by Tara Brown
She beams. “Aye, I did.”
Oliver nods at me as he comes around the dark corner of the alley. “You coming to kill things tonight?”
I shrug. “Sure. Is Dorian still here too?”
He points at the entrance to the brothel they cleaned out when we had arrived. The decay of society hasn't improved the underworld any. I walk through the broken doorway into a stench that takes my breath away for a moment. A man, completely rotting and melting into the carpet, is at the front door. I step across him, walking cautiously down the long hallway.
A dark shadow appears in a doorway. I don't jump. The smell of him makes my mouth water, unlike most of the smells in here that sour my cheeks. It makes me grin. “Hi.”
Dorian pulls me into his arms, kissing along side my throat. “This place is fucking filthy.”
“I just don't understand how they’re all cool with the no lights and no running water.”
“The man oozing on the carpet might have bothered me more than the lights or water.”
I chuckle into his embrace. “Oozing is the right word.”
“If there was ever one thing humans shouldn't do, it’s ooze.”
He inhales my neck, laying a soft peck on my skin. “I want to go home and show you how much I missed you.”
“I saw you two hours ago.”
“I’m still counting the time I was dead.” He takes my hand and walks me from the disgusting den of sin and debauchery. “They’re all dead, love. Landry made sure of that.”
Back on the street, Oliver grins at us. “You two are just two peas in a pod, aren’t you?”
I glance at Dorian and shake my head. “No way.”
His look is the opposite of mine. “Whatever pod you’re in, so am I.”
And that stupid comment melts my heart.
Oliver rolls his eyes as he puts his hand in, like we might cheer for winning our soccer match. But as we all put our hands in, he winks us to the West Coast. We are instantly in Los Angeles.
The smog and smell are worse than the last time I was here. I never was a fan of LA. Not because I disliked the city, but the women all seemed artificial.
I suppose that worry is long gone. The entire hillside is hidden behind ash and the street we’re on, one of the much nicer ones, is black and stained. The houses are partially burned or completely gone. The ones that haven’t been burnt seem to be covered in soot stains and are looted.
It’s the sort of sight you never want to see in your country. You never expect to see it either.
“Wow, this place has really gone downhill.”
Oliver nods at Dorian, muttering, “I think this neighborhood looks a bit better though. This is where that wanker lived. The one who was in that film I didn't like.”
Dorian cocks an eyebrow and gives me a look. “Why are we here?”
I look at Gwen who points. “There is a hive of them—succubi, vampires, and even a witch. Lorelei felt her doing magic. She can’t stray from Marcus’ bed though so she sent us. She thinks it might be a trap, like Lillith is testing her sickness and seeing if she’ll come out to play.”
Dorian shrugs. “That's her MO, every time she sets a trap. She loves being smug and ahead of us at every step.”
“She’s a rotten bitch and if I could kick her in her bits, I wouldn't even hesitate.”
I give Oliver a look. “You wouldn't, we both know it. No dude is ever going to kick a girl in the bits, as you so eloquently put it.”
He grins at me as Gwen tugs on Landry’s arm and pulls him into the broken street. She stops, looking back at me when we all get closer to the thing that has made her stop dead in her tracks.
The smoke clears, and there before us is a jet. It’s crash-landed on the road, obviously not that long ago. The lack of lighting and visibility must have been dire. I didn't know planes were taking off still. It seems weird.
“This is freaky.” She walks closer, looking at the wreckage.
A man comes around the front of the jet, stopping dead when he sees us. His head is bleeding but his pilot’s uniform suggests he has been struggling for some time. It’s ripped and filthy with old dirt. He wrinkles his brow, taking a step back. Tears linger in his eyes, like he’s been crying. “Who are you?” he stammers.
Dorian steps toward him. “We are just some people going that way.”
“There’s nothing over there. Everyone is dead. Everything is dead. There are no people. Who are you?”
“Sir, I assure you we are just people going that way.” I can see madness mixing with the tears in his eyes. I point in the direction of the evil scent taunting us. “That's where we’re going.”
He shakes his head. “You’re demons. This is Revelation and you are the devil’s army—the people who speak the lies and trick the innocent.” He screams at us, “GET BACK DEVIL, GET THEE BACK! GOD WILL PROTECT ME AND SAVE ME FROM YOU!” He’s lost it completely. His eyes are wild and insane, and his head injury is quite bad. “ARE THESE YOUR SLUTS? THE DEVIL’S WHORES?”
“Well, you're half right.” Dorian sighs, his impatience is showing. He reaches for the man but his hand doesn't move beyond a few inches from his chest. The man jumps back. Oliver grabs for the man, but is also unable to move. Gwen, Landry, and I stand completely still, and totally confused. Dorian tries again but his hands won’t move.
I reach for the man, sipping his life away as he struggles and screams. I drop him to the road, but my eyes have not left Dorian and Oliver. Dorian cracks a smile after a few seconds. “We cannot commit a sin, it would seem.”
Oliver nods. “I did try to toss a rock at a kid on a bike back at Shane’s, when we first arrived and kids still rode on bikes. My arm wouldn't move.”
Dorian laughs but Gwen and I both look horrified. “You did what?”
He shrugs. “What?”
Landry grabs Gwen and pulls her along the road, no doubt hoping we will follow. She glances back at me, with a puzzled look in her eyes. “Why did you kill him?”
“He would have died a far crueler death had I left him. I don't think there are any good people left. And he called us whores, that was sort of mean.”
She turns back around and I can’t help but wonder if my reasoning makes me sick or considerate. I don't know things like that anymore.
We walk past all of the debris and damaged houses and my brain literally can’t wrap around what I see. Somehow we’ve missed it all. We’ve skipped over the bad parts of the Earth’s worst hours. Everywhere I look now there is destruction and decay. But my brain still doesn't rationalize a hundred percent. I know I am still slipping past days. My fingers curl into Dorian’s as we walk along the road.
I wonder how he feels about it all. When I look over, his face is stoic. He’s the master of that face.
I think I love that I never know what he’s thinking, and I suspect I give him far more credit for thinking than he actually does think.
A bang off to the left makes us all spin but a black dog is all that emerges. He’s rooting and running. He’s thin and I fear scavenging for food like all animals now. The ghost city, once a thriving metropolis, is silent apart from the wind and the scavengers.
“This is eerie.”
Dorian nods, squeezing my hand tighter. He doesn't lift it and kiss it. He doesn't try to hold me the way Landry is holding Gwen. He isn’t like that. I wonder if he knows how to love someone at all.
Gwen turns suddenly, narrowing her gaze. The house she is focused on, like a hound pointing out the fallen bird, is set back from the road and massive. She swallows before whispering. “That's it.”
We all turn. I catch a glimpse of the side of the house and wink, forgetting I’m with Dorian. He gives me a shitty sneer. “I like to do the driving, love.”
I tug my hand from his and creep around the side of the house to the back. The din of the feast below makes me shudder. It’s feeding time. I can smell the blood and sex.
It makes Dorian smile, as if he has forgotten why he’s h
ere. I shake my head at him, earning a scowl. We creep along the house to the french doors leading into the kitchen, completely silent, and yet not cautious.
Dorian just walks, looking about. His lifetime as an undefeated immortal has made him reckless. My decade of repeating the same few years hasn't given me the confidence he has. I’m just always prepared to fight.
We sneak along the walls to the stairs to the basement.
The smell is wafting up to the main floor from below. Dorian nods at the door. “Go cover for me.”
I lift my middle finger. “You go cover.”
He gives me a look but I wink to the bottom of the stairs before he can touch me. The hallway is dark and silent. I creep to the right, feeling him enter the basement with me and walk to the left.
I can imagine the smile on his face. I discover a cold room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. There is nothing else.
I turn and creep back to the stairs, listening. Dorian’s breath is honestly the only sound I hear. The sex and feasting has stopped momentarily. A lull in the feast perhaps?
I walk into a large recreation room with a massive TV and pool table, with a full bar. No wonder they chose this house to party at.
The back bedrooms and sauna are all empty.
“We heard them, I know we did.” Dorian gives me a confused look. “You smell it too, right? They’re here.”
I nod, still glancing about in the dark. The moonlight coming in the windows provides the smallest amount of light, but it’s enough to get by.
I wink us to the stairs, smelling it the strongest there. I turn and walk around the side, finding a random door. Had I seen it anywhere else, I would have thought under-stair storage, now I don't think that. The smell is so ripe I can taste the blood.
I turn the knob, hearing the sounds of the kill as the door cracks open.
A woman is mewling with a sucking sound that resonates from below. Dorian goes first, taking the concrete stairs slowly. Below there is a light flickering in the corner. It’s a candle or a lantern. It isn’t as constant as regular light. Shadows flicker with the lights, moving and thrusting. It’s a giant orgy. The black reflection of Dorian’s eyes sparkles in the dim light. “Leave now.”
I shake my head but he winks me out, shoves me across the grass, and winks away. Gwen gives me a surprised expression. “How bad is it in there?”
“Orgy of death and torture.”
“Gross.”
I nod. Oliver points to the bushes at the back of the yard. “Let’s go stand over here. I have a suspicion he’s just going to blow them all to pieces.”
We follow him to the back and wait. Dorian winks back to us, taking our hands and looking back at the house. He waits for the massive bang and explosion, before he winks us to Marcus’ house. He grins. “I do miss being able to blow shit up.”
“You can’t do bad things? How did you do that?”
He tilts his head, giving me a look like I should know the answer. “That wasn't bad, love. That was exactly what God would have expected.” He scoops me into his arms and presses his lips on mine before releasing me instantly.
“You’re so weird.”
He shrugs and stalks into the kitchen, pulling a bag of potato chips from the cupboard. Shane snatches them. “That's the last bag.” He takes a bunch and hands it back. “We share or I dump the whole bag down my throat.”
“It’s a crisp, Shane, not the last bottle of scotch.” Dorian rolls his eyes and eats a second chip.
Shane pulls back, taking the bag and walking away. “You don't deserve them if you can’t recognize this is the last bag, maybe on Earth.”
Blake winks in, looking guilty the moment he sees all of us.
Dorian eyes him up, smelling the guilt. “What’s that look on your face?”
He shrugs. “There’s no look.”
“How is she?” I ask, avoiding the whole conversation.
He scowls at me. “They’re all fine. Our parents get along great.”
“How’s Alise?”
His cheeks redden. “So pretty I manage to forget about the entire world and all its bullshit for the hour I’m there, okay?” He stomps into the living room and slumps down in the dark.
Marcus passes him a bottle of booze as they stare at the black screen of the TV.
“It is just depressing enough in here.”
Dorian nods at me. “You’d think the world had lost the battle.”
Marcus snorts. “It might as well lose—what the fuck is the point in living without Netflix? You answer me that? Or the new Hearthstone game from Blizzard? Or the new Halo? There is nothing to do.”
Dorian crosses the expansive room, grabbing some logs and tossing them into the fireplace. “You seem to forget the eras we have lived through. The shit we have seen. The moments in time we have experienced. Technology has been around for about sixty years. Before that we read and walked and lit fires.” He grabs the lighter fluid and the matches and starts a bright fire. “We detached from our own worries and problems and engaged with others. This generation of people is weak and that's why they’re dead. You know the moment the Wi-Fi cut out, millions of people emerged from their dark houses and stared up at the sky, as if awakening from a coma.”
Marcus lifts his hand. “I was one of them. I was mid-game when it cut off. Fucking disappointing.”
It makes me smile. I know exactly how he feels. I don't want to admit it, not with Dorian acting like we should all be grateful to be alive during this glorious time.
His eyes cross the room to find me. I wink, hoping he’ll follow.
Chapter Fourteen
Witches of East—who cares, they’ve ruined my house
It takes seven weeks, or so Blake thinks he counted seven, for Lillith to attack.
I’m mid-orgasm, on my knees with Dorian behind me, when I hear the first scream. We jump up, winking and readjusting clothes. Dorian looks like he might kill everything he sees and is still completely erect in his black slacks.
Lightning touches down in the hallway as if a storm is brewing in the ceiling.
Shane grabs my arm, dragging me into a room as a flood of bolts shoot past me. He peeks out the door, muttering. “There are three of them. It’s like a horror movie. Lillith and two witches.”
I glance around. “Where’s Giselle?”
He rolls his eyes. “She left a while ago to see if she could raid some designer’s house in France. I told her everything is destroyed and his house is likely raided already. It’s been years, but she found an article in a magazine showcasing his home. So she winked there.”
It makes me smile. Giselle is still very much the girl she was when this all started. I know I can’t say that about myself. But Blake and Shane are unchanged. Shane still moves like a police officer. He winks us to the next doorway, pointing down the hall. “That door there is Lorelei’s. Want to bet they’re in there?”
“Marcus has a false wall in there, where he can watch the people inside.”
Shane backs away in horror. “No.”
“Yeah.” I wink us there. We duck immediately, as there is a hole in the wall where a bolt of lightning has been fired. Lorelei is doing her best wounded-gazelle act. Two witches hold Lorelei’s limp body against the far wall, with Lillith pacing. “The fae have betrayed you the way they did me.”
Lorelei shakes her head, coughing. “The fae love me. They always have. Ain’t no one ever loved you, Lillith.”
Lillith’s mouth twitches into a grin but it’s wry and sadistic looking. Marcus creeps from the shadows behind us. He shakes his head. “Wink in and kill them.” There is a desperate fear in his gaze. I am about to argue his request when suddenly Dorian is in the room. He walks toward them, hands out.
“Impossible! How are you alive?”
Dorian offers up a sarcastic smile. “Someone loves me far more than he ever loved you.”
She laughs. “You were always Lorri’s bitch.”
Dorian isn’t fazed. He tilts his hea
d to the side. “And you were always just that sad little victim nobody wanted. Jonathan used you, hoping to make his very own army of powerful creatures. God gave you to Adam, and he let him hurt you because you meant nothing to him.”
I am about to wink in there and kill Dorian myself when she turns, screaming in rage. She’s lost control. She shoots at him, but he’s been winking since before she was born. Every shot JUST misses. She screams louder, breaking a huge mirror, spraying glass across the room.
Through the glass spray Lorelei snaps her fingers, imprisoning the two witches with the drapes. Dorian winks behind Lillith as Lorelei grabs her with wind and spins her. Her scream becomes part of the wind in the air. I wink to the witches struggling with the drapes, kissing away the life in one as Shane does the other. Lorelei snaps her fingers, pausing Lillith. And as if done in slow motion on purpose, Dorian grabs her face, smiling bitterly, and presses his lips against hers. She screams into the embrace, but Lorelei has called upon every ounce of magic she has. Her beautiful body drops to the floor in a slump.
We all breathe heavily, as if we’ve run a marathon.
Marcus walks out from behind his pervert wall, taking in the damage done to the room. “What the bloody hell? How come my house always has to be the spot getting shit on?”
Lorelei looks up from her tears and shakes her head. “You can just say you’re excited this is over.”
He scoffs. “I’m excited this is the only room to be completely destroyed.” He glances back at me. “Apart from my lab.”
I lift my hands in the air. “That was an accident and you know it.”
“I hate witches.”
Lorelei cocks her head. “What?”
“Well, apart from you.”
“And?”
“Momma Holt and Ramón.” His tone is sarcastic and mocking but she smiles and walks to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. They kiss.
Dorian, still hovering over her body, turns his face to mine. “I feel sick for saying those things.”
I fight the grin my face so badly wants to flash. “You can’t do mean things and that was all mean.”