Chapter 33

I’ve been driving nonstop for the past six hours.

Now that we know our destination, could we simply take a flight there and arrive in a matter of two short hours? Yes. But that wouldn’t serve my current purpose, which is to spend as much time in Minnie’s proximity as possible.

I’m awful, I know.

But you know I have it bad when I’d eschew comfort for hours of torture behind the wheel. Alas, having her by my side throughout it all is worth it.

If only she didn’t sleep for hours at a time.

Damn it!

I wanted to take this opportunity to charm her with my wit, not listen to her snore blissfully away. Granted, it’s a cute snore. Everything she does is cute. But that’s beside the point.

She should be awake and keep me company.

I pull up to a gas station to fill up the tank and clear my throat.

She doesn’t stir.

I clear my throat louder.

Her lids move slowly.

She yawns loudly, stretching like a cat.

“Are we there yet?”

I stare at her.

“We’re not even halfway there,” I point out drily.

“Oh.”

She blinks a few times and scrubs her eyes before she takes in her surroundings.

“I need to get more gas. Do you want something from the convenience store?”

She considers my words for a moment.

“I’ll come with you,” she finally says.

As we get out of the car, I stop her. She raises her brows at me, but I simply get a scarf from the back and place it over her head and face.

“Good call.” She smiles as she wraps the scarf properly around her face.

I pump the gas into the car and we both head inside the store to pay. Minnie scans the shelves while I go to the checkout to pay.

“Find anything?” I call out.

“Are these good?” Minnie asks as she waves around a bag of chips.

“Grab them and let’s find out,” I say. I don’t eat junk food. Before Minnie, I barely ate any sweets. Of course her arrival in my life meant that I’ve now developed a sweet tooth just as much as I’ve developed a Minnie tooth.

She grabs the bag of chips and a bunch of other snacks and joins me at the register.

The cashier rings them up, every now and then glancing at Minnie with an odd expression on his face.

I narrow my eyes.

He can’t see her, not with her scarf wrapped around her features. But the fact that he studies her like that bothers me nonetheless.

“Eyes here,” I grit out when I note he’s staring at her for more than a second.

He startles at my tone and mutters a barely audible apology.

Minnie rolls her eyes at me.

Once we’ve paid for everything, we head back to the car.

While I arrange the items carefully inside the back of the van—we don’t have much space as it is and we have to be mindful of it—Minnie stretches by the car, breathing in the fresh air of the night.

“You didn’t mention it,” I start as I close the door to the back of the van. “But do you have a specific world you want to visit after we get that tincture?”

“Hmm. That’s a good question. There are so many worlds out there, that we can simply take our chances.”

Take our chances? That sounds like a recipe for disaster.

“Surely you have something in mind,” I probe.

I get anxious at the mere thought that we might not have an actual plan in place.

“Nope.” She shrugs. “Once we get the tincture, we’ll have to find the closest portal since I can’t use my powers to teleport us anywhere. Portals are tricky, though. Without a clear direction, we could end up anywhere. But that’s the fun part, no? We get to explore new things,” she adds excitedly. “And in the process, maybe figure out where that sanctuary might be.”

I raise a brow at her.

“You do realize I’ll get old while you will not. By the time we find that sanctuary, if we ever do, I might be heading to the grave.”

“Nah,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, you’ll get old, but if I give you some of my blood regularly, it should slow down the aging process.”

That piques my interest.

“More blood you say?”

I’ve never thought of myself as a blood guy, but Minnie’s blood is so damn delicious. It must be all those cookies she eats on a daily basis because goddamn. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet and addictive. Now I not only have a Minnie tooth but also a Minnie blood tooth. Just another addition to add to my newly formed collection of all things Minnie.

There’s also the matter of drinking the blood. The act of wrapping my lips over her skin, licking and sucking.

Ah, fuck. Too many tantalizing images dance before my eyes, and I have to awkwardly adjust my erection.

“If it can heal you, it can also heal your decaying cells. Now I’m not entirely sure for how long that will work, but we should be fine.”

“So you’re not sure?”

Of course she’s not sure. At this point, I don’t think she’s sure of anything. And because I’m a lovestruck idiot, I don’t even mind it.

She could lead me into a fucking hell pit and I’d gladly follow her.

“We’ll be fine, Marlowe,” she mentions with a smile.

I don’t believe her, but she could sell me the most outrageous lie and I’d buy it without questions asked.

I open the door for her to hop in when a bunch of loud noises make me stop.

“Yo, girl, drop the scarf and let me see your pretty face,” a man’s voice calls out.

My body tenses.

“If it’s as pretty as the back, we’re screwed, man,” another speaks, after which laughter ensues.

My lip twitches as I look around for the source of the noise.

For fuck’s sake. Even covered, she’s still getting too much attention. Granted, her backside is rather delectable-looking, but that’s only for me to observe.

A group of three youths emerges from behind a truck. One of them is smoking a cigarette, which I’m pretty sure is illegal at a gas station, especially so close to the fuel. Another has a can of beer in his hand, while the third one went the hardcore route and is holding a half-empty bottle of Smirnoff.

I instinctively pull Minnie by my side, shielding her with my body while I glare at the strangers.

“Marlowe. Don’t,” she whispers. “Let’s just go.”

She can sense the tension in my body especially as they continue to leer at her.

She fists my shirt as she holds on to me, stopping me from advancing toward them.

“Move along, fellows. There’s nothing here for you,” I say in a tight voice.

“Move along, fellows,” one of them repeats in a mocking voice as he tries to imitate my accent. “That all you got, posh boy?” He laughs.

“We’re not looking for trouble,” Minnie says.

“And the lady speaks. You got a nice voice on you, cutie.” One of the men whistles as his eyes roam over her body.

This is it. Fuck.

I take a step forward, but Minnie is still holding on to me and shaking her head.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispers. “Let’s just leave.”

I ball my hands into fists.

“It’s not worth it, Marlowe. We’ll just draw more unnecessary attention to ourselves,” she continues.

They leer at Minnie, continuing to say foul things about what they’d do to her, and the moment they insinuate they’d lay a finger on her, all bets are off.

The dude smoking the cigarette is especially cocky, grabbing his crotch and thrusting his hips.

I push Minnie behind me, disentangling her fingers from my shirt.

“Marlowe, no…”

“It could have been your lucky day,” I say with a smile. “If only you’d have walked away.”

They laugh at me, and as I get closer, one of the guys pulls out a gun on me.

I roll my eyes. Of course. It’s three to one and they still need a gun to protect their nasty asses.

He aims it at me.

“Not so brave now?” The guy chuckles.

I shrug.

His finger is on the trigger and he levels the barrel at me, probably thinking it will intimidate me.

“We’ll have a turn with the girl and you get away with your life. Sounds like a bargain?”

I press my lips together, feigning terror.

I glance back at Minnie and she’s watching me closely.

“That sounds like a bargain,” I start. They smirk and laugh, practically patting each other on the back for their show of strength. “But I’ll have to refuse.”

Taking advantage of their inattention, I tackle the guy with the gun, pushing the back of my palm against his wrist and aiming the gun upward. He squeezes the trigger and a shot goes up in the air.

Hmm. I wonder how long it will take for someone to call the police after that noise. Or, seeing the state of the area, perhaps this is a normal occurrence and no one will care. I truly hope for the latter so I can take my time with these brave lads.

Moving to the side, I slam my forearm against the boy’s shoulder while holding on to his arm.

He cries out in pain when his shoulder pops out of its socket. His arm goes limp, and it’s easy enough to grab the gun from his hand.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one carrying a gun.

What is it with youths and guns anyway? They can’t be more than eighteen.

One of the other guys points his own gun at me, his finger itching on the trigger as he tries to get a good aim. His hand is shaking, and I bet his clothes are already soaked with nervous sweat.

“I’ll kill you,” he cries out. Even his voice is trembling. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Do it, Drew,” the guy in my hold wiggles anxiously as he tries to escape. “Shoot him!”

“Fuck, man!” He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the trigger.

Ah, newbies.

He doesn’t even make sure where his target is. And as I note his finger pressing against that little mechanism, I merely grab the dude next to me and push him in front of me to act like a shield.

He gasps.

The shooter gasps too.

“You shot Mickey, dude. What the hell!”

Mickey cries out in pain as he crumbles to the floor. Drew’s eyes bulge in his head, sweat already dripping down his face. He aims the gun toward me again, but his hand is trembling so much, the barrel of the gun moves haphazardly and he misses again.

I’m not a fan of guns—never been. It’s just a coward’s weapon. Can you even feel you’re killing someone if you’re not up close and personal? Can you actually feel the life slipping from your victim’s body if you’re a distance away, averting your gaze and hoping you hit a mark?

No.

I prefer barehanded fighting to guns. And I prefer knives to fighting. But at the moment, I can’t be picky since I don’t have any knives at hand. Pity. I could have carved a pretty image on their faces—something along the lines of loser, rapist, coward. Or a combination of the three. Of course they didn’t rape anyone yet, but seeing their bravado, I have no doubt they have in the past or they will in the future.

Youths these days, man.

They’re more dangerous than the ordinary criminal. And it’s not because they might be strong or particularly smart. But because they’re reckless. Their frontal cortex isn’t developed enough yet to realize what they’re doing, and just like Drew, they aim recklessly everywhere, hoping something sticks.

“Minnie, hold this,” I call out and throw her the gun I nabbed from Mickey.

She uses a small fraction of her power to telekinetically bring the gun in her hands. She then aims it at the other man.

“Uhm, Marlowe?”

“Yes?” I ask while I maneuver Mickey around to keep him as my shield. Blood is already pooling on the ground, and some of it gets on my clothes too.

Fuck.

I’ll need a shower. And disinfectant. Who knows what these dudes might be carrying? As a precaution, I grab Mickey’s arm and check for needle marks. Okay, good, he’s not a junkie. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t dip his prick into something disease infested, and I don’t want that blood anywhere near me.

I screw up my face in disgust, but then Minnie speaks again.

“I’m not allowed to kill mortals,” she mutters, still holding the gun.

I stare at her.

She gives me a tight smile.

Fucking great.

While Drew aims his gun at Minnie, then back at me, then back at Minnie, the third dude decides to play the valiant and runs toward Minnie to tackle her.

Her eyes widen, but she easily sidesteps him and uses her powers to keep him immobile.

“What the fuck!” Drew mutters in disbelief. “Crew, what the fuck is going on?”

“I can’t move, dude. I can’t move!” Crew cries out.

I shake my head.

Discarding the bleeding Mickey, I rush to Drew while his attention is on Crew. I punch him in the gut, right below his ribcage to cut his airflow. Once he’s gasping for air, I grab his gun and empty his bullets. He doesn’t have many left—lucky him.

One ends up in his foot, the second in his other foot and the last one in his knee.

He collapses to the floor, writhing in pain.

“You can let him go,” I tell Minnie as I make my way to the third lad.

She withdraws her powers, and he falls to the ground with a thud.

He scrambles quickly to his feet, glancing at his mates and wondering whether he should run away.

Coward.

Before he can make a run for it, I grab his hoodie and hold him. His feet move, but he’s not covering any distance. Looking back, his eyes meet mine and they widen in terror.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m so sorry about this. Please let me go.”

I roll my eyes.

“Maybe we should let him go…” Minnie starts, but I stop her.

“You may not be able to kill humans, Minnie, but I can,” I tell her with a smile.

Dragging Crew in front of her, I make him kneel before her.

“Now, what did you say about my woman? Care to repeat?”

“N-no. I didn’t… I…”

“What was it? That you wanted to take turns with her?”

“That was Drew! I didn’t. I?—”

“So you wouldn’t have joined in? You wouldn’t have done the same thing as your pals?”

He blanches at my words. “Please… I’m sorry.”

“Watch out,” Minnie whispers.

I look sideways and note that Mickey’s dragged himself off the ground and is trying to take a swing at me with the bottle of Smirnoff.

I wrap one hand around Crew’s neck, holding him on his knees, and use the other to stop the incoming blow.

The bottle breaks against my fist, and a few shards of glass cut through the skin.

Double fuck. I hate people.

Mickey’s eyes flare up in shock when he sees his blow doesn’t bother me. But he’s too slow to run away with a gunshot in his gut.

I grab the front of his shirt, pull him closer, and bring my knee to his stomach, hitting him where he’d been shot.

An agonized cry erupts through the stillness of the night, and he falls next to his buddy.

More sorrys and pleases ensue as now both Mickey and Crew are begging for their lives.

Keeping my hand on Crew and my foot on Mickey, I ask Minnie to hand me the gun.

She rolls her eyes at me but does as told.

Drew tries to move, so this bullet is for him. And lucky me, it lands between his eyes.

Damn, I whistle. For someone who’s not the best at handling guns, that’s certainly a feat.

But I cannot even rejoice at my small James Bond moment because I still have to deal with these two fuckers.

“Minnie, drop your scarf.”

“W-what?” She blinks in shock.

“Do as I say.”

She’s confused about my request, but she slowly unravels the scarf to reveal her face.

Leaning down, I force both Crew and Mickey to look at her.

The effect is immediate.

Their pupils dilate—though that could also be from the pain—and their expressions shift from pain to enthrallment.

“What do we think, lads? She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” I ask them.

“So beautiful,” Crew whispers.

“The most beautiful,” Mickey agrees.

Their injuries are forgotten. Their predicament, too. All they care about now is the picture of perfection in front of them.

“But see, that’s the catch,” I whisper. “She’s mine. And you dared to look at her.”

I doubt they understand my words since they’re too busy ogling Minnie. But that in itself requires a punishment.

I grab each of the men by their napes and smash their faces against the pavement.

There’s a faint sound of pain but not much else. They’re still trying to get a look at Minnie.

I smash their faces again. And again.

I smash them until I hear the bones crack, until their faces are bloody and disfigured. And when that’s still not enough to get them to stop looking at her, I grab one of the larger shards of glass off the floor.

The first is Mickey. He did say the nastiest things, didn’t he? So as he’s looking at my Minnie, all battered and bloodied but still conscious enough to be enamored by her, I dig the glass into his eye socket and carve out his left eye.

I dump it to the ground before I do the same to the other.

Only when his sight is gone does the spell break and his cries of pain begin anew. But while he’s writhing on the floor, I apply the same treatment to Crew.

Left eye first, right eye second.

Their chorus of agonized screams are like a symphony to my ears.

Minnie is rooted on the spot, staring at me.

I wink and smile at her.

Grabbing the almost limp-from-pain bodies, I dump them atop dead Drew.

“Get in the car,” I tell Minnie.

Digging through their pockets, I find a lighter. Given the alcohol on the ground and the fuel nearby, this should do the trick. I flick it open and throw it next to the bodies.

A small flame erupts, slowly growing bigger as it encounters other things to consume in its path.

Before the fire gets out of control, I get behind the wheel and drive the van out of the gas station.

Minnie’s quiet.

She’s not looking at me.

“Was all that necessary?” she finally asks, half an hour into the drive.

She bites her lips in uncertainty as she fidgets with her hands in her lap.

“What? You’ll have to be more specific.”

“I get that you beat them up. They were rude. I also get that you defended yourself when they pulled a gun. But did you have to…” She swallows. “Did you have to mutilate them, too?”

We drive by a forest, and I pull the car off the highway, seeking cover among the thick foliage.

I stop next to a gathering of tall trees. There’s no beaten bath in the forest, which means it should be a safe area to stop for the night—with no other unwelcome surprises. I need to replace the number plates too since I have no doubt that sooner or later someone will put a BOLO on the van. Since we’re leaving this world—if everything goes as planned—I don’t have to be as careful with the coverup as before. But I also can’t let us get caught while we still have work to do.

As I stop the engine, I turn to look at Minnie.

“Was it necessary to smash their faces?” I ask in a bored voice.

She nods.

“No. But I wanted to.” I shrug. “Was it necessary to dig out their eyes? No. But I wanted to.”

“But—”

“We agreed on something, didn’t we, Minnie?” I let my lips curve up in a smile.

She frowns.

“I still get to have fun beating the living shit out of anyone who looks at you.”

“Yes, but?—”

“No buts. They wanted to have a look, and I let them have a look. But that comes with a price. It will always come with a price.”

She tilts her head to the side, studying me. Her brows are furrowed, her eyes troubled.

“I’ve known for a long time who you are, Marlowe—what type of man you are. But I’ve never really understood why.” She licks her lips. “How are you so violent? So bloodthirsty? You’re a kind man. I know you are. But this side of you…”

“This side of me?” I raise a brow.

“Sometimes it scares me,” she admits. “It fascinates me, but it scares me all the same.”

Now that’s the right praise. Giddiness explodes in my chest to the point that I forget I’m dirty, sticky, and covered in blood. She finds me scary and fascinating.

Ah, that must be the most romantic thing she’s ever said to me.

“When did you become like this?” she asks, her voice soft but firm.