Page 71 of Heal Me

“No, thanks.”

Turek walks inside, and Sam levels a gaze so intense I want to curl up in the fetal position. Instead, I try to look bored. “You’re with a Watcher. So this is just part of the package deal. Get used to it,” he says as he knocks back the rest of his beer.

“I’m with the son of a Watcher, but Gabe’s not a Watcher,” I correct him.

He narrows his cold eyes. “Gabe will always be one of us. He’s got the blood.”

“Diluted blood. Half of him is human.” I’m not really sure why we’re in a heated debate over Gabe’s blood type, but I don’t back down.

“So you want Gabe to play human with you?” he demands.

“I don’t want Gabe to play anything. He’s a Nephilim, and I love every part of him, scars and all.”

Sam gives me a smirk and crosses his arms. “You think you know everything.”

“I don’t know everything. But here’s what I do know. I know that you hurt Gabe, and so I automatically don’t like you. I know that’s unfair, and I apologize. I know that I love Gabe, and so you automatically don’t like me. That’s also unfair, and I hope one day you will apologize.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, little girl?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

“I’m a woman who plays nice unless you try to fuck with me and Gabe.” I hold my breath, not quite believing what’s coming out of my mouth.

“You know what would fuck with Cupid more than anything? If something happened to you,” he leans in, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that a threat?” I ask, trying not to let my voice shake like a leaf.

“You need basic self-defense training. We followed you to the bar, and you and your friend were oblivious. How easy it would have been to grab you and toss your weak ass into a trunk.”

“Don’t be a jerk.” I lace my fingers together so he won’t notice them trembling.

“You’re going to start training with me. Cupid wants to keep you around for some reason, so let’s help him out.”

“What an offer,” I say dryly.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at eight, but we’re not going to tell Cupid about this,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm.

“Why?”

“Because I know my brother. He’ll think with his heart instead of his head, and say no to me training you.” I hesitate, not sure about this plan, although that does sound like Gabe. “Remember how weak and helpless you felt while you were being held prisoner by the accountant?”

“How do you know that?” I whisper.

“Unless you want to be in that position again, then you need training.”

Pausing to make sure my voice is steady, I answer, “Alright. But if Gabe asks me, I’m not going to lie to him.”

“Fair enough.”

Amer takes a seat beside me, wearing a snug white T-shirt and camo pants, drinking a beer. “Can you believe that chick over there said her favorite weapon is a throwing star?” Amer says, jerking his head to a woman a few tables over from us. “I blame anime.” He grunts in dissatisfaction.

Turek returns with the drinks, handing one to Sam. “What’d I miss?”

“Just feeling Charlotte out,” Sam says.

“Let me have another crack at her.” His eyes glow and he says, “Tell me, did Gabe love the boat refurbishment?”

“Shieldwall and battle axes,” Amer coaches, and I visualize my mind hidden behind a line of medieval soldiers.

“Stay out of this, Amer,” Turek gripes. “Tell me, Charlotte,” he commands. My mouth wants to open, but I use all my might to keep it shut. “Ah, she’s good, but I’m better.” Turek then speaks in that same strange language as he did before, and it’s physically painful to remain silent. Grabbing my head in agony, it feels like my skull’s in a vise grip, the pressure becoming more and more unbearable.

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