She’d tried to be quicker this time, but the minute she let his wrist go to reach his heart he caught hold of hers again. She yanked her wrist free, resolving to weaken him with another blow to the jaw.
But this time he sent her clean over his head to land flat on her back.
She instantly stumbled to her feet, but remained crouched down as he did the same, their eyes locking as both retained their attack stance.
‘You can’t beat me in a fight,’ she warned.
‘Strong though you are, your technique is shit,’ he said. ‘So we’ll see. Whenever you’re ready, darling.’
This time there was no smirk. This time his eyes, his expression, were completely focused. She had to remind herself what she had witnessed in the alley that night before. Because ultimately she knew he was right – unlike her, he did know how to fight. But it was too late to back down. Her pride wouldn’t let her.
It would take just one good shot from her to finish the job. Except those eyes weren’t making the prospect easy. Recollections of that touch were making her hesitant. The fact all his moves so far had been fuelled by defence and not attack did nothing to help her motivation.
Nonetheless, she bit back her reluctance and lunged at him.
They had to have rolled five or six times, knocking the pile of books over, taking the temporary leg of the pool table out. One of the bottles smashed to the floor amidst knuckles and knees scraping on concrete, hands and legs moving in rapid succession as both struggled to retain the upper hand, creating a miracle that neither went up in flames amidst the wavering candlelight.
When he gained the advantage again, instead of putting her on her back this time, he swept her onto her front, thrust one arm up behind her back, his hand cupping her elbow to keep it there. He outstretched her other, not allowing her any flexion as he pinned her hand against the concrete. He kicked her legs apart, bracing them with the weight of his against her knees so that it was no longer just down to a matter of strength, but also basic physics.
She drew back a terse breath, winced, as he forced her bent arm just half an inch higher.
‘So you can feel pain then?’ he asked glibly.
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, giving her body time to adjust, to feel where his weak spots were and work out how, when she flipped him off her this time, she would end it.
He used the weight of his side to keep her outstretched arm pinned to the floor as he shifted position. He coiled his hand so tight in her hair that she felt herself lose a couple. ‘You should know that playing rough brings consequences.’
As he let her hair go, she saw a glint of a penknife he had removed from his jeans. Her already fast-pumping heart skipped a beat.
‘And now you’ve also learned first-hand that being strong and knowing how to fight are two very different things,’ he said against her ear.
As soon as he felt her start to struggle, he spread her legs further with his to stop her getting any leverage.
‘I saved your life,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘I know,’ he said, lifting his hips only slightly to allow him to push the hem of her cardigan over her hip, exposing her underwear.
He slid the blade not just through the thin fabric of her hip band, but through the top layer of skin too. He lifted himself just a fraction further to also slice through the other side of her underwear to pull them away.
‘Which is why,’ he said, sliding the cold blade down her bare shoulder, ‘despite you testing my resolve to be a gentleman, I’m retaining my impeccable self-control. Fortunate really, as me and you are far from done.’
She snatched back another breath as he pressed her tight to the floor, his hard erection pressing against her sex through his jeans. She closed her eyes, clenched her hands as she prepared herself for whatever he planned to do next.
But he withdrew the blade, slipping it back into his jeans.
‘You want to know why I’m here? I’ll lay it on the line with you, Jessie. I want out of here as quickly as you want me out of here. But you’re going to do something for me first.’
‘Which is?’
‘There’s someone I want you to help. Someone who needs your help.’
‘Who?’
‘She has a blood disease that’s killing her at the same time as being screwed by the system that should be protecting her. You help her and then we’re done.’
A she. Her insides coiled at the prospect. An uncomfortable feeling took root in the pit of her stomach. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that he could have someone out there – maybe even be married. It wasn’t uncommon now for partners to join the penitentiaries’ evicted in corresponding cores. There was nothing to stop whoever was with Eden from joining him – someone like him had to have someone waiting for him. Someone who could have been sick. Someone he’d be desperate enough to try and engage help for if he’d heard rumours that Pummel had some kind of miracle cure under his roof. Because the rumours were out there – even if they didn’t know she was it.
And he wouldn’t have known either if she hadn’t intervened in saving his life.
But that still didn’t explain why he’d been in her visions – what his significance was, nor whether saving him would be to her benefit or detriment.
Despite the pang she felt in her chest at the woman’s plight, she knew she had to stay hardened. She had to stay resolute. She had no option.
‘A disease?’
‘Yes,’ he confirmed.
‘All I did for you was heal a wound. You’re assuming a lot.’
‘Are you telling me you can’t help her?’
‘I’m telling you I’m not in a position to even if I was willing to – which I’m not.’
‘You help her, and I can be gone.’
‘So what’s your master plan – you bring her here?
‘Or I could take you to her.’
Her stomach flipped at the impossible. She exhaled curtly. ‘And how many more will it be after her?’
Because there would be more – more and more and more. It would be a fiercely lucrative trade and he’d have been a fool not to see the potential. For all she knew, the mysterious “she” may not even exist – simply a lure to get her away from there.
He clearly didn’t know she was trapped.
‘This is a one-off,’ he said.
‘And I have your word for that, do I, con?’
‘You do.’
‘I heal superficial wounds; I’m not a miracle worker.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Even if she does exist, it is your kind that have failed her. It is not my obligation to compensate for that.’
It was Eden’s turn to exhale tersely. ‘You’re even beginning to sound like a con. But we’ve already proved you’re not like them.’
‘I’m closed for further manipulation today, Eden. You put in your request and I refused. You can ask as many times as you want, the answer will still be no. So cut your losses and get the hell away from here.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said. ‘And my guess is you’re not either. If we work together though, we can do something about both. It’s simple – you help me and I’ll help you.’
‘Because it’s that easy.’
‘I never said it would be easy, but while I leave you to ponder on that definitive no, I’ll have time to go out into Blackthorn, meet a few contacts, and find out what third species has eyes that change colour with their mood. And when I know that, I’ll be that one step ahead of you again. This time you take my advice: make it easy on yourself. I said it once and I’ll say it again: I’m not here to hurt you, Jessie. If I wanted to, right now, we both know I could. Instead, I’m going to walk out that door and you’re going to let me unless you want to do this all over again. Just one thing: next time you try to kill me, make sure your heart’s in it.’
He wrapped the fabric of her underwear around her wrists, securing them in the temporary restraint. Loosening his grip h
e finally eased off her.
She instantly got to her feet and stumbled backwards slightly, frantically trying to undo the binds.
He picked up one of the bottles that had rolled off the table and held it up to her as if in salute. ‘It’s been an interesting first date,’ he said. ‘My choice next time.’
She hovered on the spot as he used the keys he had freed from her severed underwear to unlock the door, her mind still skipping through every eventual scenario except that one.
He looked back across his shoulder before throwing the padlock keys back down onto the floor.
Without another glance in her direction, he left her alone in the candlelight.
11
The daylight was as dull as it often was in Blackthorn, the pollution creating a density that masked ultraviolet rays better than the ozone layer. To Eden, it was depressing. For the vampires that resided in Blackthorn, it was a significant advantage.
Even though they had long proven wrong the myth of old that vampires couldn’t be subjected to sunlight, they could still only be in it for short stretches of time. It drained them, the excessive production of vitamin D it generated making them weak, temperamental and not least causing an excessive thirst that could be mistaken for the need to feed. All of the former subsequently put them at risk of the authorities.
Consequently, the one thing Blackthorn had going for it was that the weak sunlight allowed the vampires that dominated the district to move around more freely. Of course, the dense urbanism of Blackthorn also meant buildings were the perfect mask to duck in and out of. In addition, old habits died hard. The third species moved around more at night simply because, having spent centuries in the shadows, it made it less complicated for them to go about their business.
The unspoken rules of that business were known by everyone whether they lived there or not. The lycans, lead by Jask Tao, stuck primarily to the north, the vampires mainly to the east, owned by Kane Malloy, and west, owned by Caleb Dehain. The cons remained primarily in the south, just across the border of the penitentiary they had been extradited from. Anyone was free to mingle in the hub, the party capital, but anyone who did took their life into their own hands. Just as anyone who walked the streets of Blackthorn did – whatever the time of day.
So though the pavements were virtually empty, the hour still too early for most humans and too late for the third species (those that ventured to the south at least), there was always the chance of opportunistic stragglers of either species. There was never a time to let your guard down in Blackthorn. In the vampire territory, it was about siring – picking out humans to become feeders. In the south it was about recruitment – either for con leaders like Pummel to build their empire or to be used as commodities or entertainment.
Eden didn’t have the intention of being used as any of the above.
With his warm breath leaving traces of fake smoke in the air, Eden zipped up his jacket against the chill that warned of a cold snap coming. Nonetheless, he kept his hands out of his pockets and loose by his sides as he crossed the street on his way away from The Circus.
It was a name made up by the cons themselves to mark their territory – named as such because the rows of houses were the main source of entertainment in the south. Unlike the vampires, the cons didn’t have clubs, just bars. Subsequently most of the action took place in the privacy of those rows. They weren’t policed except by the con leaders themselves, and what they said went. That meant there was a row, or a room, for every sick indulgence the human, though inhumane, mind could come up with. Indulgences that, from the rumours alone, managed to turn even Eden’s hardened stomach.
Heading to where he needed to be, the south was everything he had envisaged it to be. Dispersed between the rows of terraced houses were run-down shops, abandoned garages, derelict parks now covered in obscene graffiti. A few stragglers sat on stone steps outside their, or someone else’s, home. Some hung around shells of cars that were now nothing more than an epitaph to what they once were. Only the select few had working cars – used more as a status symbol, or protection. There was no public transport, but wasn’t anywhere you couldn’t eventually get to on foot. Most stuck to their own part of the district anyway. For those who ventured further, bikes were definitely the more popular choice, especially for navigating the maze of back alleys where it got particularly challenging. Or they were popular amongst those who could get their hands on them, at least, let alone the fuel. The lycans were notorious for their bikes, but so were some of the more privileged cons.
With a couple of checks over his shoulder and crossing two more streets before passing around another three corners, Eden shouldered his way through the torn-off door and through the abandoned garage workshop. Like any other factory or outlet in the area, anything that hadn’t been taken during the evacuation had been stripped when the cons moved in. All the tools had been taken, no doubt primarily for weapons.
He made his way through the silence, the bars of light descending and hitting the floor from the windows high above, the broken glass of which was opaque from years of pollution and neglect. He strolled past the glass-panelled office, paperwork lying yellowed and dusty on the desk, a computer now nothing more than a plastic encasement.
Passing through the other side, he made his way down the lane and into what was once one of countless residential streets in the area.
Eden subconsciously rubbed the leather band around his wrist, tongued the wound on the inside of his lip, the prospect of having taken it too far back in the lock-up playing over and over in his head. He hadn’t planned on telling her so soon why he needed her, hadn’t planned on exposing the only vulnerability he had in that place. But it had felt right to tell her at that point, her resistance to him frustrating. Because she wasn’t like the others there. On some level, he had to drop her barriers before he could gain her trust. Walking away, he hoped, had gone some way towards that.
Eden descended the stone steps to the basement apartment. He unlocked the paint-peeling door and bolted it behind him. The main window sat to his left, wire mesh, like so many windows in the district, masking it from the outside. The double bed lay in front of him, backed against the wall to his right. A sofa sat at the foot of it. Next to that, a table and three chairs were shoved against the wall next to the bathroom door.
They were still unpacking so clearly they had only got there minutes before him. The woman, stood at the table, was emptying contents from her metal briefcase. The guy he knew as Sharner from their one brief introduction sat adjacent to her.
Another guy stood against the kitchen countertop directly ahead. Eden guessed him to be the reinforcements, judging from his sour expression and folded arms. Only a hint of light came from the window behind his bulky frame, muted by the height of the courtyard’s brick wall beyond.
‘We were expecting you to report in last night,’ was the first thing Sharner said as Eden approached.
‘I’ve reported in now, haven’t I? Last night I was a little preoccupied.’
‘The rules are simple, Reece. Regular check-ins being one.’
Eden placed the beer bottle on the table between them. ‘Sample of saliva,’ he said. ‘Hair,’ he added, removing the strands from his jeans pockets. ‘And even a blood sample,’ he declared, dropping the section of blood-stained knicker fabric amongst it all. He pulled out the chair opposite the woman and sat down. ‘So how about you ease up on the conditions?’
Sharner frowned as the woman raised her eyebrows, meeting his gaze as she picked up the delicate fabric with her tweezers.
Sharner’s glare snapped to Eden. ‘Tell me you haven’t done anything stupid…’
‘I was a very good boy. I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t been.’ He leaned back. ‘She’s strong – easily equivalent to any fit and healthy sixteen-stone male vamp or lycan I’ve ever come across. Not bad considering she can’t be much more than 130 pounds. Even so, I’m not convinced that’s the full extent of her strength. She does
n’t have fangs or extra incisors though, so we can definitely rule out vampire or lycan origin unless she’s some kind of cross-breed or mutation.’ He lifted his T-shirt to expose the rapidly healing wound. ‘But at least you’ll be pleased to know she’s definitely what you’re hoping for.’
Sharner’s eyes widened. ‘What the fuck is that?’
‘My warm welcome to Blackthorn via a blade to the abdomen.’
The woman leaned forward for a closer look. ‘That looks at least two days old,’ she declared, the edge of excitement unmasked in her tone.
‘Fortunately it feels it now too.’
Sharner scowled. ‘You got yourself into a fight the minute you arrived?’
‘Yeah, because when volunteers were requested to have the shit beaten out of them I had my hand up like an eager schoolboy. It’s the fucking Circus – you should try it some time.’
The woman’s eyes widened. ‘But she did this? You met her?’
‘I was surrounded. She took out two cons right in front of me. Like I said, tough little cookie.’ He shrugged. ‘Cute too.’
‘She saved your life? Why?’ Sharner asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, his thinning auburn hair glimmering in the weak streaks of light.
‘I don’t know. Because she’s curious. Because she’s already ensnared by my irresistible charm. It’s probably because she’s not a brutal killer like the rest of them in that place. And I’m working hard to keep her believing the same about me – hence me being a very good boy.’
‘You’re telling me your encounter with her wasn’t a one-off?’
‘Like I said, I’ve been preoccupied.’
‘How? How have you got close to her so quickly? Is Pummel aware of you?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I’ve moved in.’
Sharner’s eyes widened. ‘You what? Is that why this room wasn’t touched last night? You’re staying at The Circus? That was not part of the plan.’
‘I improvised. You wanted me to get close to her. You don’t get close to her without getting close to him.’
Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) Page 12