The Time King Read online

  “Like hell,” said Ethan, Liam, and Will as one. But of course, Helena would only hear Ethan. Liam and Will exchanged glances.

  “Where are you hurt, Helena?” Will asked, really only talking to himself as he looked her up and down.

  Liam moved in closer to her, and his eyes skated over her body from head to toe. Finally, they settled on her abdomen, and there they narrowed into green slits. “There. It’s on her left side. I can tell by how she’s standing.”

  Ethan began moving again, one boot in front of the other, and Helena stepped back.

  Ethan stopped. “Really?”

  Helena held up her hand. “Look, I just want to go home, Ethan. I don’t want to argue with you about how I’m putting myself in danger, about how I help other people and never help myself, or about how unfair life is in general. I want a beer, I want Dire Straits, and I want to work on my car.” She lowered her hand. “There’s no better medicine. Got it?”

  Ethan cocked his head to one side, studying her silently and carefully. Will recognized that kind of look. Liam used it on him all the time. It was keen and just a touch distrustful, but filled with love and concern.

  “Okay,” Ethan finally said, but slowly. “I’ll be checking on you later though, whether you want me to or not. And keep your damn phone on. If I call, fucking answer it. Deal?”

  Helena nodded, smiling gratefully. “Deal.”

  “Now’s your chance Liam,” Darryl said. But Liam was already moving in, using Ethan’s momentum as he walked past Helena as a disguise for the brush-up sensation Helena experienced when Liam put his arm around her and slipped the coin into her hoodie pocket.

  She turned as Ethan reached the door, clearly no wiser to the added metal in her clothing. Liam stepped back, grinning proudly, empty hands up to show his cousin and Darryl his success.

  “Be careful out there, Ethan,” she said softly.

  Ethan the werewolf stopped at the door and looked up. He blinked once in quick confusion, but it was fleeting when Helena’s bright, kind smile disarmed him. “Always,” he said simply, then left the building. Liam and Will listened to his footsteps hit the bottom floor and push through the double metal doors.

  Alone with Helena now, all eyes were on her, and the entire room held its collective breath as she unzipped her hoodie and lifted the shirt beneath it to reveal a tight stomach, ripped abdomen, and a large bloodied medical patch. Gingerly, she pulled the top corner of it back, slowly uncovering four deep gashes that Will instantly recognized.

  “Werewolf,” said Will. “No wonder she didn’t want him to know. He’d have felt responsible.”

  “Oh, baby girl,” said Liam softly, shaking his head at the sight of the wound and how it marred Helena’s otherwise perfect flesh. “That is all kinds of wrong.”

  Inside Will’s spinning mind, Cain lit on fire. It was like an instant migraine and the beginning of a panic attack, and for just a split second, Will was so uncomfortable, he wanted to be unconscious. He also desperately wanted to touch Helena, to help her dress the wound. He wanted to give her a pain killer and a beer. He wanted to call Fort to have him heal it. He wanted to curl her up on the couch, wrap her in a blanket, pull her into him, and lay her head on his shoulder.

  He wanted to do anything and everything but stay right the hell where he was, pretend he was in control, and keep his distance from Helena, but that was what he had to do. So that was what he did.

  And when he looked over at Liam, he could see he wasn’t the only one struggling. Liam didn’t have Cain in his head, but his desire was just as palpable. His jaw was clenched rock hard tight again, and the veins in his arms stood out over his clenched muscles. The older Slate cousin looked up at Darryl. “Get us out of here, Darryl. Before I do something I’m gonna regret.”

  Darryl was still watching Helena, his red eyes as transfixed by her blood as much as they were by her in general, when he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The sound echoed loudly and he, Liam, and Will were instantly back in the safe house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cain’s bonfire intensified in anger at being removed from Helena’s presence, and then suddenly it was gone completely. Cain was gone. It was a stunning sensation, and Will grabbed Liam’s shoulder to steady himself. But when Liam looked at him, he made light of it, as if it were Darryl’s antics and not Cain’s intrusion that were the cause of his unsteadiness.

  Darryl moved away from them to the bookshelf as if to peruse the titles, but there was more tension coming off of him than Will had ever felt before. “Grab the second part of the spell boys, and hit the can if you have to but tarry not.” He shot them a smile over his shoulder. “I want to show you something.”

  When they’d done what they needed to do and cooled down a bit, which took them about an hour, Darryl reappeared in the safe house and asked if they were ready. Will had showered and changed clothes, donning a plain white tee and a black jacket. Liam seemed to have done the same, and thanks to magic wards, their hot water never ran out.

  At Darryl’s question, the cousins looked at each other. Will said, “Yeah.” He wasn’t at all sure he was ready for what Darryl wanted to show him. If it had to do with Helena however, he was in for an ancient penny, in for his soul.

  “Good,” said Darryl. He raised his left hand, prepping his forefinger and thumb for a snap. “Let’s be on our way then.”

  He snapped, and the boys suddenly found themselves standing in a garage. It was unfamiliar to them in that they’d never before been in it. But it was familiar in that it was a typical grease monkey garage, replete with shelf upon shelf of car parts, some twisted or rusted, some brand spanking new. Oil, lubricants, antifreeze, and red gallons of gasoline were lined up along one wall. Two walls contained work benches. One work bench displayed firearm re-loading materials and machines, buckets of empty shells, blade sharpening equipment, and so forth. The work bench opposite to that had a few clean towels spread across it, polishing creams and oils, and a vintage turntable. It was the boxed type, and right now the case was closed. Beside it stood two impressive speakers, one on either side.

  Despite the dirty work the garage was meant for, everything was placed in an orderly fashion, and the cement floor had been well cleaned.

  Will took it all in with the speed of a warden, unconsciously noting what could and could not be used as weapons, and then his attention fell on the thing in the center of the garage.

  “This is the Shelby,” Liam said as he slowly made his way around the automobile. Will’s head filled with the odd tickle of familiarity once more, and he had no idea why. He wouldn’t have known this car from any other vehicle. He wasn’t the car man; Liam was. But one observation was very clear to him on the spot. The car was completely totaled.

  “This is a piece of absolute junk,” he said, following Liam around the vehicle. “She’s seriously gonna try to fix this up? It looks like…” he shook his head, “like it’s been sitting in the sun and rain for forty years.”

  “That’s because it has,” said Liam with a slight smile. His eyes moved with wonder over the vehicle, no doubt taking in the completely missing paint job, the copious amounts of rust, the lack of any glass in any of the window frames, and the fact that all four tires were not only flat, but in ribbons. God only knew what it looked like under the hood.

  But Darryl was smiling. Will noticed his eyes were no longer red. He seemed to be reigning in his inner monster a little better than earlier. “Just wait,” the warlock said, moving to lean against one of the work benches in the garage. He again slipped his hands into his black coat pockets, and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I brought you so you’d have a taste of what Helena Dawn is all about. The scope of her powers can otherwise catch you off guard.” He grinned. “You’re going to love this.”

  As if on cue, the door connecting the garage to a house swung open, and out walked Helena.

  At once, both Liam and Will seized up, and their heads snapped to Darryl. But he nod
ded. “Yes, you’re invisible, inaudible, and without scent again.”

  Will’s shoulders slumped and Liam let the air out of his lungs with a whoosh of relief.

  Helena had changed clothes, donning ripped jeans that hugged her slim, muscular legs in a way that made Will ache inside. Her white cotton tee-shirt was no different, and his throat had gone dry by the time she descended the last of the three steps that lead into the body of the garage.

  She had a black leather jacket draped over one arm, a beer in one hand, and a vinyl album in the other. The slip cover was only slightly worn, and Will could read that it was Dire Straits’ “Brothers in Arms.”

  Will watched as Liam had made his way around the car and waited in front of the hood. Helena was headed straight for him. But he wasn’t moving. He seemed frozen in place, just staring at her… his green eyes shining with hidden thoughts.

  Will swore softly. “Liam,” he said, trying to get his cousin’s attention.

  “Spiky!” called Darryl. “Get out of the way. Still tangible, remember?”

  Liam blinked and seemed to come awake, taking a big step back just as Helena rounded the car. She now stood exactly where Liam had stood less than a second earlier.

  Will let out a breath and touched his forehead. It was hot to his fingertips. Helena Dawn was giving him a fever. “That was close,” he muttered.

  But Liam didn’t look apologetic. Instead, he moved only as far out of the way as he absolutely needed to as Helena looked over the car for a moment, then turned and walked to the vintage record player on the work bench opposite Darryl. She laid her jacket down, popped the top up on the player, and turned it on. The small turntable began to spin, and the speakers staticked to life. Next, she pulled the vinyl out of its dust case, and gently set it into place on the turntable. Then she lifted the player’s arm, placed it into the proper groove, and notched the speakers up.

  A second or two of static bumps passed before the slow climb of the intro for Money for Nothing rose steadily from the speakers. The sound was heaven. Will had always loved Dire Straits. One of his personal favorites.

  Helena returned to the front of the car as the drums slowly kicked in. She closed her eyes, and a slight breeze picked up in the room. Will glanced around, trying to decipher where the wind was coming from. But there was only one window in the garage, and it was shut up tight. Night beckoned peacefully from beyond the panes.

  Inside the garage however, the music and the wind both rose in strength as Helena slowly lifted her hands palms-up at her sides – and the car in the center of the room ascended from the cement to hover two feet above the ground.

  “Holy shit,” muttered Liam. Now he stepped back, and his eyes grew wide as saucers. He moved to the side, taking up his shark-like circling once more as the vehicle spun in place to the sound of the lead-in guitar solo. It was like watching an MTV crossover with Stephen King’s Carrie and a bit of Christine. Helena was moving the beat-down automobile with nothing more than the power of her mind and, perhaps, the inspiration of music.

  Will was barely becoming adjusted to the reality of what he was seeing when suddenly something flew off one of the shelves behind him and spun toward the car. He ducked just in time to keep from being bludgeoned by an engine part. He stumbled, caught himself and looked up as the hood of the slowly turning, eerily hovering car cranked open, and the new part settled in.

  A second piece flew from the shelves a few seconds later. And then another.

  On and on, parts removed themselves from the car or the shelves, interchanging in mid-flight, until at last, the hood of the vehicle was once more swinging shut. But apparently Helena wasn’t finished.

  Her hands were now glowing, and a slow, easy smile had spread across her beautiful face, and even though her eyes were closed, Will had a feeling she knew damn well exactly what the car looked like in front of her. She proved as much when she tilted her head slightly to the right, and a bent and rusted piece of the front bumper suddenly popped back out, smoothing into its original position the way a dent responded to dry ice.

  The car continued to turn, and Helena tilted her head the other way now, straightening out another massive dent. Areas of rust or places where the metal was completely gone began to flake away, and the clean metal around them spread, reproducing itself until the original mold of the car was once more in place.

  Liam whistled low again, and Will glanced at his cousin to find him shaking his head in wonder. “My God, I think I’m in love,” Liam muttered to himself.

  I bet you are, thought Will quietly. Liam was the playboy, and girls came easy to him. There was something about Will on the other hand, that women found... he wasn’t sure how to put it. Daunting? Menacing? Off-putting? He was big enough to admit it. In fact, that was apparently part of the problem. According to Liam, when it came to reasons women shied away, Will was either too tall, or his gaze was too perceptive or his smile was just a touch… cruel. Cruel! He had no idea why that would be. He didn’t feel cruel.

  Did he?

  He wondered that very thing as that gaze of his narrowed on his cousin and his hairs stood on end and his teeth pressed together behind his lips. Liam went through women like recreation. Will had always had to work a little harder to get to know the girl. And maybe that was the problem right there. Liam didn’t ever really care about getting to know the girl. Just getting to know her biblically.

  Not this time, Will thought. For three reasons. One, if the look on Liam’s face was any indication, something in the way of Helena Dawn had never before happened to the older Slate cousin, and Liam was in way over his head. Will didn’t think Liam would be satisfied with a roll in the sack with this woman. Two, Helena wasn’t the kind of woman to go for that anyway. And three, and perhaps most importantly, Liam would touch Helena over Will’s dead body.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Will blinked, disturbed by the sudden thought… even though he meant it.

  A chuckle from where Darryl was resting against the far bench drew Will’s attention. It was impressive that he could hear the zombie over the volume of the music, but then Darryl was practically king of magic these days. If he wanted to be heard, he no doubt could.

  He was watching Will with keen eyes and a discerning expression.

  Will felt the need to clear his throat. But he didn’t. Instead, he stared right back. And Darryl’s grin broadened. He turned his attention to Liam. “I told you you’d love it,” the zombie warlock said, looking from one cousin to the other. “And she’s only getting started.”

  Once the car’s working mechanisms and body were repaired, new tires flew from a pile on a shelf and affixed themselves to its rims. Next came the windows. That was a sight to behold.

  First, the main garage metal door slid open, its well-oiled wheels slipping almost soundlessly in their grooves. Then tiny diamond-like chunks of shattered windows from a hundred different cars came flying in from all around the dark junkyard. For this, Will and Liam stepped as far back against the walls as they could get.

  The glass shimmered into place in the frames on the car, and filled in the spaces like puzzle pieces. Before long, every inch was complete. There was a flash, and the shards smoothed magically out to become a solid windshield, a solid back window, and four perfect side windows.

  Liam’s jaw was hanging open, his eyes wide as saucers. Will had no idea where this magic of Helena’s was coming from. As far as he’d learned in his thirteen years of being a warden, what she was doing was impossible. It wasn’t doable magic to conjure something out of nothing. But as he watched, the paint job on the vehicle slowly reappeared. Inch by inch, as sparks flew and fire was drawn in shimmering shades of green on the vehicles sides, the ’67 Shelby went from the sheer underside of metal to the mat gray of primer and finally the liquid perfect shine of a professional black paint job. It was at last completed with metal flake green flames eating up either door and half the hood. Emerald fire.

  That full, familiar, and u
ncomfortable buzzing was back in Will’s head as he stared at the rebuilt vehicle. But it fortunately passed quickly.

  The reconstruction of the classic car seemed to have been timed perfectly with the music. Just as the song was fading out, the vehicle lowered steadily to the ground, the glow left Helena’s outstretched upturned hands, and her eyes opened. When all was silent and still once more, it felt like a vacuum had sucked the air out of the room. It was tense. Quiet. Everyone watched the smiling miracle worker as she flicked her hand casually at the record player, lifting the arm off the vinyl to replace it in its cradle. She then made her way around the now absolutely stunning piece of art that was the 1967 Mustang Shelby.

  “There now,” she said softly, her voice like music of its own. “That wasn’t so bad, was it Angel? And you’ve got a few upgrades,” she said, chuckling. The sound sent warm, delicious sensations through Will. He felt his gaze darken. He felt himself darken, changing inside. Just watching her, just listening to her. At that moment in time, if he’d had one wish and one wish only, it would have been that he and Helena could be together. That she was his gift – not Cain’s. They could get married. Buy a house somewhere next to a river or a lake or the goddamned ocean. Get a dog.

  Start a family.

  “She named the car,” he whispered. She was the kind of girl who named cars. The extra similarity between Helena and Liam was like an ice pick through some previously unnoticed part of his soul. He swallowed hard against the pain it caused and glanced at his cousin. But Liam was moving to the passenger side door, his attention one hundred and twenty percent focused on what was happening at the center of the garage.

  Helena popped open the driver’s side door and climbed into the car with practiced and fluid grace, then leaned over to manually roll down the passenger side window. She rolled down her own next, and closed her door. Everything fit tight and perfect. She’d done an impossibly good job renovating the vehicle.