Duality (Cordelia Kelly #1): Empath Urban Fantasy

by Hawk, Ryanne

  “What—”

  “Shh, be a lamb and let me work in peace.” I placed my index finger over his lips to silence him. I gave him a saucy wink and lowered to my knees in front of him, unzipping his pants as I went and letting them drop to the floor. I glanced up at him, and his eyes bespoke confusion and lust. His cock stood proudly, and I wrapped my hand around his length and stroked him once, twice, allowing him to relax before I opened my mouth and traced my tongue around his plump crown.

  I licked the taste of his despair off my lips. “You have a huge cock, Dixon. Do you want this fast or slow?”

  My preference would be to kill him slowly, so as to savor his demise. But I was not without compassion. Torture was not my forte, and in fact, I think Cordy might crack if I allowed us to be consumed completely by the darkness we held inside. But I’d leave the decision up to Dixon. Almost too bad he didn’t understand the question.

  “Slow. I want you to go slow.”

  I sighed and shrugged. Remorse didn’t reside in me at the moment. I rode high on frenetic energy and the devilish decadence my meal would provide. “As you wish.”

  I opened my mouth one last time and began to slowly suck the life out of him with each stroke of my tongue. His eyes rolled back, and he slumped against the wall, panting, coming closer to completion and death with every pump of his hips.

  He tangled his hands in my hair and tried to fuck my mouth, but his strength was waning and mine was increasing. “So good. Your mouth feels like heaven and hell.”

  I hummed and he gasped. I reached under and caressed his balls, coaxing his life essence into the small space, pulling his soul down and preparing the vileness for consumption.

  I’d never actually done this before. At eighteen, my gram’s bodyguard had tracked me down and brought me to her house to live. There I learned the truth about my future, my lineage, and about some of the darker aspects of harvesting energy, life, and souls. Most empaths of the light don’t kill without ending up insane. Death goes against our moral code. My dad was never around much, and when he was home, he and my mother fought. My mother was sweet and giving, but the toll my dad's darkness took on her turned her into an empty shell, scarred and unable to find her inner light. She walked, talked and dressed, but inside, she was hollow and unable to bridge the chasm.

  I banked on my dual heritage, hoping I might pull this off and end up only mildly crazy. I hoped Cordy would forgive me. And Sol.

  Oh God, what will Sol think of me?

  “Oh yeah, baby, you are amazing.”

  I stopped sucking and pulled him from my mouth, growling. “Don’t call me baby.” Only Sol can call me baby.

  “Whatever you want, just keep going. Don’t stop.”

  I sucked him deeper and harder and decided to get this over with. The light side of me stirred, Cordy rose in her white dress as I called for his death, justifying my course to the higher powers by offering them proof of his transgressions by way of auric view. Then she closed her eyes, turned her face away, and let me work alone. I fused my aura to his and showed them in vibrant detail all the women he’d abused, the two he’d killed, and the countless others he’d taken advantage of.

  Above me, Dixon screamed, and a bright white light flashed, a signal of some sort. I sucked him harder and faster until he exploded in my mouth just as his heart imploded in his chest. His body shook and trembled. My dying marionette and I jerked harder on his strings. The slippery toxic elixir coated the back of my throat, and I nearly gagged from disgust and a bit of lust. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears starbursts of color flared in front of my eyes.

  Dixon collapsed onto the floor in a heap of death, and the world tilted sideways as I fell to the floor beside him.

  Poison laced blood shot through my system like shooting stars, and I’d never felt more alive—or powerful. Darkness controlled my mind as I lay there on the cold marble floor and allowed the chaos to swirl inside me, a complex miasma of thoughts, energy, pain, anguish. The deadly mixture blended with and bound itself to my essence, drowning my light and basking me only in darkness.

  The harsh echoes of Dixon’s screams and his victims’ sang to me, and I realized this was what the dark empaths who harvest life energy search for—the ultimate high. Just when I was about to stand up and find another source, a black pit swallowed me, and then there was nothing but an empty void.

  Chapter Six

  I opened my eyes and death stared back at me. I noticed little things like the opaque film covering Dixon’s eyes and the clammy white pallor of his skin. Sunlight streamed through his two-story windows and made my skin crawl.

  I killed this man. In the light of day, Dixon seemed like a bad movie. Would I be the hero or the bad guy in the film? My dark counterpart lay dormant for the time being, leaving me alone to deal with the mess she’d left behind.

  My stomach rolled and I scrambled to my feet, barely making it to the sink before I threw up. Acid burned my throat and I choked, spitting a slimy piece of sponge-like substance into the sink. The remnants of Dixon’s life slid down the drain going God knew where. Though he was dead, his essence still swam in my veins. The itching sensation reminded me of an alien baby growing inside my skin. I didn’t know how to dislodge his lethal ambrosia from blood, heart, or mind. I feared what I would become if the baneful batter festered for too long.

  Eww, gross.

  I rinsed my mouth with water from the tap. In a daze, I walked into the entry and sprawled on my belly and grabbed my cell phone from under the hall table. I crawled back to the safety of the kitchen, sitting on floor in the kitchen with my knees to my chest. Maybe Sol would know. I had nobody else in my life I trusted, so my only thought was to call the one person I could. Which was actually kind of sad, since I’d only known him for a few days.

  After scrolling through my contacts list with shaking fingers, I hit send and lifted the phone and waited.

  Ring, ring, ring.

  “What?” A gruff, but familiar voice answered, and my shoulders slumped as tears threatened to fall.

  “Sol,” I whispered on a hoarse breath, my throat burning from the acid and repressed emotions I tried to contain.

  “Cordelia? Cordelia, what’s wrong?”

  “Sol, he’s dead. Oh shit, I killed him.” Big fat tears formed and pooled, threatening to spill over.

  “Cordelia, hold yourself together, and tell me where you are.”

  I hiccupped and swallowed hard before speaking. “At Dixon Sharpe’s apartment. I’m not sure of the—” I stopped and composed myself and tried again. “I’m not sure of the address.” I finished.

  “Sit tight. I’ll find you. And, Cordelia? Don’t cry, baby.” He hung up, and I glanced around the dead man’s place to occupy my frazzled mind. I gathered up my lipstick, compact and purse, making sure I had all my belongings.

  The modern furniture of his home was done in whites and silvers with gleaming black accents and tables. His grand kitchen with maple cabinets and chrome fixtures with glass block backsplash bespoke a masculine sense of style. I peaked around the cabinet and spied Dixon’s prone form lying listless on the ground and closed my eyes tight to keep the tears contained.

  I killed him. Didn’t matter he deserved it. I’d still ended someone’s life.

  My body trembled and my heart hammered in my chest, bruising and punishing my rib cage. More bile rose from the pit of my stomach, and I jumped up before expelling more of his bitter taste into the gleaming silver sink. Maybe if I forced my body to throw up over and over…perhaps he had ipecac.

  I turned my back on death and stalked to the rear of the apartment in search of the bathroom. I’d wait for Sol in there, away from the pain dominating the front of this house.

  I curled up in the massive tub, shaking and sick, seeking refuge from the despair swimming in my heart. I had no way to release the barrage of emotional horror pent up and locked inside me.

  Sol told me not to cry. I guess he didn’t want me to cause a flash
flood before he got here. The pressure mounted and pummeled my brain. How much longer could I hold the disease in? I squeezed my eyes shut and sang softly to combat the inner angst.

  “Cordelia! Cordelia open the door.” Sol’s yell broke into my daydream about moss-covered forests and a deep cleansing stream. I sat up and waited for my head to stop spinning before leaving the bathroom and walking to the door with light feet.

  Did I have a fear of waking the dead? I put my bag on the counter.

  I went to the door only to discover there was no handle and I remembered—a flash memory from last night clawing to the surface of my mind. Dixon had scanned his eyes to open the door.

  Oh fuck.

  “Hang on, Sol. There’s no handle to open the door. He scanned his eye on the little panel.” I sighed at the bitter irony of Sol standing outside another door waiting for me to let him in. Thankfully Dixon's unit occupied the entire floor so I didn't have to worry about waking any neighbors.

  On the other side, I heard Sol swear, and the sound made me smile for a second. I sought the cold place inside my head, the place where I went when I needed to detach from the world, and allowed the chill to consume me. I walked over to Dixon and stared down at him. He outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds. Could I lift him up to the panel?

  You could always remove his head, Delia whispered groggily, almost like she was underwater and bogged down with sand.

  Um, no. Decision made, I reached down and lifted him from under the shoulders and dragged him to the wall, grunting and sweating as I pulled. The scanner graced the wall about five feet up, and I briefly wondered if I’d manage this. I only weighed about 110 pounds, and a limp body was harder to wrestle than a live one.

  “A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry. But were we burdened with like weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain,” I quoted.

  I struggled with his weight, but managed to put one of his arms around my shoulder and used my legs to hoist him up. The scents pouring off him nauseated me, the disgusting mix of urine, feces, sweat, and sex cloyed my head, and I gagged, almost dropping him back to the floor.

  “Cordelia, you okay?” Sol asked with a hint of frustrated concern.

  “No. I’m not.” I grunted and heaved Dixon higher, trying to balance his weight using my side and arm strength.

  Almost there. His head lolled on his shoulders like a tetherball. Using my hand, I grabbed his hair to steady his head, and a zing jolted me as a flash ran through my mind from last night—Dixon holding me by the hair and forcing me here against my will. My own anger gave me the extra strength needed to hold him long enough for the scan, and the door finally opened with a soft snick.

  I released Dixon to the floor like a smoldering hot potato and stood there mute as Sol walked into the apartment and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly together. He didn’t shy away from the stench of my body or the repellent scene of death, nor the fact I’d just been holding a dead man.

  A thought suddenly struck me. “How did you get up here past security in the lobby?”

  “I walked in with one of the residents and rode the elevator.”

  “Huh, and nobody tried to stop you?”

  He gave a low chuckle. “The guards didn’t see me. A fun piece of magic called glamour, perhaps you’ll learn how to use it one day when you’re older. Getting the elevator to stop on this floor was a little tougher, but I've learned many tricks over my years. Just call me MacGyver. ”

  I snorted with derision. “Yeah, when I get older—great. Can I cry now?” I asked as the tears pooled and formed, my body shaking from the adrenaline letdown.

  “I got you, baby.” He scooped me up and said, “I’m going to take you home. Then I’ll come back here to clean up.”

  I sobbed once. “I can help.”

  “You’ve done enough, Cordelia. I’ll do the rest, okay?”

  I sniffled. "Okay. Don't forget my purse on the counter, and we should use his private elevator to his garage, just in case. I can show you." He walked over and grabbed my bag, handing it to me to hold as we walked out of the house of death.

  Chapter Seven

  The world blinked in and out of focus on the ride to my house. I watched as men and women went to work and ran their daily errands. They had no idea the darkness following in my wake. The bleakness trailed after me in harrowed grey tatters from a wool dress torn while running for my life. Or so it appeared.

  Sol drove, and I cocooned myself in his warmth, pretending not to think as my mind raced and played the events over and over, a fucking freak show. The reel spun and I watched in horror as I killed Dixon. I pressed my lips and crushed my fingers together.

  Nothing helped, the movie continued to play, and I gasped as a rush of energy coursed through me, eliciting a moan from Sol. The moment Dixon died and I swallowed down his essence sang to the caliginosity residing in my soul.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened, Cordelia?”

  “Not really.”

  “We should. Talking will help; otherwise, the poison will consume you, and you’ll never regain control. The darkness of Dixon will eat at you and tear you apart molecule by molecule.”

  "How do you know poison is inside me?"

  He thought for a second, and then said. "I can smell it on you. The bitterness is leaking from your pores."

  My heart palpitated, and my skin broke out in goose pimples. My nails dug into my palms, and my legs started to tremble. We pulled up to my building, and I jumped from the car and ran as fast as I could.

  “Cordelia! Cordelia wait!”

  His feet pounding the pavement sent music wafting in the air, but I didn’t stop to listen. I ran for the trees and the lake behind my house, tearing my shirt off and throwing the crusted garment to the ground. Tears leaked down my cheeks, and I ran faster as dark grey clouds formed above me. When the first tear fell, the clouds opened, and rain pelted the ground in fat drops.

  “Cordelia!” A muffled voice yelled behind me, gaining purchase, and spurred me to run even faster.

  I cleared the trees and dove headfirst into the water, hoping to find peace in the rain splattered lake.

  I swam with strong strokes underwater until I reached the deepest, darkest part of the lake and let myself go. I stopped fighting, stopped swimming, and debated for a few moments on whether to take a breath and just end the torment.

  Have you ever had to swallow a lump so hard you choke, only to have to smile like you aren’t in pain and your heart’s not bleeding? You blame your tears on gagging, but really they’re your soul leaking the heartache you aren’t supposed to show?

  I have.

  Sometimes the pain is so intense my heart beats in irregular time, and I can’t catch a breath because the agony lodged in my throat begs to escape. Only, I lock it inside, afraid of what would happen if I rendered myself able to grieve.

  The icy water sliced my body like millions of tiny razors, the cold seeping into my head, making the rampant thoughts and voices quiet. My toes brushed the chilly sand on the lake’s floor, and I allowed my body to drift and my mind to float away.

  “Cordy! Cordy don’t do this! Our life is necessary. We do what we have to in order to survive. At some point you’re going to have to accept who you are, and deal with the circumstances of our birth!” Delia screamed at me inside my head to wake up and swim.

  But I didn’t want to fight anymore. I’d given my entire life to others. I’d taken their hate and anger. I absorbed their lies and pity. I drank in their essence, whether good or bad, and I did what I’ve always done. I fueled their desires and absolved them of guilt.

  The crux was I was the biggest liar of all.

  I knew what I was. I’d always known who I was and what I was capable of. I just hid from the truth.

  I hid because lying was easier than facing the cold facts about myself or the truth about my future.

  My lungs heaved and attempted to f
orce a breath before they burst.

  Just as I opened my mouth to inhale the frigid water, warm lips covered mine and breathed life into my lungs. Arms wrapped around my waist, and a body pressed close to me. Then I was propelled upwards locked in a fiery kiss.

  We broke the surface of the water, my savior and I. Then I lost the warmth of his lips in favor of his sputtering ripshit tirade.

  “Are you fucking crazy?! You lunatic, you could have died! What were you thinking? Dammit, Cordelia,” Sol said as his hands gripped my shoulders and shook me. I opened my eyes and locked onto his, which blazed with wrath, heat, and the potent reds of violent fury.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry before, Sol,” I said as my teeth chattered from the lack of oxygen. Shock captured center stage, and my head fuzzed as the strength waned from my limbs.

  Sol pulled me close to him and started one arm swimming to shore, towing me with him. We reached the bank, and he scooped me in his arms once again and walked towards my sanctuary with wet, sloshing steps.

  I buried my face in the crook of his neck and whispered, “Thank you, my Sol.”

  He growled under his breath. I think he was too angry to talk, but even his growls spoke to my heart. He squeezed me tighter and picked up his pace.

  A stolen moment of peace settled in my soul as Sol carried me to my home. My eyelids drooped, and the heat from his large body propelled me into a healing stasis. I was aware of his deep breathing and the motion from being held, but I was unable to open my eyes. The sound of my lock clicking open, Sol’s footsteps on my hardwood floors, then the soft creek of my bedroom door met my ears as I followed his movements in my mind’s eye.

  His hands were tender as they removed my soaked clothes. I don’t particularly like my body, and I should have blanched at the notion of him seeing me nude, but for some reason I didn’t. Maybe I was just plain tired. However, I kept my eyes closed just in case he didn’t like what he saw.