by K. E. Radke
Multiple chains keep the gate locked and barbed wire is attached to the top of the fence to deter anyone from climbing over it. I glance over my shoulder for a second and startle when I find the General, black wisps curling around him. My hand is on the knife at my back.
“Look up.” El Cucuy’s head is raised to the sky. There’s a body hanging off the edge of the building, its hands sliding side to side at an alarmingly swift pace. The pale, white skin glows in the dark, swinging gracefully in midair like an acrobat ready to shock the audience with a daring flip.
The panicked breath I suck in comes out in a relieved exhale when I realize it’s not Gage. I whistle loudly. A simple way to let my brother know I’m in the vicinity.
“Why aren’t you up there? Helping him?” I huff out, sidling next to el Cucuy.
“The command is to stay by your side when there’s trouble,” the General answers.
“Of course it is,” I mutter under my breath. “Did Amelia—.” But he’s gone again. “So much for his command.”
Gage peers over the edge of the roof with his gun aimed at the pale, agile body, using only its arms to keep them aloft. The strong arms flip its body around, facing outward. Its legs kick off the wall and swing up to knock Gage backward. They both disappear from sight.
Access to the rooftop from where I stand is going to be difficult. Someone is bound to notice a guy climbing over a chain-link fence. Breaking into the construction site will probably get a cop’s attention.
The street noise disappears as the pulse in my ear gets louder. Searching for a way up to the roof, I examine the side of the building. Nothing is attached to the wall to help me scale it. And the adrenaline coursing through me isn’t enough to get me up there.
My fingers lock onto the fence, and I shake it, growling with frustration. Several innocents stroll by, I nod to them when their eyes graze over me. Lurking alone in the dark is going to get me in trouble.
The shadows curl and waver until el Cucuy materializes.
It’s the only assurance I have that Gage is still alive. “You want to go on up and help him out?” I inquire on edge.
“I’m not allowed to interfere unless called.”
Gage is so stubborn. “What is he fighting?”
“Vampire.”
“The same one from before?”
“No.”
“If you’re not going to help, how do I get up there?” I need to make sure my brother is okay.
“You don’t.”
Narrowing my eyes with a downward twist of my lips, I ask annoyed, “If he doesn’t need my help, then why am I here?”
“In case she comes down.” It sounds like a statement, but also a question.
“I’m supposed to follow her? You can do that better than I can.”
“I am to protect you.”
“You couldn’t protect me while I was at the coffee shop?”
“I could have.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“I didn’t.”
He’s right. And he’s not capable of tricking me—or, at least—I don’t think he is. I came to the conclusion Gage was in trouble all on my own and assumed he needed me. The General followed because he had to. Frustrated, I run a shaky hand pumped full of nerves through my hair.
I ended my coffee date with Amelia early for nothing. And there’s no one to blame but myself. The tiny reprieve from my night job was a nice surprise. A little light shining through all the darkness. My anger gets the best of me. “If I punch you in the face, will you suck the soul out of my body?”
“No. I will move out of the way.”
My fist strikes nothing but air. The General weaves in the opposite direction. I anticipate it and swing with my other hand. He tries to block me, but his arm becomes translucent and I connect with his side.
A low, feral growl is cut off the moment he vanishes.
One of Gage’s first commands for the General was he can’t ever hurt me, only protect and serve. Taking advantage of his weakness will make him grumpy for the next couple of weeks.
Grumbling under my breath with a swift kick to the fence, I amble back the way I came. The fight is out of my reach and I’m not sticking around to watch. I cut through an alley on purpose, hoping for trouble.
Less than midway, I halt and swirl around. My hand wraps around the knife at my back, and it’s out of the sheathe attached to my belt as my eyes scan the dark for the light tapping sound not coming from me.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I taunt fearlessly. Only armed with a silver knife, I grit my teeth. Holy water is always in my pocket, but sometimes it’s not useful. My eyes dart across the blackest shadows with giddy anticipation.
Each breath I take is louder than the last. I slowly swivel, attempting to find the light tapping noise growing louder by the second. In a defensive position, my body is fully alert to the silent darkness. It soaks up the adrenaline shooting through my veins.
As the tapping noise grows faster, I swirl in every direction, panting breaths in tune with my hammering heart. A flash of light clashes against the onyx sky, and I suddenly gaze up at the glowing white object. The pale blur swiftly glides along the edge of the roof with Gage close on its heels.
They pass me in a rush and I follow along on the ground, too slow to be of any use if the bloodsucker leaps off the building. Out of the alley, I scan the next street and rooftops, frustrated with my human genes. The shadows wisp in swirls until el Cucuy materializes on the opposite side of the road to show me the way.
Up and down the alleys, the General takes me on a tour of the dark corridors between buildings. The ugly hidden parts of Miami, tourists aren’t meant to see. Sweat glides down my face and back, and the aches in my legs slow me down.
Gasping breaths are shorter and shorter until my lungs scream stop. I lean on the wall in between two buildings and wonder if this is payback for earlier. He can’t lie but torture is a skill he knows well.
“They are near the Boulevard,” the General’s voice is right next to me, but when I spin around, he’s five feet away.
“Which way?” I lean down on my knees to try to catch my breath. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
The black hole for his face twists to look over his shoulder and I walk toward him, breathing hard. He keeps pace with me instead of flashing in and out of the shadows. “It must be close if you’re guarding me again.”
“She just fed and feels like playing with him.”
Whipping my hand around in the air. “All that was her—.” I pause to breathe. “And then you took me—.” My lungs want me to shut up.
We cut through the streets in the direction of Sunshine Boulevard. In the middle of the road, the General disappears, and I’m thrown to the ground as a rock slams into the middle of my back. Facedown on the cement, I turn over in time to see a pearlescent blur land on the next rooftop.
I groan. Being a stepping stool for escaping vampires isn’t in the job description.
Gage leaps off the building and a shadow appears in mid-air where gravity has taken hold of him. He uses the dark cloud as a boost to get him to the top of the next building without using the ground. Headlights get me back on my feet as a horn blares, the car barely misses me when hands push me out of the way.
The vehicle skids to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. El Cucuy is standing behind it and vanishes the second the driver is out of her car.
“Did you—where did he go?” she asks trembling with her hands in her hair, white as a ghost.
It hurts to shrug. Only one shoulder does it properly. I limp to the sidewalk and the General appears at my side.
“I thought you couldn’t help people,” I groan in pain.
“I wasn’t helping you. If I push hard enough, you’ll fall. Death by concrete.”
The technicality is a loophole. Something I should be wary of, but he did save my life. And Gage commanded him to keep me alive, which is why I can hit him, bu
t he can’t hurt me—not even playfully. Not that he ever let it happen until tonight.
Remembering the punch he took earlier, I ask, “Why didn’t she hit you with the car?” The vehicle drove away unscathed.
“I tried to help her steer.”
Another escape clause he’s learned from his only weakness.
El Cucuy only has a few rules to abide by. After Gage inherited him, we learned a lot about the underworld hitman. Knowledge we weren’t privy to because a human owning a shadow man isn’t possible—unless you’re half demon.
The General’s sole purpose is to bring death upon his master’s enemies. A lifetime of killing explains why sarcasm and human antics are so foreign to him. And he’s probably been doing it since he was born into existence. Compassion doesn’t exist in his world.
He hasn’t been forthcoming with details about his life. Not that he considers himself a good topic for conversation, but he’s a few centuries old.
For that little morsel of information, we made him describe the clothes and buildings he saw during his assassination missions from his early days. It was like figuring out one of those complicated math problems that take up a whole chalkboard since he relies heavily on scent, and not his vision.
In the beginning, we tried to distance ourselves from his constant presence. Gage didn’t want a dark, tainted creature from the depths of hell attached to him. A form of violent chaos he could release on a whim, depending on his mood. One of the most coveted weapons known to the supernatural world.
The shadow assassin wasn’t too fond of us either. He stood on the sidelines of every fight unless commanded to help. When he rendered aid to Gage unbidden, it finally made us realize we’d been asking all the wrong questions.
He saved Gage’s life that night.
Because he’s obligated to save his master.
But forbidden to touch who he intends to help by the laws of which he was made.
Compassion isn’t just foreign to him, it’s unattainable. He’s made of the convoluted, dark abyss on the edges of happiness. Seeping in like poison to slowly leach the contentment out of the inside of his victim before they know he’s there.
Bloody brutality and savagery are all he knows. Rewards for him come after he wreaks havoc and kills his target. Death makes him who he is.
And if he’s tempted to do the right thing—to grow a conscious and decide for himself to take a righteous path—his helpful hand becomes translucent.
His maker made a kill switch. El Cucuy will cease to exist on the path to morality.
The General’s head snaps forward. “She is headed into the crowd.”
“She used me as a stepping stool. And there’s no way I can catch up to them,” I admit, limping forward.
Tilting his head, I can feel his calculating gaze. “There is a solution to your problem,” he says lowly, in a tone that hints it’s something we shouldn’t do.
“I’m listening,” I reply intrigued.
“Possession.” The word is barely above a whisper, but it’s as loud as a blow horn inside my head like he’s already hovering to take over.
“Protection tattoo. Not possible.” I shake my head. That’s a new trick I didn’t know he was capable of. He cocks his head because I didn’t say no.
“I’m not a demon.” The admission shocks me, and my eyebrows rise with silent questions I know he’ll avoid. It’s valuable information he should probably keep to himself, which makes me cautious. Why is he sharing it with me all of the sudden?
“I’m not an idiot,” I fire back. “I let you in and you don’t come out.”
“I am to protect you at all times. I can do you no harm. The master commands it.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “How does it work?”
“Give me permission, and I will show you.” The words are tinged with power and the promise of trouble.
He needs permission.
Sore muscles scream for help. Excuses for the body invasion start to dominate the reasons for keeping him out. So many questions beg to be answered about his immunity to the protection symbol.
Terror and curiosity strike through me.
What is he?
I stare into the black hole where his face should be. The only organ adamantly warring against the decision to let him in is my brain. Rules drilled into me about possession since I was a kid flash through my mind.
“Let me in, and I will get you to the vampire. Gage will not be able to kill her,” he says in a confident tone without a hint of desperation in his voice.
“Gage might need that information more than I do.” The sarcasm is lost on the General.
“He will not listen.”
Sounds like Gage.
After I roll my eyes, he adds, “She will get away if you do not interfere.”
“Quit trying to jump my bones. We both know this is some kind of trick. And it’ll only benefit you,” I grumble, too exhausted to argue.
“I cannot protect the master if I stay inside your body. He is who I serve.”
The General can twist situations to his advantage, but I’ve never known him to lie. I gaze into the black abyss of his hoodie and sigh. He stands perfectly motionless.
Opening my mouth, I immediately close it.
Regretfully, and barely above a whisper, I say, “You have permission.”
Evaporating into a swirl of smoke, el Cucuy slithers over my skin like spandex. Sore muscles soak in the new dark energy, urgently grasping it. The aches subside until they’re completely gone. His black clothes fall to the ground.
I lift my arms and legs, still in control of my body. The General is in my head, taking up space that doesn’t belong to him. My body jolts forward of its own accord and I know he’s taken control.
This was a bad idea.
Sprinting down the street, odors assault me like a weapon of mass destruction and I shake my head, trying to dispel them. The aromas sting, burning their way into my nasal cavity like a sharp blade burrows into the skin—only there isn’t a release. It’s a constant maze of smells I’m not built to deal with.
Vibrant colors and details on everything I pass make me stumble a few times, distracting me from my purpose. I’m seeing things from a whole new perspective and I feel cheated. He’s equipped with much better eyes than me. We knock someone down, and I offer a hand to help them up, but the General jerks it back.
My body is pulled back and forth in erratic movements and the person we knocked down scrambles away from us. The General swivels us in the right direction and continues to race down the street.
Human, let me have control, and we will get there faster. His voice echoes faintly in my head. The dim words are background noise to the surrounding clamor in our path.
Everything his senses touch sort into different categories. Filed away after an automatic assessment. Faster than my head can comprehend.
So, this is what superheroes feel like.
What is a superhero? The intrusive thought reminds me I’m not alone.
Through the streets and tourists, el Cucuy still avoids the light out of habit, but I notice he doesn’t have to. Street lamps cast their glow over us, and he doesn’t even flinch.
Ahead, a pale woman lands in the middle of the street on Sunshine Boulevard with innocents surrounding her. The General was right. Gage will not follow. Not with a huge crowd watching. Not with everyone recording the whole thing on their phones.
Sprinting forward, I’m past all the tourists arguing over what happened. The smell of the ocean and sand is tainted with body odor, and I gag. But my body is not my own, and it keeps following a particular smell of cinnamon, smoke, and peaches, all mixed together. The scent is intoxicating and consumes us. Nothing else matters except finding the aroma.
Gliding to a perfect stop right in between two buildings, she’s scaling a wall to get back on the roof and turns ever so slightly, hearing our arrival. The temptress blows us a kiss as we race forward and el Cucuy swirls off me in a cloud of s
moke, shooting straight for her like a tornado.
Shuddering at his sudden absence, I can’t help but feel relieved he’s gone. But at the same time, a lingering fixation on the power I had coursing through my veins makes me wish he’d never left.
Weak in the knees and aching from the earlier runaround, my sweaty palm grabs the small knife at my side. I slice my upper arm, where too many identical scars are clustered together. Blood beads along the thin cut. It’s the only upper hand I have over vampires. The red liquid trickles down my skin, and there’s a soft stinging sensation every time my arm moves.
The bloodsucker’s body flies through the alley, hitting the brick wall. It sounds like a horrible car crash. I grab the holy water from my pocket, hiding it in my hand, and let the adrenaline carry me to her.
Cackling cruelly, her eyes shift from the knife in my hand to my jugular. One second, she’s licking her lips and the next she’s standing right in front of me, twisting my wrist. Holy water sprays her at the same time the General appears in midair, punching her in the face.
Agonizing, murderous screams fracture the silent night. Steam wafts off her and she curls inward, sliding to her knees when I squirt her again. Her hand flashes toward me and I slice open her forearm with the silver knife. The wound singes and a low hiss escapes from her.
“Full of parlor tricks,” she wheezes out.
The holy water splashes her face and an ear-splitting shriek rips out of her. El Cucuy hands me a broken piece of wood after I sheathe the knife. She laughs maniacally at the sight of it, smoke spiraling off her skin.
Blocking my first attempt to stab her in the chest, I squeeze the bottle of holy water to spray her again, but nothing comes out.
“Naughty boy,” she says seductively, her face a mangled mess of burned skin and black blood. She grabs my wrist with the broken piece of wood in my hand and releases her fangs.
Yanking my arm back, I pull the silver blade from my back and press it against her face. Porcelain skin sizzles and I dodge her mouth, slashing at her grasping fingers. She recoils from me, and I can’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.