Magic Steals
Page 22
“It’s not that I don’t want to be badass,” I said. “I do. I would like nothing more than to grow giant claws and do the kick and spin and disembowel everything around me thing, but I can’t.”
Jim nodded and opened his mouth again.
“And it’s not even the blood, because I can bite. It’s just that I’m not good at fighting. I’m not vicious. I’m scared of getting hurt. I am afraid of pain. I don’t want you to die because of me.”
Jim looked at me.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” I asked.
“Are you done?”
“Yes.”
“Dali, you are a tiger. You’re the largest cat on the planet and you weigh over seven hundred pounds in your beast form.”
I took a deep breath. If he were about to chew me out because I was a tiger and I couldn’t fight . . .
“Wait,” Jim said. “Let me finish.”
I cleared my throat. “Okay. Continue.”
“You have accelerated healing even by our standards.”
“That’s true.”
“You don’t have to be a good fighter for us to make a good team. If you just sit on our attacker for a second, that’s enough for me to kill them.”
I opened my mouth and closed it with a click.
“You’re concentrating on weakness. It’s good to be aware of your weaknesses, but you need to think in terms of assets. What strengths do you have?”
I glanced at him.
“You have bulk,” he said. “You have healing. You have paws the size of my head. You are majestic.”
“Majestic?”
“Your fur is so white, it almost glows. You’re this huge majestic creature. When I look at you in your animal form, you look otherworldly. There is almost a touch of divinity about it. The psychological effect of it is staggering. You look and think, ‘How the hell do I even fight this?’ I guarantee you, any attacker will hesitate. Even if they think you are weak, they will still hesitate. That hesitation is all we need. If they are unsure, if they question their judgment, psychologically we won the fight, because let me tell you, fighting me requires complete commitment. I don’t play.”
I tried to process what he was saying.
“You’re the smartest woman I know,” he said. “Think strategically and use that agile brain. Also you just drove past the house.”
I brought Pooki to an abrupt halt, reversed, and parked by a large, two-story mansion. The house stood quiet.
We got out and walked to the wrought iron gate in the six-foot fence. Jim kicked the lock. The gate swung open.
“Is that what you first thought when you saw me?” I asked. “That I was majestic?”
“Yes,” he said. “You asked me at Eyang Ida’s house why I am with you. I’m with you because you’re smart and beautiful, and you are not like anyone I know. No matter how hard things are, you throw yourself into them. During Midnight Games you walked into a cage with trained killers not knowing if your curses would work, because you knew other people were counting on you. That’s what you do. You step up.”
He stopped, stepping too close to me. His voice was quiet. “I watch everyone around me, waiting for a knife in my back. I can’t help it. The paranoia is so deeply ingrained now, it’s a part of who I am. It isn’t about what they would do, it’s about what they could do. I have friends, but I never forget that friendship is conditional.”
“Curran wouldn’t stab you in the back.”
“He would if the circumstances were right.”
“Jim, do you really live always expecting people to turn on you?”
He nodded. “It’s like going through life holding my breath.”
“That’s terrible.” I reached over and stroked his cheek with my fingertips. “People are not like that. Some people are like that, but most people are honest and kind. Our friends. Curran, Derek, Kate, Doolittle, they are loyal to us.”
He caught my hand and kissed it. “I love this about you.”
My heart was beating too fast. “Jim . . .”
“I watch everyone, but when I watch you, all I feel is . . . that I want to be with you. You will never lie to me. And if I need help, you will be there. With you, I breathe.”
I put my arms around him. I just wanted to make it better for him, to somehow shield him from that. His arms closed around me, his hard body pressing next to mine.
“Everyone has that someone who is most important to them,” he said, his voice so low only a shapeshifter could’ve heard it. “That one person who trumps the rules. You are that to me. I would do anything for you.”
The world stopped. I just stood there, shell-shocked. He did just say all that to me, right? I didn’t imagine it?
“You never answered,” he said quietly.
“Never answered what?”
“If you would be the cat alpha with me.”
He was asking me . . . “I didn’t know it was a question.”
He pulled away and met my gaze. “It is.”
“Yes,” I said in a small voice.
Jim smiled.
We walked up to the door. Jim tried the handle. It turned in his hand. He swung the door open. We sniffed the air in unison. Steven was home. No other human smells troubled the house. What in the world did he do with his daughter? Maybe she didn’t live with him?
Jim walked through the door. I followed him on soft feet, tracking the scent. The inside of the house was almost completely empty. No knickknacks. No furniture for the knickknacks to rest on. No pictures on the walls. The house was stripped bare. Only the curtains remained, blocking out the bright light of summer.
I smelled blood and alcohol. Never a good combination.
We turned left into a vast room and stopped.
Steven Graham, completely nude, sat cross-legged in a circle of salt in the corner of the room. His right foot stuck out. It looked wrong, deformed, and it took me a moment to figure out that it was missing all of its toes except for the big one. A small plate sat in front of him, next to a box of matches. On the plate, soaked in some sort of clear liquid, lay a bloody nub of flesh.
I squinted. A severed hairy toe. Ew.
He’d been cutting pieces off himself for his sacrifice. Ew. Ew. Ew.
The salt was probably a ward, a defensive spell. I tried to reach for it with my magic. Yes, a ward and a strong one.
Jim nodded and opened his mouth again.
“And it’s not even the blood, because I can bite. It’s just that I’m not good at fighting. I’m not vicious. I’m scared of getting hurt. I am afraid of pain. I don’t want you to die because of me.”
Jim looked at me.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” I asked.
“Are you done?”
“Yes.”
“Dali, you are a tiger. You’re the largest cat on the planet and you weigh over seven hundred pounds in your beast form.”
I took a deep breath. If he were about to chew me out because I was a tiger and I couldn’t fight . . .
“Wait,” Jim said. “Let me finish.”
I cleared my throat. “Okay. Continue.”
“You have accelerated healing even by our standards.”
“That’s true.”
“You don’t have to be a good fighter for us to make a good team. If you just sit on our attacker for a second, that’s enough for me to kill them.”
I opened my mouth and closed it with a click.
“You’re concentrating on weakness. It’s good to be aware of your weaknesses, but you need to think in terms of assets. What strengths do you have?”
I glanced at him.
“You have bulk,” he said. “You have healing. You have paws the size of my head. You are majestic.”
“Majestic?”
“Your fur is so white, it almost glows. You’re this huge majestic creature. When I look at you in your animal form, you look otherworldly. There is almost a touch of divinity about it. The psychological effect of it is staggering. You look and think, ‘How the hell do I even fight this?’ I guarantee you, any attacker will hesitate. Even if they think you are weak, they will still hesitate. That hesitation is all we need. If they are unsure, if they question their judgment, psychologically we won the fight, because let me tell you, fighting me requires complete commitment. I don’t play.”
I tried to process what he was saying.
“You’re the smartest woman I know,” he said. “Think strategically and use that agile brain. Also you just drove past the house.”
I brought Pooki to an abrupt halt, reversed, and parked by a large, two-story mansion. The house stood quiet.
We got out and walked to the wrought iron gate in the six-foot fence. Jim kicked the lock. The gate swung open.
“Is that what you first thought when you saw me?” I asked. “That I was majestic?”
“Yes,” he said. “You asked me at Eyang Ida’s house why I am with you. I’m with you because you’re smart and beautiful, and you are not like anyone I know. No matter how hard things are, you throw yourself into them. During Midnight Games you walked into a cage with trained killers not knowing if your curses would work, because you knew other people were counting on you. That’s what you do. You step up.”
He stopped, stepping too close to me. His voice was quiet. “I watch everyone around me, waiting for a knife in my back. I can’t help it. The paranoia is so deeply ingrained now, it’s a part of who I am. It isn’t about what they would do, it’s about what they could do. I have friends, but I never forget that friendship is conditional.”
“Curran wouldn’t stab you in the back.”
“He would if the circumstances were right.”
“Jim, do you really live always expecting people to turn on you?”
He nodded. “It’s like going through life holding my breath.”
“That’s terrible.” I reached over and stroked his cheek with my fingertips. “People are not like that. Some people are like that, but most people are honest and kind. Our friends. Curran, Derek, Kate, Doolittle, they are loyal to us.”
He caught my hand and kissed it. “I love this about you.”
My heart was beating too fast. “Jim . . .”
“I watch everyone, but when I watch you, all I feel is . . . that I want to be with you. You will never lie to me. And if I need help, you will be there. With you, I breathe.”
I put my arms around him. I just wanted to make it better for him, to somehow shield him from that. His arms closed around me, his hard body pressing next to mine.
“Everyone has that someone who is most important to them,” he said, his voice so low only a shapeshifter could’ve heard it. “That one person who trumps the rules. You are that to me. I would do anything for you.”
The world stopped. I just stood there, shell-shocked. He did just say all that to me, right? I didn’t imagine it?
“You never answered,” he said quietly.
“Never answered what?”
“If you would be the cat alpha with me.”
He was asking me . . . “I didn’t know it was a question.”
He pulled away and met my gaze. “It is.”
“Yes,” I said in a small voice.
Jim smiled.
We walked up to the door. Jim tried the handle. It turned in his hand. He swung the door open. We sniffed the air in unison. Steven was home. No other human smells troubled the house. What in the world did he do with his daughter? Maybe she didn’t live with him?
Jim walked through the door. I followed him on soft feet, tracking the scent. The inside of the house was almost completely empty. No knickknacks. No furniture for the knickknacks to rest on. No pictures on the walls. The house was stripped bare. Only the curtains remained, blocking out the bright light of summer.
I smelled blood and alcohol. Never a good combination.
We turned left into a vast room and stopped.
Steven Graham, completely nude, sat cross-legged in a circle of salt in the corner of the room. His right foot stuck out. It looked wrong, deformed, and it took me a moment to figure out that it was missing all of its toes except for the big one. A small plate sat in front of him, next to a box of matches. On the plate, soaked in some sort of clear liquid, lay a bloody nub of flesh.
I squinted. A severed hairy toe. Ew.
He’d been cutting pieces off himself for his sacrifice. Ew. Ew. Ew.
The salt was probably a ward, a defensive spell. I tried to reach for it with my magic. Yes, a ward and a strong one.
