Chapter 12 #2
The second squeal of tires reminded me where I really was.
Halifax. My fingers trembled on the back of my head.
I was in Halifax. Not France or Germany.
Reality slowly asserted itself as I forced myself to breathe.
There hadn’t been any shells or buildings falling to rubble, but those gunshots hadn’t been in my head.
They’d been real, and as I jumped to my feet and spun around, the gaping windows in Gus’ house lanced panic straight through me.
I pounded down the street and up his step, my fist making contact with the door over and over, so hard my knuckles would surely bruise.
“Gus! Gus! August North, you open this door right now, or I swear I'll break it down myself!” Magic gathered like spiky, furious static in my fist and arm. My skin sizzled as it burned and left a scorch mark behind.
“Kit?” came a shocked voice from the dark living room. Then the sound of rustling and staggering footsteps rushing toward the door. “Jesus Christ, Kit!”
The door flew open, and Gus latched onto my wrist, yanking me into the dark entryway, slamming and locking the door behind us before he shoved me to the ground and landed on top of me.
We were both breathing hard. I wanted to tell him to get off, but a combination of surprise and how damn good, how right it felt to have his bigger body crowding into mine kept my mouth shut.
“Are you nuts?” he demanded, pure fury and fear. “You see someone shooting at the house, and what? You come charging up?”
Had… had he shoved me down here and dropped on top of me out of some misguided attempt to protect me? Was he still afraid we were in danger? I should clear things up, instead of soaking up his living presence. I didn’t want to, but I should.
“They’re long gone. I heard them take off.”
Gus let out a disbelieving noise. “Or maybe you startled them, and they’re circling around, genius.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. “It'll save the Mounties some work then.”
His head tilted as he listened. Blood dripping from a cut above his left eyebrow glistened in the faint light leaking around the closed kitchen door behind us.
“You’re bleeding,” I blurted.
Uncontrollable shivers shook through me, and before I could reach up to gently touch the area, he shocked me further. “Bullet hardly grazed my arm.”
“Wait—what?” My focus immediately shifted, hands sliding down both of his biceps until the fingers searching his left arm grazed over warm wet. I choked up, terror ratcheting several degrees in urgency. “You… you’re…”
“Bleeding. You said. Only a little.”
“They shot you.” The crack in my voice was almost as embarrassing as the way my eyes stung and watered.
Something in Gus’ face gentled, a hint of the boy he’d been peeking out in the dark.
His lips twitched up on one side, and I knew he was going to make some sarcastic, self-deprecating joke to make me feel better.
Before he could, someone pounded on the door, shattering the first moment I felt like I’d truly recognized Gus since the morning he’d walked into his mother’s kitchen.
“Mr. North?” shouted a booming voice from outside the door. “It’s the RCMP. Can you hear us?”
“Yeah!” Gus yelled back, climbing to his feet. As soon as he lifted away from me, cold rushed in to fill the void, and I clamped down on the way my limbs started quaking. I needed to hold myself together a little longer. “I’m okay. Be right there.”
Gus reached down and pulled me up too. Time froze as he gently grazed my cheekbone with the back of his thumb.
“Dirt,” he whispered, face shuttering a second before fear passed over it.
“Hell, I need you to run to the kitchen and dump the bowl on the counter into the trash. I just finished the blood spell—didn’t work, before you ask—but if they see it, I’m done for. ”
I shook out my tingling fingertips. “On it.”
Gus
CLOSING MY EYES, I TRIED NOT to think about how Kit had been looking at me.
Or the concern in his voice. If I did, I wasn’t sure I’d make it through tonight without pinning him right back down on the floor, his thighs spread on either side of my hips, our bodies pressed together from groin to chest.
The quick soft pad of steps rushing back from the kitchen brought me out of my daze.
Carefully, so Kit couldn’t see, I adjusted myself and hoped the slowly wilting erection I was sporting wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
It said something I’d even managed one with the stinging pain in my arm and blood dripping from my eyebrow.
“Mr. North? We need you to let us in.”
“I’m opening the door now. There are two of us in here, no weapons.”
“Understood, Mr. North.”
My hands were surprisingly steady as I flipped the light switch on the wall and unlocked the door.
Blinking at the sudden brightness, I let the Mounties in.
Sergeant Marchand was first through the door, followed by two young constables I didn’t recognize.
Bringing up the rear was George, his scowl growing as his gaze caught first on my forehead, then my arm, Kit, and finally the shattered glass on the living room floor.
“What the hell happened?” George demanded as the others were introducing themselves to Kit with excited recognition.
Disapproval radiated from Marchand, but George either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Kit’s focus snapped from the constable who was shaking his hand to George.
His green eyes went briefly wide before he wiped the surprise off his face.
By the time I’d detailed how I’d been shutting the curtains for the night when the first shot shattered the glass and the second bullet grazed me before I dropped to the ground, my arm ached worse. Blood was trickling down my wrist and puddling on the wood floor at my feet.
“Can he at least sit in the kitchen so I can see how bad his wounds are?” Kit interrupted, giving everyone a dirty look. “I’ve got some basic medical training from—”
“Yes, of course,” Marchand readily agreed.
“No need to bleed all over the floor while we get the facts. Wright, search the street and yard. Bellefontaine, check upstairs and the rear of the house. Just to be sure, you understand,” he informed me.
“Got to be careful on the rare occasion firearms have been discharged. Baker, you’re with me for the interview. Take notes.”
A round of “yes, sirs” chorused before the constables filed out.
“Where’s your first aid kit?” Kit asked.
I pointed up. “Bathroom medicine cabinet. Second room on the left.”
With a jerky nod, Kit headed for the stairs. “Go sit, Gus,” he called over his shoulder. “Before you fall over.”
Rolling my eyes, I brought the others into the kitchen, relieved Kit had been able to hide the evidence I’d used blood magic.
The last thing I needed was the Mounties knowing what I’d been up to.
George, though, his nostrils flared, clearly recognizing the scent, and his evident disapproval deepened.
“My arm’s not that bad,” I mumbled, dropping into my seat at the head of the table out of habit.
“Still,” Marchand said, eyes kind. “Better to get it bandaged, son. Now why don’t you tell me how Kit Daring came to be here?”
Repressing a sigh, I relayed Kit’s arrival not long after the shots.
How I pulled him inside and locked the door only moments before the Mounties had arrived themselves.
I left out the part where in a ridiculous, adrenaline-fueled state, I’d thrown him to the ground and shielded him with my body until their knock came.
And how I’d wanted to stay there forever.
“But that doesn’t answer why Kit was coming over tonight,” George pointed out, barely concealing the accusation in his eyes. I could practically hear him hissing that I’d told him I was only working with Kit for Ted’s sake.
“Don’t know that he was,” I answered, honestly. “Wasn’t expecting him, anyway.”
“I wasn’t,” Kit confirmed, entering the room, a damp facecloth in one hand and in the other, a small bag that didn’t contain a whole lot more than antiseptic ointment, various size bandages, and some cotton and gauze. “Pull your arm out of your sleeve and let me see.”
Tugging on the soft material of the cuff at my wrist, I clenched my teeth as I drew my arm down toward my side, out of the sleeve.
I gathered the hem and bunched the shirt up between my neck and shoulder.
Kit dropped onto his haunches to wipe at the blood.
I stared at the table, pretending it was anyone else touching me so compassionately.
“After I left The Capitol Theatre tonight,” he said as he worked, “I went for a walk to clear my head. Wrong place, wrong time is all. I was a few houses down when the shots rang out. I hit the ground until tires squealed away. Whoever it was, they were behind me, and I didn’t see them.
I should’ve turned and looked instead of dropping down like a coward. ”
“The hell you should have,” I growled. He glanced up and met my eyes, something indefinable and intense in his gaze, before quickly going back to doctoring me up. “No sense in seeing who it was if it got you shot.”
Kit exhaled slowly, a tiny bit of tension escaping his frame. “In any case, once I realized they were gone, I stood up and noticed it was Gus’ house that had been targeted. So, I came to check on him.”
“Any idea who it was, Gus?” George asked. “You’re looking for Ted Lovely—any sign of him? Have you been poking your nose where it’s unwelcome? Like maybe O’Shea’s?”
Wincing as Kit dabbed antiseptic to my arm, I shook my head.
“I haven’t got a line there yet, haven’t gone by.
And I’m always poking my nose where it doesn’t belong.
No one’s shot up my house before.” I grimaced and purposely didn’t look down at Kit.
“To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve made enough progress on Ted’s case to rile anyone. There’s not much to go on.”