Page 7 of Cursed Love
The thing flew across the street, and she fell hard to the ground. She didn’t care that her knees ached with the impact. Somehow, she’d been freed from his hold, and she was relieved. Brandy looked away from the slumped form when she noticed a dark figure approaching.
A glint in the night caught her eye, and she watched with a mix of horror and relief as the newcomer plunged a dagger into the thing’s chest. A howl pierced her ears a moment before Mr. Suit burst into flames.
Brandy jumped to her feet when her rescuer faced her. She wasn’t sure if he was her savior or if she was about to be sacrificed to the next highest bidder. Now that she knew some things did go bump in the night, she wasn’t willing to stick around.
Reaching back, her fingertips found the wall, and she guided herself to the left. If she hadn’t completely lost her bearings, Brandy figured she was about two blocks from her apartment building. Thankfully, she wasn’t wearing heels tonight and planned on booking it out of there. Although, she didn’t know how talented Thing Two was at running.
If only she could get a head start, like a meteorite striking it. Allowing her eyes to leave the form, she searched the area for something that could help her. Brandy spotted her purse, but it was in the opposite direction she needed to go. She would worry about canceling credit cards and her phone later, if she could only get to her place in one piece. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything but surviving the absurd night, not after everything she’d experienced in the last fifteen minutes.
Thing Two took a step toward her and scanned the area around them. She took it as her cue to move a bit faster. Her brass knuckles lay at the bottom of her purse and could have helped right then. Brandy imagined the thud of her purse hitting it square in the jaw so she could sprint to safety. No sooner after envisioning it did she watch her purse come off the ground and fly toward the creature.
Except instead of running like planned, she stood frozen, staring, as the purse never made contact. She didn’t know how it had happened. One moment, the image flashed in her mind, and the next, the purse had soared toward Thing Two.
Thing Two lowered the purse after catching it, and she didn’t miss the scowl on his face. His face was human, not that it couldn’t change, based on what she witnessed with Thing One.
“Is this the thanks I get for saving you?” Thing Two asked. The low timbre of his voice made her want to get a better look.
“What?” she whispered instead of fleeing.
“Why didn’t you slay him? It was a tubar. A human could do it easily enough.”
Thing Two had lost his mind. “What?” she repeated.
He stopped in his tracks, halfway between her and where he killed Thing One. A strange expression flashed briefly across his face before he cocked his head to the side and glanced around. He raised a hand in her direction, his palm facing her, but dropped it.
“That thing I just slayed? It was a tubar. A low-level demon?” He chastised her as he stepped closer. “In the last week, I’ve sent seventeen of them back to hell.”
“How did you know to come here?” she asked, continuing the ludicrous conversation. Demon? Slaying?Tubar?
He stopped a few feet from her. “I sensed your magic first and then I smelled the tubar. Why didn’t you use your magic?”
“Magic? I don’t have magic. Magic doesn’t exist.”
“For the love of the goddess. Don’t sit here and tell me magic doesn’t exist after you watched me get rid of that thing. And might I remind you, you threw your purse at me.”
She slowly shook her head. “I didn’t throw my purse.”
“Oh, yeah? And I suppose your skin isn’t all tingly either?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He had a broad chest, she noted, and some fine-looking arms did the covering. She wondered what he was. Could he possibly be a human? How did he know about the tingling? What on earth was happening?
“No…” she lied.
“How old are you?”
Her brows pulled together as she stared at him a moment. She’d guess he was in his mid to late twenties. “Why?”
His eyes moved up and down her body, taking an extra-long second over her breasts. “You’re too old to be a charmling,” he said, more to himself than her.
“Hey!” she said with outrage. She wasn’t old by any means.
He continued like she hadn’t spoken. “You obviously have no idea what I’m talking about. Now that I think about it, you’re damn lucky the tubar didn’t filet you.”
“No, I don’t have any clue what you’re talking about. I was walking home when thatthingjumped me,” she said, ignoring the visual of being fileted alive.
He ran his hand over the back of his neck. A frustrated grunt escaped his lips. “No one trained you? You’re weak and unprotected. If I hadn’t come along, you’d be dead.”
This guy may have saved her, but right now, Brandy wanted to shove her thank-you up his ass. Sure, she was grateful for his impeccable timing, but she didn’t need his condescending tone. Feeling more confident he wasn’t going to hurt her, she walked toward him on unsteady legs.
She put out her arm and wiggled her fingers, asking him without words to hand over her purse. “While I’d love to stick around and be insulted some more, I need alcohol to forget this night ever happened.”
