by Jaime Reed
“Fine.” Angie turned away and drifted to the security of her laptop. “You are free to leave, David. Return at noon to take Samara home.”
Ruiz got to his feet and straightened his suit. “I’ll have men here in five hours. No one—and I mean no one—leaves this building until I return. You want to declare war? Refuse to comply.” He swept a glance to all of us before leaving the suite with his tail between his legs.
“That was pretty badass, Angie,” I said once we were alone.
She lifted her head to the ceiling and sighed. “No. That was foolish. I should not have threatened him. We can’t afford a war among the family. I need their support and I may have made things worse.”
I shrugged. “So what? Ruiz isn’t one of us. He doesn’t have pull like that. You’re afraid the Santiagos will show up?”
Angie laughed and lit another cigarette. “Samara, they have already arrived. They have been here for months. Do you really believe that the family would allow an outsider to know so many Cambion secrets? Have you ever wondered why Ruiz knows so much about our kind?”
“Yeah, it did cross my mind a few times.” I looked to Caleb and then back to Angie. “Wait, are you saying he’s a Santiago?”
“Nephew of the eldest leader. He would have been second in line to lead if things were . . . different,” Angie explained. “He has influence inside and outside of our circle. That is why he’s so valuable.”
Caleb drew closer, intrigued by this new discovery. “But the Santiago spirit is male. How did it skip over him like that? Was he adopted?”
“That, I’m afraid, is a story he alone should share.” Angie stared at the computer screen again. “I’ll need to fly the children back home tomorrow. It’s not safe here. I need to call their father to pick them up,” Angie muttered, thinking out loud, I figured. She went on for a few more minutes reciting her to-do list.
I looked up at the bottom right corner of the screen and noticed it was four A.M. Looking at the time sent a signal to my brain, telling me that I was tired. All the energy I took tonight had burned off and I was running on fumes.
“If it’s any help, I don’t think he’ll kill her. She’s a good bargaining chip. He needs her alive,” Caleb said, wearing down the floor with his pacing.
“He doesn’t seem to feel the same about your brother,” Angie replied. “Do you know where his vessel is?”
Caleb shrugged. “I have no idea, but once Michael sobers up, I’ll be sure to ask him.”
“That would explain why they keep disappearing. I’m pretty sure they have it hidden somewhere,” I added.
Angie crossed the room and placed her hands on my shoulders. “Samara, you do realize what must be done, don’t you? He must be destroyed and I will not leave until he is found.”
“I’m all for that plan, Angie, but how would we kill him if his soul is out of his body? How can he die?”
“We must first make sure he is back inside his own body. The vessel would have to be consecrated and burned. If it is destroyed before he is reunited with it, he will be trapped in whatever body he currently resides. He will be a Cambion with Gunner as his host.”
“He won’t be one for long, if he consumes enough human energy,” Caleb jumped in. “Tobias wants immortality more than anything else. Knowing him, he’ll be back to full demon status in a week and this merry-go-round will start all over again, like some screwed up reincarnation.”
Damn, these demons were like cockroaches—they just wouldn’t die. But Caleb presented a valid point. Tobias’s longevity was the root of all his actions, including his obsession with me. “So if he’s trapped inside Gunner, what happens to Gunner’s humanity? Could he fight the transition like we do?” I asked.
“It depends on his human will,” Angie said. “It is a balancing act that takes years to master. You should know from experience how difficult control can be. Gunner knows nothing about our world or how to combat it. But that will not matter; he would have to be destroyed as well if Tobias is inside him.”
Her flippant attitude toward murder took me aback. “There has to be another way. Is there a chance that Tobias can leave Gunner’s body after his vessel is destroyed?”
“I’m afraid that is highly improbable if he wants to survive. The body keeps us anchored to this world. The soul alone cannot exist on this plane. It needs a body and life or else it will fade—it cannot simply float on the wind. If Tobias is as fearful of death as you say, naturally he will latch on to any human rather than face the beyond.”
I recognized the ugly truth in what she was saying. I was a living example of what a soul would do to dwell among the land of the living. If there hadn’t been a human body nearby, Lilith would’ve faded to God-knew-where.
“ ‘Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death: the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveler returns? Puzzles the will,’ ” I recited to no one in particular.
“ ‘And makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,’ ” Caleb finished the next line.
I stared in quiet amazement, and not because he knew Hamlet’s monologue. He didn’t; he’d never even seen the movies, but he knew me and that was equally impressive.
“We cannot risk Tobias resurfacing,” Angie spoke up, effectively killing the moment. “The demon must be destroyed completely, both body and spirit. If Gunner isn’t dead already, I’ll see to it that he is dispatched. In the meantime, you two will figure out where Tobias’s vessel is held.”
“If you kill him, you know what will happen to us,” Caleb warned.
“I’m afraid the rules had changed the moment he touched my daughter. I will not lose another child on account of him. I suggest you handle your affairs quickly. I trust that you will make the right decision when the time comes,” Angie answered solemnly, the edict of a queen facing the detriments of war.
In that moment, I saw why males feared Cambion females. They were some bad bitches.
I looked to Caleb for suggestions, and a small shake of the head was his only answer. Even now with death so close to our front door, he wouldn’t bend under the pressure. We would bond on our own terms and for our own reasons. End of discussion.
Caleb turned to his brother still snoring on the couch. Actually, the sound coming from Michael’s mouth went beyond the basic snore, but more like two grizzlies fighting over a salmon.
“I should get him to bed. He’s drooling all over the upholstery,” Caleb said.
“I’ll help you.” I took one of Michael’s arms and helped pull him to his feet.
“Sam, you need to stay here,” he warned.
“No I don’t. Ruiz said not to leave the building. Last time I checked your room was still in the building. You really wanna fight about this? Tell me you don’t want me around and I’ll stay here.” I waited. In the corner of my eye, I saw Angie look up from her laptop, anticipating his reply.
He didn’t answer and his face gave nothing away as he draped his brother’s limp arm over his shoulder. We each took a side and dragged Michael out of the room.
Since the elevators were out of service, the four flights of stairs were a workout that I would’ve been happy to have worked without. I saw the police caution tape stretched across the elevator doors as we towed Michael down the hall.
Once inside Caleb’s suite, we lugged Michael into his bedroom and dropped him on the bed. He looked half dead, lying face down with his mouth wide open. His hair fell loose and draped over the side of the bed. I always wondered why he didn’t cut his hair, but it was a pretty walnut brown and felt cool to the touch. I removed his shoes and put a blanket over him, and by the time I looked up, I noticed that I was the only conscious person in the room.
It didn’t surprise me that the door to Caleb’s bedroom was open. I poked my head inside, following the negative energy thickening the air. Caleb had a large room with a king
size bed, an adjoined bathroom, and sitting area. It was dimly lit with neutral, unisex beige carpet, walls, and matching curtains that danced in the cold air from the opened window. Caleb sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. He knew I was here, but he was too deep into his dark world to care.
“Are you okay?” I asked, still standing at the door.
“No. I’m as far from okay as one can get. I am in complete and direct opposition to okay. I am the antithesis of okay. I am un-okay.”
“Um . . . okay. Sorry I asked,” was all I could say after that reply.
When I stepped into the room and closed the door, he sprang off the bed and went to the window. “Just one holiday, one night, could I just have a good time and not have someone die, end up in the hospital, or kidnapped? One fucking night!” he yelled out to the black sky.
His fists slammed against the window sill and the impact cracked the glass and plaster. The air shifted around his body, so strong and violent that I could see it travel across the room in a wave of turbulence. Pictures fell from the walls, chairs and lamps tipped and clattered to the floor; pillows flew off the bed, and anything that wasn’t nailed down had been struck by the gale.
It reached my side of the room with enough force to push me back a step. As it passed through me, I gathered that it wasn’t just the momentum that took my breath away, but the energy itself. It was rage, pain, frustration; all the things that summed up Caleb’s current mood.
I surveyed the disaster area, happy that I didn’t have to clean it up. I’d never seen anything like it, not from Caleb, not even on his worst day. This left no doubt that there were some shady dealings afoot.
“Capone?” I called out.
“No, it’s still me, Sam. I’m just really pissed off.” He hunched over the window, his hands gripping the sill for balance.
I let out a deep breath in gratitude. The last thing we needed was Capone showing up. That was a whole other can of BS that I didn’t want opened. I took a seat on his bed. Caleb’s mood wasn’t going to get any better, so I decided to tackle an issue that’s been simmering on the back burner for weeks. “While we’re on the topic of Capone, I’ll be honest; this X-Men thing you’ve got going on has me a little concerned. I know you’re upset and all, but how much have you fed tonight?”
He turned to me wearily. “Sam I—”
“How much?”
“Five,” he mumbled.
“Five girls? Directly?” I took his silence as a yes. “That is way over the daily limit, dude. Do we need to have an intervention?”
“I’m just trying to hold on to my mind right now. I just saw my brother get shot and Angie’s daughter get kidnapped. And all the while I hear Olivia’s words. She’s right, you know? Everything I touch I destroy. Even you. You were normal before you met me.”
“Uh-huh, that’s nice. Back to the feeding,” I began, refusing to join his pity party. “This has been going on long before tonight. That inferiority complex of yours is making you a power whore, and that power comes at a price. Do you wanna be an incubus? Is that your target goal? Because I already have one of those hunting me down and I don’t need another.”
“What I want,” he began through gritted teeth, “is for no one else to die!” He inhaled deeply, paused, and pushed the air out in a long, shuddering breath.
Correction: It wasn’t a breath. That was a sonic shock wave of anger. The air thickened into invisible water rippling from one wall to another then bounced back to its source. This happened twice before the wrinkles smoothed out and the room came into clear focus again.
“All right, that’s it. Forget it. You’re a grown ass man and I’m not your momma. Do whatever the hell you want. Just do me a favor, don’t wreck my new car or shape-shift into any of my classmates when you turn into a demon, okay?” I turned to leave the room.
“Sam, wait, please. I’m sorry.”
“Well, you can go and be sorry by yourself. I’ve got enough blood on my hands.” I showed him both of my stained hands to show that I meant it literally. I stepped inside the bathroom and slammed the door for good measure.
I took in the décor, which only reminded me that I was far from home. The bathroom was spacious and modern, with earth toned tiles in the shower and on the floor, chocolate cabinets, and circular bulbs lining the top of the sink mirror. A stack of plush towels rested on the counter against a raised porcelain sink in the shape of a bowl.
Watching the water turn pink around the drain, I thought about the angry Cambion pacing behind the door, trying his best not to destroy more furniture. But if this was how he coped, who was I to judge him? Emotions were running pretty high tonight and we wouldn’t accomplish anything by turning on each other. The body count was climbing and his family was in shambles, all because of obsession and power, power that he was gambling his soul to acquire.
While drying my hands, I recalled what Tobias said tonight. He mentioned something that was done to him and Lilith, something we should remember. Was he talking about the blackout? Then I remembered what Mia told me at the party. I looked around the space for my phone and then cursed at myself for leaving my bag upstairs in Angie’s suite. My hand was on the door, ready to go get it, when instinct told me to check inside my top. Just like Nana, I had a habit of storing items inside my bra, including my cell and the body spray bottle of oil I’d taken earlier. I scrolled down the display and searched for the notes I took at the party, but the self-e-mail was gone. I checked my history of sent mail, which was wiped clean of any evidence that the message was sent.
This couldn’t have been chalked up to drunk-texting; I was stone sober and coherent enough to operate my phone blindfolded. But then I wasn’t the only intelligent being in the room. I didn’t ask Lilith if she deleted the e-mail. It could’ve been a simple error on my part, but the slim possibility of underhanded deeds had my back up. I just knew for certain that I was sick of her hiding info from me.
Everything kept coming back to that day, back to her. I was tired of waiting for the pieces to fall into my lap. People were dying and I needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to me.
I gripped the counter and screamed in my head, “What is wrong with you? Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?”
No response.
My eyes fell on the bottle on the counter. It was less than half empty, maybe two teaspoons at best, but it was enough for me to do what I had to do. I twisted off the spray cap, and without a second thought, I threw my head back and chugged. I pursed my lips tight and held the oil in my mouth and breathed through my nose. I leaned on the counter and focused my attention on the enemy in the mirror. I knew she would hear me.
You have one shot, demon. Come clean or we’re both going down. Tell me everything, and I mean everything.
Maybe this was a fatal flaw on my part, but spite was my preferred weapon. She knew I wasn’t bluffing, which was why I couldn’t feel her moving. I had her where I wanted her, where she should’ve been all along. If she tried to take over, I would swallow. If she made any sudden movement, if she gave me a report that I didn’t like, I would swallow.
I waited for what felt like years for a revelation as saliva collected in my mouth. Then the corner of my vision began to soften and I felt a slight pressure on the back of my head. The room began to move in a swinging motion as music and the sound of a truck engine roared in my ears . . .
14
I’ve never heard the song on the radio before, but I can tell Tobias likes the tune by the way he sways about as he drives.
The windshield wipers part the downpour and dance in the exact rhythm. Nothing is chasing behind us but the sun and nothing lays ahead but empty road and opportunity. There are no yellow and white lines on this road, but miles of cobblestone and brick bridges rich with history. It’s so romantic—our great escape.
I have no idea where we’re going, or what we’ll do for food and shelter, and I don’t care. He mentioned something a
bout “friends in low places,” but I can’t be bothered with the specifics. A bit of me hopes that we can camp outside under the stars where I can feel the cold against my skin. I can scarcely recall what cold feels like, but I know how it makes Samara uncomfortable, how she prefers dry heat over frost. I have to see what all the fuss is about and experience life without a biased opinion.
Brutal as it seems, I have no regret about taking over. If anything, I feel gratitude. I rejoice in this cramped vessel that she takes for granted, and I covet the treasures that she considers flaws. Underneath all her strength, Samara’s just a child, ignorant of her gifts and frightened of her power. Such a waste of potential.
“I like your hair better when it’s down,” Tobias comments from behind the wheel. I can feel him watching me again, each glance heavier and more heated than the one before. Whenever he stares too long, the truck drifts to the shoulder of the road before righting itself again. After all this time, I still get under his skin.
“I like it too,” I say and comb the springy curls through my fingers. Samara’s hair smells sweet like something edible, another sign of her innocence.
“How long do you think you can hold on?” he asks.
I turn to look at his perfect profile. His exotic features never fail to take my breath away and the supernatural energy traveling under his skin only enhances it. His tan complexion, the dark fall of waves that touched his shoulders speaks of a life before his fall from grace.
I place my hand on his knee. The touch makes him smile and his gaze settles on the wet road ahead of us. “I’m not sure, but I’ll hold on for as long as I can,” I promise, and though I mean it, I know it won’t be long enough.
His smile fades. “This can’t go on, Lilith. Something’s gotta give here. You need to make a choice.”
“I’ve made my choice,” I assure him.
“Then why is that demon mutt still alive?” he asks. “You said you’d take care of it, but then you turn around and feed him my energy. Whose side are you on?”