by Tami Lund
Yeah, yeah, there were plenty of giant holes in her plan, but it was the best she could do, given she was a vigilante of one.
Sometimes the dealer would get pissed and try to fight her on the spot. She hated these scenarios the most because it was in front of witnesses. Humans. Children. People who didn’t need to see this shit go down.
Still, when the guy took a swing at her, she had no choice. She had to fight back. Her goal was to scare him into giving up his trade. And if scaring him didn’t work, well, Antoinette wasn’t afraid to use any means necessary to reach her goal.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
One less dealer meant one less monster on the streets, enticing people like her best friend into a lifestyle that ended only one way: death, too damn soon.
Antoinette ducked to avoid the hit, then delivered a punch to his kidney. He doubled over for a few seconds but straightened and charged at her, shoving his shoulder into her midsection and slamming her against the fence. She grunted and grabbed the belt loops on his jeans, using them for leverage as she lifted her leg and pounded her knee into his stomach.
“Fucking bitch,” he said, snarling. “If there weren’t witnesses, I’d shift into a dragon and fry your ass.”
“Ha. You wish.” Antoinette shoved him away and kicked him in the gut, sending him flying backward. The sound of breaking glass echoed all around them as vials of dragon’s blood spilled from the pocket of his hoodie. Antoinette began deliberately stomping on them to make sure none were still viable, while the dealer used a string of curse words to express his displeasure at the action.
Something—or someone—jumped onto her back; thin fingers with yellowed nails chewed to the quick scrabbled at her face, narrowly missing gouging out one of her eyes.
“Shit,” Antoinette snapped. “I’m trying to help you, moron.” She reached behind her, poking the damn wacko in the side.
“Give me my dragon’s blood,” the druggie called out.
Antoinette grabbed her hair and gave it a hard yank and the girl fell to the pavement on her back. “What you need is to get cleaned up and get the fuck on with your life.”
A fist slammed into her chin, whipping her head to the side as bloody spittle flew from her mouth. Damn, that hurt.
The dealer. Usually, these fights were one-on-one.
A crowd had gathered on the other side of the fence, and no doubt the human police had been called. Antoinette needed to wrap this shit up and get the hell out of there, pronto.
Shaking off the pain, she delivered one-two punches in quick succession, until the guy wobbled on his feet, his eyes glassy, his mouth hanging open. Then, ignoring the idiot user, she grabbed him by his collar and dragged him away from the spectators and into an alley on the next block. She slammed his back against the brick wall and wedged her arm under his chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. Luckily, she was pretty damn tall.
While he was still dazed and in no condition to resist, she searched his pockets, finding another handful of the figurines that hid the coveted dragon’s blood. She stuffed them all into the front pocket of her hoodie and then focused on the guy who was finally starting to gather his wits around him.
She pressed her arm more firmly against his windpipe until he grabbed her and tried to loosen her hold. She relaxed, marginally, and said, “This is your one and only warning, dickhead. Find a new career path. If I catch you dealing this shit again, you don’t get to walk away. Got it?”
He nodded so eagerly, she had a slight glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, this one would listen the first time. It rarely happened, though. These confrontations didn’t always end with some other dragon’s death, but more often than not, there was a broken limb or two involved. Whatever it took to get a verbal commitment out of them to lay off the dealing.
Except that for every dealer she convinced to leave the streets, another popped up to take his or her place without fail, or so it sure as hell felt like.
Being a vigilante sucked dragon balls, to be honest. The only reason she didn’t give up was because Eulalie’s face haunted her dreams, reminding her that she should have done something back then instead of pretending her best friend wasn’t actually addicted to the drug, wasn’t wasting her life away, wasn’t convinced she loved the guy feeding her the shit that ultimately killed her.
And since it didn’t seem like anyone else was trying to stop the disease taking over their colony, Antoinette had no choice. She had to keep at it.
She let the guy go and he bolted. She fell back against the wall, breathing heavily. Fuck, her face hurt. She touched her cheek, gingerly, and winced. It was already swelling. Would definitely be a nasty bruise by evening.
With a sigh, she straightened and brushed off her clothing. The glass figurines clattered together in her pocket. She needed to dispose of them and check in with Henri. Although she had a little time, and truthfully, she wanted a drink. And her favorite watering hole was only two blocks away.
It was a little off-the-beaten-path place with this cool outdoor seating patio in the back, and, yeah, even though it was January, it was fifty degrees outside. The outdoor area would be open and not very busy. Perfect.
It was also run by a dragon who was sympathetic to Antoinette’s plight.
“Hey, Mitch,” she greeted the owner-slash-bartender. “I’ll take your iciest, coldest bottle of beer and a bloody mary, heavy on the Tabasco.”
“Used your day off to take down another one of those little assholes, I see,” he said as he popped the cap and placed a bottle of Pabst on the counter.
She scooped it up and pressed it against her swelling cheek and then sighed as the cold seeped into her heated skin. “I think this one actually listened without me having to take extreme measures.”
“For once.” He set about mixing her drink. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I sure wish you’d get some help.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have more to think about than just yourself, you know,” he chastised.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He was right, of course, but Antoinette wasn’t very good at saying that.
“I hate knowing you’re out there all on your own,” he continued. “One of these days, you aren’t going to show up for your shift, and I’m going to hate it.”
He set the hurricane glass on the bar and added a strip of bacon, a fat pickle, a couple of marinated green beans, and a jumbo shrimp. The damn drink was a meal in and of itself. She reached for it and he grabbed her hand, holding it while he added a couple extra drops of Tabasco.
“You’re my hero, Mitch. I’m going to go sit outside.”
“I’ll send Bebé to check on you in a bit.”
She nodded and then headed to her sanctuary.
She’d frequented this place long before she was old enough to drink. Her mom used to work here, and Mitch used to let her and Eulalie and Eulalie’s brother, Ketu, hang out here after school. All three of them had worked in the kitchen at one point or another, and now Antoinette was the daytime bartender, four days a week.
And yeah, this was where she’d had her first alcoholic beverage. Her first kiss, too. And when Ketu had found out, he’d scared the shit out of the kid and run him off. Eulalie had found it hilarious because for once, he wasn’t scaring off her suitors.
I hate these memories. That’s all they are, all they’ll ever be. I’ll never have more.
Still holding the bottle to her face, she took a hefty swig of her bloody mary and stepped out onto the patio. There was only one other person out here, a guy tucked into a corner, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles while he nursed a draft beer and drew circles with his finger on the plastic table cloth. Even though his face was in profile and mostly hidden in shadows, something about him felt familiar. It was probably just that he was a dragon. Not anyone she recognized right off the bat, though, and honestly, she wanted to be left alone, so she sat at a table as far away from him as she could get.
Resting her tennis
shoes on the chair across from her, Antoinette pushed her hood off her hair before settling into her seat and pulling out her phone. She munched on the bacon and clicked the Facebook icon to get rid of the little red dot indicating someone had tagged her in a post. The screen filled with a twelve-year-old picture, one of those Facebook memories she loathed. They were always, always bittersweet reminders.
This one was a photo of her and Eulalie and Ketu, all grinning, standing behind a tiny snowman that came up only to their thighs. Well, hers and Eulalie’s thighs. Ketu had been one of the few boys who was a good eight inches taller than Antoinette, who was five ten without heels.
She totally remembered that day. It had started snowing overnight, a rare occurrence for New Orleans. Even rarer that it had stuck, and there was enough coating the ground that they’d been able to scrape together the rather pathetic-looking snowman.
She and Eulalie were eighteen, Ketu twenty-two in that picture. The girls had been halfway through their senior year in high school; Ketu was visiting. He’d moved to Biloxi, was taking classes at a trade school there, learning carpentry, if her memory served. A few months later, Eulalie would catch Darius’s eye, and her life would begin the downward spiral that would ultimately lead to her death. And a few months after that, Ketu would disappear without a trace.
They’d both left her to figure out life on her own, and as far as she was concerned, she’d done a shitty job, aside from her vigilante attempts to crack down on dragon’s blood sales. And, hell, half the time she didn’t have confidence she wasn’t doing a terrible job at that, either.
Bebé, Mitch’s wife and primary server, stepped up to her table. “Hey, Antoinette. Oh, wow, that’s a bad one. Let me go get you a real ice pack, huh? You want another bloody, too?”
Antoinette touched her swollen cheek. Her drink was nearly empty. She didn’t recall finishing it, but that sometimes happened when she was lost in the memories. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Bebé.”
She watched as Bebé headed over to check on the guy in the corner. He asked her something and then glanced up, his gaze clashing with Antoinette’s. A sizzle of awareness shot through her, like dragon’s blood pouring through her veins. She’d never touched the stuff, but Eulalie had said it was like fire roaring through her blood but in a good way. Antoinette had never been able to understand how she could say that sensation was “good.”
Until now.
She couldn’t be sure of the color from this distance, but the guy’s eyes appeared to be lighter than she would have expected, given his dark skin tone. He had thick, black eyebrows, plump lips, and the beginnings of a beard on his cheeks. She didn’t even need to see the rest of his body; he was gorgeous. And she already knew he had really long legs. He’d be at least her height, maybe even a couple inches taller.
Breaking eye contact, she shifted her focus to her glass so she could fish out the last vodka-soaked green bean. A moment later, a shadow fell across her table. She knew it was that guy without even looking.
“Antoinette?”
He knew her name. She glanced up… and up and up. Holy cripes, he had to be six and a half feet tall, at least. And was he ever built. There were muscles everywhere, and they were big, really big. Including that one tucked behind his zipper, which was practically eye level with her slouching in her seat like this.
Straightening and forcing her gaze north to his face, she said, “Do I know you?”
He rubbed his hand over his closely cropped hair and said, “Well, it’s been ten years. I admit I probably wouldn’t have recognized you either if I hadn’t overheard Bebé say your name.”
It’s been ten years? He knows Bebé?
“Your hair is different. I like it.”
“Who are you?” she finally asked, studying his features. Those eyes, they really were lighter than one would expect with his skin tone. Hazel. Almost green.
Just like Eulalie’s.
“Holy shit,” she said, scrambling to her feet, like she was going to—what the hell was she going to do? Hug him? “Ketu?”
The ghost of a smile touched his lips, and he said, “Yeah. Good to see you again, Antoinette.”
She sank back into her seat, her legs giving out on her. His brows furrowed and then he dropped into the chair next to her, his gaze sweeping over her features.
“What happened to your face?”
Right on cue, Bebé stepped onto the patio with two drinks and an ice pack on her tray. The waitress glanced over at the seat Ketu had vacated and then swiftly looked Antoinette’s way. A relieved smile lit up her face as she headed toward them.
“I thought you’d skipped out on me for a second there,” she said as she placed a pint glass in front of Ketu and a bloody mary in front of Antoinette. “Here’s your ice pack, sugar.”
“Thanks, Bebé.” She pressed the cold pack against her face while the waitress walked away.
“So what’s the other guy look like?” Ketu asked, and Antoinette chuckled.
“Way worse, I promise you. So what are you doing back in town?” And why the hell was her heart acting all crazy, like it was trying to beat its way out of her chest? For the love of the gods, it was just her best friend’s brother. And, frankly, she ought to be pissed off at him. He’d left when she’d been at her most vulnerable, when she needed a friend more than she ever had before in her life.
He rubbed his hand over his chin and took a sip of his beer. “Doing some work for my reeve.”
“Your reeve?” His reeve was her reeve. Who, by the way, was a wimpy piece of shit loser who let his asshole, drug-dealing son run the colony into the ground. If she ever got close to Darius, she’d do a hell of a lot more than just kick his ass. Which he well knew, clearly, since she wasn’t even allowed to attend colony meetings anymore, and he always, always walked around with an army of guards surrounding him.
“Yeah.” Ketu cleared his throat. “I, uh, joined another colony. Up north. Detroit area.”
She leaned back in her chair, taking her drink with her. She definitely needed it right now. “So that’s where you ran off to.”
He shrugged and rested his elbows on the table. “I didn’t have a plan when it happened. I just needed to get the hell out of this place. Not like you, I see. You stayed here all this time?”
“Where else would I go?”
“Anywhere that wasn’t here.” He glanced around at the patio with its mismatched wrought iron tables and chairs and colorful umbrellas. Sure, the furniture had been upgraded over the years, but it didn’t look much different than it had when they were kids. “Too damn many memories,” he murmured, his gaze far away.
She blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, I guess staying and wallowing was easier than leaving and forgetting.”
“I haven’t forgotten. Maybe that’s what I was trying to do when I left, but I realized a long time ago that I’ll never forget.” Those pale eyes of his were all but drowning in despair. “Trust me. She’s with me, in everything I do, every single day.”
Ouch. That was about the most Ketu had ever said about Eulalie since she died. Antoinette cleared her throat. “So, um, have you seen your parents yet? How long have you been back, anyway?”
“Yes, I’ve seen my mom but not my dad yet.”
Did that mean he’d already met Henri?
“I just got here late last night,” Ketu continued. “Although I was here briefly in October, but it was literally for a few hours and then we got back onto a plane and returned to Detroit.”
Antoinette hated the twinge of annoyance that hit her. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to look her up this time around either if they hadn’t accidentally bumped into each other.
She abruptly stood. The dragon figurines clattered together in the front pocket of her hoodie. Ketu’s sharp gaze dropped and stared, which for some reason gave her goose bumps. He reached for her; she took a step away.
And then he was on his feet, his beefy hand wrapped around her bicep, holding her in place while
he shoved his other hand into her pocket.
“Hey! Knock it off,” she shouted, struggling to get out of his grip.
He extracted a tiny glass dragon and lifted it to eye level, staring hard at the red liquid swirling inside. After a few seconds, his gaze shifted to her face. His brows furrowed, his lip curled, and he all but snarled, “What the fuck, Antoinette? After what we went through with Eulalie, you’re messing with this shit? Are you fucking insane?”
He waved the figurine in her face, and she snatched it out of his fingers and stuffed it back into her pocket. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Yeah, Eulalie used to give us that same song and dance.”
“Trust me, I’m nothing like Eulalie.” Eulalie was weak. She hated herself every time she thought it, but it was true. Antoinette wouldn’t touch the stuff with a ten-foot pole, no matter who was offering it, whereas Eulalie had been willing to do anything to keep Darius’s attention.
“Could have fooled me.”
She pulled a small wad of bills out of her pocket and tossed a couple of them onto the table. “You know what? I don’t need this shit. Goodbye, Ketu. I hope you’re heading back to Detroit soon.” Then she hurried away, slipping out through the wrought iron gate and walking at a clipped pace up the street, toward home.
She needed a shower. And to dispose of the drugs in her pocket.
And she needed to figure out how to stop the flood of memories before they left her drowning in a pool of her own despair.
Again.
Chapter 3
Ketu stared into the mirror, scraping the hair off his cheeks. Mamá would give him hell if he showed up to dinner with a five o’clock shadow.
Like that was the biggest of his problems at the moment.
Yeah, Mamá’s rules were important, but shit. The tough-as-nails eighteen-year-old girl he thought had been devastated over her best friend’s death was now messing with the stuff that killed her? How the hell had that happened?
Was it money? She’d had a crappy home life, as he recalled, and she hadn’t ever talked about her dreams about the future like Eulalie always did. Eulalie had wanted to be an astronaut, a chemist, a lawyer—all sorts of human career paths that, in truth, might have been attainable if she hadn’t taken that first dose of dragon’s blood.