Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame E.C. Farrell (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📖

I steer my mind away from that gloomy thought. There is absolutely no reason to mentally dwell in such dreary places, especially not right now. Shoving myself out of bed, I grab my backpack off the floor, then stumble to the bathroom for another very cold shower.

After a few cups of coffee, lots of water, and some power bars, we start back on our journey toward Brazil, taking more frequent breaks this time at my insistence. When we reach Panama, we pause to get lunch at the least busy restaurant we can find.

We take our food to a far corner next to a wide red brick wall. Though I’d prefer to be close to the door, it’s not worth the risk of sitting near the massive front windows. The second any hunter sees Max, we’re in for a fight, and frankly, I’d prefer to avoid that.

I scan the restaurant over Max’s shoulder as he drains a bottle of water. “How’re you holding up?”

Spinning the bottle cap on the table, he offers a bit of a droopy, gray-tinged smile. “A little worn out, but I can make a few more jumps today, I think. Food should help. Though I’ll need to wait thirty minutes before traveling again. Unless you have a deep desire to see me puke.”

Bouncing my knee in an attempt to get rid of nervous jitters, I let out a weak laugh. “I’d prefer to avoid witnessing that. Shouldn’t have let you order that burger. Those don’t digest quick.”

All my scattered thoughts coalesce when a lone man in a Hawaiian shirt walks into the restaurant. Long strands of white-blond hair brush his sunburnt cheekbones, and bleach stains dot and streak his cargo shorts. Not the outfit of a bounty hunter, but something about his smooth, precise movements put my senses on high alert.

I track him as the waiter delivers our food, barely cognizant enough to thank him before he leaves.

“What’s up, mama?” Max asks, tilting over the table.

“It might just be paranoia,” I say quietly, watching the new customer order at the front. “But after the bus incident, everybody’s suspicious.”

The man turns from the counter, eyes on his change, and walks toward us. My fingers curl into fists. I aim my face down at my food but continue to watch him through my hair. He sits at the table directly behind us, mere feet from Max, close enough to cause trouble.

“You think there might be a hunter in here?” Max asks around a bite of his burger.

“Possibly.” I force down a thick cut French fry. “Right behind us.”

Max sucks cheese off a thumb but doesn’t look back. He takes another bite of his burger and chews a minute before saying, “Do you think we should run? I won’t be able to travel us far, but I can at least get us out of the restaurant.”

Picking at a leaf of lettuce, eyes never leaving the man behind us, I shake my head ever so slightly. “Not until I know for sure. There’s no reason to burn yourself out just because I’m feeling jumpy.”

“How are you going to out him?”

I force a sigh out through my nose. “I’m not sure yet. But the first thing I’m going to do is going to take a little concentration so give me a second.”

Focusing all my powers of concentration on the man, I mumble a spell under my breath, fluttering my fingers to direct it toward him. Beads of sweat form on my lower back as my magic hits his. It resists me, pushing against my commands.

He’s definitely disguising his appearance with a charm, but it’s not clear why. Thousands of paranormals cover up less socially acceptable traits with simple spells. That’s not unusual. What is significant is how hard the magic is fighting me. This only serves to stoke my paranoia.

Curling my upper lip, I reign my magic in and wipe my forehead with a sleeve. Forcing his illusion away will only cause trouble. This will take a little bit of a lighter touch and a lot a bit of savvy. I look up at Max.

“How would you feel about putting those mad water spirit skills to some good use?”

Tilting his head to one side, Max gives me a long, hard stare. “On our potential hunter friend?”

“You got it.”

Max looks at the guy out of the corner of his eye. “I can give it a shot. Scoot back a little, huh, mama?”

With the heel of my shoe, I push my chair away from the table as Max rocks his chair onto its back legs, that smirk chasing the exhaustion off his face. At this distance, I can feel the edge of his magic. Its warmth brushes past me and then ebbs quickly away.

“Hey, man, mind sharing your salt?” Max asks over his shoulder. “Ours is out.”

The man turns sideways. “Is that the best line you’ve got, water spirit? I’m a little disappointed.”

He moves so fast I hardly catch the flick of his wrist, the flash of his black knife as its tip presses into Max’s rib cage. With a harsh gasp, Max flinches away from it, face hard with shock as both hands raised as if in surrender. The blade follows his slight movement and the man smiles.

“Keep calm now.” He stands slowly, drags his chair to our table, then sits next to me. “This doesn’t have to get ugly. In fact, I’d prefer it not to. Isn’t my style. If you’ll just let this phoenix out from under your charms, we can all go about our merry ways.”

Confusion fully disarms me, and I can’t stop an impolite splutter. “I’m sorry. What now?”

The man’s brows form a V as he gives me a sad smile. “I know. It doesn’t make sense, right now. You believe you’re in love with him. But water spirits like him are tricky, powerful creatures. Once his spell is broken, you’ll see the truth, have your life back.”

I blink, attempting to get past