Rage Against the Devil (Wild Beasts Series Book 2)

by T. Birmingham

  “It’s different there. It’s not a thousand years like we have here. It’s not a sun up, sun down concrete idea. It’s a feeling. A heaviness. An experience of time as it is, rather than what it has been made into by the humans who rule this plane. But yes,” Eire said thinking of Matt. “I was surprised Matt didn’t say anything. But no one looks at him like he’s lived a thousand years or more, and I saw him there—” Eire sat up and coughed to expel the catch in her throat. “He felt at least a thousand years old…”

  “So, everyone experiences the Veil in different ways?”

  “Everyone, yes. It’s probably what humans would call purgatory.” Eire laughed sardonically. “Where they got their stories most likely. It’s your own personal hell,” she said. “Unless you’re the most powerful… and my grandmother was the most powerful. The Fae rule that world. And they rule with an iron fist.” She swallowed back the bile at the memories of her own situation, but also of those she’d met who were not rulers in the Veil.

  There was so long of a pause that Eire looked back up at Carrie. That’s why she didn’t miss the mischievous look the small Clan member gave her.

  “You’re not just a cold, hard witch. You’re an old, cold, hard witch,” Carrie said and fuck it all, but that was what Eire had needed. She belted out a loud laugh that was foreign to her ears and she heard a tinkling sound come from the woman across her. She looked back over in time to see the bright green in the woman’s eyes light up. A smile and a small laugh escaped Carrie’s lips, which were scarred and misshapen on one side. Carrie saw Eire looking and she immediately stopped smiling.

  “I know I look like dog doo,” she said, a touch of anger to her almost childlike statement. “It’s rude to stare, Other.”

  “Not staring because you look like dog doo. I don’t really say shit like that,” Eire said quietly and sincerely. “You’re beautiful.” She paused and smiled brightly at Carrie. “I can see what Danny sees when he gets that glazed over look on his face, like the one he had that first night I met you all in the clearing.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “He did,” Eire said firmly. “He does.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t. I’m not worth his time. There are things he doesn’t know about me. Things he’d hate me for. Things he’d be disgusted with if he—”

  Carrie stood abruptly, jumping down from the tree, landing swiftly on her feet and shocking Eire with her agility. She walked back into the clearing and probably back to her hiding place.

  Like Eire, Carrie knew better. Emotion was weakness. Emotion was lack of control. Emotion was rejection and hurt and pain and letting others in to see all your dark, dirty, dangerous places.

  So, why was Eire gradually wanting to let her emotions free? Why was she suddenly wanting to share? To be a whole person with feelings? Why did she all of a sudden want to stand next to the moon and try to be more like it? Why was she no longer happy being a cold star?

  She caught up to the small Taryn in no time. Physical strength and all that shit. Carrie looked over at her, a slight tic of her lip and a brightening of her eyes momentarily, and Eire smiled back.

  “Do you like Ben and Jerry’s?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Carrie’s mouth ticked again at Eire’s question. Another smile. Eire felt like she was on top of the world. She knew this woman must rarely smile, and she’d been able to make her almost smile, with her little lip twitches, a few times tonight.

  “What flavor?” Carrie asked suspiciously, but with excitement.

  “Caramel Cookie Core is my personal favorite, but I love them all.”

  “I call Mint Chocolate Cookie,” Carrie said, and at Eire’s questioning look, “I stock up. I’ve got almost every flavor at my place.” She skipped for a minute and then seemed to realize her mistake, her lapse in control, and she turned back to Eire. “If you tell anyone that I just skipped, I will make you wish you’d never been born,” the fiery Taryn said, her eyes ablaze. Eire quirked a smile, zipped her lips, and threw away the key.

  “My lips are sealed, girl,” Eire said.

  They made their way to Carrie’s place and Eire found herself wondering what Carrie’s place would look like. She imagined lots of black. They both liked wearing black. Eire’s own place was full of color and warmth, but that was because it was her sanctuary. Would Carrie’s place be all black and cold and like the isolated star who didn’t give a fuck that Carrie wanted to be?

  The pink spray-painted “Keep Out” sign made her question her decision to have Ben and Jerry’s with this woman all together. Pink? Fuck that noise.

  “Alexia,” Carrie said, flicking at the sign.

  Ah, yes. That explained so much.

  What she didn’t expect was the open floor plan designed with stone, wood, and the homey feel of the log cabin. The small cabin was much larger in person. The front door opened into a large living area where a yoga mat, a piano, and a worn but comfy looking couch sat. The kitchen was open to the rest of the room, except for one wooden wall that was most likely a large pantry on the other side. A door was at the right toward the back, and a peek inside revealed a bedroom with a big, cozy Queen size bed. The bed was left unmade. Eire made her way to the other side of the cabin and found the bathroom door also next to the living area, and inside…

  “You have a large jetted tub,” Eire said on a groan.

  Carrie giggled again, and Eire thought it sounded almost like a sprite’s laugh. She’d keep that to herself, though. Poor woman didn’t need to be compared to a literal tinkerbell. She’d probably kill Eire for the comparison.

  “Of course. No better way to bathe. We have them up at the Lodge in Dunham too,” Carrie said and Eire noticed her twitched lip slip. Not a happy place to think about?

  “What can I pay you?”

  “To use my bath?” Carrie asked, her eyes brightening again. Shit, this was going to cost her.

  “Wolfman has the best place ever, but his shower sucks! The water pressure lasts like five minutes. I feel dirty all the fucking time. I need a bath. I need to feel like a person again.” Once more, with the tinkling laugh.

  “Well, there is something I need from town that I haven’t wanted to go down to get.”

  “Because of the scars?” Eire asked, looking back at the tub and then cursing herself because Carrie would think she was being rude. She was just being herself. “I’m sor—”

  “No, don’t,” Carrie said and Eire saw the twitch of her lip turn into a full smile. “You don’t pull any punches. I need that. Everyone here walks on eggshells around me. They don’t talk to me like I’m here. They talk to me like I’m a fallen star,” she said. “Well, except Danny, but he just wants to get into my pants—”

  “That’s a man whose pants are probably worth getting into, girl. Shit, I may be an old, cold, hard witch,” Eire said with a slight smirk, repeating Carrie’s words from earlier, “but Rios is a fucking Romeo.”

  Carrie’s laugh filled the room, and Eire leaned toward her.

  “So…” Eire said, taking the spoon and the pint of Caramel Cookie Core Carrie had pulled from her industrial-sized freezer. “What’s the payment for the tub?”

  Carried looked Eire up and down like she was examining her skill level for a job. Assessing. The Taryn took a bite of her Mint Chocolate Cookie, and Eire curiously wondered what the hell a couple minutes – okay a half hour in that glorious tub – was going to cost her. “I need at least ten ‘Keep Out’ signs in black with red writing.” Her eyes got bright and her lips broke out into a full-on smile. “And black spray paint.”

  Eire returned the sprite’s smile.

  Oh, yeah. They were going to get along just fine.

  Two separate stars trying to survive in a world full of shiny, pretty moons.

  Eire’s combat boots hit the gravel outside of Trappe’s, the crunch helping her refocus and breathe. She’d been getting updates from Damon, and he’d called that evening a couple hours earlier to let her know her other brot
hers were in town. Shit.

  Eire’s hand touched the worn, brass handle on the wood door of the entrance, and she took a fortifying breath before yanking on the handle with a little too much vigor.

  She looked around her in slight embarrassment and righted the door, grateful she’d had enough forethought not to pull the damn thing off its hinges. It squeaked as she closed it behind her, and she noticed it was slightly crooked. Okay, so she’d need to fix that.

  She gave her hands a shake and walked forward into the bar area. The smell of burgers and fries and fresh salads still filled the air, even though the bar was closing up. She took in the thick, handmade wood tables that were new since she’d last visited five years back. She’d been avoiding the bar, only having conversations with Damon at Montville’s School for Special Peeps or on the phone. But they needed him. It had been over a week since the last murder in Courtwood, and everyone was on edge. It was the fourth of December and she’d been getting the impression recently that her big brother wasn’t being as forthright as she needed him to be in order to solve this fucking case.

  When she and Gimp had shared about the wolf pictograms and their placement in the clearings, he’d known of course. Hadn’t even batted an eye, and Eire had watched him closely when they’d met at Alexia’s after visiting the Courtwood scene. He’d been the one to cleanse the other scenes, so that made sense, but still. There’d been worry in his eyes.

  Worry, Eire was ready to face head on because she was done. She couldn’t be in Montville any longer. These people were fucking with her emotions and Damon was fucking with her case. So, to hell with the lot of them. She was done with all the bullshit.

  She let her shields of ice slide into place, near furious that she had to bulk up her barrier so often recently. She shouldn’t have needed to.

  Then she turned to the barback, a young kid of about twenty with spiked blue hair and a pierced ear who smelled strange. She looked him up and down as he cleaned up the bar for the night, saw the lack of tattoos, the new black jeans free of holes or wear, and a tee meant to look like vintage Clash tour authentic. It wasn’t. She knew. She had her mom’s original. But despite his poser image, she knew there was a story there. Every person had a story, and Damon only took in the misfits. It frustrated the hell out her that she couldn’t place his scent, though.

  She looked around again. Some of the old movie posters of Marilyn and James Dean hung on the walls – all originals. Damon, Zeke, and Loch had picked them up years ago, but his customers didn’t know how antique the pieces really were or who had commandeered them. Beyond the posters, though, the floors were shiny, thick boards of wood that reminded her of the barn from when she was a child. Shit! Maybe they had been from the farmhouse of her father’s goddamned castle. Yeah, she’d bet anything that Loch, Zeke, and Damon would have thought it a hoot to take something that old bastard had hated and make it the main part of their place. Her father would have looked down on this place, with its farmhouse wood floors and its large pub tables and its blue-haired barkeep.

  She smiled, and of course that was when Loch and Zeke would come out. They both gave her strange looks, like smiles weren’t something they often saw from her. As if they saw her so often. She was begrudgingly realizing this was more her fault than theirs.

  “Eire-yyyyyyyy!” Zeke yelled from the other side of the bar. She tried to put her cold as ice face back. She really did, but she couldn’t help the smile that slipped into place. Damn Zeke. Ornery, serious, and so incredibly book-minded, much more so than anyone she’d ever met. Too overprotective for his own good, but damn it all did he love her. She couldn’t afford those feelings, but she’d let them in for a minute.

  Honestly, they’d barely seen her at all in the past five years. Only when they’d checked in on her. She’d tried to avoid them. Zeke because he’d want to give her a good pep talk and help her work through their relationship rationally. Loch because, even though he’d been her favorite, her best friend, he looked too much like their father, Lochlan Trappe. Only his eyes revealed who he truly was. The golden brown so strong and full of charismatic life and joy.

  And every time she saw her brother, Loch, she saw that moment seventeen years ago when she tore into her father’s form long after he’d gone limp. Not that Lochlan, Sr. hadn’t deserved it. He had. And she’d killed plenty since then. But Loch. He was the spitting image of their father. Her brothers all had the golden brown eyes, but Loch had the height of the Fae. Tall, long, strong, covered in tattoos, including a neck tattoo that only looked that much darker in contrast to his pale skin and his brown hair.

  She lifted her chin and wiped the smile from her face even as she was pulled into a big, back-crushing hug by Zeke. She hated that his hugs always brought out the person she used to be, the young girl who’d killed with Swords, but who’d always been more like her Stone.

  “Heard you were in town, Eire.” Loch smiled at her, but there was something not quite right about his smile and he stayed a step back, wary. He tended to approach her like a steady ranch hand advancing on a shy filly, but this was more. “I had to come back and see for myself.” She saw then what was so wrong. He didn’t look like Loch. His face was dark, deep set, and she noticed for the first time that her once light and fun brother who’d always had a joke at the ready was even more cold and serious now than even Zeke had been so many years ago.

  He also had a big old cut on his face, fresh from the looks of things.

  “What the fuck did you do, Loch?” she asked as she let go of her shields completely and reached into herself for her Stone. She could spare some healing for the man who had held her after her change.

  “Eire, don’t—”

  She reached up to touch his face and before he could tell her to back off – no way in fuck would she do that – he was on his knees. The colors swirled around inside of her in a strange combination of joy and fury, excited to reknit the skin they could feel. She felt the ground below her, felt the wood and the metal around her. She didn’t take from the tables and the metal. That power was residual and she didn’t want to take the flavor out of this room. She grounded herself into her surroundings, though, and she guided her colors into Loch, throwing in a touch of healing for the relationship between them.

  She justified the healing of their relationship, saying that she needed to work with him. But she knew. She’d been in this town for only three weeks and she was changing. She wanted a team of support behind her. She wanted people who cared like she’d seen at Alexia’s.

  She just couldn’t afford to have those things. Which is why she needed Damon to spill the information he had, so she could solve this case and she and Gimp could get the fuck out of Dodge.

  Her healing power touched deep, and she felt the backlash of it. Before she could fall, though, strong hands wrapped around her back, and she knew Nicky had finally joined her. He’d insisted on parking his bike behind the bar next to the lime green Harley whose rider had been heading out in the opposite direction just as they’d gotten there. She’d wanted as much of her reunion to be as private as possible.

  Eire knew he’d been giving her some time and if she hadn’t already had that small, unknown, and mostly unwanted attraction to the wolf, she would have fallen just a bit for him then. As it was, she fell a little bit more anyway. Their nights in close quarters weren’t helping with that issue.

  She felt his touch now like a caress, like coming up for a breath of fresh air after diving into frigid water. His touch was warm, comforting, and as she opened her eyes, she saw his own brown eyes steadily holding her gaze, worried and searching her face.

  “Eire.” His voice was strong and she watched his lips move, but all she heard was the steady beat of his heart. All she felt were his hands on her body, like the nerve endings of the human skin she wore were specifically attuned to the wolf holding her. All she smelled was the blood of an animal he’d recently eaten – probably on a hunt – coming from the breaths that touched her face an
d her neck. She wanted to taste. Wanted to lick his lips and see where the taste had come from. Wanted to see if his blood tasted as good as the caramel and pine scent he gave off. Wanted to taste his lips and see if they were soft or rough. She wanted to drink it all in, all of Nicky. And that thought right there was what snapped her out her reverie. Or at least one of the things.

  “Looks like Eire’s been swept off her feet, eh?” she heard Loch ask. She felt a slight panic creep in and she pushed away from Nicky, putting her ice back on, but she’d just used her Stone, and it wouldn’t come back the way she needed it to.

  Distance. She could do this. She’d perfected the ice even in times of healing. She knew how to bring on her ice like the best of them.

  She turned to Loch to show him how cold she truly was, but the man she saw wasn’t the Loch from five minutes ago. His dark features were light, not deep-set and aged, not angry, not hurt by the world around him. No, he looked like the man she’d known growing up, and in contrast, so much less like their father that she had an urge to weep. An urge she never got.

  “Loch…” Eire whispered.

  Damon had come out from the behind the bar at some point, and instead of shock or worry, he smiled secretly at the scene in front of him. Eire had never liked Damon’s secret smiles. Especially since he was keeping secrets.

  “Stone…” The word was whispered in awe by Zeke, as he shifted his glasses up his nose, and studied her. She bristled at the word and at the scrutiny. She wasn’t one of his fucking scientific experiments to be studied.

  “What of it?” she asked as she brushed off her clothing. There wasn’t any need. She hadn’t fallen. She’d been caught. Damn it all to the Veil. She looked over her shoulder to give Nicky a hard stare, but Nicky was Nicky. He didn’t need it. His own serious face was back and he was looking forward, a curious expression on his face as he examined her brothers. Yeah, he’d want to know what the hell had just happened and what her Stone was. She wasn’t going there yet. A freak among freaks wasn’t something she liked to bandy about.