Sweet Peril (18 page)

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Authors: Wendy Higgins

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction / Family

BOOK: Sweet Peril
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I smiled tightly, which brought a giant grin to his rugged, handsome, freckled face.

“Your father is away and he won’t be back until tomorrow,” I told him. “Can we come in?”

He shrugged, turning his back on us with the confidence of a man who was either not afraid to die or not scared to defend himself in an attack. We followed him inside and closed the door. Flynn walked into the bedroom, but Kope and I stayed in the living area, on alert.

His apartment faced a stunning water view, magnified by floor-to-ceiling windows. Walking toward the glass gave me a weird sense of vertigo as I realized just how high we were. I placed my hand on the top of a sleek, black couch. His furniture was sparse and modern. The only decor was on the far wall—shelves filled with hundreds of trophies and ribbons.

“You will not be needing that,” Kope said. I turned and saw Flynn placing a handgun on the bar top that overlooked the kitchen. My heart gave a hard pound. At least he wasn’t in a towel anymore. He’d changed into red, silky shorts.

“Well, I certainly hope not, mate, but you can never be too careful.” Flynn leaned against the bar, eyeing us, with the steel of the weapon gleaming next to him.

Okay, he was just making a point. Now it was time for me
to reassure him. “This is Kopano, a son of Alocer. And I’m Anna, Belial’s daughter.”

He pointed at me. “You nearly got yourself killed last year. I remember your sweet little arse.”

Before I could open my mouth, Kope stepped toward him, tension punctuating the air. I moved forward, giving Kope’s forearm a quick squeeze.

“We have come to your homeland to bring good news, Flynn Frazer, and we come in friendship. But you
will
show Anna respect.”

I clenched my teeth as another wide grin stretched over Flynn’s face. He looked back and forth between us, not sure what to make of all this.

“Sure, yeah. No Neph’s ever demanded respect from me before, but I may be able to pull it off this once, depending what you’ve got to say.”

“Let’s all sit down,” I said, jumping in. “It might take a while to explain everything.”

Flynn took the pistol and tucked it into the back of his shorts. He strode over and sat in a red chair, lounging with his legs wide apart and his arms behind his head. Flynn kept a look of suspicious speculation on his face the whole time I spoke. I had to remind myself about the research my father had done on Flynn, and trust that he was soft somewhere under that really hard, sarcastic demeanor. Each time we revealed ourselves to a Neph there was the possibility that we could be betrayed. It was a chance we had to take. I hadn’t been as afraid with Zania. Maybe because her father treated her horribly. Flynn was more of a wild card. He could harbor guilt and
anger about the life he’d been goaded into taking, while still having feelings of loyalty to his father.

I didn’t like this.

“Flynn,” I began, “what I’m going to tell you can never leave this room. We could all be killed for even discussing it.”

His eyebrows went up. “That right?”

“Yes.” I swallowed. “I need to know I can trust you.”

“I need to know I can trust you, as well,” he said. “For all I know this could be some test of my loyalty to the Dukes. So, what do you suggest?”

I thought about it. “Show me your colors,” I said.

He chuckled. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Very funny. But it sounded fair. Frightening, but fair.

“Okay,” I said. With a rush of apprehension I opened my mind.

Flynn blinked at me, becoming serious, and then showed his colors, too—a mix of gray distrust and orange excitement. Thoughts of Kaidan stayed far in the back of my mind, so I didn’t worry about any of those colors showing. My mind was fully on the task at hand.

“How ’bout you, mate?” Flynn asked Kope.

Kopano frowned but pushed out his gray worries as well.

To take it a step further, I curled my skirt up a few inches and removed the dagger from my thigh, placing it on the table between us. Flynn grinned.

“Know how to use that thing, do ya?”

“I do,” I assured him.

“I’ll bet.”

Kope grunted, causing Flynn’s grin to grow.

Riding a leap of faith, I told Flynn every single detail. The distrust faded bit by bit, dominated by a swirl of yellow and orange hues. The entire ordeal excited him. I waited for something dark and malicious to rise in his aura, but it never came. And when I was through, he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head.

“So what’s in it for me? I mean besides not having the old man breathing down my neck all the time?”

I looked at Kope, who kept an expressionless face, and then back at Flynn.

“What I mean is”—he leaned forward and draped his forearms across his knees—“the Dukes get a shot at heaven. What about us?”

Surprisingly, nobody else had brought up this detail. Even I hadn’t given much thought to the inequity. But I could only shake my head, because I didn’t have all the answers.

“We weren’t promised anything in the prophecy,” I said. “I wish I could say there was something in it for you, but I can’t guarantee it. Our main reward will be life on earth without the Dukes. But maybe that doesn’t appeal to you. Mammon treats you well. . . .”

It was my test for him, and he knew it. His lips pursed and his aura darkened into loathing.

“I’m nothing more to my father than a high-priced amusement. He has no idea what he’s stolen from me. I want him to rot.”

His words and matching aura hung between us, and I believed him.

“Are you willing to help us?” I asked.

Flynn held my eyes. Then he pulled the gun out from behind his back and laid it on the table in front of us, next to my knife.

“I’m not really heaven material anyway, chickie babe. Sign me up for your team.”

Next to me I sensed Kope’s light blue aura of relief just before he closed his eyes and hid his colors once again.

I took a deep breath and nodded. I wasn’t so sure about Flynn not being heaven material. When he gave me that knockout smile, I returned it in full.

Merry Christmas to us.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S
INGLES
A
WARENESS
D
AY

B
efore Kai, I’d thought Valentine’s Day was a sweet notion, even though I’d never had a boyfriend. But now I could see this day for the evil it was. Okay, maybe
evil
was too harsh.
Cruel
was more accurate.

I’d taken a jog that morning through the frosty grass, and then gone to school to face the saccharine hubbub. I still believed in love. I really did. But everything about this day felt so forced and pressurized. Girls were crying because they didn’t get flowergrams from the boys they liked. Veronica was pouting because Jay got her a giant bouquet of pink carnations and baby’s breath, instead of red roses. Two boys asked me out via flowergram and I had to politely turn them down. And then there were the happy couples. The hand holding and eye gazing. The stolen kisses when teachers weren’t looking.

Everywhere I looked was love alongside brokenness.

I was so tense when I got home that I decided to go for another jog to shake it off. Februaries in Georgia were always chilly, but it was brutal this year. My fingers, ears, and nose were freezing. Definitely not helping with the stress and tension factor. I turned for home just as flurries started falling.

We didn’t get much snow. Hardly any, actually. So when we did, it filled me with an almost childish feeling of excitement. I stopped jogging and walked home, grinning stupidly at the falling white flakes, holding out my icicle fingers to catch them.

I was so lost in the beauty of nature that I thought I’d imagined it when I heard a lovely, low, accented voice call my name. I stopped in front of my apartment building, still grinning, and turned. Then held my breath and let the grin fall from my face.

On the other side of the lot, standing next to a black car with the driver’s door open, was Kaidan. We stared without moving or speaking. I didn’t feel cold anymore.

He had on a knitted gray cap and his hair adorably stuck out of the edges and curled upward. His eyes were locked on mine, and even through the falling snow their blueness shone like a beacon to my heart. But I didn’t move toward him. The way he stood there with his hand on the door and a guarded expression—not angry or happy, just cautious—he reminded me of a wild animal. As if I’d stumbled into the path of a majestic stag in the woods. Any false move or sound could startle him away.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hi, yourself,” he said quietly.

This was really happening. I swallowed, and my chest shook a little when I breathed.

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” I told him.

The corners of his mouth hinted at a sad grin. “Yeah, it’s shite.”

I grinned a little, too. “Is everything okay?” I asked, wondering for the first time why he was here.

It took him a moment to answer, as our greedy eyes soaked each other in. “I just needed to see that you’re well. And it seems you are.” He gripped the door and I saw it move an inch, which caused a mild flurry of panic in my chest.

Don’t go, yet. Please don’t go.

I stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, still afraid that if I got too close, he’d vanish. But I needed to get close. I needed to tell him about the prophecy and that I’d always love him, even if he continued to deny me forever.

Seeing those eyes made me wonder how I could have ever thought he meant what he said to Kope. Or how I could have thought I could so easily move on. One glimpse at him and I was his all over again. A stab of guilt pained me when I thought about that closet in Australia.

I was halfway across the street, eyelashes fluttering away snowflakes. He was pushing past the door to come to me.

This is all I’d wanted. For him to come to me. Even for a moment. It didn’t matter that I probably looked like a mess from my frozen run, or that he’d spent the last year, and even longer, pushing me away. What mattered was that he was here now. And we could finally fix it all. I could see in his warm
eyes that’s what he wanted, too.

And then the most awful, ugly sight dotted the far sky. We both noticed at once and halted. Two whisperers. They weren’t flying low—it seemed they were just passing over on their way somewhere else, but still. We couldn’t take the chance of being seen together.

Kaidan murmured something sharp, stepping back.

Icy fear filled me as I instinctually backed between the parked cars and toward the stairs, my eyes still on Kaidan. His eyes hit mine one last time, his jaw tight.

“Don’t try to follow me. I’m on my way to the airport.”

I nodded and he slid into the car like a shadow. The sleek vehicle pulled away as I shot up the stairs and into my apartment, tremors shaking my frozen body.

Patti was on me in an instant. “Are you okay? Did you see Kaidan? He was here!”

I let her lead me to the couch. The apartment felt so hot compared to outside. My eyes skidded around the walls, expecting whisperers to come flying in at us, but they didn’t. I caught a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror and saw a sheet of light snow melting in my hair. Patti put her warm hands on my cheeks.

“You’re freezing.”

I grabbed her hands and looked at her. “I saw him, but we didn’t get to talk because some stupid demons were flying over . . . and . . .”

I wanted to cry. I
needed
to cry. My eyes and throat burned, but I couldn’t get the tears to come. Instead, all I could do was gulp tiny gasps of air. Patti’s wide eyes went to the door.

“Did they see you two?”

I shook my head and she pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. “Shh, it’s okay, sweet girl. You got to see each other. And that’s a blessing, right? Let’s just say I gave him a hug big enough for the both of us.”

I squeezed her harder, so glad she’d been able to pour some love into him on this stupid day of hearts and flowers, even if just for a minute.

“You better get ready for your self-defense class,” she murmured into my hair.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Your daddy will have a conniption if you miss your class. Maybe it’ll help you get your mind off everything.”

I sniffed, doubtful. “Maybe.”

It didn’t help get my mind off anything. Being there, grappling with my instructor and having my face smashed into the mat for the third time in ten minutes, only reminded me why I had to learn to fight in the first place.

Paul, a middle-aged ex-FBI sniper and hand-combat instructor, rocked back on his heels and shook his head at me.

“You sick or something?”

I pushed to my feet. “No. Sorry. Just distracted.”

“Why? Valentine’s Day?” He punched my shoulder and grinned. I had a feeling Paul was one of those freaky people who could kill someone with a pinch to a pressure point, but he was such a doting family man that you’d never know if you weren’t aware of his past jobs.

I rolled my eyes at him and said, “I had a bad day.”

“Go ahead.” He pointed to his chin. “Hit me as hard as you can. It’ll make you feel better.”

“No way.”

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