by Elena Monroe
Nyx was lucky I was there providing useful facts, aiding and abetting us, by knowing that lungs act like air bags, keeping us afloat. With a hard jab to each side with my pocketknife, I deflated Dorian.
Burned by fire for Nyx.
Drowned by water for Luna.
Water should be the death of fire, but fate has a way of being poetic in her calling cards.
We were exhaustedly sitting on the curb, passing the new blunt between us with our hands covered in dry blood and that horrid smell still lingering on us.
“They’ll be coming now for sure, The Cloth. They'll want blood for blood.”
I said it, but my voice didn't care much about the words. I was in an altered state—somewhere between buzzing off the weed and emotionless.
Emotions have no place when you're creating traumatizing moments.
“Bolton’s gonna be pissed.”
We both broke out in a fit of laughter, thinking of Bolton being mad. Not one bone was shaking. We were young gods, while we pretended he was King—one that never got his hands dirty, not if he doesn't have to.
“We need to go to Dorian’s place for the journals. We need those,” I said, just before standing up, scanning the water, and making sure everything was safely hidden deep below the surface.
Luna
N yx asked me to wait in the car while he and Caellum disposed of the body.
I’m sure he thought I was overwhelmed, but really I was exhilarated.
I felt more alive than I had in a long time.
I wasn’t putting the world before me and hoping good karma really paid out in the end.
I wasn’t wrapping my arms around other people’s problems because hugging yourself isn’t the same.
Killing Dorian and standing beside my king while I did it was for me.
Me and only me.
The big, bad world could really suck it if it wanted to cry over losing one more bleeding heart. There was a pool of blood at my feet, and the world didn’t give a damn.
I couldn't expect it to.
I didn't even care... I called myself the best kind of sacrifice if it had a good impact.
Nyx was so calm that he made killing and ditching the body seem like a coffee run. I wanted to care more, be creeped out, and let every red flag shoot up to the sky, but I was his queen now. If Nyx thought someone deserved it, then I was going to help him light the damn match.
There was no going back.
There was no one else for me.
I kept twisting his ring around my finger, too big for my fingers. The ring was heavy with engravings on it of flames and coins.
Back home we put two coins over the eyes so our dead have the toll fee for the river man to row them to their fate. Without it, you are stuck with Hades, regardless of how you did in life.
I've been to the Underworld; it's much more fun, trust me.
Nyx’s phone lit up with a message, illuminating the car brightly from the cupholder between the seats. Lifting up the phone, I saw the message on his lock screen from Bolton, but none of its contents.
Out of sheer curiosity I swiped my finger along the screen and it opened without a password to the message.
Bolton: You can’t avoid me forever, Nyx.
I saw the old messages between him and Cotton Candy staring me in the face, mocking me and making my stomach turn, knowing he had been inside of her too.
I couldn’t force my finger still or my eyes to look away at all.
The extent of their relationship, all the dirty words he normally saved for me, all the fire feeding my jealousy was staring me in the face.
Tapping the thread of messages, I saw his texts. All were only a few words or dirty commands—nothing of substance.
Her texts were long-winded, full of emojis and dirty photos, showing off more than I was ready to see, when I realized she was a problem I could easily fix myself.
Nyx and she were arguing in that private room at Nectar of the Gods when I stormed in, yanking her by her hair, but why?
She seemed so ready to please, with her dead features and mouth always open, like the thoughts would leak into important words.
I already killed two people… What was one more?
Nyx was the Prince of the Underworld, and I was recently a good girl. I wanted to prove this wasn’t some fluke.
Being afraid to get my hands dirty came surprisingly easy.
A thrill I never expected to like.
Without thinking, I typed out a message from Nyx’s phone, channeling all the ways he would text me: I need to see you. Starbucks before opening.
Some absent part of me tugged at my now broken morality, and I shrugged the rest off. I disliked her for all the wrong reasons, and Nyx ironically gave me the strength to do whatever I wanted with that anger… even hurt people.
Something quiet inside me knew it was wrong.
A quiet part of me wanted to reject the thrills still zipping through my body.
Nyx’s phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked at his darkened windows to see them still sitting there, laughing, so unaffected. Turning my back to the window, I kept the phone low and read her text response: You’re lucky I open today and not Bolton. He would have a fit.
The time displayed on his phone matched the sky turning a lighter shade of gray and threatening all the comfort of the dark away.
Turning up the music and the heat, I sank back into the seat, watching the guys sitting on the edge, still making no moves, even though nothing was floating in the mucky water that looked black from here. Rolling down the window manually, I shouted to Nyx, “Is it okay if I take an Uber home? Really tired.”
Nyx hopped up to his feet and made his way to the car. “My house. No stops.”
He threw his authority down, and it made my thighs press together automatically, as I nodded my head up and down agreeing.
My fingers crossed between my thighs. I knew I was a liar, but it was for my own good. Killing two people didn’t have the same ring to it as killing three: a trinity.
A divine number.
Besides, I could wake up tomorrow with no more blood lust.
I handed him his phone already with Uber pulled up and let him order it as I waited patiently. He smelled like kerosene, charred barbecue, and his own brand of cologne I loved.
The Uber driver must have either been an early riser or simply eager for the tip money, because he showed up in the parking lot next to the river that opened up into the ocean in ten minutes.
Nyx and Caellum grilled him, but he didn’t protest my leaving. They had devious plans of their own.
“Protective boyfriend?” The driver tried to make small talk with me.
“Worse than you know. Can you drop me off at the Starbucks on the same street?”
“Your boyfriend was pretty clear on the address and drop off place…” Nyx wasn’t even around, and the driver sounded scared.
I rolled my eyes. “There’s a tip in it just for you.” I produced a crisp $20 bill from my small bag that didn't go with the sweats I had on from Nyx.
The driver lit up like the 4th of July, ready to lick the floor if I asked him.
I knew bribing him was wrong... so why did it feel so good?
“Looks closed. Sure you wanna wait?” He twisted to look behind to the backseat, me.
Nodding my head, I handed him the $20 bill over the divide and got out of the car, walking up to the locked door. Knocking lightly, I saw Cotton Candy rip out her headphones while rounding the counter, looking very confused.
Waving my hand, not a white flag, I slipped right into the innocence like an old sweater, comfortable.
Talking through the thick door, I smiled softly. “I know you're confused. I'm really sorry. I just wanna talk...”
Cotton Candy unlatched the last lock and pulled the door open, letting me slip through the opening. “Texting from Nyx’s phone now?”
“You know you wouldn't have responded if I texted you...”
She stoo
d there, leaning against the counter in her green apron, waiting for whatever was next, with her arms crossed.
“I'm really sorry I overreacted and hurt you. I was with Caellum and had way too much to drink. I wanna start fresh.”
“Fresh?”
“Yeah, fresh. Nyx really misses you. He's not in a good place right now...” I could see my words sinking between her still confused eyes and forcing her eyebrows down in the center.
She stepped behind the counter, and I closed the gap, leaning over it. She was purposely leaving space between us, and we both felt the tension settle in that same space.
“Want a coffee? Tea?” she offered, before adding to the end, “What's wrong with Nyx?”
Letting my chin rest on my palm, I leaned further into myself. “He's been paranoid, agitated, secretive, moodier than normal… He really needs someone he'll trust, and I think that's you. I don't wanna see his heart broken.”
She was brewing up coffees that filled my nose with delight and made my stomach twist.
Does killing make you hungry?
Sliding a green iced tea my way, I was almost scared to drink it, even though we were immortal. If she did put something in it and I didn't react, then she'd know.
“I'm not so sure I'm the one threatening his heart. You guys have an odd relationship.”
She rounded the counter again and bounced up, pushing her ass on the pick-up counter.
“Honestly, we all do. We were all raised together, and things get rooted deep down when that happens. It doesn't mean any of it is romantic. Do you have a bathroom? I have to pee so bad.” I made sure to sip the iced tea, but I couldn't remember the last time I ate, peed, or even paid attention to my body.
She pointed to the restroom in the corner wordlessly. We were both on edge, both reluctant to not believe each other, and for a good reason. I wasn't leaving here with her alive.
The bathroom didn't have a single thing to use as a weapon and I rolled my eyes, disappointed with my own lack of creativity.
Nyx would have found a way, a weapon.
Coming out, the door closed heavily behind me, and I stood behind her at the edge of the counter, spotting the tools they used to clean parts of the machines. I spied a long, pointed, metal one that would work just fine with its diagonal cut tip making it look sharp.
With enough pressure, I learned, anything could be a weapon... even myself.
“Has he mentioned me?” Her voice was level, normal, curious… like she seemed to be naturally.
Maybe that's what Nyx saw in her: curiosity.
“You guys were arguing at Nectar of the Gods. What was that about? He's been quiet since then.”
All in one movement, I grabbed her hair and yanked her backwards against the counter with a hard thud; her head bounced a little in the process against the solid surface. I pushed the metal tool against her ribs, knowing the placement wasn't fatal. First, I needed answers.
She had her nose pierced with a small hoop, and the urge to rip it out almost overcame me. I wanted to rip her apart for so many reasons: pride, jealousy, the small smirk she'd get every time I entered the room while on his lap.
My reasons.
Nyx was arguing with her that night, and now, I really, really wanted to know why.
“Answer me!” I barked out above her and pushed the metal further into her skin.
“Ask your boyfriend!”
Her words snapped against my skin, and I could feel the adrenaline reigniting inside me.
“He's not my boyfriend anymore… because he’s dead.” My voice sounded even, but not as sharp as hers—simply factual.
I watched her eyes well up, drowning under the truth.
She was crying for Dorian.
She couldn't have Dorian and Nyx. Realistically, she couldn’t have either.
“Not really my problem…” Her voice shook and lip trembled without permission. She was failing at keeping her exterior strong.
“I don't know how many times I can say it: I don't know him!”
She was hard to break, only cracking when it came to death.
Something we had in common: death broke us all.
The good side of me wasn’t backing down, poking my conscience with whispers.
Don’t do this, Luna. No going back.
I wanted to kill that voice along with Cotton Candy and all the insecurities she made rise to my surface.
My mind was reeling. I needed answers.
Is that why they were arguing? Did she have some claim to Dorian? Was she using Nyx as much as he was using her?
The stray tears dampened her cheeks, and I knew it was confirming everything I was thinking.
Feel that, Luna? She’s hurt and scared.
Her tears were tugging the good side forward even more. Shaking it off, she kept struggling against the tip of the metal pushed against her ribs until it turned into a struggle of dominance between us.
I couldn’t get a hold of her when my hand slipped from fisting her hair, and she got up from being flat on the counter.
Noticing the small amount of blood from when her head hit back against the solid surface, I winced.
Blood was new compared to Cheyanne’s liquid gold and Dorian’s fiery death.
Shaking that off too, Cotton Candy struggled to get the dead bolt undone. The only thing between me and safety.
I thought my body would fault, let her go, submit to the good girl side of me internally fighting for more life, but it didn’t. My body sprang into action without me even asking it to, and I wrapped my forearm around Cotton Candy’s neck and plunged the metal piece deep into her side.
Her body stilled, flush against mine. With my arm tightly around her neck, I dragged her away from the glass doors before someone saw.
My heart was raging against my chest and pumping in my ears. My hands were shaking when I pulled out my phone, trying to think quicker than I was able.
Who do I call with a dead body at my feet bleeding out in the middle of fucking Starbucks about to open in forty-five minutes?
Me: I need your help. Now. It’s life and death.
Kate: It’s life “or” death, not “and”, Luna.
Me: Kate! Just get here!
I dropped a pin with my location, which was a few blocks away from the strip of apartment complexes we lived in. I sat on the counter, staring at her lifeless body, tears threatening my lower lashes and the guilt I didn’t feel with Dorian now doubled.
My face dropped into my hands, and the tears stung my skin as they rolled down my blistering hot cheeks.
I killed in divine numbers.
I killed traitors and liars, yet their deaths ate at me as rigor mortis setting in.
The bang on the door scared me back into reality when I saw Kate standing there in her pink matching sweat suit. The top was cropped, showing off her flat stomach, and her sneakers were platformed—all for fashion, none of her attire for hiding a dead body.
I snorted to myself, tears still drying on my cheeks.
“Luna, what in the name of Zeus. Are you kidding me?”
She looked horrified.
I would be too if someone demanded I come to Starbucks, and there was no promise of coffee, just death.
“It just happened…” I wasn’t lying. Autopilot crept up my rigid spine and took over.
“Death seems to be just happening a lot lately. I am so over this. If I get blood on my shoes, you owe me… big.” She stepped over Cotton Candy and pulled on my wrist, leading me to the back of the counter.
Did she know about Dorian?
More guilt sunburned my cheeks, and paranoia settled on my skin like a warm sweater, fresh out of the dryer.
“I don't know what to do.” I only knew how to release the anger, not how to handle whatever came after.
She pushed a giant roll of paper towels and bleach into my arms. “You’re gonna go clean up the mess you made, while I make a call.”
Kate
A re you kidding
me? was on repeat in my head with a heavy question mark at the end.
I didn't volunteer, and I certainly wasn't reaping any benefits here.
Everyone’s new hobbies were a pain in my ass. Kill who you want, but learn how to clean it up on your own and I'll celebrate when you're self-sufficient.
I didn't want to call him... It's not weird that we dated when Austin and I had our little break at Arcadia, but Caellum never forgot a damn thing.
Neither did I.
Putting the phone to my ear, I could hear the suspicion in his voice already. “Starbucks is gonna open soon, and there's a dead body in the middle of the floor...”
“Excuse me?” I heard his voice hitch in his throat.
“Luna. Just get here, Caellum.”
“Here I was excited by the chance to turn you down. I'm close by…”
Ending the call, I grabbed a few trash bags, wondering how we would fit her inside without ripping the bag.
Rolling my eyes, I pushed out the oxygen sitting in my mouth frantically. I should be at home with my vibrator in bed and some bad reality tv—not crime scene control.
I broke off paper towel strips for Luna, who was squatting down, trying to clean up what she could with the body still in the same place.
I sat on the counter, legs crossed, providing moral support more than anything else.
Thankfully Caellum’s knuckles rapped on the glass when I jumped down. With my hand on the bolt lock, I asked him, “Code word?”
“You have a birthmark on your inner thigh. Oh, shit… A lot of people know that, huh? Not so secret?”
Pulling the door open, I grabbed Caellum’s shirt, yanking him inside the door and slapping his arm at his answer. “Can you not?” Nyx slipped in behind him, looking at the scene and swallowing hard.
“What the fuck is this?” His words were sharpened at the edges, and it changed the mood instantly.
Luna’s cheeks flamed up under his gaze. “I'm not sorry.”
When Nyx made demands, he got answers. He never talked to just talk.
He probably didn't like her answer, but that was another story.
I tuned out the arguing that erupted between them as I floated behind the counter to make myself a coffee. I doubted that Starbucks was going to be open today, and I wasn't using maps to find the next closest one.