Chapter 12 #2
I don’t know what Collin really is or what exactly happened between us in my bedroom, but one thing I am sure of is that this Avatar of Knowledge is some kind of miracle. And right now? I’m choosing to believe in miracles.
Letting the plastic shard hang from the ignition, I shove myself into the driver’s seat.
I pinch the two exposed wires, take all the anger I’m using to fight off the Obligation, add to it all the frustration I have for the elf showing up at literally the worst possible time, multiply that by how freaked out I am right now, and picture a blazing inferno in my belly.
Then I mentally send the fire raging down my arms toward the wires.
Here goes noth—
Zzzzt!
Two bright sparks flash out from my fingertips. Then I hear the engine start to turn over.
Holy, holy crap! It worked!
“Savage!” Collin cries out. “Now, quick! Twist the steering wheel with your left hand, and the ignition with your right!”
Collin’s arrows immediately move to direct my hands to new locations, so I quickly grab the steering wheel and the plastic stick and give them both a turn!
The steering wheel unlocks, and the car roars fully to life.
We did it!
No. Wait.
I did it.
Boy, do I so want to enjoy the moment, but I know I don’t have time to even look behind me.
The wheel is already turned. I claw into my brain for skills I haven’t used since I was a teenager, grab the gear shift, press the side button, yank it into drive, and peel out as fast as I can onto O’Farrell while Collin full-on crows, now punching the roof of the car from the passenger seat.
Whack, whack, whack! (There’s another weird, smack-like sound behind us, like something hitting the back of the car, but it doesn’t matter, because We. Are. Moving!)
“I knew you could do it! I knew it! You’re amazing, Alvin!”
He grabs my shoulder and mashes a kiss into my cheek, crazy high. And yeah, with my luck, he probably is some kind of Cthulhu monster archdemon horror from the Beyond that just wants to devour me. But, to be honest, right now, both the kiss and what he’s saying feel pretty damn good.
And I did do it, didn’t I? This can’t have been the result of me feeding, because fire is in no way an intrinsic incubus power. Which means it had to have been mana! Wildcard magic!
Of course, I didn’t craft any runes first, which is a little weird, but it was just a little bit of power, so maybe I didn’t need to.
No matter what, it shows I have the potential to cast actual spells.
I can use my magic to help people—I just need more training.
And if I can create another spark and show it to Stryker, I can prove to her that I’m worth teaching—no getting drunk or laid required! This is literally a dream come true.
Two things are less dreamy, though.
One is that I am basically a city mouse.
I haven’t driven anything since my mom had me chauffeuring her around Vermont six years ago.
I also didn’t bother to adjust the seat’s position, and whoever drove it before had at least four inches on me.
So, even without Collin latching on to me, I’m all over the road.
I need to work hard just to keep contact with the pedals and the wheel, while desperately trying to remember how to use them. None of it feels natural.
The second and bigger deal is what I see when I finally remember to glance at the rearview mirror.
There’s a sword sticking out of the rear trunk, stabbed there like freaking Excalibur.
The elf’s sword. And gripping onto its handle, pulling himself up from the road, is the noble warrior himself. Murder in his eyes.
I utter a very mouselike squeak, shove my foot down as hard as I can, and floor it. The elf instantly jerks back from the acceleration, his arm snapping to full extension.
We’re still on narrow city streets, though, lined with cars. There’s only so fast I can go. The extra speed slows him, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s already pulling himself back up and will be fully on the back hood in just a few seconds.
Collin sees him, too. “Alvin, we need to get to the 101! He’s strong, but if we can reach freeway speeds, we can shake him. Turn to the right now!”
I yank the wheel hard to the right, which causes the rear tires to skid.
We almost spin out, but I just manage to make it onto Stockton toward Market.
My bad driving whips the elf off the car and back out onto the road.
(Yes!) He doesn’t let go of his sword, though, which is still attached to the trunk. (Boo!)
There’s no other traffic on this street, though, thank God, and I’m coming fast on a red light where the road spills onto Market.
“Blow through it! You’re clear!” Collin yells, apparently able to see around corners.
Huge arrows materialize ahead of me, twisting left on Market, then tightly twisting right onto 4th Street just a half-block down.
It’s a good thing it’s well before dawn and we’re now downtown.
I’m barely keeping the car off the curbs, but at least in this part of town, the sides of the road are free of other vehicles.
The elf’s head and shoulders are back above the trunk, but his hateful glare tells me he’s struggling. Collin’s right. If we can just get on the freeway, I should absolutely be able to shake him off.
In the meantime, I keep the pedal to the metal—knee and elbows locked, and shoulders shoved back into the seat behind me—as we squeal around Market and race down 4th Street.
A few blocks ahead, Collin forms an arrow for a wide right at Harrison that should get us up the on-ramp.
We’re already pushing fifty on this city street, but I’m pretty sure I can make that turn.
Or, at least, I was sure until the heavens open up and a full-on tropical storm starts to come down. A torrent of angry droplets crash down on the roof of the car with a drumming roar. Out of nowhere, it’s raining so hard that the windshield is nothing but a rippling sheet of gray.
But of course, it’s not out of nowhere. It’s the elf, using nature magic. Because they can do that. (Innate power!) If I didn’t hate the bastard so much, I’d say it was a clever move.
Lucky for me, I have an Avatar of Knowledge who, with a look of fierce determination and a wave of his hand, immediately creates a glowing heads-up display on the windshield that shows me where all the road obstacles are, and exactly where I need to drive.
It’s like a video game and, even though I’m too broke-ass and too friendless to have ever actually played any of those, it just makes so much sense. I don’t even need to slow down.
Unlucky for me, rain does more than make you blind. It also destroys your traction. I make the turn at Harrison toward the on-ramp going nearly sixty, just straddling the outside edge of Collin’s glowing lines—and almost immediately, I’m in a full skid, a mile-a-minute spin.
I scream while I tear at the wheel, the car jolts up as it jumps the curb, and then—
BAM!
The passenger side of the car smashes into one of the huge concrete columns of the overpass. The metallic screech of the impact rips through me. Everything throws forward and to the right. And since I’m not wearing a seatbelt, my head bashes hard into the side of the steering wheel.
Things are then very quiet. I don’t know for how long.
When I come back to myself, it’s like my ears, no, my whole head, is stuffed full of cotton. Sounds return, one by one. Collin is yelling something at me. The car engine is dead, but there’s some kind of ticking noise coming from the front compartment. I notice the rain has stopped.
I lean back, bringing my hand to my eyes. I’m in a lot of pain. My neck, my arms, my nose… I can feel blood streaming down my face onto my chest. I think I bit my lip badly, too.
Even so, it still feels like I’m doing better than I should be. The pain is dulling. Things are stitching back together. Looks like my new healing powers are still there. Good.
But the mending is happening slower than before. And underneath it, there’s something else. Something stirring inside my chest. Something needy. And fierce.
The Obligation?
No.
It’s something I haven’t felt for years. Something that I only got the barest taste of before I locked it way, way down. My incubus hunger. The part that needs to feed. A compulsion that can become so strong it would make the Obligation feel like a gentle suggestion.
How?! I’m not doing anything remotely erotic right now. And I didn’t feel anything after… whatever Collin and I did. I would definitely have noticed it!
Then it hits me. It’s because I’m hurt. And still healing.
I’ve never been this injured before, and I’ve used up all the juice I got from the sexy times with Collin.
But even running on empty, there’s still something fighting for my life.
Something that will save me for a cost. Something I’ve tried to deny my whole life.
I’m going into debt—cold, hard debt—to the monster inside me.
Collin is still in the passenger seat. Grabbing at my shirt. Tugging at me. But it feels like he’s at a distance.
“Alvin! Alvin! You have to get up! We have to run!”
I wish I could say that my monster puts rose-colored glasses on me when it’s hungry.
That as I turn to look at Collin, dazed as I am, I see all his cuteness.
His sweet desire to protect me. Those boyish good looks.
That I’m reminded of his gentle kisses, and how nice his touch was.
That I’m filled with love and affection, hearts and flowers.
And that that’s what makes me want to have him.
But that’s not how a predator’s hunger works.
It’s nothing like what you feel when you haven’t eaten for a long time, but it is similar to the way we look at food. As something to be consumed. Something that’s just there for your needs.
Not a person. But meat.
That’s how I’m looking at Collin now. And already I can feel the tendrils of my innate power reaching out to him, trying to grip around his heart. Trying to make him want me so much he won’t be able to do anything but submit, helpless as I devour all that he is.
Of course, I’m badly hurt. And weak. I have no real experience using these powers. And Collin’s not even human, so there’s nothing for the tendrils to latch onto, right? He’s safe.
But I see the horror on his face as he realizes what’s happening to me.
“Oh. Oh, Alvin.”
He reaches out his hand toward my face. An act of tenderness that should move my heart, bring me back to myself, but it just ignites my hunger even more. This isn’t a cute guy worried about me. It’s prey showing weakness. And it makes me want to consume him more.
God, I hate that this is part of me. I hate that this is who I really am.
There’s a staccato series of loud pops, then a scream of steel to my left.
I drunkenly twist my head to see the elf rip off the driver’s side door with his bare hands.
(Well, look at that, he’s even stronger than I was!) I watch him, barely able to keep my focus as he draws his sword.
The fae has got blood on his own face, a nasty diagonal gash down his previously flawless cheek, and he’s really, really angry.
My neck, mouth, and nose still hurt like hell. And even if I could get my muscles into gear, the passenger side of the car is smashed. The elf is blocking the only way out.
And yes, now my hunger wants to eat him, too. He is flesh and blood. If I drained him dry, my monster is certain it would make me feel all better. And if anyone deserved to be devoured, it’s this guy.
But there’s enough of me that’s still me to realize that that would not end well. That even on a good day, the fae don’t make easy prey. And, let’s face it: I’m a total wreck.
That’s when things finally get clear. There is no escape. I’m absolutely at his mercy. And I don’t get the impression mercy is his thing.
Sneering down at my smashed body, his glare drips with disappointment and hate. “You could have been so useful to me, incubus. But you ruined it.”
He then raises his sword to strike, baring his teeth. “I swear to all the stars of the frozen night, I’m going to enjoy carving you up!”