Holy shit.
The subway car was empty, swaying and rocking as it picked up speed, and I felt sick. Sick to my stomach. What the fuck had just happened? I’d watched a man die, I’d come way too close to being killed... my arm stung. I was still bleeding, and the blood on my shirt was starting to dry, black and stiff.
I stared at the floor of the train, dirty and graffiti-covered... I didn’t even want to sit down. I was afraid that if I sat down I’d never get up again.
I held on to the metal bar in front of me with a death grip. In my mind, Ophelia’s voice shouted, RUN, over, and over again. And the man on the platform teetered on the edge and then fell into the tracks, over and over again.
9th Street.
The door chimed and I shook myself out of my stupor and pushed through the crowd of people entering the car to get to the platform.
I wondered briefly if Ophelia had gotten away before the police came. Someone on the other platform must have called the cops. CC-TV cameras were everywhere... that station would be crawling with cops and paramedics by now.
I ran in the direction of my hotel, digging desperately in the back pocket of my cargo pants for my keycard. My phone was in my jacket, and I didn’t figure I’d be seeing that again anytime soon.
The crowds in the streets were beginning to thin, and I ran as fast as I could towards the hotel. The neon sign on the side of the building was my beacon, and every pounding step brought me closer to safety. I pushed my way through the lobby doors, knocking my shoulder against them as they slid open. The woman at the concierge desk didn’t even look up from her phone as I ran past.
I hammered the call button for the elevator, but it wasn’t coming fast enough.
“Godammit,” I muttered.
The door for the emergency stairs was around the corner, and I kicked it open. Five flights of concrete stairs. Fantastic. I took a deep breath and launched myself at the stairs, taking them two at a time, desperate to get to my floor.
My chest was burning by the time I hit the fifth floor, I swiped my key card against the door, breathing hard as the light blinked red twice, and then beeped loudly as the green light flashed and the lock clicked.
With a sob of relief I pushed the door open and stumbled down the hall to my hotel room and slid the key card into the door. It beeped sharply. Rejected.
No.
I tried it again. Red light. Sad beep.
Fuck.
Again. Red light. Sad beep.
I threw the card against the door with a cry of frustration, and balled my hands into fists. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was fine. Everything was fine. Fine. Fine. Fucking fine.
I bent down to pick up the card and rubbed it against my thigh quickly before I held my breath and inserted it slowly into the card reader again.
Red light. Red light.
Nooo.
Green.
I almost cried. I slammed the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall and smashed shut behind me. I locked the deadbolt and pulled the chain across. I felt better already. Kind of.
I leaned my forehead against the door, trying to get my breathing and my heart rate back under control. In. Out. I closed my eyes, but all I could see was the man in the black trench coat falling off the subway platform. Murder. I heard the ding of the elevator faintly through the door.
Footsteps came down the hallway, and I held my breath as they passed my door, and then stopped.
A heavy hand crashed against the door, the strikes vibrating through my skull. I recoiled as though the door was on fire. Oh, shit.
I approached the door cautiously, jumping just a little as whoever was standing outside knocked again. The blows crashed against the wood and I paused.
“Room service,” a heavily accented voice rumbled through the door and I looked through the peephole carefully. A large figure loomed in the hallway. Malleus? It had to be. I definitely hadn’t ordered any room service.
The man looked into the peephole, his dark eyes burning into mine. “We’ll find you, bruja,” he said. I backed away from the door, my heart hammering in my chest.
Everything Ophelia had told me... all of it... everything I’d seen. It was all true. I mean, except for the part about me being a witch; that had to be bullshit. Right? That part was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
I paced the room, chewing on my fingernails and trying to figure out what the fuck I was going to do next. The Malleus, whatever and whoever they were... they knew where I was, and they didn’t seem to be willing to re-evaluate their opinion of what I was. I was no witch. No way.
There was a gentle knock on the door. Three raps.
Now what?
I felt something, something warm creeping over my shoulders, like a half embrace. I shook the feeling off. No way. She was doing this, and I didn’t want any part of it.
I crept towards the door and looked through the peephole. Ophelia’s red hair and pale eyes filled the frame.
I slapped my hand on the door, making her jump just a little.
“Get the fuck away from me!” I shouted. A small smile slid across Ophelia’s face, and she looked into the peephole.
“I’m sorry about what happened back there, but I’m glad you made it here in one piece,” she said, pausing as though she was waiting for me to say something. She could wait forever for all I cared.
“I brought you your jacket,” she said, holding it up.
“I’m not opening the door for you, or for anyone, got it? You can fuck right the hell off!”
“Okay, Maia. I know you’re scared, and confused—“
I slapped my hand against the door again, and I bristled as Ophelia smiled a little wider.
“I am not scared, I’m pissed off!”
Before I could think about it, I’d turned the lock and wrenched the door open. It slammed against the chain lock and I peered through the space at Ophelia.
“You killed someone. I watched you do it,” I hissed at her through clenched teeth.
“Maia, I was trying to protect you… you don’t want to know what they would have done if they’d captured you. You’re not safe here. If you come with me—”
I knew what would have happened if those assholes had taken me. I’d be the starring attraction at the next Malleus Bar-B-Q. Fuck that. I didn’t need her to tell me that I’d gotten off lucky.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m freaked the fuck out and pissed the fuck off. If you don’t get out of here. I’m calling the fucking cops!” I spat out the words and then slammed the door in her face and turned the deadbolt.
I backed away from the door. Hoping that she would just leave. That she wouldn’t just unlock the door with the purple smoke in her hands and walk right in here, kidnap me and drag me back to her apartment to sacrifice me to some weird goddess or feed me to her vampire friends.
“You know where I am if you change your mind,” Ophelia said, her voice floating to me through the door as though she had whispered it directly into my ear. I batted the air in front of my face, trying to get her out of my head.
“Crazy bitch,” I muttered. I flopped face down on the bed and groaned into a pillow. It was too much. All of it was too much.
My stomach growled.
And I hadn’t eaten since this morning, and all I’d eaten this morning was a stale Continental Breakfast granola bar. It was after ten, there was no way room service would be open, and I wasn’t sure if I could trust myself to go outside. Ophelia might be waiting for me, or that asshole with the gold teeth. I couldn’t quite decide which one was worse.
I pulled off my boots and walked quickly to the door. I checked the peephole to make sure the hallway was empty, and then I pulled the door open. My jacket was draped over the door handle, and I snatched it and pulled it inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible.
I checked the pockets quickly; relieved to find the cigarette case I used to carry my money and my ID st
ill there and my phone intact. There was a black scorch mark on the side of the jacket and I wondered what had happened to it since I’d left it behind at Ophelia’s apartment.
I ran my fingers over the blackened fabric, gasping just a little as I felt an electric charge arc between the mark and my hand. “Ow!” I looked at my fingers in surprise and touched the jacket again, but there was nothing this time. Just burned fabric.
“What the shit,” I muttered.
My stomach growled again.
I definitely needed to eat. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep tonight.
I sat in the middle of my bed, surrounded by pizza boxes and empty cans of soda. I tossed a crust into one of the empty boxes and sucked on my greasy fingers. After two pizzas, a side of fries and a six-pack of soda, I still wasn’t sure what to do. Everything that had happened in the last few days was more than I’d ever had to deal with in my entire life, and I thought my life had been pretty fucked up already.
Everything Ophelia had shown me, what if it was real? What if I was what she said I was— a Daughter of... what was it again? What if I was a witch?
I looked down at my hands, would I be able to make purple smoke come out of my fingers too? What about fire? Maybe not fire. Fire wasn’t really my friend.
I turned my hands over, looking at them carefully, wondering if there was a clue in the lines on my palms. I’d never had my palms read before, never done any tarot readings; I didn’t even know what my bloody zodiac sign was.
“This is all ridiculous.”
I held up my left hand, pointing it at a can of soda that sat on top of the television. I narrowed my eyes, concentrating. Maybe it worked like the Force. I just had to quiet my mind and something inside me would make it move.
“Come on,” I whispered. Just move... something. Just a little bit. Sparkles. Lightning. Anything. Dance, monkey.
I dropped my hand with a frustrated exhalation. This was hopeless.
I sat there, legs crossed in the middle of my bed, surrounded by my garbage. I’d tried all night, and I’d told myself that if I could make something happen, then I’d go to Ophelia’s and demand an explanation. If nothing happened... if nothing happened I’d figure something else out.
Chapter 11 ~ Ophelia
The journey home from Maia’s hotel was a strange one. I hadn’t meant to kill that Malleus on the platform, just shake him up a little and get him away from Maia.
Murderer.
That’s what she’d called me. But it wasn’t true. Murder was something they did. The Malleus hunted us down and burned us. That was murder. What I’d done was self-defense. It wasn’t my fault that he had bad balance. The taser to the neck, sure that was my fault… but everything else had been an accident. Nothing more. A horrible accident. Wasn’t it? My powers had grown more than I’d expected in the last six months, but I liked to think that I was still in control. I was always in control and this was no different.
Maia would understand in time. If I’d been able to talk to her, to really explain… I looked over my shoulder at the neon lights of the hotel. An explanation wasn’t going to happen tonight, that was for damn sure.
This day had gone on long enough, and I’d had my fill of drama. I just wanted to open a bottle of wine, cuddle my cat and try to get some sleep before Lacey came home from Spiral.
It’s the little things.
I took the subway from 9th street, to 15th… my apartment was on the opposite side of the park, but I wanted to swing by the station and see if the police were still covering the area. I had heard the sirens as I’d high-tailed it away from the carnage, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take them to scrape that Malleus off the tracks.
I didn’t hear any incident announcements, and no transit bulletins were posted on the transit app on my phone. That was strange. Anytime there was an interruption in service, of any length of time, a bulletin would be posted, multiple bulletins if it was something serious… but there was nothing. An elevator was out at Lafayette… but that was it.
It wasn’t that I relished the confusion and mayhem that my little… indecent had caused, but I was curious.
I walked quickly through the park, pausing briefly to brush my hands through the rose bushes near the Prospect Park station.
The space was quiet. No sirens, no lights, no police tape. People wandered in and out of the station, heading downtown or home. Situation normal, all fucked up.
This place should have been crawling with cops and ambulances and firetrucks… they would have had to shut down the subway line, hose off the tracks and start all over again. Mayhem. Anarchy. News crews. Something. Anything.
But there was nothing.
I stood there in disbelief, noticing the scuffed gravel where I had dumped the first thug on his back with a burst of purple fire. He’d skidded a little bit as he’d landed. That observation made me smile just a little, but it didn’t fix the fact that from what I could see, nothing had happened here tonight.
“What the fuck,” I muttered. I couldn’t contain my curiosity, and I headed for the stairs that led to the inbound platform. Next stop, 7th Ave.
The eerie green lights of the platform were flickering the same way they had the last time I was here, only an hour or so ago. Definitely not long enough to clean everything up, take statements from the dozen or so witnesses and whoever else had been hanging around pretending they’d seen something. My old friend, Joe the Hobo (he called himself that, it’s not my fault) seemed to be a witness to everything. I often wondered how he managed to keep up with it all.
A train screamed through the station, heading away from the park to Church Ave, and I edged closer to the edge of the platform, leaning out ever so slightly so that I could peek down at the tracks.
I don’t know what I was expecting to see. A mangled body. Shreds of fabric and bone like a smashed pumpkin spread over the tracks. Ew. But there was nothing. Just garbage, discarded subway tickets, a scarf, and what looked like a sneaker shoved into the tarred gravel.
A heavy hand grabbed me roughly, pinching my arm painfully through my sweater.
“You lookin’ for trouble, missy?” A voice growled,
I turned with a gasp, half-expecting to see the Malleus I’d grappled with standing there, grinning at me with blood on his teeth and a gaping wound in his head. But it was Eli.
“Oh, my goddess you scared me,” I whispered, falling into his embrace easily. He chuckled lightly and pulled me closer, brushing my hair away from my forehead with his cold fingers.
“Hey, it’s all right. I didn’t mean to scare you; I just wanted to make you jump a little. You make the weirdest faces when you’re startled.”
“Always with the charm,” I muttered against his chest.
“Long day?”
“The fucking longest,” I groaned. “I just want to go home and talk to a bottle of wine about it.”
Eli smiled, flashing his fangs briefly. “That sounds like the best plan I’ve heard all week.”
“Don’t you have to be at Spiral tonight? I didn’t think I’d be seeing you…” It was true; he’d completely slipped my mind. Since I’d met Maia, she’d been the only other person I’d been concerned about. Eli had the band, and his music, and whatever the hell was happening with Bishop… It occurred to me that I was the worst girlfriend ever. I should really ask him what was going on.
But not here.
“Nah, I’d rather spend time with you,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose quickly and giving me one of his signature wolfish smiles. He was too charming by half, and if I were anyone else, I’d probably be fainting onto the subway platform.
“Ugh, not in public. Let’s get out of here,” I said, squirming out of his arms and heading towards the stairs that led back to the park.
Eli laughed and released me. He put up with a lot of my shit, but considering what we’d been through together over the last few decades, he was getting off light.
“Are you going to tel
l me what happened today?” Eli asked quietly. I groaned and slapped his cold bare chest with the palm of my hand.
“Nope.”
“Does it have anything to do with that teenager you brought to meet the band? She smelled like Seattle. I kind of miss Seattle…” his voice trailed away and I rested my head against his ribs, fighting the urge to close my eyes and sleep away the rest of our time together. Opposite schedules were a bitch to deal with, and I had to be up and coherent in less than five hours.
“You haven’t been to Seattle since 1978,” I said flatly. He signed heavily and re-adjusted himself on the pillows.
“Are you counting?”
“Someone has to,” I mumbled. I lifted my head suddenly, “How are things going with Lacey?” It occurred to me that not only was I the worst girlfriend; I was also the worst best friend… Eli had volunteered to take charge of Lacey’s re-education, and I still wasn’t sure if he was regretting his choice or not. He was doing me a favor… they all were. Bishop didn’t have to hire her, and he certainly didn’t have to turn her. Ugh. Everything was my fault lately. Brilliant.
“Well, once she stopped asking whether she would sparkle in the sunlight, and confirmed that she could still dye her hair, everything was mostly okay…”
“I forgot to tell you that she watches a lot of shitty movies…”
“I showed her some better ones,” he chuckled. I groaned, I knew which ones he meant, and they weren’t better, they were just more… his style. Leather and darkness and blue lighting.
“She’s so lucky to have you,” I said dryly.
“She kind of is,” he replied with the hint of a pout in his voice. “If I wasn’t around she’d be leaning on you for this stuff… and what do you know about being a Laudan?”
“Don’t be like that, you know what I mean. And I’m grateful that you’re around to help her out. I wouldn’t know the first thing about house training a new Laudan.” I balanced myself on my elbow and pressed my lips against his by way of apology.
Eli pulled me into his arms and smiled against my mouth. “You know,” he murmured between kisses, “I can’t always be bought off so easily.”
Moonlight Burns: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 10