by Susan Harris
Hoping to scare her a little—anything to take away the worshiping gaze in her eyes—I turned around and flashed my weapons at her. “I don’t need to look pretty while I’m slicing people in half, you know.”
“You don’t need to,” Rose retorted, returning the green dress to the rail, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”
The next one Rose handed me was made of black lace with a slit from the knee-length hem halfway up the leg. I could still totally move my legs in it. The dress was one-shouldered with a capped sleeve, the material stretchy. I was ashamed to say I liked it, and Rose looked like she’d won an Oscar or something by the way she looked at me.
“Now, you’ll have to go braless, but there are subtle cups in the dress lining to keep everything in place. Why don’t you throw it on and see how it feels?”
I started to refuse, but Rose’s eyes pleaded with me to do as she asked. Sighing, I took the dress to the fitting room. I carefully shed my clothes, stripped off my sai, and hid them and their sheath under my leather jacket as I unclasped my bra and slipped on the dress. The side zipper was easy to close, and I waited a few breaths before turning to glance at myself in the mirror.
The woman staring back was not me, even though I knew it was. My reflection looked sleek and sophisticated—both desirable and lethal, all in the same image. I wanted so much to be her.
I pulled my hair from its ponytail and fluffed it out, the ice-blonde a stark contrast against the dress. I ran my hands down over my body, wondering for a second what Nickolai would think of the dress before I scolded myself and unzipped it.
Dressing again quickly, I pulled my hair back off my face and exited the fitting room, nearly running into Krista as I did. She beamed at me, delighted with her own purchase as she bounced up and down, demanding I go back in and show her what it looked like.
Tears threatened to spill from my eyes at the thought of seeing myself in the mirror again, facing the girl in the glass who was didn’t appear broken, and Krista’s face instantly fell. Swallowing hard, she took the dress from my hands and called Rose over, explaining the dress wasn’t what we were looking for. Rose glanced at me, then leaned toward Krista and whispered something.
I wasn’t sure what had provoked such a response from me, or maybe I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. The girl in the mirror had been the kind of girl who’d had a happy childhood, free of loss and grief. I could never be that girl—not since the fabric of my being had been woven out of loss. Sometimes I found it hard to remember what it felt like to be happy.
Rose proceeded to pack up the dress anyway. I frowned, first arguing I didn’t want it, then fumbling in my back pocket for my card holder when she ignored my protests. When I held out my card to pay, Rose waved me off. I narrowed my gaze in suspicion, and she told me the dress had already been paid for, then theatrically held her finger to her lips.
After handing me the packaged dress, Rose turned back to Krista, chatting about shoes and the best way to wear her hair with the new outfit. That was when I felt eyes on me. My gaze wandered to the window at the back of Rose’s shop—a long, frosted window revealing the silhouette of a man standing outside.
I couldn’t see who it was, but I knew it was the rogue.
Darting out to the front of the shop, I shouted at Krista to stay with Rose until I came back and to lock the door. Rose hushed any protests from Krista as I raced out the door and paused, waiting until I heard the lock click behind me before using my vampire speed to race to the darkened alley behind Rose’s shop.
He had not run. He was still standing by the window, his hood up, but I could see the glint of his fangs in the moonlight. I inched into the mouth of the alley, and the rogue took a step back.
“Anyone would think you were scared of me.”
“Not scared, darling. Just cautious.”
I let loose an annoyed sigh. “Listen, you should be scared. It would be smart to be scared. Vampires are always underestimating me, and it doesn’t go well for them. So how ‘bout we stop all these cat-and-mouse games, and you get on your knees so I can take your head back to my queen.”
The other vampire smiled, blood dripping from his fangs. “I would never underestimate you. Only a fool would. Now I have another present for you. Let’s see if I chose right.”
The rogue vanished into the shadows like magic, which wasn’t possible, and I heard the whistle of air passing. My sai already unsheathed, I quickly spun and sliced through the air. The tip of my blade nicked flesh, and the tangy scent of copper filled the air. I wrinkled my nose and growled, bracing myself for attack.
The second rogue in front of me was no older than I was, his eyes red with bloodlust as he charged me. The idiot came at me with brute strength, hoping to catch me off guard. But I was trained for this. I lived for this. This was when I most felt alive.
As the rogue lunged again, I dropped to my knees on the concrete and bent backward so he just ran straight over me. Crossing my arms over my chest, I sliced out my arms and pinned my sai into the backs of his knees. Tearing my weapons free, I jumped to my feet as the rogue howled, somehow managing to fall onto his back.
I braced a knee on his chest and pressed the tip of my right sai into the lovely, vulnerable part of his carotid. He snarled, snapping his bloodstained teeth and bucking wildly against me. He almost threw me off, but I slammed my other sai into his chest and watched as the light went out in his eyes.
In books, movies, and TV, vampires usually turned to ash when they died. At times like this, that would have been incredibly convenient. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and the dead rogue just stayed dead, even as I yanked my sai free.
I was suddenly conscious of the fact the rogue—the other one—was still nearby. Sure enough, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him watching me from the rooftop before once again disappearing in a swirl of mist like a movie vampire.
Now came the hard part. I couldn’t clean up this mess and keep Krista from finding out my secret. My hands were covered in the second rogue’s blood, and spatters of it marked my face. How would I explain this to her and have her believe me? I didn’t know if I had the stomach to try and compel her—especially when it might not work.
Sheathing my sai, I dragged the dead rogue by the feet to a nearby dumpster, lifted the lid, and tossed him in. He couldn’t stay there, but if I disappeared on Krista again it would be the end of our friendship.
Do it, my mind shouted. It will be easier this way. You can’t get hurt if you don’t have anyone to be hurt by.
I wanted to do as the voice in my head told me to, wanted to take the easy road. However, for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to run away in case I got hurt. I wanted to face it head on and say a massive “eff you” to the consequences.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dialed one of four numbers I had saved and waited as it rang twice before a husky voice answered the phone.
“If I’ve interrupted sexy time, Jack, then I’m really sorry. But I’ve got a dead rogue in a dumpster and a very human companion I need to get back to. Any chance of a hand?”
I giggled when I heard Jack swear on the other end of the line, and then he asked where I was and if I was hurt. I told him I wasn’t and asked him to bring me some wipes to clean the blood off my skin—and to leave Nickolai at home. I heard him pause, cover the mouthpiece, and then swear again as Nickolai declared in the background that he was going.
Shouting an address into the phone, I hung up, texting Krista to say I’d be back soon and I’d just run into someone I knew. It wasn’t a lie, really. I had.
I hopped up onto the lid of the dumpster, swinging my legs as I waited for Jack to arrive as if sitting on the dump site of a dead body was the most natural thing in the world.
Was it wrong it had been the most fun I’d had in ages?
Probably.
14
I was still swinging my legs on the dumpster when Jack arrived, thankfully alone, in a beat-up Nissan a
bout ten minutes later. Getting out of the car, I could tell the older guard was tired. It wasn’t how I was used to seeing Jack, and I was a little taken aback by it. So, I did what I always did when I was uncomfortable and made a joke out of it.
“Come on, old man, get a move on. We’re wasting night-time here.”
Jack flipped me off as he approached, and as he took in my bloodstained face and hands, he ran a critical eye over my person to make sure I was unharmed. Rolling my eyes, I clicked my tongue even though I wasn’t annoyed. If anyone else had tried it, I would’ve been pissed, but not Jack.
Pushing off the edge of the dumpster, I landed on my feet and inclined my head toward the bin with a grin. “Dead dude’s in there. Soz.”
“You don’t look one bit sorry, kiddo,” he replied with a grimace as he tossed me a pack of wipes.
I began the tedious motions of cleaning the blood from my skin, knowing I wouldn’t feel truly clean until I was under the stream of a blistering-hot shower.
Jack retrieved the body, opened the trunk of the car, and dropped the rogue inside. Closing it with a bang, he leaned against the car and folded his arms across his chest, a stern expression on his face.
Oh, so Jack was gonna play bad cop tonight. Got it. Face, look ever so chastised.
“I’m not going to apologize,” I said before he started in on me. “I took the chance to get a better look at him, and I did. I think I’ve got his attention now.”
“The psycho’s following you around now, kiddo. He’s trying to romance you, which means he either wants to kill you or fuck you. Either way, that’s not good.”
I shrugged at Jack’s blunt words; he didn’t see it how I saw it. If “romancing” me meant he stopped killing humans to follow my boring ass around all night, then I’d take it. After a while of watching me do unremarkable stuff like babysit Nickolai, dodge social events, and engage in awkward conversation with humans, the rogue would probably walk into the sun himself for some excitement.
Jack shook his head. “Just like your goddamn mother. She was always willing to throw herself in front of a bullet so someone else wouldn’t get hurt.”
And… there it was again—the comparison to the ghost of my mother. When would I hear “That’s just like you, Ryan”? When would my name be spoken without someone only thinking of me as the daughter of Tristan and Imogen Callan?
Rubbing my hands clean on my leggings, I chewed on my bottom lip. “I gotta go back to my human friend and try to explain why I ran off like a crazy person. By the way, did you pay for my dress?”
Jack’s mouth dropped open. “You wore a dress? Kiddo, I gotta see that.”
I threw my hands in the air and stormed off, telling Jack to go back to his boy toy and leave me alone. By the time I reached the front of the building, Jack was still laughing so hard that I flipped him off before walking around the corner and knocking at the door just like Krista had when we’d first arrived.
Rose herself opened the door, and I slipped inside. I could hear Krista chatting away on the phone toward the back of the shop as Rose asked if I was all right. I assured her I was, stilling when she rested her hand on my arm and asked me what my full name was.
“Why does it matter?” I asked, suddenly even more wary of the woman than before.
“Please—humor me, old woman that I am.”
Old woman? Rose had to have been in her forties—not even old by human standards. She’d clearly been part of the Children of Eve for a long time, though, based on how faded her tattoo was, and I wasn’t sure I could handle watching another person realize whose bloodline I came from.
“My surname is Callan. Ryan Callan.”
Rose blinked, the only sign she recognized the name, and then handed me a large bag of clothing. Holding up a finger, she rooted around beneath the register, then handed me a sturdy yet discreet thigh holster that would hold a small dagger.
I stared at her, perplexed, as she added it to the bag I was already holding.
“Any daughter of Imogen Callan,” she said simply, “is a warrior in her heart.”
I thanked her again, struggling to breathe through yet another gut punch as yet another person compared me to my mother, when Krista came out, her face flushed as if she’d been arguing on the phone. I asked if she was okay, and she told me she was fine, then lobbed the question back at me. I nodded, and we bade farewell to Rose, promising to come back soon as we headed off into the night.
It was still considered early evening in vampire time, but Krista was yawning and rubbing her eyes, the chatty girl unusually quiet as we walked back the way we came. I told Krista I’d walk her home and she laughed, saying chivalry wasn’t dead after all.
At the entrance to the student complex, Krista gave me a quick hug, asking if I was okay to get home by myself and insisting I text her when I got in safe.
I waited until the girl was inside before turning and sauntering through campus. I wished I’d remembered to bring my headphones along, wanting to disrupt the blanket of silence enveloping me. It made me twitchy, this silence, even if I was at home in it.
Reaching the apartment building I shared with Nickolai, I smiled at the Nissan parked outside. That meant the other two vampires were still here, and I wouldn’t have to deal with Nickolai alone.
I wasn’t quite ready to head upstairs just yet, even if I did want to wash the night off me. Before I knew it, I found myself standing at the bar, ordering a Jack and Coke and handing my ID to the bartender to prove I was over eighteen. I wasn’t, but when he glanced at me skeptically, I was ready to drag him over the bar and gently “persuade” him I was legal to drink—in Ireland, anyway—when a whistle sounded behind me.
The bartender nodded and handed me my drink, talking the word of the whistler over mine.
Dropping my head, I collected my drink, told the bartender to put it on the apartment’s tab, and walked to the source of the whistle. Flopping down in the chair opposite him, I raised my glass and took a sip before setting the tumbler down on the table in front of me.
His eyes wandered to the bag I was not setting down on the ground, and I suddenly knew that Nickolai had been the one to pay for my clothes. But I wasn’t gonna thank him for it. No point in making it easy for him.
Nickolai cleared his throat. “I said I’d give them some time on their own. If they left, Atticus would’ve had to go back to the compound. It’s unfair they have to hide like this.”
“Something for you to change once you become king, My Liege.”
Nickolai looked like I’d slapped him, and I wasn’t sure whether it was calling him ‘king’ or ‘My Liege’ that had done it. He glared at me; his eyes suddenly heavy as he let out a tired sigh.
“Do you think, just for a night, we can drop the titles, drop the pretense, and just pretend we’re two normal people having a drink?”
I didn’t answer him, simply sipped on my drink as I glanced out the window. Dawn was still an hour or two away, so I wondered how long we would have to sit here, pretending we were just a boy and a girl having a drink. We would never just be that, and Nickolai was being foolish if he thought we could.
“Jack said you took out the rogue without breaking a sweat. Said it was clean and expertly done—no unnecessary wounds. He was quite proud of you, as was Atticus.”
I let loose a snort as I drained my drink and held it up for a refill. “You know, Nicky, this is why you’re single. You want to pretend we’re normal, yet here you are, complimenting me on my murdering skills. Most girls aren’t like me.”
“I’m not interested in most girls,” he snapped. “That’s the goddamn problem.”
My heart began to race and I laughed, a short bark of sound, trying to brush off his words. “No wonder Nattie moved on to Kris. I mean, dude, seriously—if you told her that, no wonder she bounced.”
As the waiter arrived with another drink for me, Nickolai ordered another for himself, but his eyes never left mine. Things were starting to get weird. Maybe N
icky was just hungry and horny, but we weren’t going down this road. It would only end in chaos. Good, sweaty chaos, but chaos nonetheless.
Things had changed from when we were inseparable kids, our destiny carved out from the day I first came kicking and screaming into the world. Then, the world had fucked me over, and becoming a member of the Royal Guard was all I wanted—even if that meant closing off my heart in order to do so.
Fate was a fickle mistress, and we were merely pieces on her chessboard.
I drained my drink and stood, Nickolai’s eyes never leaving me as I gathered my stuff and just left him sitting there.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back—
Goddammit, I looked back, and the heat in Nickolai’s gaze did funny things to my insides. I cursed myself and shook my head, ducking out the door and heading upstairs before I could go back and do something stupid.
The elevator doors pinged softly as I reached the apartment, letting my eyes adjust to the dark as I crossed the floor. Opening the bedroom door, I glanced back, smiling at the figures embraced on the couch.
“You all good, kiddo?”
“Five by five, Uncle Jack. Don’t worry about me.” I stood there longer than I’d intended to, the ache in my chest shooting daggers as I focused on the way Jack embraced Atticus. “I’m all right, I swear,” I reiterated. “Just be happy, okay?”
Jack called my name softly as I slipped inside and closed the bedroom door behind me. Setting my shopping bag on the floor by the wardrobe, I stripped off my clothes, grabbed a towel, and jumped into the shower, the blissful heat of the water burning my skin in an agonizing but addicting way.
When my skin was acceptably wrinkled, I halted the flow of the water and wrapped the towel around me, wiping steam from the mirror to stare at my reflection. Parting my hair down the center, I braided each side, leaving the braids hanging down my neck. Bracing myself, I opened the door and strode out of the bathroom, colliding directly with Nickolai and almost losing my towel in the process.