Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1) by eden Hudson (ebook reader with highlight function .TXT) 📗

She took two seconds to see that I was alive and awake, then planted her hand on her hip and asked me, “Will you leave now?”

“I want to talk to Jax,” I said.

“He’s not here,” she said. “He had to talk to Bailey at the Witches’ Council. To ask about the prophecy thing and see whether they would consider it fulfilled now.”

Everything faded into red and I felt myself falling forward. I rested my forehead on the bed until the redness disappeared.

“Did someone do it to Tough or…or what?” I asked.

“He got someone to make him,” Harper said.

I picked my head up and tried to think. “If it wasn’t Colt who killed him…the prophecy said it had to be his brother…and there’s that whole thing about a holy champion—”

“Yeah, well, you missed a lot while you were out,” Harper said. “Which reminds me—you never, ever let a vamp suck off of you while you’re laying down. They have to feel like they killed something, and if you can’t collapse, they’ll keep drinking until your heart stops.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I said.

 Harper pointed to her neck. “And only ever from the jugular.”

“Okay.”

“And another thing—”

“Please, Harper, I can’t do this right now. I feel like the community crack pipe. I’ve been hit off of three times this week.”

“Don’t even get me started on that,” Harper said.

“I’m not trying to,” I snapped. “I’ve got all I can handle right now. My mother’s depressed and, like, one step away from catatonic and unless I drag my sister back home, she’ll probably never come out of it. My sister’s an alpha’s familiar and unless I become her joint-familiar, her brain will corrode until she’s vegetative. Now the guy I thought I— Now Tough—”

Anger wouldn’t carry me through the whole list. Tough had gotten someone to make him into a vamp. The people I loved kept getting more and more creative with the ways they left me behind.

When I could, I cleared my throat. “So if you wouldn’t mind saving the lecture for a little later on…”

Harper sighed.

“He did it to save Colt,” she said.

The room went wavy. I had to close my eyes, but Harper kept talking.

“I think Tough was trying to make Colt a vampire, too,” she said. “But that takes time and the person getting made really has to want it. Logan says it’s hard to do even then. But I think Tough was okay with just killing Colt. Anything to get him away from Mikal.”

It made sense. Tough had done what he had to do to save his brother. Death was the only release outside the will of the fallen angel—all the articles said so. But being this close to it… And Tempie… My head started spinning again.

Then I heard a man’s voice, raised like he was arguing with someone.

Harper opened the bedroom door and leaned into the hall.

“Should you go check on him?” she asked whoever was out there. “Seriously, if he tears up my room—”

“Check on who?” I asked. “Is Tough okay?”

Harper shut the door again.

“He’s fine,” she said. “I told you Tough killed Colt—but I think God brought Colt back to life. Like a miracle.”

I didn’t have the energy to ask her to explain any better. The point was Tough had ‘visited death upon his brother’ and a ‘holy champion’ had risen. Jax surely knew that that fulfilled the prophecy, so he must be talking to Bailey about something else.

“I need to see Tough,” I said. Talk about mental disorders. What I really needed to do was cut my losses and walk away before I ended up like Mom or, like, dead.

“No,” Harper said.

Two loud bangs shook the bedroom wall. Harper swung around.

“Go check on your brother,” she yelled.

Tough knocked again.

“Go, or I’ll crucifix you,” Harper said. “Desty needs to gather her thoughts so she can tell you to go stake yourself. You almost killed her. She hates you, you jackoff.”

“I do not!” My head started to drop again, but I hooked my elbows on my knees and grabbed a handful of hair on either side to keep my head up. Apparently being stupid-in-love outdid common sense and blood loss. “I don’t hate you, Tough. I mean, what you did—that was really—but—”

Either Tough was knocking on the wall again or my heart was trying to make me go deaf. My fingers slid through my hair. I felt Harper’s hands push me backward. My head hit the pillow. A burning needle stabbed through my stomach above my bellybutton.

“Ow.” I tried to swipe it off. My hand made it about halfway there before it fell back. “What…”

“It’s a blood charm,” Harper said. “I had Scout pick it up. It’ll help you recover faster from being fed on and keep you from going anemic. If you were serious about staying with Tough, I’d tell you to get something more permanent, but this’ll work for now.”

The effect was almost immediate. I felt wired, like I’d had too much coffee without eating. The charm was still hot. I lifted my head and looked down my stomach at the little glowing red stud.

“Is that a grenade?” I asked.

“Scout said she thought it was appropriate,” Harper said.

“A hand grenade.”

“She said back in World War I they used to test recruits in boot camp by throwing dummy grenades into a crowd to see if any of them jumped on it to contain the explosion.”

Nice. A stab at me for being a wuss.

Harper must’ve seen what I was thinking in my expression.

“Just be glad I didn’t let her stick around to tell you in person,” she said.

Yeah, thank God for small blessings. But the charm was making me feel better—physically, at least. I sat up and only shook a