Page 82 of Heal Me

“You’re an ass,” I hiss at him, but I stop struggling, waiting for the opportunity to gouge his eyes out for real this time.

“Perhaps. Now, what is the next step in this scenario? I’m a bad guy, and I’ve got you immobilized on your back.”

“Are you a bad guy?”

“Of course. We’re at an impasse, but at some point, I’ll have to use one of my hands to make a move.”

He frees my right wrist for a split second, and I grab a handful of sand and fling it in his face. He cries out, closing his eyes, and I land a palm strike to his nose. Didn’t draw blood, but it still felt good.

He laughs, rolling off me and sitting cross-legged. “Good job.” Shaking his head, the sand I threw at him now hits me in the face.

“You’re still an ass, but thank you,” I say, rubbing the sand from my eyes. It just makes it worse.

He takes a handful of sand and makes a fist, opening it slightly as the black granules pour out. “Look, Cupid loves you. That’s why he’s trying to shelter you from this world. Be mad at us. But don’t be mad at him. Gabe can’t control Rumel’s actions, any more than you can control Sanjay Patel’s.”

“The fact that you know my dad’s name pisses me off,” I say, grabbing another handful of sand and flinging it at him. He simply hovers the grains of sand in the air before they fall to his feet.

“Up,” he says, now standing. “You asked to train. So let’s train.”

He charges me again, and this time I take off in a sprint away from him. I did say I wanted to train, didn’t I?

Fuck, pardon my French.

Chapter 34

Charlotte

I wake the next morning, a bit disoriented. Mainly because my angel isn’t in bed beside me. Quickly realizing I’m at my dad’s house, I’m sore as hell from yesterday’s training, and things with me and Gabe aren’t right, I let out a long, frustrated breath.

Reaching to turn on the lamp, I nearly knock over a caffè latte on my nightstand. Sipping on Italian coffee perfection, I spend a few minutes working in my book of shadows. Having just finished reading a book detailing blood magic, I have a feeling that’s the avenue I need to take for Gabe’s healing spell. I have an unusual blood type; why not use that to Gabe’s advantage? Wait, but I’m still mad at Gabe!

Frustrated, I finish my coffee that a thoughtful angel left me, then head to the kitchen. Dad’s already gone, but we discussed the research project last night, so I fire up my laptop. The day passes quickly, me engrossed in my work, trying not to think about what happened yesterday. God, was it really yesterday?

Calling it quits for the evening, I lace up my running shoes. I’m too sore for an intense run, but a light jog will do my muscles good. Stepping outside, I stop short. Turek and Amer are waiting on me. Amer is in a T-shirt that says Just the tip, with a picture of a knife with a bloody tip, shorts, and trainers; Turek’s wearing workout clothes straight out of 1980, with a red headband, tall white socks with red stripes, white sneakers, and short shorts. Even though I’m mad at them both, I still laugh.

We don’t say anything as we walk to a park nearby. I start jogging on the trail and they keep pace. “You can behead me too, if that would make you feel better,” Turek breaks the silence.

“Careful, I might take you up on that offer.”

“That offer extended to me?” Amer asks.

“Think you can, my brother?” Turek taunts.

“An executioner’s sword would be my weapon of choice for such a scenario,” Amer says thoughtfully. “I haven’t forged one of those in ages.”

“Please no more talk of beheadings,” I warn quietly as we pass a mom with a toddler in a stroller.

We remain silent for the remainder of the run, and then we walk back to Dad’s house.

“Rumel isn’t a bad guy,” Turek finally says. “He just doesn’t get humans. Never has. Gabe? Well, you know Gabe has a heart of gold.”

“Here’s my two cents for what it’s worth. Don’t throw away something great because of your pride,” Amer adds, as I unlock the door.

“Thanks for the run, and the advice, gentlemen.”

“You know I could take this memory from you.” I stop and turn around, looking Turek dead in the eyes. “Make you forget about us having read your file,” he warns.

“But you won’t.” I lift my chin, standing my ground.

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