by J. Kenner
“I thought I didn’t need sleep,” I countered, feeling surly and not inclined to give an inch.
“I said you needed it to heal. You think you came through that transition unscathed?”
My frown deepened, because I was certain that he was right. My body ached like a bastard, though I wasn’t particularly inclined to admit that little fact.
“Gonna take time, kid. So don’t wig out on me just cause you’re feeling a little premenstrual.”
“Hello! Crude much?” Honestly, he was the freakiest little heavenly messenger. But he’d made his point. And, yeah, I was grateful.
“So give me an honest answer,” I said as I settled on the Tiger. My hands tightened on the handlebars, and I realized my palm had completely healed. Nice. “What’s the overall deal? The big picture, I mean. Are we gonna be making this trek to Zane’s for training every day until that symbol on my arm does its thing?”
“I’d say that sums it up. You and Zane on a regular schedule. Side by side, getting all hot and sweaty and down with the kick-ass mojo.”
I glanced sideways at him, my cheeks heating. He chuckled.
“Nice,” I said, realizing Clarence had picked up on all my lust-filled thoughts. “And to think I thought you couldn’t get any more crude.”
“I’m just saying.”
I sighed. “What’s his story, anyway?”
“I guess the teenage girls would say he’s got the pheromones from hell. Hard to resist, you know?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
He chuckled, clearly amused by my discomfiture. “This is where I leave you,” he said, taking a step away from my bike. “I’ll find my own way home.”
“What? Wait! That’s it? Don’t I need an assignment? A document that will self-destruct? A password to a secret website?”
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, and then he tipped his hat, turned ninety degrees on his heel, and started burning up the pavement toward the end of the alley.
I grimaced, my anticipation for my upcoming assignment fading as I started the bike. I was going to be fighting some decidedly nasty demons in a battle that could decide the fate of the world. And I would wager that none of those demons was going to be particularly keen on rolling over for my blade when I came calling.
No pressure. No pressure at all.
The dark gloom still clung to me as I arrived back on Alice’s street and squeezed the bike in between two parked cars. At after two A.M., the street was eerily silent, and the weight of the night pressed down on me. I could hardly believe all that had happened in less than twenty-four hours. I was literally a different person, and though I knew I should slow down and try to take it all in, I couldn’t shake the buzz. I had a feeling sleep was going to elude me.
I climbed off, then mounted the steps toward the door, the key to the building in my hand. I’d just unlocked the door and was pushing it open when a piercing scream shredded the night, and I turned toward the sound, my heart pounding with a sick thrill at someone else’s pain. Shame crashed over me, and I told myself to move. To go.
To save them.
I went. Running toward the noise and hoping desperately that my decision to get my ass in gear meant that the darkness bubbling inside me wasn’t as vile as it felt. Maybe it truly had a purpose: Kill the demons. Save the world.
With a cacophony of thoughts swirling in my mind, I ran across the street, a welcome power surging through me as I urged my body to move.
I couldn’t pinpoint the sound, but there weren’t many options. Narrow passages separated the gray buildings on the far side of Alice’s street. Once large homes, the houses had been converted to apartments, the grassy area between the homes paved, creating instant alleys leading to off-street parking, where children once played in grassy backyards.
I couldn’t see anything as I rounded the corner of the closest alleyway, but I distinctly heard the muffled moans of a woman, most likely with a male hand clenched tight over her mouth. I edged closer, peering into shadows, ready for anything.
Hell, I welcomed it.
I didn’t, however, expect what I saw: a dark creature—his eyes flooded bloodred—with one hand over a petite blonde’s mouth, her neck gouged and pulsing blood directly into his gaping mouth.
I was on the move even before my mind finished processing. As I raced forward, he lifted his head, his lips curling up to reveal a bloody mouth feasting on living flesh.
His expression held no urgency, no fear. In fact, it was almost as if he were welcoming me to the party.
And it was that—even more than the freakish reality of meeting this creature in a dark alley—that made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck tingle with dread.
16
I saw all of that, analyzed it, and tucked away the oddity without slowing my approach. I saw the beast’s eyes widen, surprise flashing behind blood-tinged irises as I hauled back and hit him—blam—in the nose with the heel of my hand. And damned if that didn’t feel good. Like a release. All that dark stored up within me like a taut rubber band, bursting out with the full weight of my power behind it.
Man. Ya gotta love it. I know I did. Even when we got into it—when the demon snapped back to his feet and let me have it. We went at it down, dirty, and mean.
Our bodies collided, and I was knocked backward, landing on my ass before he leaped on me, bloody teeth bared. “You arrogant fool,” he hissed, and then, remarkably, he stalled his attack, looking at me with something like kinship.
Revolted, I grabbed for the hilt of the knife, still strapped to my thigh. At the same time, I pushed my body up so as to free my arm for full movement. With all of my newfound power behind the motion, I brought the blade to the beast’s neck, slicing through the skin, then the tendons and, yes, even bone. Not as easy as it sounds, but I was no longer your run-of-the-mill mortal, and I might as well have been slicing through butter. “Who’s foolish now, you son of a bitch?”
The head lopped off, then rolled to one side, an astounded expression in those dead eyes. And then, in a blink, he melted into formless goo. Yeah, well, don’t underestimate a woman with a knife, buddy. Next time, I’d have to try staking the thing—were bloodsuckers vampires even without fangs? I didn’t know—but it was nice to know that beheading worked just fine.
Twisting around, I ran back to the woman. She was a mess—her throat ripped open and her skin gray and lifeless. For a moment—one brief, horrible moment—I reveled in her pain. Hell, I wanted to push it higher. Wanted to take it to the limit and see how much she could bear.
I gasped, the moment passing even before I could push it away, but not so fast that I couldn’t escape the wave of self-loathing that crashed over me.
I wanted this new life. I really did. But at what price was I sliding into this role?
I shook myself, determination setting in. Adjustments. That was all this was. Just like Clarence said: stress and adjustments. I wasn’t some blackhearted beast.
And to prove it to myself, I hurried to the woman, crouched by her side, and took her hand in mine.
“You’re going to be okay,” I lied, as life flowed from her. “I’m right here. I’m going to stay with you.”
I pressed my hands over her throat, trying to stanch the flow of blood. No use. It pumped out of her, spraying through my fingers, covering my clothes, my skin, my face.
She gasped, a fish out of water, seeking a breath I couldn’t give her. As for me, I breathed in deep, my senses primed and tingling. My thoughts seemed to separate from my actions, and I was aware of only one thing—an intense, undeniable hunger. But not for food. For blood.
Shaken, I stood, my gaze shifting between the woman and the stain on the concrete where the demon had been.
“What’s happening to me?” I whispered, even as I gazed at my knife and fought the disgusting-but-oh-so-tempting urge to run my tongue along the still-bloody blade.
I closed my eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I felt faint, desperate
to satiate that most base of desires.
I knelt beside the woman, and even as I heard myself whispering, “No,” I brushed a finger across her neck. Her body temperature was already falling, and the blood felt cool against my fingertip. I lifted my hand and pressed my finger to my lips, my tongue darting out to taste the sweet heaven of her blood.
No!
This time, the word echoed only in my head, but the force of it was strong enough to bring me to my feet. I slammed my hand down against my jeans, scrubbing the blood off and wishing I could scrub the sweet, sweet taste from my mouth, too.
First a sensual haze with Zane. Then that dark, violent brooding. Now a near-painful bloodlust?
It was all too freaking much. I needed answers, and I knew I couldn’t go to Clarence. Somehow the idea of bloodlust in one of heaven’s soldiers didn’t sound like something I wanted to confess. Not when you considered that knife he had no qualms about using if I failed to prove myself.
I grabbed my head, trying to keep the throbbing at bay, a deep, rhythmic pulse that originated as much with confusion as it did from my battle to keep myself away from the blood that called to me like heroin to a junkie.
Run. It was the only thing to do. Run and get clear and find my head again.
I gave her one last look, guilty about leaving her, and knowing that if I stayed, I would surely debase us both.
Run.
It was the only answer.
Run, dammit, run!
I ran.
I ran as if the devil himself were behind me. Because you know what? I think he was.
17
I ran, but I couldn’t escape the scent, my own horrific desires, or the guilt that accompanied my overwhelming, sickening hunger.
The blood covered me, had soaked into my shirt, had stained my hands, and all I could do was run. Alice’s apartment was right there, only meters away, but I didn’t go in. Didn’t want to surround myself in pastel pink and pretty images. Right then, nothing about me was pretty. Not the stains on my body. Not the anger in my heart.
And definitely not this sickening bloodlust that still burned through my veins.
Here I was, some big-shot, Über-bad assassin chick, and the first time I stumbled upon a demon actually attacking a human I’d managed to do exactly nothing. Nothing.
Worse than nothing, I’d defiled her death by a perverse thirst that had come over me.
What was the point? What was the point if I couldn’t save the innocent? I trembled, remembering the cold, gray death in the woman’s eyes. Remembering as well that cold gray in the eyes of my sister.
Goddammit. I was supposed to be better now. Pulled out of the useless mess of a life where I couldn’t even help my sister. I was supposed to have been chosen. A frickin’ savior for humankind, but so far, all I’d done was fail. The woman in the alley, the demon in Zane’s basement, my sister—raped and stalked and tormented. I’d killed, and yet I still couldn’t help anyone. Couldn’t keep my promises.
How the hell could I save the world if I couldn’t save even one person?
I hugged myself, the reality of this world I’d slipped into pressing hard around me. Murderous demons in dark alleys. Girls with Rose’s eyes and black souls.
Pretty freaking unreal.
Then again, I’d been plucked from the jaws of death. Get thee to a new body, and go forth to slay the demon. Yeah, perhaps astonishment at the revelation of horror movie-quality creatures in Boston was a misplaced emotion.
As my thoughts raged in my mind, my feet took me far away from Alice’s apartment. The dark streets were mostly empty, but I caught a few stares, then remembered I was covered in blood. Nice.
At least, I realized, the bloodlust had faded. Which was good, because if I thought about it too much more, I would seriously wig out.
The red leather duster hid the blood, but the white Bloody Tongue sweatshirt was covered. I slipped out of the coat, then peeled off the shirt, leaving me clad in the thin tank top I’d put on at Alice’s. Despite the chill in the October air, I didn’t shiver, the heat coursing through my veins sufficient to keep me warm.
I dumped the shirt in a trash can, then slid back into the duster as I kept on walking, my strides eating up the pavement. At first I heard nothing but the beating of my heart and my own footfalls. But after a mile or two, I heard the definite tread of someone behind me.
I wheeled around, hand on my knife, and came face-to-face with Clarence, looking as pissed off as a frog about to undergo dissection.
“I thought you didn’t have a Lily-scope?”
“I went back to your apartment,” he said. “Wanted to double-check. Make sure you’re okay. Shoulda got there sooner, I guess,” he added, his voice tight with control. “You’re an assassin, Lily. You’re not a vigilante.”
“He killed her. And you’re telling me I should have done nothing?”
With both hands, he raked his fingers through short, thick hair. “You did great. Awesome. You killed the big, bad, bloodsucking demon. Yay for you.”
My mouth hung open, because I was absolutely certain I was now in Wonderland.
Clarence sighed. “I’m sorry to rag on you, kid. It really was a solid kill. Nasty demon, now gone from the world. Kudos to Lily.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“You still don’t get it,” he said. “This isn’t about eradicating every demon that’s walking around out there—”
“I didn’t kill every demon,” I spat back in return, my mind flashing to Deacon before I quickly shoved the image away. “I killed one. One who was hanging around outside my apartment killing innocent women.”
“You think you’re invincible?” He poked me in the chest with one quick fingertip. “You ain’t. But you are the one who’s going to make sure the gate stays closed. And if you get whacked, you won’t be around to do that, now will you?” He snorted. “We lose the war, you gonna be happy you took out a demon or three? A vamp who was getting his rocks off with some skank he picked up at—”
“Skank?”
“I’m making a point. You wanna let me make my point?”
I put my hands up in a gesture of surrender and stepped back.
“Point is, you might win the battle, but you sure ain’t gonna win the war. Not like that. Not if you go running off with your own agenda.”
“He. Killed. Her.”
“Everyone dies, pet,” he said. “Like they say, ‘That’s life.’”
I crossed my arms, staring him down. “I didn’t.”
“My point,” he said. “You got a job to do. You got a purpose. Don’t screw it up for some tightly wound sense of justice.”
“Tightly wound?”
“That woman was gonna die no matter what. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not next year. But she ain’t living forever, and in the end, from her perspective, it’s all the same. What you’re fighting, though—that’s eternal. More than that, you screw it up and maybe that little lady’s soul don’t have such a nice place to go. Capisce? You gotta be a big-picture gal, Lily. ’Cause if you’re gonna go around sweating the small stuff, then we got loads of trouble ahead. Do you get that? Is any of this sinking in?”
“I get it,” I said. And I did. I’d been trying to help. To use these newfangled powers to protect the weak and innocent. People like Rose. But I wasn’t allowed to do that. Instead, I had to keep my eye on the mission and take my satisfaction where I was told.
Pretty lame for an Über-chick.
“An Über-chick who’s going to save the world, pet. Trust me when I say that’ll save a whole boatload of innocents.”
I knew he was right but it didn’t feel that way.
He looked at me, eyes narrowed, searching my thoughts. “Come on, kid. Chin up. You can’t afford to get distracted. We got too damn much to lose.” He swung an arm around me and hugged me like a chum. “It’s almost three, and you’re due back at Zane’s to train at ten, then you got a shift at the pub. You may not need sleep now, but I’m t
hinking downtime would be a good thing. Go take a little.”
I nodded and ran my fingers through my hair. He was right, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
I told myself I had every intention of going home, of closing out the night in Alice’s bed—my bed—and letting dreams carry me away from all this.
I told myself that, but then I kept on walking, twisting and turning down streets and alleys, not paying attention to where I was going, but letting the night lead me as I tried to empty my mind.
A steady bass thrum trembled through the air, the sidewalk beneath my feet throbbing with its syncopated beat. I stopped, turning as I tried to find the source of the music.
I realized then how far I’d wandered. I’d left the residential area far behind, and was now surrounded by warehouses and small businesses. The kind of off-the-beaten-path places that can repair your car or your antique typewriter and tend to be housed in metal buildings with garage-style doors.
The noise, I realized, was coming from a ramshackle warehouse on the corner, plastered with rain-stained posters advertising various bands I’d never heard of. I followed the music around the corner and found myself facing a guy in army fatigues smoking a cigarette as he lounged in a garden chair. He looked me up and down, his gaze barely even stalling as it hit the knife on my thigh.
“What’s the cover?”
“Fifteen,” he said. “We only got music, and we don’t shut down until dawn.” Which was doorman-speak for, “We got whatever drugs and alcohol you want, but I’m not saying because you might be vice.”
I still had my tip money, and I peeled a twenty from the wad of cash I intended to mail to Rose. “Keep the change,” I said, then took a step for the door. His hand across my chest stopped me. I looked down at his palm over my breasts, then up at his face. The hand came off, flying up in a gesture of peace and goodwill.
“Gotta lose the piece,” he said, nodding toward my knife.