healer. I have a strange
ability,” Claire explained. “I can switch the magick of two people
so that their powers are reversed. It's not useful most of the
time, except now of course, since Jackson can't directly heal you
himself.” She smiled at me even though I must have clearly looked
confused. A few seconds later, it hit me.

“Wait. You gave me his power?” I raised an
eyebrow at her.

“Only for a few moments. Long enough for your
wounds to heal,” she answered. I was floored. I'd come across some
strange powers in my time; Jackson's were most definitely odd, but
this was just weird. I rubbed my hand over the scar on my arm and
thought about how the warmth had felt. It gave me a small thrill to
think that Jackson's powers were in me for a moment, but I squashed
that down and asked him if he'd felt anything when it happened.

“Heaviness,” he answered. I gazed at him, but
he offered no other explanation.

“Have something to eat, and then we'll talk,”
she said. The smell of the food broke down any resistance I might
have had, and I sat down, too. I felt a little like I was dreaming.
This was definitely one of the strangest situations I'd found
myself in so far. I didn't really know what to say, so I ate the
sandwich. It was some kind of chicken salad, creamy and with little
bursts of pickle and onion here and there. I was either really,
really hungry or Claire was fantastic at making sandwiches because
it was delicious.

When I had finished all the iced tea in the
glass, I finally looked up from my plate. Claire quickly cleared
away the dishes, and I said, “Thanks for the food. I didn't realize
how hungry I was.”