Move Me (19 page)

The flimsy combination lock on the door to
the service bay had been snapped - probably magically. Adam and his
two detectives ducked under the low opening. Inside, the scent and
feel of magic was much stronger, the air thicker and hotter than it
should have been in autumn. A male voice moaned in pain farther in,
standing Adam’s hair on end. Without needing to be told, Nate
peeled off to the right. Adam and Carmine took the left.

Scattered heaps of tires allowed them to
creep up on their goal without being seen. One bare bulb dangled
from a wire, lighting the far end of the garage. In the dim circle
beneath it, the Talent had her moaning victim tied to a plastic
chair. The sight of her stopped Adam in his tracks. Christ, she was
little. Five foot nothing and probably a hundred and small change.
She looked to be in her twenties and wore the kind of clothes
street kids did. Ripped up black jeans. Ancient T-shirts that
didn’t fit. Her oversized Yankees jacket had its sleeves torn out
and was decorated with unidentifiable small objects. Her hair was a
shade of platinum not found in nature, standing in white spikes
around her head. A swirling red pattern was dyed it, as if her
coiffure were her personal art project. What really got him though,
what had his breath catching in his throat, was the clean-cut
innocence of her face. Outfit and hair aside, she looked like a
tiny Iowa farm girl.

It made his chest hurt to look at her. The
part of him that needed to protect others wanted to protect
her.

Knowing better than to trust in appearances,
Adam shook the inclination off. He tapped the speaker fixed into
his vest with the signal for everyone to hold. The victim was still
alive. They could afford to take a minute to discover what they
were up against.

As they watched, the girl lifted her right
hand. Pale blue fire outlined her curled fingers. Her already
bloodied victim shrank back within his ropes. He was some kind of
elf-human mixblood with long gray hair. He was a lot bigger than
the Talent, but that didn’t mean their fight had been fair. Despite
the elfblood, he didn’t give off much of a magic vibe. A near-null
was Adam’s guess. His run-in with the Talent had left damage. He
looked bad: both eyes swollen, bruises, shallow cuts bleeding all
over. Though he seemed familiar, as injured as he was, he was hard
to identify. Even his smell was distorted by blood and fear.

“I can do this all night,” the Talent said in
a voice that was way too sweet for a torturer. “Or you can tell me
where to find the Eunuch.”

Carmine and Adam came alert at that. This was
a name they knew too damn well.

“Lady,” said her bloodied victim. “I have no
idea who you mean.”

The girl closed her glowing hand gently. The
man she was interrogating arched so violently he and the plastic
chair fell over. He screamed as blood sprayed from a brand new cut
on his chest. Carmine started forward, but Adam gripped his
shoulder.

“Wait,” he murmured. “That cut was shallow.
He’s not in immediate danger.”

Carmine shook his head but obeyed. When the
man stopped writhing, the girl drew a deep slow breath. With no
more effort than gesturing upward with one finger, she set man and
chair upright. Despite the situation’s danger, something inside
Adam let out an admiring
whoa
.

“Clearly,” she said, “you think you ought to
be more afraid of your boss than me.”

“Lady,” panted the injured man,
“
everyone’s
more afraid of him.”

The girl’s lips curved in a smile that had
Carmine shivering beside him. Admittedly, the expression was a
little scary. For no good reason Adam could think of, it made his
cock twitch in his jockstrap.

The Talent spoke silkily. “I’m glad we’ve
established you know who I’m looking for.”

Adam expected her to cut him again. Instead,
discovering her victim did know the Eunuch inspired her to up the
ante on her torture. The blue fire she’d called to her hand now
began gleaming around her feet. She was drawing energy from the
earth - and no piddling amount either. Her glowing hand contracted
into a fist, and her victim’s face went chalky. Adam was pretty
sure she was telekinetically squeezing his beating heart. Unless
she was really good at medical manipulation, she was going to kill
him.

“
Go
,” he said sharply into his vest
microphone.

Even in human form, werewolves weren’t
slowpokes. What went down next was textbook perfect. Adam and his
men were on the Talent so fast she didn’t have a chance to shift
her attack to them. Nate got her nose squashed down on the
oil-stained floor, then snapped electrum plated cuffs snug around
her wrists. The cuffs were charmed so she couldn’t break them, no
matter how powerful she was. The Talent struggled, then cried out
as Nate yanked her roughly onto her feet.

He dropped a depowering charm around her neck
for good measure. Immediately, the energy-charged air settled back
to normal. The girl gaped at the enchanted medal, then straight up
at Adam. Adam’s heart stuttered in his chest. Her eyes were a
breathtaking corn-fed blue, her lashes a thick dark brown. The
twitch she’d sent through his cock morphed into a throb. Carmine
shot him a look of surprise. Adam fought an embarrassed flush. The
smell of his arousal must have gotten strong enough to seep through
his clothes.

“’bout time you showed up,” the girl’s victim
huffed. “This bitch needs to be locked up.”

Carmine flipped up his face shield and turned
to consider him. The man flinched back, obviously wishing he’d
refrained from complaining.

“Aren’t you Donnie West?” Carmine asked.
“’Cause I know we’ve got a handful of outstandings on your drug
dealing ass.”

“Uh,” said Donnie, abruptly recognizable
under his bruises.

“That’s what I thought,” said Carmine, and
let out his belly laugh.

Through all of this, the Talent’s eyes moved
from one of them to the other, taking in their gear and their guns
and getting wider by the second. When Rick and Tony caught up to
them from the front, Tony’s upper canines had run out and his amber
eyes were glowing. The girl sucked in a breath like this shocked
her, though a partial change when younger wolves got excited wasn’t
uncommon.

“What the -” she said before having to
swallow. “What the hell kind of cops are you?”

Still holding her from behind, Nate’s slash
of a mouth slanted up in a devilish grin. “Well, what do you know,”
he drawled. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves an Accidental
Tourist.”

Need a bit more twinkle?

DUVALL
of Talfryn adores his new human
bride. She’s smart, she’s lovely, and they cherish each other—flaws
and all. The half-magic city of Resurrection seems the ideal spot
for a honeymoon. It’s far less dangerous than Faerie, and Belle can
get her first real glimpse of his fae nature.

Problem is, Belle gets a glimpse of more than
he counted on. Will this down-to-earth junkshop owner decide an
entitled prince of enchantments isn’t who she signed on to wed?
Will Duvall overcome his pride and bare his true heart to her?

Only a honeymoon fit for a faerie can settle
this conundrum.

a digital short story