Just as I’d seen Adam practice in the gym countless times, he delivered a spinning hook kick, striking Reese right in the jaw. The impact of his boot had apparently broken the skin on the magician’s face, because a trail of blood ran from the reddened mark beside Reese’s mouth.
Bile threatened to rise up in my throat as blood literally spurted from the wound like a popped ketchup packet as Reese ripped the pen from his flesh as well.
Adam wasted no time and grabbed him from behind, locking Reese’s arm behind his own back. He began lifting him off the ground when Reese threw his weight back, catching Adam off guard. He forced a step forward before driving his left hand around, nailing Adam right in the temple with his elbow. As Adam crumpled over, Reese continued bringing his hand over, placing it on the other side of Adam’s arm. He straightened, locking up the appendage and getting right in Adam’s face. Reese all-out sucker punched him in the ribcage, knocking the air right out of him.
I cried out, but the magician wouldn’t relent. He threw Adam against the wall, pinning him in place with his forearm digging into Adam’s throat.
“STOP!” I wrestled my way between the two, but Reese still wouldn’t budge. “Let him go!”
Reese shot me a bemused glare. “Why in perfect health would I do that?”
“That’s my ex, you idiot!”
His stare only hardened all the more as he looked back at Adam. “Oh, I think he’s much more than that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He can see me,” Reese growled. “Only those who are supernatural have the sight to see past mental manipulations. The only question is, which breed is he?” Reese fetched out a long slender knife from inside his coat.
“What are you doing?” I snapped.
“If one of the unholy comes in contact with silver, it scorches their flesh. Let’s see if he burns.” He removed his arm from Adam’s throat, only to put the knife in its place. The steel pressed into the skin, nicking it ever so slightly. Asides from the trickle of blood that escaped, there didn’t appear to be any other reaction.
“That’s enough! Get off of him,” I demanded, seeing no resolve. I finally managed to push Reese away enough so I could step between the two.
“Seems you get to keep your head,” huffed the magician, tenderly holding his injured arm. “At least for the moment, anyway.” He examined the hole in the fabric where Adam had stabbed him and groaned. “Though I might change my mind, being that you ruined my jacket.”
“You both have some serious explaining to do,” I barked, looking back over at Reese. “And I’m pretty sure you need a doctor.”
“He’ll be fine,” muttered Adam, fingering the knick on his own throat. “The wound will heal within the hour.”
“And you know that from personal experience, I take it?” remarked Reese, still watching him guardedly.
“Something like that.” Adam’s eyes shifted behind him, and he grimaced. “Though, this might take a little longer.”
I gasped, and Reese didn’t even have a chance to turn as a tire iron suddenly throttled into the back of his head. The magician’s body limply collapsed on the asphalt, and the figure standing behind him stepped into the light.
My jaw practically detached. “Mr. Reynolds?”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Chapter 9
The Wretched
Mr. Reynolds promised he’d give me the answers I needed, but first, he had business to tend to. By the looks of it, that business was Reese, who was now bound and handcuffed to an iron chair in the Reynolds’s basement.
Every time I stole a glance at Adam, he quickly diverted his own gaze, and I knew this wasn’t going to be good. Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Mr. Reynolds headed over to the landing to greet the visitors. Everyone else’s backs were turned towards me, but I could still make out the strapping figures and short haircuts to distinguish that they were all men. Mr. Reynolds whispered something indistinct, nodding over in my and Reese’s direction. The group turned, and the whole room froze.
I instinctively cowered back over to the recliner in the corner, unable to read everyone’s faces. Were they taken aback by Reese or me? I recognized the men from around town, but didn’t know anyone by name with the exception of Russell, one of Mr. Reynolds’s security detail buddies. He was a burly man with a military crew cut and arm muscles the size of cannonballs.
“What’d we know about him?” asked Russell, eying the magician.
Reese was still out cold. His long locks swept over his eyes as he sat slumped over in the chair, and my own neck hurt just looking at the crooked angle his was unconsciously positioned in.