by Sara Snow
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking of a question I asked you the other night.”
“What question was that?”
“The one you refused to answer.”
“Okay, guys. I think this is a good time for me to exit stage left,” Eli said. “If you want to join me in a few minutes, I’ll be in the kitchen blending up some protein shakes. Georgia, you’ll need a recovery drink after that workout.”
“So, are you going to tell me or not?” Georgia demanded.
Her cheeks, throat, and collarbones sparkled from her workout. Her raven-black hair, damp with sweat, formed tiny tendrils around her forehead. I felt a hard throb of desire in my gut, but I was too pissed off for that throb to last very long.
What bothered me wasn’t so much her bratty, intrusive question, it was her dig about the coffin. I wasn’t some trashy, B-movie bloodsucker—I was an immortal vampire with complicated origins.
“If you knew anything about how to relate to men,” I said coldly, “which you obviously don’t, judging by your track record, you’d know when to stop asking questions.”
Georgia recoiled, stung. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Fuck you, Carter. That’s the last question you’ll ever hear from me.” She spun around and stalked away.
“Wait, Georgia. Where are you going?”
“To the kitchen. To spend some time with a gentleman,” Georgia shot back over her shoulder.
Good job. I’d managed to alienate Georgia while setting her up with another man, someone much hotter than I was, who could make her smoothies at a moment’s notice and listen to her endless questions with sensitivity in his eyes.
Coffin or no, I needed a nap.
Why had Georgia gotten suspicious of me all of a sudden? I wondered about it as I climbed the stairs to my room. Had someone here told her about me? I couldn’t believe that any of my friends would do that. We had all made an agreement not to rush any outsiders into our world of fear and wonder. Especially not a young, fresh-off-the-farm cambion like Georgia.
Our confrontation in the training room made me feel even more like a shit-heel. I had just been out draining blood from an innocent woman’s neck, a woman I had left half-dead in her own car. Georgia, meanwhile, had been learning how to fight evil.
It might actually be a good thing if she hooks up with Eli.
Right now, she undoubtedly saw him as a big brother type—attractive but inaccessible. I, on the other hand, was a half-monster with a hidden agenda. I lied to myself about my ethics and my morals, telling myself I was on the side of light because I belonged to the Venandi.
But in reality, I was rarely honest with myself or anyone else.
Except for Jose. The kid came stumbling out of his room when I opened the door to my own. He rubbed his eyes with his fists and gave me a bleary smile, but that smile came a little too late.
He’d had another nightmare.
“I knew you’d be back,” Jose said. “I was just coming to look for you.”
“What’s up, big guy? Bad dreams again?”
I was more eager than ever to flop down into bed and sleep. I hoped Jose hadn’t had another vision that would send me out onto the streets to slay a demon.
But if Jose needed me, I would be there for him. If he hadn’t come along at that moment to pull my self-esteem out of the gutter, I might have needed counseling or something.
“Not exactly.”
“Want to come in and talk about it?”
Jose followed me into my room. I lay down on my back on the bed, not even bothering to kick my shoes off. Jose sank into a recliner beside my big-screen TV. I didn’t watch a lot of TV, but I did love old black-and-white comedies. Marilyn Monroe, Brigitte Bardot, Jayne Mansfield—those classic screen sirens sparked my libido like no other.
Their version of “sexy” didn’t involve asking a lot of questions. Not like a certain cambion I knew.
“So, what was your dream about?” I asked, trying not to yawn.
Jose chewed his thumbnail and stared at the blank TV screen. The kid spent way too much time sleeping. Every now and then, he would come out and join Eli for a game of pool, or work out a little with the weights in the training center. Otherwise, he was either in the dining room having a meal or taking one of his marathon naps.
“The yellow balloon,” he said. His voice had a low, gravelly quality that made my skin crawl. Prophet and visionary that he was, Jose would sometimes slip into other voices or use mannerisms that belonged to someone he had connected with in a dream.
Suddenly, Jose sat bolt upright. His face, usually the color of caramel, went dead white. His glazed eyes stared at something I could not see.
“What is it, Jose? What do you see?”
Jose turned to me. His weird gaze went right through me.
“Hell-loo, beautiful,” he said in that guttural voice. “Wanna buy a balloon?”
Just as quickly as he’d entered this alternate identity, Jose snapped back into his own.
“I don’t remember much of the dream,” he said. “But it bothered me.”
“Do you remember what just happened?”
He shook his head, smiling sweetly. “Nah. I never do.”
“Hmm. Probably just as well.” Whoever or whatever had occupied Jose’s body did not have good intentions. A miasma lingered in the room, engulfing the boy like a filthy old blanket. That gravelly voice, tainted with a leer, lingered in my mind.
I would have bet a thousand years of immortality that we’d be hearing that voice again very soon.
14
Georgia
The call center was a madhouse. The calls came in thick and fast, and between the time I clocked in and the time I finally logged out of the system for the night, I swear I never got a single break. My eardrums throbbed as I delicately pulled off my headset and set it down on my desk.
I dreamed of the day that I’d be able to take off that headset for the last time and fling it out the window of this prison camp they called an office building. But it didn’t look like that day would come anytime soon.
Bills from my hospital stay had started rolling in. At first, they scared the hell out of me. I frantically called the hospital’s accounts receivable department after every threatening form letter arrived. After about a dozen of those calls and frantic pleas for them not to send me to collections, I realized that whether or not I called, the bills were piling up.
Those bills and many others kept coming whether I opened them or threw them away. So, I just started throwing them away. After all, I couldn’t pay them.
But the bills did give me a lot of motivation to get out of my minimum wage job and into a nursing gig that might actually pay for something more than my rent and a few weeks’ worth of boxed mac n’ cheese. I had picked up my online classes again and was spending most of my nights hunched over the computer, working on dosage calculations or case studies and trying to distract myself from thoughts of Carter.
The last time we’d talked—had that really been two whole weeks ago?—I’d told him to fuck off. In fact, those were my last words to him, and I hadn’t forgotten the stunned, hurt look on his face when I reacted that way. Carter didn’t know me very well yet, so, of course, he’d been surprised when I opened my mouth and spewed obscenities at him.
My old car was still carrying me faithfully back and forth from work, but I knew the engine wouldn’t hold out forever. If the car had been in better shape and if I’d been less stressed about my work and school schedules, I would have tried to drive back to the warehouse to see the Venandi. I couldn’t believe such warm, loving beings had come into my life—had been the whole focus of my life—for such a short time, and now they’d disappeared. I had no idea if Carter & Company ever thought about me, or whether they would care if I never returned.
Back in my apartment, I sat down in front of my computer. The laptop took an eternity to grind itself to life. As I waited, I looked around the drab room. I had spent my whole childhood
waiting for the moment when I could be free—independent—only to end up in a concrete box with a microwave oven and an ugly carpet. The true signs of freedom.
I sighed and opened my email. Two of my nursing instructors were demanding to meet me online for advising appointments to discuss missing assignments and low exam scores. I couldn’t exactly tell them that I’d been too busy training as a demon slayer to bother. Nursing school seemed like a way out of the prison of minimum wage jobs, but I was starting to wonder if all the stress was worth it.
I flashed back to the warehouse, to my training sessions with Carter. He had seemed determined to turn me into a fierce and mighty slayer, but where was he now? I glanced at the dark stain on the rug where the soul-eater had been pulverized into mist. The night Carter fought that creature stood out as the highlight of my new life, the only splash of color and fire in a world of bills, time clocks, and worry.
No doubt about it—adulthood sucked.
One step at a time. It was the only way I’d get through this. I set a goal to finish an assignment for my Foundations of Nursing class. I was supposed to write a care plan for a 90-year-old woman with a pressure ulcer that had opened all the way to her sacrum. But wouldn’t it be easier if I could somehow give this elderly patient the gift of instant healing?
I was halfway through the tedious care plan when someone banged on my door. Panic punched me in the gut. Who would be hammering on my door this late at night? I had paid my rent—just barely, but I’d written out that check and had enough in my account to make good on it.
Another soul-eater?
This time, I would be ready. I had been trained to fight, and after my final frustrating encounter with Carter, I was primed for violence.
Tonight, I wouldn’t use an umbrella on my attacker. I was too sophisticated for that now. Instead, I pulled a chef’s knife out of the block in my kitchen. I had bought the stainless steel blade at a thrift store, imagining myself chopping kale and avocados for healthy salads. But fresh greens and avocados were way out of my meager budget. Now, I had plans to put that knife to better use.
Holding the blade against my body, I crept towards the door.
“Who is it?” I shouted. “Get out of here, you miserable, soul-sucking sack of shit!”
The door creaked open.
I froze, weapon in hand. Then, I crouched down like Carter and Eli had taught me, ready to pounce on my attacker. The door yawned wide. I sprang like a panther, screaming.
A firm hand caught my wrist in mid-air and smoothly pinned my arm behind my back.
“Not bad,” Carter said. There was actual admiration in his voice. “I would have been dead meat if I hadn’t taught you those moves myself.”
He wasn’t even breathing hard. I, on the other hand, had turned to Jell-o. Relief flooded through me, so strong that I almost wet my pants.
“Carter, how the hell did you get the door open?”
“I turned the doorknob. You didn’t lock it. I knocked first.”
“You didn’t knock, you pounded! Were you trying to scare me to death?”
“On the contrary, I need your help.”
“Then you shouldn’t have tried to kill me.”
“Calm down, Georgia. You’re shaking.”
“I need to sit down.”
I sank into one of the folding chairs at the rickety card table I’d bought. A plate of congealing macaroni and cheese sat there, abandoned. I had microwaved the food an hour ago and forgotten to eat it. Now, my stomach rumbled. I was so weak from hunger that even the gluey mac and cheese looked appetizing.
Carter took the seat next to me. “What a delightful meal,” he remarked. “I’ve never seen that shade of orange on anything edible before.”
“First you terrify me, then you follow that up with an insult. Not everyone can afford rack of lamb and two-hundred-year-old cognac.”
I didn’t care what Carter thought about my artificially-colored dinner. I was starving. I grabbed a fork and began to wolf down the macaroni. Carter watched me with an amused look on his face.
“I missed you, Georgia.”
I stopped mid-bite, my mouth full. “Whaa?”
“We got used to having you around. The place isn’t the same without your snarky charm.”
“I’m glad you think I’m so charming. Most of the time, I’m just trying to protect my own ass.”
Somehow, Carter had gone from “I” to “we” in his last two statements. There was a big difference, and I was sure he knew it. My cheeks felt warm. I hadn’t forgotten the sharp tone he’d used with me that last day in the training center, or how small I’d felt when he blew off my questions about his origins.
“I wish you’d stayed,” he said. His voice was softer now. Almost serious.
I shrugged. “I would have, if I’d felt welcome. I’m a master at knowing when I’m not wanted.” I stood up and carried my sticky bowl to the sink, then took my time washing it.
“Georgia, listen. You were anything but unwanted. We all want you. We need you.”
“Of course,” I said lightly. “Everybody needs something. No such thing as a free lunch, right?”
Carter got up to stand behind me. He touched the small of my back. I refused to turn around. That cheap plastic bowl was washed within an inch of its life, but I kept scrubbing.
“We need you, and you need us. You’re not safe here alone.”
“You didn’t have a problem leaving me alone for the past two weeks!” I wheeled around to face him. “Nobody called. Nobody came by. I don’t know where I belong anymore, Carter. You took me in and made me feel like you were all my family, then I left and it was like the whole thing never happened!”
“We thought you left because you wanted some time to make up your mind about joining us. We never coerce anyone. Members have to come in of their own free will.”
“If you think I’m in danger, then why haven’t you come around to check on me? That would have been the ethical thing to do.”
“Listen, Miss High and Mighty, I’ve driven past your building every day since you left. I watch you get out of your car and climb the stairs. I wait until the light goes on in your window, and then I sit out on the street in my car for a while, just to make sure you are safe.”
“You were stalking me, in other words.” I planted my fists on my hips and faced off with him. This time, I wasn’t going to let him win any staring contests. “Instead of coming up to my apartment to apologize for what you said the last time we talked, you hung around like some creeper night after night, waiting to see me strut around in my panties.”
Carter looked genuinely shocked. “Georgia, I would never—”
“Of course you would! You’re a guy, aren’t you?”
“Please! You’re being impossible.” Carter threw up his hands in exasperation. “I wasn’t stalking you, I was giving you your space.”
“Well, my ‘space,’ as you put it, is lonely and cold. Look at this dump. You think anyone would choose to live here voluntarily?”
“You’re not a little girl anymore. You do have a choice—you just have to make a decision. I’m asking you to join the Venandi. I want you to keep training with us.”
“Why should I? I’ve done a perfectly good job taking care of myself for the past twenty-one years.”
Carter took me by the shoulders and gave me a gentle shake. “Georgia, get this through your lovely head. Your life is not what you thought it was. You are not who you thought you were. Yes, you’ve been able to defend yourself in the past. But that’s changed. You are dealing with a whole new level of evil now.”
Tears welled in my eyes. I jerked my arms free so I could wipe them away before Carter noticed. “I wish you’d stop threatening me with all this supernatural evil stuff. I don’t know if I want to be part of that world.”
“You already are, whether you want to be or not,” Carter said.
He whisked a stray tear off my cheek with his thumb. Shit, he caught me.
&n
bsp; “I wasn’t going to tell you about this, but now I think I should,” Carter went on. “The first night you came to the warehouse, I was late joining everyone because I’d received an important message.”
“What, like an email?”
Carter gave me a sardonic smile. “I wish it had been an email. This message came in the form of a violent crime. It was a threat, not only against the Venandi and me, but against you. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to upset you, but now I need you to know that you are in grave danger. The only way to protect yourself is to join us and continue building your powers.”
“What kind of crime are you talking about?”
“A murder. A ritualistic murder with a clear perpetrator.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops and let them take care of it?”
“The cops only deal with human crime. They have no control over the realm of demons.”
I sat down and began to twist a long lock of my hair around my finger. It was an old habit from childhood, something I did when I was anxious or scared. At times, I had wound that hair so tight my finger turned blue.
Carter knelt in front of me. “I know you’re scared. You’re too intelligent not to be scared right now. But that’s why it’s critical that you keep training with me.” He took my hand and tugged the lock of hair away. “You’re going to lose a finger if you keep that up.”
“Fine. I’ll train with you. As long as you stop treating me like a snotty kid.”
I didn’t want Carter to see how utterly terrified I was. Part of me wanted to question him about this gory message from the demon realm, what kind of dangers he meant, but another part of me just wanted to get back to my online classes and forget this other side of reality existed.
I needed some kind of control. And it looked like the only way to get it was by joining forces with the Venandi.
“Well, I admit that I can be a condescending ass at times.”
“You think?”
“Good. Then we agree on at least one thing.”
I smiled.
“So, let’s get back to your training. This time, we’ll take it up a level. We’ll be fighting out in the streets. With a real demon. Come with me.”