Chapter Five.

Beast. Self. Protection. We had no clue what that meant exactly. We played around with the words, even did some Googling, trying to prepare for anything and everything. Three days. What did that mean? Would each challenge last three days or would they start in three days time? I wished I'd asked more questions, exchanged digits, requested a rulebook-something. But I hadn't. The little we knew about supernaturals wasn't enough, and now it was too late.

Danny appeared stunned stupid when I'd phoned him following the witches' disappearing act. He didn't speak for a solid minute. "Move, Celia," he'd finally insisted. "For the love of all things holy, just move. You can come stay with me in Palo Alto." I heard him rifling through papers. "I've done a little research on the Tahoe Clan. This time of year they practice making it rain in Meek's Bay. They sometimes hole up for days chanting. If the majority of the clan is distracted, maybe it will give you and your sisters the chance to escape."

"No matter where we go, there'll just be another Larissa telling us we don't belong. We'll always be different, Danny. There's nothing we can do about that. But that doesn't make it okay for anyone to push us around or force us from our home."

The silence that had followed told me he agreed. But his tone when he'd spoke also echoed his fear. "Celia, I don't want you to die."

"I don't either, Danny," I'd told him truthfully.

We put a hold on our renovations, unsure whether the attacks would arrive on our doorstep or if I'd be summoned to the middle of some cornfield somewhere at the next full moon. My sisters guarded our home in shifts. I focused on getting into optimal shape, exercising, weight training, and making the heavy bag in our half-finished bas.e.m.e.nt my b.i.t.c.h. A week of worrying. A week of waking at every creek, squeak, and crack. And nothing. Finally, we returned to our jobs at the hospital, figuring Larissa wouldn't dare pick a fight in such a public place.

Ha. Ha. Silly me.

I was finishing the last few details of my delivery so I could move on to my next a.s.signment. I smiled at the sleeping infant as I cuddled her in my arms. Our foster mother had been a nurse. It was a career that had never interested me, but one she forced me into when she was diagnosed with cancer. I was only in high school at the time. Ana Lisa made me get my GED, and dragged me kicking and screaming into the program. I resented her for it. But I resented her cancer more. She knew she was dying and wanted me to obtain a job that would secure my future and provide for my siblings. I never expected to love it. But I did. So much so, my sisters pursued nursing as well. Taran worked in the Cardiac Lab. Emme in Hospice. Shayna and I delivered babies-a job that showed us the miracle of life on a daily basis.

My smile widened as I walked toward the new father. The labor and delivery had gone smoothly except the young dad remained skittish. He kept his hands on his lap when I tried to pa.s.s him his baby girl.

"I don't think I should hold her," he said.

I rocked the baby when she stirred. Like Tahoe, babies settled my beast and made me less scary. "I think you should. You've been waiting nine months to meet her, haven't you?"

He glanced at his wife, the baby, and me. "What if I break her?"

"You won't."

"What if I drop her?"

"I won't let you."

"What if she dates?"

I pulled out his arm and tucked the sweet infant into the crook. "I think you have a good fifteen years to worry about that one." I reached to help him wrap his other arm around his daughter, but he beat me to the punch. And just like that, the frightened man became a "Daddy." He lifted his chin as the first tears of fatherhood dripped down his face. "Thank you, Celia," he whispered.

I nodded and turned to adjust the new mommy's pillows. Compliments weren't something I was used to, no matter how subtle. I covered the beaming woman with a warm blanket I'd brought from the linen room. "Everything looks great. I'll give you some alone time and be back with your lunch."

The woman squeezed my hand, but never turned away from her precious little family. I slipped quietly out the door with the cartful of garbage from the delivery. I pushed the squeaky wheels along the halls, nodding to a doctor as she pa.s.sed. As much as the babies brought me great joy, every delivery made me wonder if I'd ever experience that moment myself. I abandoned those thoughts. Who would want to father the child of a beast?

I knocked my elbow against the push k.n.o.b to open the door to the dirty utility room. The giant metal cage to my right was filled to the brink with bean bags and yoga b.a.l.l.s yet to be cleaned. Directly in front of me stood a large sink and the counter where we placed the cord blood for lab pickup. I slapped on some gloves and dumped the placenta into the medical waste bin, and angled the cart next to the laundry and garbage chutes. With the speed worthy of any tigress, I dumped the soiled linens down the rusted metal chute, slammed it closed, and opened the one for waste. Everything ran smoothly until a giant tongue sprung from the chute and fastened itself around my waist.

s.h.i.t!

My face smacked hard against the brick wall as it pulled, stunning my beast and slowing my reaction time. All I knew was I couldn't go down the bin. My arms and legs spread out to cling to the opening, encouraging the force to yank harder. I grunted, gripping the edge tighter with one hand while my free claws sliced at the tongue holding me.

Warm fluid splashed against my scrubs. I'd thought I'd injured it, but realized quickly I'd only p.i.s.sed it off. The tongue tightened, robbing me of my breath and threatening to snap my spine. It pulled me, harder and harder, until I wheezed and my body was abruptly yanked through.

I fell down the pa.s.sage, banging against the metal sides as my claws searched wildly for something to dig into. My claws raked against the metal like a fork, but still I found nothing to halt my descent. The burning in my lungs caused fear to rip through my veins. I reached into my beast, willing her to beat back my panic. We had to survive. No way would we die without a fight.

The opening was too narrow for my beast form to fit through, but even if she could, the strong grip would likely prevent my change. So I kicked out, using my legs to prolong my inevitable meet-and-greet with whatever had la.s.soed me. Every time I slowed, the force became more insistent and my need for air grew ever desperate.

Finally, I managed to stop at the curve in the chute. Only to have something collide with my head and burst open.

Double s.h.i.t.

I whipped down faster like a reverse bungee. It's bad enough I had a tongue dragging me down a dark cylinder caked with years of hospital nastiness. Now I had to deal with a rainfall of garbage. Mounds of trash pounded into me in a cascade of rubber gloves, plastic cups, and catheters. Globs of iodine, detergents, and things better left wrapped up tight spilled against my head and arms like rain.

The tongue, thankfully, didn't seem to like the combo, either. It quivered as if gagging and loosened its hold. I slashed hard in the direction of the pull just as I hurtled through the bas.e.m.e.nt opening.

My body hit a large container and toppled it over. I rolled from the force and slammed into the cinderblock wall. I moaned and chanted the F-word like it possessed the power to make me rise. It didn't work. I slumped onto my side. Everything hurt down to my toenails.

The expanse of the dingy white room took up an entire hospital wing. I gasped, pushing myself up on all fours in time to hear a wet hiss.

So much for thinking the hospital was neutral territory.

I turned my head, scanning the area. Four bins at each corner, including the one I knocked down. A double door to the far left. A floor buffer. A few broken office chairs. And a newt the size of our sedan hanging upside down from the ceiling. He blinked his tire-sized brown eyes at me, and angled his head. He seemed deep in thought while slurping on the blood pooling in his mouth. Witches, it seemed, didn't mind falling under the "eye of newt" stereotype.

My mind searched for what I knew of California newts. Brown, smooth skins. Check. Orange bellies. Check. Long tongue. Not sure, but I gave that one a check. Hundreds of times more poisonous than cyanide if ingested? Oh, yeah.

Witches. Didn't. Play. Fair.

Beast against beast, but at a cost. If I bit into him with my fangs I'd die within minutes. But that didn't mean I couldn't claw, couldn't strike, couldn't kick. I slowly rose to my feet. The muscles and girth of my golden tigress stretched the thin cotton fabric of my scrubs until blue shredded sc.r.a.ps plopped against my fuzzy paws. It was a show of intimidation and to catch my breath. Take that, Geico reject.

The newt angled his head from side to side, curious yet not afraid. Oh, so not afraid. His limbs extended outward, his eyes depressed, and his tail whipped eagerly. He wanted to brawl. But so did my beast.

He leapt from the ceiling, slamming his head through the concrete wall when I jumped. But either he had eyes in the back of his head or Larissa saw all. His tail whipped me across the face. Warm fluid drenched my eye and sudden pain stung beneath my fur like fire. My head flew back. I slammed into the group of broken office chairs, cracking them with the weight of my form. I scrambled to my feet and charged. He jerked free and rammed me into one of the bins. I shifted, came up behind him as human and kicked him in the jaw when he spun to face me.

His skull snapped back, but the bones of his neck didn't break. I straddled his head and used my weight and muscle to flip him onto his side, ramming my clawed hands into his brown eyes. The mutilated tongue rushed out and nailed me in the face like a fist. I fell back and shifted, sparing my body from the brunt of the fall.

My molecules traveled beneath the foundation and reformed as I surfaced behind him. He must have sensed my presence. His tail whipped across my shins before I could strike. I collided face first into the concrete. The impact robbed my lungs of much needed air. The newt leapt on me, slapping at me with his leathery hands and ramming me in the back of the head with his b.l.o.o.d.y tongue.

I saw stars. And planets. And rockets. And possibly Superman. But he wasn't there to save me, and I'd be d.a.m.ned if I'd let Larissa win.

Without enough breath, I couldn't shift. But I could change. My tigress form returned. I rolled, clawing and cleaving into the soft underbelly of the newt. His skin parted like wet cardboard. I wrenched my head to the side, trying to avoid the likely poisonous blood and entrails drenching my fur. He screeched, ruptured eyes oozing fluid as he whipped the remains of his tongue to encircle my throat.

I raked his tongue with my free paw before he could squeeze. A section of it fell with a splat beside me as I dug my front and back legs into the large holes of his underside. Adrenaline fueled my strength, numbing me to sweltering pain. I launched him into the corner garbage bin. He landed hard enough to pop the overstuffed bags, spilling dirty cups and pizza boxes onto the linoleum.

I whirled onto my belly and roared. Get up! Get up! Dammit, I was p.i.s.sed.

My tigress didn't like getting thrown around. And my human side didn't care for it, either. For a long time, the newt didn't move. But the moment his dark brown tail lifted, I bolted and hurdled myself on top of him. My claws hacked into his reptilian side like nails through plastic-hard at first, until I completely broke through the tough outer flesh. His skin and innards sprayed my face in chunks, his squeals barely audible over my thunderous roars.

I continued to slash until I felt the pull of muscle and ligaments from long thin bones. That's when I stopped. Viciousness had its limits, and I'd far surpa.s.sed them. I leapt from the bin with grace, the soaked pads of my paws leaving prints on the grimy floor with each step.

I'd won the first challenge. No one appeared with a medal to place around my fuzzy neck, no balloons dropped down from the ceiling, no one patted my back to say "Well done!" And while I didn't exactly expect a supernatural parade complete with black cats on unicycles, I had expected something more . . . mystical. I changed, returning to my human side and adding b.l.o.o.d.y human footprints to the tiger ones. Now what? I stood naked again, with no bouncer in a tacky T-shirt in sight. I reached the floor polisher and sighed, exhausted and still freaked out.

If it wasn't for the sudden change in the air, I wouldn't have sensed the giant newt springing at me. With more reflex than strategy, I gripped the handlebars of the floor polisher and swung. The newt bounced off the wall and slumped in front of me, nothing more but ground, battered meat and bone piercing through rubberlike skin.

This time, I needed to make sure he was dead. I bashed in his skull until my face dripped with red death and I couldn't see, only feel. Feel the bones crunch like wet marbles, feel the warm blood turn cold against my heated flesh, feel my muscles scream with stress and tension.

"Miss Celia, what are you do-eeng?"

I jumped and dropped the handlebars. My hands slapped at my saturated face, trying to see through the glop. Eduardo, one of the day-shift custodians, stood by the double doors with a mini version of the trash bins on wheels. I gaped at my b.l.o.o.d.y hands, then at the blood pooling from my chin onto the floor. My eyes searched the confines of the room. No other blood but mine in sight. The cracked cinderblock had repaired itself, the pizza boxes, cups, and other garbage had returned to the heap. And the broken chairs lay piled neatly in the corner. Absolutely no other evidence of a high-noon magical showdown . . . with the exception of a very small, very dead, very mutilated newt the size of my palm near my feet. This was more of the ending to round one I'd expected, minus Eduardo.

"Um. Hi, Eduardo." I pointed to the newt. "I was killing that lizard thingy," I responded with total sincerity.

Eduardo didn't bother to take in the newt. Just me. Go figure. "But why are you bleed-eeng . . . and nay-ked?"

My hands gripped my girl parts. Oh, G.o.d.

I ripped one of the giant red medical waste bags off a hook and wrapped it around me like a towel. "It's a long story." Well. Not really. "Can I borrow your phone, Eduardo?" My face matched the color of the bag perfectly. Good heavens, how many more men could see me naked?

Eduardo's head jerked from the phone at his hip, right back to me. He shook his head, quite hysterically I might add. "No. No. Dees ees no good, Miss Celia. Dees is berry, berry bad." Eduardo abandoned his bin and backed away like I carried a grenade and asked him if he wouldn't mind holding the pin.

"Eduardo, wait-"

He didn't. And for the second time in a week, I found myself on top of a male, naked. Eduardo was pretty d.a.m.n slippery for a human, or maybe my sweat-soaked and b.l.o.o.d.y skin had something to do with it. I held him down while I phoned Shayna. I guessed she called Emme and someone reached out to Taran. They skidded into the bowels of the hospital within minutes to find me dripping with newt juice, naked, and riding a custodian like Sea Biscuit.

Taran took my reptilian romp, well, just as I'd expected.

"Son of b.i.t.c.h. You wrestled a lizard!"

"Newt," I muttered while Emme healed me. The gash across my face was wide open. No wonder Eduardo kept screaming. Or perhaps he had a fear of newts.

Shayna borrowed the mop Eduardo carried in his bin to wash clean the footprints. "I don't like this, dude. You could have been killed. And this was only round one."

"But I wasn't."

Taran's breath increased like she'd run a marathon. "That stupid b.i.t.c.h." Tears streaked down her face. "You should have let me handle this, Celia. If you'd hadn't invoked that G.o.d d.a.m.n Ninth Law-"

"Then we would all be fighting for our lives," I finished for her. My skin tightened as Emme's pale yellow light fused my flesh to seal my wound. With her power, there wouldn't even be a scar. That didn't mean healing didn't hurt like a m.o.f.o. I gritted my teeth as the burning sensation receded. "I think they came to slap us around, with the hopes that maybe they could find an excuse to kill us. But you using magic from the earth was their excuse to issue a death challenge." I squeezed her hand. "We've discussed this, Taran. This is the only way to get what we want."

Taran scowled. "What if you don't make it? The newt's poisoned skin is proof she wouldn't lose sleep if you died."

Shayna swept up the remains of my rival and tossed the little critter in a small trash can. Her thin brows frowned with worry and fear. A single tear fell, streaking a line down her pixie face.

Emme kept her head down. Her timid soul allowed her tears to fall in tandem, never one to hold back her emotions, but always slightly embarra.s.sed she couldn't bury them as deeply as I could. I envied her in a way. I wished I could cry then, or scream from the wickedness of it all. But I couldn't. I never could. I recognized my sisters were no longer the frightened children I had once shielded. They were grown, independent women, capable of living on their own and surviving. Yet despite their self-rule and strength, they still fed from my courage. So I didn't weep, didn't scream, didn't tear the room apart. Even though I very much wanted do.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Look. If it comes down to me dying, I'll plead misericordia, I promise."

Emme's soft green eyes glistened. "Wh-what if she doesn't honor your surrender?"

I didn't know how to answer her. Lying fell under my Things I Didn't Do list. "Well, let's just hope that she does." My words did little to comfort my sisters and disturbed Eduardo even more. He wriggled beneath me frantically. I hauled him to his feet and held him in front of Taran as Emme's light receded. "Make sure he forgets everything he saw." I glimpsed at my naked and blood-caked form. "Everything."

Chapter Six.

Another night pa.s.sed without me sleeping. Dueling with witches was for the birds-birds who apparently didn't require an ounce of shut-eye. Exhausted as my tigress claimed we felt, I welcomed the day when the rising sun peeked beneath my shades. "Let's get this over with, Larissa," I muttered and stumbled out of bed.

I padded along the dark hardwood floors into the half-tiled bathroom in a tank top and panties-my dress of choice for bed. The architect had designed two master suites. Taran had the other one. Emme and Shayna seemed excited just to have their own rooms for once. I adjusted the spaghetti strap that had fallen from my shoulder after I finished washing my face. I reached for my toothbrush and got down to business. c.r.a.p, my mouth seemed so dry.

My reflection showed me I looked just as bad as I felt. Dark circles swirled around my green eyes, the muscles of my shoulders and arms strained with tension, and my big hair had reached Monsters of Rock proportions. If men hadn't found me scary before, they sure as h.e.l.l would have now.

I rinsed my mouth and reached for my towel. I wiped my lips, frowning when my white towel somehow appeared pink in the mirror. My eyes scanned the bathroom, searching for something that might be affecting the color. I turned back and jumped when my reflection greeted me with a smile that wasn't mine and two big middle fingers. OmiG.o.d. My mirror image threw back her head and laughed. I didn't. I also didn't blow myself a kiss.

My knees buckled under me and I staggered back, slamming into the double doors as I watched my reflection leap over the tiled counter and land in a crouch on the floor. She rose slowly, her messy hair falling around her face and shoulders, watching me with hungry and sinister eyes. Her tongue slid across her upper lip. She tasted my fear.

And she liked it.

To fuel my terror she turned her head to the side and kept going. The crunching and snapping of her neck made me cringe. Echoes of her laughter filled the suite until the back of her long tresses hung over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Oh, G.o.d. Her head whipped back and she smiled with glee, pleased by my horror.

Self. I had to fight my . . . self.

I continued to gape until her shoulders collided into my stomach and jetted me into my bedroom. The back of my skull became one with the footboard of my sleigh bed. And that's when my tigress snapped to it. I dug my fingers into her hair and wrenched it back. It felt just . . . like . . . my . . . hair-further wigging me out. She screamed with my voice as I wrenched her off me. We rolled on the floor punching and clawing each other. Her blows and scratches were as hard as mine, but mine were more strategic. I raked my claws across her chest, missing her throat by less than an inch. Her eyes widened with fear. She knew I was going to kill her. She knew she needed reinforcements. And she knew where to find them.

Frantic pounding and yelling ensued outside my door. "Celia? Dude, are you okay?" Shayna wiggled the k.n.o.b. "It's locked."

That's when Bad Celia got dirty. "Help me! Shayna, please help me!"

"Move!" Shayna yelled. A machete cut through the crease in the door and yanked to the side. With a grunt, Shayna splintered the door open.

"Holy s.h.i.t!" Taran screamed when she found me kicking my own a.s.s.

Larissa's other-me and I rolled into Emme, knocking her into Shayna. She screamed. "Which one is Celia?"

"Celia!" Taran yelled. "Tell us something only you would know."

"Like what?" the other me asked in my same raspy voice.

Screw that. I nailed her in the mouth so she couldn't speak, which earned me a jolt of lightning from Taran. My teeth chattered and my hair smoked. "That's her!" Taran yelled, motioning toward me.

"Dude! Are you sure?" Shayna asked, her machete pointed dangerously in my direction.

"Of course I am! That b.i.t.c.h is trying to keep her from telling us the stuff only Celia knows."

I kicked Bad Celia off me and launched a discarded screwdriver into her stomach. Unfortunately, her speed mimicked mine. She dove out of the way and into the bathroom. It would have nailed Emme had she not blocked it with her force. The screwdriver fell with a loud clang. Emme glanced from it to me, appearing crushed I could do such a thing, further reinforcing that I was the imposter.