Friends With The Monsters

by Albany Walker

  “Yeah, nothing necessarily weird going on,” I mock Grim, and kick off my boots, sending them sailing into the backyard. “You should really stop talking to yourself. Someone is going to think you’re crazy.” I slam the door hard and flip the lock for good measure.

  I make my way through the house and yank my curtains closed as I do. How many times has that guy, or someone like him, been peeking in my windows without my knowledge? I’ve become too complacent. He should have never even gotten that close to me without alerting me.

  Over the years, I’ve learned to dull my senses and only use them when I need to feed, but I think it’s time I hone those impressions I get and figure out exactly what I’m capable of.

  “Where are you going?” Aeson chirps from my vanity. I glance over my shoulder.

  “Where have you been?” I turn to fully face her.

  “Whoa, va-va-va-voom!” The tiny dark slashes over her equally dark eyes wiggle in my direction. “Hot date? Is it the bleeder?”

  I run my palms over my short, bodycon dress. “You like?” I ask, spinning to give her the full effect.

  “I do. If you could spare a few inches of fabric, I could make one for myself.” She angles her head from left to right. “But it doesn’t look like you can. The bleeder is one lucky SOB.”

  “It’s not for the bleeder—not the way you’re thinking, anyway. And his name is Gunnar,” I confess, and drop onto the edge of my bed. “I think he has someone watching me.”

  “Kinky. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Aeson shrugs.

  I roll my eyes. “I have tried it, and—again—not what I meant. He was here last night with a human.” I pause. “He had the human watching the house. I caught him when I came out of the woods.” I haven’t had anyone to talk to about this. I barely slept all day thinking about what I was going to do tonight.

  “Intriguing.” Aeson rubs her tiny palms together. “Are you going to eat his face off?”

  “No.” I grab a pillow from the head of the bed and place it over my lap. “That’s just an Aeson thing. Most people don’t eat off other people’s faces.”

  She waves her hand at me like I’m the one being ridiculous. “It’s a problem solver,” she argues. “What’s the plan then?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” I pull at the fabric of the pillow. “I want to know why he was here, and why he had someone watching me.”

  “Well, I only see two options.” Aeson kicks up her little legs, showing off her spiky heels. “You could eat his face off, since everyone talks when you’re munching on their eyelids.” She peers at me like she’s just offered the best possible advice.

  She rolls her eyes when I don’t immediately jump at the suggestion. “Or…you could play dumb, get close to him, seduce him, and find out what you want to know.” She pauses for a brief second. “Then you can eat his face, or I’ll do it for you.”

  “Taking one for the team, huh?” I toss the pillow off to the side of the bed. I kind of like the idea of not letting him know I knew he was here last night.

  “You know me—I’m a giver.” Aeson wiggles her shoulders in a shimmy.

  I giggle despite the darkness of the conversation. I know for a fact Aeson hasn’t chewed on anyone who didn’t deserve it.

  “Well, I’m going back to the club. Wish me luck.” I smooth my hands down my dress again before heading to the closet for a pair of shoes.

  “In that getup, you won’t need luck: just a stiff breeze and you’ll have everyone’s attention.” My fierce little friend winks at me as I head out the door. I poke my head back in just as Aeson moves to stand.

  “Sorry I’m bailing on you again tonight.” I can feel the frown on my face. I’ve been hoping for company the last few days, and now here she is, and I’m leaving.

  “Don’t worry about it. Go have fun. I’ll see you soon,” she replies, dismissing me easily.

  “Feel free to raid the closet for anything you want,” I tell her in consolation.

  “Anything?” Her eyes are bright.

  “Anything,” I confirm.

  “Woohoo!” She jumps down to the seat in front of the vanity, then slides down the leg of the chair. There’s a smile on my face when I bounce down the stairs.

  I’m cautious when I open the door connecting the garage to the house. This new feeling of apprehension has put me on edge, but I kind of like the intrigue of it all. I think I’ve gotten rather bored with the way things have been going.

  I don’t bother turning on a light; my eyes are already accustomed to the darkness. Betty is sitting in her usual spot. Even the dimness can’t hide the glitter flecks in her paint.

  After I’m seated, I hit the button to open the garage door, reaching out with my extra senses as it does. I spent the hours I couldn’t sleep today pushing myself to see how far my ability to sense someone would stretch.

  I struggled a bit at first. I’ve been training myself for a long time to ignore and dull my extra senses. I didn’t really feel like they had much purpose when I wasn’t actively hunting. I let the awareness come over me now, dropping the walls I didn’t even realize I had been erecting.

  I can feel Aeson still up in my bedroom. She tastes like I would imagine a red wine would taste, heady with a sour aftertaste. Pushing further out, I feel a human, but not the same one from last night. He’s about a mile from the house. I touch the edge of his soul. If he’s sinned today, it’s too small for me to sense, at least from this distance. But I do wonder what he’s doing out here—another spy for Gunnar, perhaps?

  A flicker of something dark appears near the human. I know without a doubt it’s Grim, and my breath catches. Is he here to take the man’s soul? Why else would both of them be here, now?

  A sense of urgency comes over me, I need to know what Grim is doing here. Betty could cover the distance of a mile in a matter of seconds, but they would hear me coming before I could get close to them. I look down at my heels and dress. “Shit!” I slam my palms on the steering wheel. There’s no way I could run in these shoes. I kick off my heels and climb out of Betty, feet be damned. I want to know what they’re up to. Too bad my senses don’t tell me anything other than if they’re sinful or give me a gauge of their humanity, or lack thereof.

  Cutting through the woods will offer me cover, and it’s the quickest route, but I’ll lose a little bit of speed running barefoot. I jog along my driveway, staying on the grass, but I still wince every time I step on a rock or almost trip over the uneven ground. Once I’m closer, I slow my trot and move behind the tree line.

  My heart is racing and I’m panting. Yup, I definitely need to work out. But I’m also filled with excitement. Who knew what a thrill it would be to have someone stalking you?

  Chapter 7

  The human is leaning against his car, staring down at a cell phone in his hand, seemingly oblivious to the dark presence.

  I look around for Grim. I can sense him, but he must be cloaking himself, because I can’t see him anywhere. Making sure not to step on any twigs, I inch closer. The night is so quiet that I hear when the man’s phone vibrates in his hand.

  “Great, I was just about to win,” he mumbles, then brings the phone up to his ear. “Yeah?” he answers.

  I use his distraction to get even closer, but I pause, realizing that if I can feel Grim, he might be aware of me, too. Damn it. I pull back a little and focus on where I think he is—several feet on the other side of the road. His essence tastes smoky, like a campfire.

  “No movement,” the human says into the phone, not bothering to keep his voice down. Ha, I was right, he is here to watch the house. I wonder if it’s Gunnar on the other end of the line.

  Grim chooses that moment to step out of his shimmering portal. I tilt my head, realizing I can sense him when he’s not really here. That’s new. I wonder if it’s because I’ve actually met him, or was it because I was actively looking?

  I file those thoughts away to think about later and focus on what’s happening
in front of me now. The man drops the phone from his hand and takes a step back, the heel of his shoe scraping against the tire of his SUV.

  “What the hell?” He looks at Grim, who’s completely cloaked in his robe. The only new addition would be the gleaming scythe curved over his head. I slam my hand over my mouth to keep myself from speaking. That thing looks wicked. The dark wooden handle is worn smooth and bent crooked in places. It looks like it’s been curved and honed into shape with years of use. The blade is outrageously large, and the arc of the knife edge catches the glow of the moon in an unnatural way. Runes and letters are etched along the top, giving it an even more terrifying appearance. It’s strangely beautiful.

  “Quiet,” Grim orders. A chill skates down my spine when he speaks. His voice is layered, making it sound as if several people are speaking at once.

  “Wha-what do y-you want?” the man stammers.

  “I want you to tell the Berserker that I know the pact has been broken. Without the covenant in place, all deals are off.” Grim takes a step closer to the man. “He broke the decree, and now he will deal with the consequences.”

  “I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him,” the man promises, arching back to get as far away from Grim as possible.

  It takes everything inside of me to stay hidden behind the trees. I don’t want to reveal how much I’ve heard, especially when I have no idea if any of this involves me. Grim disappears, dissolving back into the place he came from, and my awareness of him fades quickly.

  The man collapses back against the car, a curse falling from his lips. Seconds later, he scrambles for the fallen phone on the ground.

  “Are you there?” he asks, panting into the phone. “Holy fuck! I think that was the Grim-fucking-Reaper!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small set of keys. The SUV chirps, unlocking. He fumbles with the door handle, trying to get in, while still holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

  “I didn’t sign up for this shit. Did you hear what he said?” He slams the door behind him, and I hear the lock engage. I don’t really think that would keep anyone out, but if it makes him feel better… The engine turns over and he screeches off without another glance in the direction of my house.

  Once he’s fled, I step out onto the grassy strip near the side of the road. My feet are a little achy now that all the excitement is over. I wince, thinking about how much it’s going to suck putting my heels back on.

  On the walk back to Betty, my mind spins with the different ideas of what pact Grim could be talking about, and who the Berserker is. Gunnar comes to mind. The plot thickens.

  Now, I don’t just have to figure out what Gunnar is up to—I need to add Grim to that list as well.

  It’s Saturday night, and the line to get in is wrapped around the corner. Girls in skimpy dresses are huddled close, trying to keep warm in the evening chill, while guys have their hands shoved into their pockets, attempting to look unaffected.

  I saunter up to the entrance, and Reggie’s eyes scan me from head to toe. “Looking good,” he purrs. I don’t recognize the man with him.

  “Hey, Reggie, busy night?” I cock out my hip a little to exaggerate my curves.

  “Full house, but we always have room for you.” His dark eyes scan me again.

  “You’re so sweet.” I give him a seductive smile and step a little closer. The new guy unclips the red rope he’s standing behind and steps to the side, allowing me to pass.

  I look over my shoulder and notice the expression on Reggie’s face has shifted. The flirty smirk is gone, and it’s been replaced with a look of concentration as he brings his fingers up to his ear. I watch his lips move in a mumble, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

  The new guy jabs Reggie in the arm with his elbow when he sees me watching. Reggie pulls his hand down and tightens his lips into what I think he’s hoping is a smile, but the effort is wasted. It’s easy to see how forced it is, which makes me super suspicious.

  I enter the dark hall where the once-blue lights are now a deep purple. The music is loud enough so that I can already hear and feel the bass hitting with each beat of the song through the floor and walls. Another security guy reaches for the door handle of the club as I approach. “Welcome to Rumors,” he greets me.

  He pulls the handle before I can respond, and the noise drowns out any reply I could have given him, so I nod my head while passing him.

  Instead of heading to the bar like usual, I skirt the edge of the club. It’s so packed tonight that I can’t even see the dance floor through all the bodies clustered around the edges. I need a better vantage point if I want to look for Gunnar. With my luck, he won’t even be here.

  The veritable buffet of sins wafting my way is distracting me, though. Every person I walk past seems to be riddled with misdeeds, tempting me to stop and taste them.

  A heaviness settles over me, almost like someone is pushing against me. I shove against the sludge-like oppression and find myself in a nearly empty section of the club. Several heads turn in my direction.

  Vanessa is seated among a group of people. They look human, but the darkness seeping from them tells me they’re far from it.

  “Sorry to crash your party.” I wave my hand, noticing Gunnar emerging from a hallway. I let my eyes skip over him quickly, as if I don’t recognize him. “Private event?” I purse my lips patronizingly.

  “How are you even over here?” Vanessa stands up slowly and two beefy men rise with her.

  “Pretty sure I just walked.” I look over my shoulder to see if there’s anything there that should have stopped me, but don’t see anything.

  “Are the wards not working?” She glares at a woman next to her.

  “They’re in place. I checked them myself,” the girl replies quickly, looking at me closely with her head tilted to the side. The wards must have been the sludge I felt.

  Vanessa focuses on me again. “You’re Deanna, right?” She bars her arm across the man next to her as if she’s holding him back. She knows exactly who I am. She’s lying about not knowing my proper name.

  “Close enough.” I don’t bother correcting her. “I can see this is an invite-only kind of thing.” I give her a condescending wink, telling her exactly what I think of her and her friends. “I have other plans this evening. If you’ll excuse me.” I glance over at Gunnar for a brief second, then give Vanessa and her men a small wave, before I walk right through the middle of their group. I end up on the opposite side I entered from, pushing past the wards like I’m walking through water, and making sure they see I didn’t feel an ounce of resistance.

  “Who was that?” a masculine voice inquires.

  “No one. Finish your business,” Gunnar spits, abruptly ending any questions.

  As soon as I clear the bubble Vanessa called a ward, that section of the club is obscured again. However, it only takes a scant bit of concentration before the whole group of them come back into focus. I make a point of looking around as if I’m looking for someone. “Hey!” I wave my hand and move a little farther into the crowd like I’m greeting someone. Once the bodies fill in around me, I turn to watch the warded section.

  Gunnar marches up to Vanessa. I can see his jaw ticking as he grinds his teeth. I watch his mouth to see if I can make out the words he’s saying, but I’m not able to read his lips. He delivers a fierce glare to the small group around Vanessa, before storming back toward the hall he came through.

  “Somebody’s in trouble,” I singsong, looking around to find a place from which I can watch them without being detected, until I’m ready to find Gunnar again.

  “Excuse me, sorry.” I shimmy past a group of guys sitting across from the bar. They have two tables, but most of them are standing and drinking anyway, as they holler over the loud music to hear each other.

  “Mind if I borrow a chair?” I blink up at a handsome man with a glass bottle in his hand. His narrowed eyes scan me. I study him back in the same way.

  His hair is too short to be
called long, but too long to be called short, either. He has a fine scruff covering his jaw. It’s a shade or two darker than his light hair, but I notice how the very ends of his hair are tipped dark like the stubble on his jaw. Interesting.

  I take a second to appreciate the width of his shoulders and neck. He’s dressed pretty casually—dark jeans and a loose, long-sleeved t-shirt. It’s not doing much to show off what’s underneath, but it shows his confidence. He doesn’t need to go all out to be noticed. He looks exceptionally comfortable in his own skin. I wish I could make out the true color of his light eyes, but the club is rather dark.

  Nothing about him seems deceitful. If anything, he almost feels too pure. It’s not that he’s never sinned—it’s only that I can tell he doesn’t make a habit of it.

  It takes the physical attraction I’m feeling toward him and makes him damn near irresistible.

  There’s something about him that makes me want to get him all mussed up and dirty.

  “Sure, can I get you a drink?” he offers eventually, unaware of my less-than-pure thoughts.

  “No thanks, just needed a place to sit,” I reply, recovering quickly, and lift my foot in the air, alluding to my heels like they’re the reason I want to be off my feet.

  He glances around as if he doesn’t buy it, and he’s looking for the real reason I’m here. When he doesn’t find whatever he’s looking for, he tips his bottle in my direction. “Let me know if you change your mind about the drink.” Then he turns back to the group he’s with, ignoring me.

  Damn, if I weren’t already busy tonight, I would have him. I look down at his ass. The shirt might be too baggy, but those jeans are hugging his ass in a way that makes me a little jealous.

  I wonder if he’s the DD, since he doesn’t seem nearly as intoxicated as the other men of his group. They barely even noticed me. To be fair, they really seem to be having a good time among themselves. That’s why I chose them—well, that and the hottie. I’ll have to get his name and his number for another time.