The farther away Aden got, the more the roaring in her head increased in volume, until she couldn’t concentrate. “Shut up, Chompers!”
Another roar.
“Fine.” And wouldn’t you know it? Now she was talking to the thing in her head like Aden often had. Gritting her teeth, she trudged after him.
ELEVEN
MARY ANN WANTED TO SCREAM. In the end, she allowed herself only to snap, “That’s enough. Both of you.”
Ignoring her, Tucker and Riley faced off. Again. After running all night, stealing a car, stealing bleach for her hair—she was still rebelling about that and hadn’t used it—stealing tattoo equipment, breaking into a motel room, commandeering it, she needed a freaking moment of peace before the three of them had to leave and steal another car.
“I can’t believe you want this piece of crap to live,” Riley said.
“Apparently she likes pieces of crap. Look who she’s dating.” Tucker snickered at him.
“I do not like crap.” Geez! They were like children. Feral, rabies-infected children who needed to be put down. “And I was dating him. Was. Not anymore.” Sadly.
Riley growled low in his throat, a definite war cry, looking from Tucker to her, her to Tucker, as if he didn’t know who to be angrier at. Great. That was just great. If he turned that snarl on her, she’d be the one to do a little murdering!
“Just shut up, Tucker, before Riley stops listening to me and finally snacks on your bone marrow. Riley, I believe we have a few things to do before we head out.”
He considered her, the menace draining from him.
“Take off your shirt,” he said, clearly deciding to play nice, “and lie on the bed. And if you sneak a peek, T-man, I will break every bone in your body.”
“Oh, I’ll sneak a peek. I’ll sneak several.” Tucker rubbed his hands together with glee. “And guess what, R-man. There will be one more bone in my body for you to break.”
Gross. Just gross.
Another growl erupted from Riley. He stepped closer to Tucker, only a whisper of air separating them.
Mary Ann jumped between them and shoved, keeping both of her arms extended. A puny effort, but they were kind enough to pretend she could do some damage of her own and remained apart.
Of course, that didn’t stop the verbal sparring.
“Jackass.”
“Pansy.”
“Pervert.”
“Asshole.”
Silence—except for the harshness of Riley’s breathing.
“Very mature,” she said on a sigh.
“What are wards, anyway?” Tucker asked, as if he hadn’t just acted like a baby and Riley wasn’t once again planning his murder.
“Do you not care about the rabid dog about to chew off your face?” she muttered. Before he could answer with something snide, she replied, “Wards are protective spells. That way, the witches have less power over us. Now back off. Both of you.”
“No one can overpower me,” Tucker said, ignoring her demand.
“Underestimating them is a mistake,” she said. “They once cast a death curse over me, Riley and Victoria, and we barely survived.”
“Let’s not forget the witches are viewing you through magic,” Riley said. “We need to get on with this.”
Mary Ann watched Tucker raze a hand through his hair. “I always knew there were other…things out there,” he said. “Different, like me. I just didn’t know it’d be something lame like witches and wolves.”
She arched a brow. Her arms were shaking—note to self: start working out—but she kept them extended. “And demons are cool?”
“Hell, yeah.” Just then, his tone was too cocky. And she knew.
He was lying. For sure. He hated himself. And having heard tidbits of gossip about his abusive father, she knew Tucker hated him, too. “Anyway,” she went on, “once a spell is cast, not even the witches can stop it from being fulfilled. Whatever conditions they set have to be met. Like with the death curse, we had a week to make a meeting. If we failed to appear, or rather, if Aden did, we all died.”
“If Vlad had known you guys were cursed, he would have simply locked Aden away, allowing that week to tick by, rather than siccing me on him. The whole stabbing thing could have been avoided. So really, you guys carry the blame for the past. Had you told people—”
“Riley, Victoria and me would have died.”
Tucker shrugged. “That wouldn’t have been my problem.”
“And now?” Riley demanded. “Are you helping Vlad now?”
“He stopped summoning me after I stabbed Aden, so I took off. I didn’t like helping him, you know. And for the record, I apologized to Aden. Before and after I sliced his heart in two. Cut me some slack.”
Anger had Riley’s eyes snapping with green fire. “You apologized. Oh, well, then. That smoothes everything over.”
“Finally.” Tucker raised his arms, the last sane man in the world. “Someone understands.”
Riley stepped around Mary Ann and shoved the guy. Hard. “I’m sorry.” Shoved again. “Oops. Sorry. My bad. All smoothed? Forgive me?” Another shove.
Tucker took the abuse without striking back. Shocking.
Mary Ann maneuvered them back on track. “I’m not taking off my shirt. Okay? So just stand down, boys. And you can ward my arms, Riley. That’ll work just as well as my back and chest.”
“Fine.” At least he stopped pushing.
Already she had tattoos on her back to protect her against mind manipulation and mortal wounds. Now he wanted to ensure she was protected against another death curse, as well as magical illusions—he’d learned his lesson with Tucker—and pain and panic and spying spells.
“Wait, wait, wait. Back up.” Riley shook his head, the tension draining from him as he faced her. “Your dad will see your arms.”
Yes, she knew that. And that would absolutely matter if she ever planned to see her dad again.
A wave of homesickness hit her, tears suddenly welling in her eyes. She’d been gone only two weeks, but she already missed her dad like crazy. But she had to stay away from him, too. She would not bring a supernatural war to his doorstep.
Rather than offering a reply, however, she sat at the edge of the bed and rolled up her shirtsleeves. “Stop wasting time. Get to work.”
“You really don’t plan on going back, do you?” Tucker asked. For once, his tone was without sarcasm, flip pancy or pure meanness.
“No,” she said flatly. “I don’t. Riley.” She stretched out on the creaking mattress, praying she didn’t leave with bedbugs. Or worse. “Begin.” Or she might chicken out.
He looked her over before closing the distance, kneeling at her side and settling her arm in his lap. Contact. Sizzling, earth-shattering, necessary. Somehow, she maintained a blank expression.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
“In two weeks?” She wanted to snort. She couldn’t. He was right.
“Yeah.” He’d already placed the equipment on the nightstand, the ink ready to go. He lifted the tiny gun and pressed the needle deep. There was a sharp sting, a persistent burn and the buzz of the little motor. Maybe her homesickness had toughened her up—she didn’t even flinch.
“Do you think I’ve changed for the better?” Stop. Don’t pursue this. You might not like what you learn.
“I liked you how you were.”
He sounded bitter. She had to pursue. “Which was weak? Reliant on you?”
“You weren’t weak.”
“Well, I wasn’t strong, either.”
“And you’re strong now?” Ouch. “I’m stronger. So you don’t like me now?” Why are you pursuing this?
“I like you. What I don’t like is the company you keep,” he added loudly.