Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Goosebumps studded Gemma’s arms.
Skarde pulled a super speed move and disappeared.
The screen faded to black. No credits rolled, which was weird.
Had that…happened?
She looked down—her pants were nowhere in sight.
There was blood—his blood—on her fingers. Her socks were wet. She collapsed to the floor and swiped at her vision to find tears overflowing. It’d been real.
I touched Skarde Blackmann.
I saved him from dying, I think.
How was this possible?
Magic.
She squeezed her eyelids shut to block out the vertigo, but when she opened them, the room spun around her again.
She wasn’t insane. She’d fallen into a TV show.
She’d actually shot a wizard with an arrow and touched a vampire.
Not just any vampire, but Skarde. Good grief, she’d stripped off her pants and flashed her thong at him.
Would other people who owned the Legacy of Magic DVD series now see her thong-clad ass every time they watched that episode? She hoped her disc was special.
The DVD menu was back on the screen now. Like yesterday, there was no episode three. It didn’t matter what she punched; the episodes she had already watched last night and tonight remained the only options.
On replay number three of the second episode, she shivered when Skarde said, “I won’t bite you, but there are plenty of other things I’d like to do with you.”
She watched herself running for the doorway. At least her legs looked moderately toned from the jogs she took twice a week to keep in shape, but why couldn’t she have chosen a sexier thong?
Her phone rang with an incoming call from work.
She answered.
Her supervisor said, “I’m so sorry to call you this late, but we’re short-handed. I know you’re not on tonight, but we could really use some help until morning. We’ve got three out with the flu and a multiple trauma incident coming in. Tell me you can come in.”
Not really in the right mindset for work… “I’m tired.”
“Have you been drinking?”
Wish I had. “No, but I haven’t had a lot of sleep and—”
“Great. I can give you Monday off, if that helps.”
“Not really.”
“Please, Gemma. Marci can’t come in because she’s got the kids this weekend. Amy is driving back from visiting her boyfriend in L.A. We need you.”
“All right. Give me about forty-five minutes.”
“You’re a godsend.” She hung up.
* * *
On her way home on Sunday morning at eleven she tried calling Val again. Still no answer.
As she opened the door of her apartment, she found it lit by the glow of the TV. Had she left it on? It usually turned itself off after a few hours.
Her heartbeat accelerated. The icon for a new episode had appeared on the home screen. On the one hand, all of this was completely freaking her out.
But on the other hand… Who cared? She was so exhausted she could barely stand, and she could use some Skarde time, whether he spoke to her or not.
She grabbed a bottle of fizzy water and made some microwave popcorn.
While on shift, Gemma had searched for the show online again, still finding nothing. Not one mention of the series could be found anywhere. She’d concluded the Legacy of Magic must’ve been a failed pilot or something.
The first scene opened and, no surprise, it featured Skarde.
Naked. In a bath.
She choked on her sip of fizzy water. Coughing and wiping at her nose, she stared. As in googly-eyed gaped.
His torso appeared above the waterline. Everything beneath the water… Oh, she strained to look. Darn it. Nothing visible.
“Holy bejesus,” she coughed out as she cleared her airways without breaking her view of the screen.
She couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to be with someone like him.
He was a big guy. Really big. He dwarfed the metal bathtub.
Now that she’d seen him up close, she’d guess six-five, which made him the perfect size to be a professional supernatural killer.
Of course, there was the question of the size of things below the belt line. Guessing from his hands, he’d be big.
What would it be like, being handled by that kind of power in the bedroom? And with those teeth? The thought of those teeth in her skin didn’t in any way give her the warm fuzzies. He’d chew her to bits.
Was he alone in the bathroom? She could see about half of the room. No one else seemed to be around.
She’d blow a fuse if he had company.
He better hope the magic didn’t activate. She’d disrupt his evening romp to lay down a piece of her mind. They’d had something yesterday, a connection or who knows what. This was nuts. She didn’t have any serious claim on him.
“He’s a fictional character,” she muttered.
“This is the fourth missive asking you to hunt something.” Serish placed a new envelope made of homemade-looking paper on top of the pile on the side table beside the standalone, copper tub and threw a towel on the nearby chair.
The mage had appeared in the very first episode.
Today, he wore a colorful cotton kurta that fell well past his knees.
“They don’t ask. They demand I show up as if it’s a given.” Skarde didn’t even open the new letter. “I’m tired of the disrespect.”
“Good for you,” Gemma said out loud. Pride swelled her chest. She’d done that.
“That doesn’t mean they’re all without merit,” Serish pointed out. “It’s been two weeks since you’ve left the castle.”
Two weeks? It had been a day for her.
He leaned further back in the tub. “Would it hurt them to ask nicely? It’s not their asses that’ll be on the line.”
“These pay well. We could use the money to fix the roof on the south tower. You want me to reply and ask that they rephrase their requests using polite words?”
The vampire’s lips lifted with a hint of a smile, although he didn’t open his eyelids. “I’ll look at them later.”
“You’re cranky. Maybe you need another juice cleanse.” Serish plucked at his left ear. “Maybe this time I’ll—”
“Serve me that shit again and I’ll shove it up your ass.”
Gemma giggled.
“I admit it didn’t go well last time.” Serish shook his head. “You need blood. It’s been too long. I’ll go order you a steak from the cook.” He left.
“Gemma.”
She shot to a stand, heart hammering against her rib cage. That voice had been in her apartment.
Inside. Her. Apartment.
It hadn’t been Skarde or on the TV. Someone was in here with her.
Dread slithered across her shoulders. She recognized the male voice. How had Dr. Dylan Myerson gotten in? This confirmed her suspicion he hadn’t only been torturing her at work, but had also begun stalking her.
She couldn’t make it to the front door. She had no weapons. The phone was too far away on the kitchen counter.
Dylan emerged from the shadows of her bedroom and moved to block her from exiting out her front door.
He let out a kind of cackling laugh—head back, launching the sound upward.
It came out like a crazed moon howl. He tugged at the chest hair near his collarbone so that bits of skin attached to each follicle pulled up, a strange nervous habit he’d done repeatedly on their date.
She let loose a high-pitched scream while backing toward the TV as if Skarde might save her.
A lot of ifs in that hope—if the magic came alive, if he decided it was worth getting out of his bath to help her, and if he could even come through from his side to hers.
She could try to go to his side. All she needed was a few steps to get near the screen.
“Stop that noise.” Dylan stalked toward her with a switchblade in his left hand.
Her scream kicked up a notch. With one finger on the TV she felt the screen give, which meant the doorway was open. Why wasn’t it sucking her into it?
“Babe, this won’t do.” Dylan backhanded her. The momentum threw her away from the TV. Her shoulder struck the coffee table. The wood didn’t give. She’d chosen the piece because it was solid, which meant there was no leeway when she landed against it. She rolled, clutching her shoulder.
Dylan pushed her flat to the floor with a knee on her chest. He duct-taped her mouth shut.
Can’t breathe.
She struggled to get him off.
He slammed his knee into her again. Stunned, she stilled.
After a repeat of the cackling noise he said, “Much better. That screech was annoying.” He glanced at the TV. “This is perfect. You’ll learn what it’s like to be with a real man while watching a fake one.”
* * *
Skarde launched himself out of the bath, tugged on pants, and had a blade in hand within seconds of the woman’s scream. For fourteen days, he’d waited, dreaming of Gemma, agonizing that he’d scared her away with his threat. In his gut, he knew her magic wasn’t done with him yet.
That had been a woman’s scream. It had to be her.
His breaths came in short gasps. Tension squeezed his stomach.
Where was she?
The mirror. Look in the mirror.
The tips of her fingers peeked through and then disappeared back to her side.
He didn’t see his reflection. Instead, a human male, or maybe not human based on the wolf-like howl the creature had let loose moments ago, struck her. The force of the blow threw her a few feet across the room.
White-hot anger left an uncomfortable numbing sensation roaring through his spine.
His training kicked in. Anger has its place, but not here. Not in battle. He attempted to cool the boiling inside. Think. Head tight and in this.
The smell of blood—hers—crashed into him. A droplet rested beneath her nose against the mouth gag in the mirror’s reflection. Fuck calm. That was her blood leaking out of her body, and the man planned to draw a lot more before he let her die.
With a deep growl he surrendered to the monster within.
Everything went red.
He pressed a finger to the mirror. It disappeared into the glass as if it was water. He’d never gone through a magic portal like this, but she had done so and come out in one piece.