Area of Influence (Immortal Ops Book 8) Page 16

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hector practically shoved Emi through the door to Taylor’s room. He then shut the old, creaky door tight behind him. It lacked a handle, so it didn’t exactly stay shut with any sort of ease. It had been on her list to fix, but she’d never gotten around to it—like the floor, and so many other things in the old home.

  Hector pointed at her. “Oh girl, start explaining the naked supernatural hunk in your bedroom, right now. And I’d like to put emphasis on super and hunk.”

  “Why aren’t you more focused on the fact he’s not human?” she questioned, not that she didn’t agree that Lance was a super hunk. Seeing him naked had only confirmed that he was the sexiest man alive.

  Okay, mostly alive, with the whole part-vampire thing. She still wasn’t sure how that worked. All she knew was that she could sense he’d crossed over the threshold of death, and had spent longer there than most who claimed to have had near-death experiences. His hadn’t been near. It had been actual and factual. He’d been dead for enough time that his soul had crossed fully, but then had been ripped back. He now walked with one foot in and out of death.

  And that was something that attracted the dead to him. They were curious about him. Drawn to him in a similar way that she was, though she knew her pull to him was more intense. Something that she couldn’t control and didn’t want to bother trying to.

  Maybe he’d been right when he’d said they were mates and made for one another. It would explain how she’d been unable to look away from him when she’d first seen him in the Quarter. Why she’d been unable to keep from touching and why she’d given herself to him so quickly, when she’d made the one other person she’d been with in her life wait much longer.

  And why she wanted to be with him again.

  Always and forever.

  Hector was quiet for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I know that you haven’t told me everything you can do, Emi. I realize that seeing and talking with the dead, and being able to read the past and future on the living, is only part of what you can do. I’ve never pushed you to tell me everything. I’ve never asked for proof of any of it.”

  Emi didn’t comment. There was nothing to say. While she’d never outright lied to him, she’d omitted things over the years, mainly to keep him safe and from thinking she was a total and utter freak. And he was right. He’d never once made her prove her gifts to him, and he’d never asked for a reading or if she ever saw dead loved ones around him.

  She didn’t, but he’d never asked. It was like he already knew the answer.

  How did one tell others that she was sure she was personally being haunted by what could only be called a boogieman, and that she thought she had similar abilities to the dark thing that hunted her?

  The conversation didn’t seem to want to roll off the tongue.

  Hector put out his hand and stared at it a moment—before a small but bright ball of fire appeared in his palm.

  It was mesmerizingly beautiful, and alluring with its rolling movement and mix of yellows, reds, and orange. For a second, the lure of it was so great that she almost reached out to touch it, captivated by its very existence.

  As quickly as it started, it stopped.

  Gasping, Emi shot forward and grabbed her friend’s hand to be sure he wasn’t hurt in any way. “Hector!”

  He chuckled and gave her a hug. “Nile told me to tell you years ago, but I’m so used to keeping what I can do a secret, the idea of letting anyone else know is foreign to me.”

  She blinked and checked his hand again for signs of injury. There were none. “What, exactly, did you do?”

  “I can create fire. It’s not something I advertise. And since I was adopted, there is no telling where I got the gift from. I’ve just always had it. Kind of like how you’ve always been special—more than others.”

  She gulped. He’d hidden something that big from her all these years? “Wow. I had no idea. Here I thought your threat to attack Austin with a paintbrush was empty.”

  Hector’s expression changed. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Emi, about Austin…”

  She tensed. When Taylor had told her that he was leaving, she’d expected issues with Austin. For some time, Taylor had been a high earner for Austin and his crew. The absence of Taylor would be felt monetarily by Austin. And there was no way the man would lose money willingly and be okay with it. Flexing his muscles was something he had to do to save face with the rest of the guys he ran with. Had Lance not stepped in when he had, she’d have set Austin in his place herself, teaching him that he wasn’t the baddest thing around.

  But Lance had thought he was helping. That he was protecting her. While sweet, it meant Austin didn’t get handed his due, and he didn’t get the justice he was looking for. She should have known that he’d run off too easily after the Bourbon Street confrontation. Of course he’d seek out Hector and cause problems. He’d probably hassled everyone in Jackson Square in an attempt to locate her.

  “Oh no. He came by your stand to harass you, didn’t he? I’m sorry! So much happened last night that I didn’t think to find you.”

  Hector shook her lightly, his gaze hard. “Emi, focus. Austin won’t be harassing anyone ever again.”

  As the words left his mouth, Emi spotted movement in the back corner of Taylor’s bedroom, near the exterior wall and boarded-over window.

  When she realized the movement was Austin, she screamed—but it died quickly as her senses told her the truth of the matter. Austin wasn’t there in body. Only in spirit.

  He no longer walked among the living.

  He looked confused and scared.

  She couldn’t blame him.

  “He’s dead,” she said softly.

  Hector nodded, paying no mind to the apparition. She knew he couldn’t see Austin.

  He turned slightly and put himself in front of Emi. “Austin is here, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she said, pointing in the direction where he stood. “What happened to him? Hector, tell me you didn’t kill him.”

  Austin’s gaze narrowed. “Hector? The painter dude, kill me? Uh, no.”

  “I don’t like knowing he’s in your house, Emi. I didn’t trust him when he was alive. I certainly don’t trust him now that he’s dead. And you’re barely dressed,” said Hector, still standing before her, but looking too far to the right to where Austin actually was.

  Hector was starting to sound a lot like Lance. She didn’t need another man bossing her around. Lance was a big enough pain in the butt when it came to alpha displays.

  Emi grunted and walked around Hector. “Dead people are my thing, Hector. He can’t hurt me now, but I can put a world of hurt on him if he pushes me. I can trap his spirit in the closet for eternity. That would totally suck for him.”

  Putting his hands up, Austin took a step back and fell through the wall. He reappeared, looked behind himself at the wall he’d just basically fallen through, and then stared at Emi with wide eyes. “I swear I’m not here to cause problems. Taylor told me once that you can communicate with the dead. I hoped you’d be able to see me.”

  She stared at him, her hands going to her hips. “Let me guess, you’re one of those dead people who saw the error of their ways as they were dying and really don’t want to end up in whatever version of hell you believe in?”

  He pursed his lips. “Yes.”

  She glanced back at Hector. “Good news. Austin is less of a dick dead. Kind of.”

  Hector appeared surprised. “Does he smell any better?”

  Austin ignored him and stared at her, his expression grim. “Emi, I’m here to warn you. Something bad is coming for you.”

  She nearly laughed. “You’re here to warn me? Really? Weren’t you trying to attack me just last night?”

  His expression fell. “Yes, and trust me when I say, I really regret that. I’ve seen the light.”

  She eyed him. “Oh really. So you came to tell me something bad is after me? News flash, I know.�
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  He shook his head. “You don’t understand. It knows where you live now. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell him. He was torturing me, and he’d already killed the guys with me.” He looked down at the floor. “I was weak, and he told me he’d stop hurting me if I told him where you lived. He said you’d managed to somehow block him from sensing where you were most times—and that he couldn’t center in on your location or where you live.”

  Emi watched Austin, realizing how small and frightened he looked, now that he was dead. Gone was the tough-guy routine he’d had for as long as she’d known him. Now he looked younger as well. She almost felt bad for him.

  Almost.

  “Emi, this guy isn’t…he’s not human. He’s a monster. And he’s headed here for you, and for some guy he wants to kill for daring to think he could touch you. My guess, the blond dude you were with.”

  “Lance?” she squeaked, as concern for Lance hit her hard. “What does this bad guy want with him?”

  “I don’t know. But right before he killed me, he looked me in the eyes and said I was going to die for thinking I could try to hurt you. And that your new friend would soon learn what happens to anyone who gets too close to you.”

  She’d known this would happen. Her uncle had always warned her that those close to her would be hurt, and to always stay on the move. She’d foolishly thought she could carve out something close to a life in New Orleans, and that she’d be able to keep it. Now, people were dead because of her, and Lance was in danger. All because she’d been selfish.

  Her emotions welled and she lost control of them, breaking down then and there.

  Hector grabbed her and pulled her against him. “Emi, what is it?”

  “Austin is dead because of me,” she said.

  “He’s dead because he’s an asshole,” returned Hector, drawing a righteous huff of indignation from Austin.

  Emi trembled. “What’s been hunting me found him, Hector. It found him and tortured him to extract information about me. When he gave in, it killed him.”

  Hector’s entire body tightened. “That punk gave up information on you? I’d kill him myself if he were still alive.”

  Emi’s mind raced with everything she’d learned. Whatever it was hunting her was ruthless, and now it knew where she was. It also wanted to kill Lance. She couldn’t let that happen. No one else would die because of her.

  Frantic, she stared around the room for clothing for Lance. She found a T-shirt, but that was it. She didn’t think Taylor’s shorts would fit Lance. Taylor was on the skinny side, and Lance could lift a house.

  “We need to get Lance and get out of here. Like yesterday!” she yelled, running to the door—only to sense the dark energy she’d lived in fear of pushing in on her location quickly.

  Austin stared around wildly, sheer terror coating his face. “He’s coming, and he’s not alone! He has these things. These monsters with him! Emi, you need to run!”

  Hector caught her waist and stared in the direction of the front door. His entire body went rigid. “What the hell is that?”

  “You feel it too?” She shouldn’t have been that surprised. The evil that was barreling at them was so intense, she was sure everyone could sense it—even those who normally were immune to such things.

  He nodded and curled his lip. “It feels like hundreds of bugs are crawling all over my skin.”

  “That would be the feel of pure evil,” she said, turning and grabbing a discarded pair of Taylor’s sweatpants. They would do in a pinch. She pushed on Hector. “You need to go out the back way and get as far from here as you can. Hurry!”

  He shook his head. “Like hell. I’m not leaving you. Whatever is coming is really bad.”

  “Yeah! That would be why I’m telling you to get out of here,” she said, nearly in a full-blown panic. Arguing with Hector was wasting precious time they didn’t have. He needed to be far from the house and she had to get to Lance.

  Hector put his hands out and fireballs appeared in both of his palms. “Not going to happen, Emi. Get to your new boy toy. I’ll hold off whatever is coming.”

  She tugged on his shirt. “Hector, no! You can’t hold it off. Trust me. I’ve been running from it since I was little. It killed my parents and my uncle. And it did a fine job of trying to kill three guys who make the Terminator look wimpy. We both should really get out of here. First, we need to get Lance.”

  “Emi?” Lance said from the top of the staircase.

  There was a huge crashing sound from upstairs, and then snarls and growls. Abruptly, it sounded like an explosive had gone off up there. The house shook and there was a roar from above.

  Then total silence.

  Emi shrieked and rushed around Hector in an attempt to get to the back stairs. The entire time, she feared she’d see Lance’s spirit, that he’d be dead. She had to help Lance. It didn’t matter that she’d seen just how capable he was when it came to fighting. Every fiber of her being demanded she be with him, fighting by his side against the threat.

  She made it a few paces before the front door burst inward with such a force, it hit her hard enough to send her flying. The far wall stopped her when she collided with it, striking with enough force to momentarily cause her to black out. Pain radiated through her as she fell to the floor at the base of the steps.

  “Emi!” yelled Hector and Fredrick at the same time, as Fredrick appeared out of thin air next to her.

  The older man went to grab for her but his hand went through her body. That meant he’d expended a good deal of energy in trying to hold off the evil that was currently laying siege to the home.

  “Emi, how badly are you injured?” demanded Fredrick.

  She stifled a partial groan. “Got the wind knocked out of me. I think that’s all. Is Lance dead?”

  “No. Not yet,” replied Fredrick, doing nothing to calm her already frantic state of mind.

  There was a ball of orange light, and then something was on fire in the hallway with her. When she realized the burning something was one of the hybrid creatures, and that Hector had lit it up, she cried out, “No! Don’t hurt them! They don’t understand what they’re doing. They can’t help it.”

  Hector glanced at her, eyes wide, as if he couldn’t believe she’d be on the side of the things attacking them.

  Another creature charged from seemingly nowhere and struck Hector, knocking him through the wall, back into Taylor’s room.

  Emi pushed off the floor, ignoring the pain. She ran at the opening in the wall and looked at the creature. “Stop!”

  It did, but it radiated hate and the need to feed. As it turned its attention to her, she realized it wasn’t anything like Frank. It didn’t have any redeeming qualities. Whoever it had been before it was turned into a hybrid creature, wasn’t a good person. They’d been as disgustingly evil as the thing coming for her.

  Hector lifted a hand and flames appeared. He glanced at Emi. “Tell me I can kill it.”

  “Carry on!” she yelled as one of the boarded-over windows behind Hector blew in. The debris just missed hitting Hector as he dove to the right and rolled on the floor, setting the creature on fire as he did. It ran through the halfway-open bedroom door and out into the night, the flames getting higher and higher as it did.

  There was a loud hissing noise, and Emi glanced to the broken window to see what looked to be two blurs rushing through the opening.

  It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the speed in which the attackers moved. They were hardly the clumsy yet brutal hybrids she’d seen so many of. These attackers were nimble, fast, and moved with a sleekness that was almost dancer-like, and incredibly deadly.

  Hector glanced at her and they shared a look. She knew what he was intending to do, and she knew he was worried about hurting her, so she dove through the opening in the wall and rolled off to the side, just in time for Hector to unleash a lot of fire in the room.

  Heat rolled through the opening at her. Once it finished, she got up,
her intention to run back into the fray to help her friend in any way she could.

  “This way!” shouted Fredrick as he pointed in the direction of the hallway, currently with no enemies in it.

  She shook her head. “I can’t leave Hector or Lance.”

  “They can handle themselves. Get out, Emi! Get out before he gets his hands on you and darkens your soul, too,” Fredrick said, fear showing in his eyes.

  “Listen to him, child!” said Mrs. Pumpernickel, appearing quickly next to Fredrick and then vanishing.

  Ignoring their warnings, Emi ran in the direction of Hector, hoping beyond hope that her friend was still alive and okay. While she understood he could create fire with his hands, she wasn’t so sure he could withstand it to the degree she’d felt pouring from the room only moments before.

  A second before she was about to reach the hole in the wall, something slammed into her from behind, knocking her to the floor as another giant ball of fire rolled out of the opening. This one whizzed above her head—right where she’d been standing.

  For a split second, Emi thought the thing on top of her was Lance. Maybe even Hector.

  It wasn’t. It was the spirit in her house that she’d likened to evil. The dark one that caused so many issues. Why had it protected her?

  She twisted around and stared at the mass of black mist. That was the only way it ever showed itself to her. The more she looked at it, the more it began to take shape before her very eyes—and what it morphed into stunned her.

  “Uncle Yanko?” she asked, her voice barely there as reason escaped her.

  Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Had hitting the wall left her with side effects that included hallucinations? Surely the dark entity in her home couldn’t be her uncle. Could it?

  It hit her then. The entity had never once hurt her. It had only kept others away and scared Taylor—someone her uncle wouldn’t have been thrilled to have living with her. He would have thought Taylor was the type of guy who invited in trouble, and would’ve wanted Emi to stay far from him.

  And the dark entity had done its best to get her to move away from the house. Away from New Orleans.