I Bite She Sucks

by Bloom, Penelope

  I stared at the man on the corner, aimed, and hesitated.

  I'd never written my apartment number on one of my doomed love notes before. Why had I done that?

  I'd been poised to throw the airplane, but I relaxed my arm and set it down on the windowsill, laughing at my own stupidity. Yeah, Sylvie. Unless my plan was to get murdered by some creep who intercepted the letter, I might want to-

  Gravy Boat catwalked along the window sill, met my eyes with cold indifference, and then gave the plane a little punch on the back.

  I lunged for it but was too late. The wind caught it, carrying it in two jolting upward jerks, and then I watched in horror as it sailed effortlessly away.

  I followed the trajectory of the paper plane arcing and gliding down toward the guy on the corner. My heart was in my throat as I imagined what he'd do if it actually hit him.

  Time seemed to slow down until I could practically trace the path of the plane and imagine it hitting him straight in the chest. Except a hunched over, balding man in a rain jacket walked directly in front of him before it did. It caught the man right in the ear, causing him to flinch his head to the side and frown.

  I watched in horror as he read the note, then as if by magic, his gaze flicked straight up, to the side, and toward me.

  I ducked down beneath the window, but it was too late.

  When I hazarded another glance, I saw my airplane discarded on the ground and the man half-jogging across the crosswalk.

  Right toward my building.

  4

  Riggs

  The city pressed in on me like a cage. The tall buildings stretched up in every direction and cut off smells from the outside. The only scents reaching my nose were human and concrete with a touch of gasoline for good measure. Even with supernaturally good hearing, I couldn't even make out much above the din of noise, either.

  For someone like me, the city was like wrapping yourself in a wet fucking blanket. It was suffocating, but it was better than the alternative, wasn't it? In here, I knew they'd leave me alone. They'd let me go on pretending that old life wasn't mine. Nobody was going to come yank me out of my self-destructive cycle, not so long as I was within this concrete hell.

  I was doing a shitty job of clearing my mind when I saw the little paper airplane come drifting down from a window across the street. I frowned, following its path as it caught on a gust of wind and was lifted up just in time to avoid getting swept up by the traffic.

  I would've ignored it, but then I noticed the pair of big brown eyes watching the airplane from the third story window. It was a young woman with her hair up in a messy, dark brown bun. She was just peeking out, so all I could see was the view from her eyes up, but for some reason it made me go back to see where the airplane was.

  What kind of person throws paper airplanes out of their windows down to busy, crowded streets? If she thought the night was going to give her cover, she was forgetting the blazing neon sign across the street from her apartment that was bathing her entire face in pale blue light.

  An unsavory looking man ended up catching the airplane in the side of his head. He picked it up, looked toward her window, and seemed to spot her.

  She ducked as soon as he saw her, but the guy was already set. He was rushing across the street for her apartment.

  And it was none of my damn problem. Not a single bit of my goddamn problem.

  Except I bent to pick up the airplane, which the guy appeared to have been reading something from. Sure enough, there was a sappy love poem in girlish handwriting and pink gel pen, complete with a final line that said exactly where to find Miss Casanova up there.

  Jesus Christ.

  I seriously considered leaving her to her fate. It would be natural selection. Anybody that stupid had it coming, after all.

  But I looked at the sleazebag hurrying toward her apartment like a dog with a bone and couldn't help myself. I did a lot of swearing under my breath, but I followed after him.

  The building smelled worse than the street outside, which was almost impressive. I jogged up the stairs to the scents of boiled cabbage and well-seasoned gym socks. The peeling yellow paint on the wall even felt sticky, for some reason, so I stopped running my fingertips along it like an idiot.

  Thanks to the genius on the third floor, I knew exactly where to find her apartment and the creep from outside. Third floor, apartment 12b. Ideally, I'd just be able to drag the guy away and avoid having to interact with the woman. The last thing I needed was to make some girl cry when all I'd wanted to do was get out, clear my head, and get back to eating burritos in peace.

  The guy was short, but that wasn't saying much. I usually stood above most people, anyway. Still, it only took one look to know I could've picked him up like a suitcase and carried him outside if I wanted. Being a well-trained diplomat, I started with a more subtle approach.

  He was currently banging on her door. "You in there, sweetheart?" he asked in a far too breathy, ball-clenchingly gross voice.

  "Okay," I said easily. "You can walk out on your own, or I can help you take the elevator."

  The man hadn't noticed me, but he turned now to regard me. He was balding with eyes that weren't quite positioned at the same height on his face. No. That was being too generous. His face was about as put together as a jigsaw puzzle after a toddler gave it a go. He pointed toward the stairs. "There's only stairs. No elevator."

  I pointed to the window. "I'll crank it open and you won't know the difference till you hit the ground. I promise."

  He went a little red. "Look, pal. Just get lost, okay? I know this girl."

  "That's why she's not opening the door, right?"

  He gestured to me. "Why don't you go to a bar and pick up some model, asshole? You're seriously cock blocking me right now, so fuck off."

  There were all sorts of regulations, rules, and penalties for people like me. In fact, we could be dragged before the high pack and dismembered for even telling a human about our existence.

  But I also only kind of gave a shit, and I knew nobody would believe him. So I met his eyes and then gave the wolf inside me a gentle urging. Soft heat spread inside my eyes, and the world momentarily snapped into high resolution. I could see clearly enough to pick up the subtle thumping of his heart against his chest, neck, and major veins. It went from slightly elevated, to fight or flight levels as soon as he saw my eyes.

  "Elevator, or stairs?" I asked again.

  He stumble-ran past me, nearly falling down the stairs from the sounds of it.

  "He's gone," I said, leaning into the door. I hadn't even had time to take a step away from the door when it yanked open and something hard collided with my head.

  I was a sturdy bastard. I had supernatural abilities to heal more quickly and endure more punishment than any human could've dreamed of. But my head was ringing when I looked up and saw the small woman with a fucking metal baseball bat revving up for another swing.

  "What th-"

  Clang.

  I sank to my knees, blinking through the explosion of pain in the side of my head. I actually might've blacked out for a moment as I rolled to my back, halfway in her doorway and halfway outside of it.

  "What's wrong with you?" I muttered, eyes still struggling to focus on the blurry form of her kneeling over me.

  My vision started to clear, and I saw she was terrified. Big brown eyes wide as Oreo cookies and her chest was pumping up and down like some old industrial engine on overdrive.

  "Lose the bat, you already killed me," I said.

  She dropped the bat, then gently put her hands to my cheek and winced, looking at where she'd hit me. "God, I really nailed you, didn't I?"

  I flinched when she touched my temple, which was still pounding. The sudden movement made her jerk back and slap me across the cheek as fast as a snake. She put one hand to her mouth and then reached out like she was going to make sure she hadn't hurt me with the slap.

  I grunted, getting up on my hands and scooting back fr
om her, which coincidentally took me into her apartment. "Thanks, but I think you might be the last person I want checking on my injuries. The ones you inflicted."

  "You were trying to get into my apartment," she said, backing away—suspiciously within range of her baseball bat.

  My vision was returning to normal already and the blinding pain from the little slugger was fading. It gave me a chance to get my first real look at her. She had on an oversized t-shirt with one of those squish-faced cats floating in the center of a swirling galaxy that took up the entire shirt. From the amount of exposed leg just below the hem of her shirt, I developed an immediate, erection-inducing suspicion that she was only wearing panties beneath it.

  Focus, asshole. You're just trying to get out of here, remember?

  But I couldn't help myself. I got to my feet, fishing out the now crumpled paper airplane and handing it to her. "I was trying to chase off the creep I saw running up here like a dog in heat. But now I see you just like hitting people with baseball bats. You do this all day, or what?"

  She seemed to think of something, then rushed to the counter and squirted some hand sanitzer on her hands and worked it in. For a few seconds, the only sound was the wet squish of her wringing her hands together for what felt like far longer than necessary. She followed this up with a dab of lotion, then seemed to realize I was watching her and went a little red.

  She was fucking beautiful, I realized. I couldn't say if it was the lack of clothing or the odd circumstance, but it felt like I'd stumbled upon someone who wasn't meant to be stumbled upon. I had to grudgingly admit I also admired any woman who could knock me to the ground, with or without a baseball bat. That took some serious balls.

  "You read my letter?" she asked, sounding outraged.

  "You threw it out the window for anybody to read."

  "I didn't throw it," she said. "King Gravy Boat III did."

  I raised an eyebrow. Okay. That explained it. She was batshit crazy. Maybe if I just slowly backed out of-

  A hairless abomination slinked into the room. It looked like a small, four-legged alien wearing a loose-fitting bag of skin. I'd always hated cats, but this creature took my hatred of the little assholes to an entirely new level. It was hideous. Absolutely horrifying.

  And it was rubbing its filthy gums all over my shoes.

  I stared down in horror as it purred and circled my foot, head butting me and rubbing itself all over me.

  "Gravy Boat likes you," she whispered. "He doesn't like anyone. He doesn't even like me."

  I gave my foot a little flick, trying to give the beast a hint, but he only purred louder. He looked up at me with big, horrifyingly yellow eyes.

  I suppressed a shudder. "This is King Gravy Boat III?"

  She nodded. I noticed she'd inched closer to the baseball bat. Unfortunately for her, I didn't plan to let her hit me in the head with that damn thing again, but I mentally applauded her instincts, at least.

  "What happened to the other two Gravy Boats?" I looked behind me suddenly. "They aren't here, are they?"

  "Gravy Boat the first was lured out by a street cat in heat. We think she was bad news, because he ended up running with their gang and never came back. Gravy Boat the second fell in love with a cat in the building. He ended up moving in with her a few years back."

  "Right," I said slowly. I took another concerned look at the skin bag circling my leg. "Well, you were still a dumbass for writing the note. Even if this little monster was the one who 'threw' it out the window. Stop being so stupid before you get yourself killed. It's a dangerous place out there, especially for someone like you."

  "Someone like me?" she asked.

  I'd absent-mindedly been thinking "for someone as attractive as you." Clearly, she thought I'd been talking about something else, because she turned back to the counter where she'd applied the sanitizer and moisturizer, then seemed to notice a small pharmacy's worth of prescription pill bottles lining the counter. She saw me looking, too.

  I didn't know what to think of it all, but it wasn't my problem. Before I could leave, a woman came through the door, stopping when she saw me. I was surprised I hadn't heard her coming and decided I could blame the alien cat and the pretty girl who probably wasn't wearing pants.

  The newcomer looked like she was some kind of yoga instructor. She had a mat rolled up under her arm, perfect posture, the same dark hair and brown eyes as the girl without pants, and I could smell that she'd been sweating. But just beneath that scent, there was something alarming.

  Something that made my entire body go rigid.

  Vampire.

  It was faint, and I knew it wasn't her scent. But this new girl had been around a vamp. Recently, too.

  I took one more look at no-pants, who had a strange, far more vulnerable look on her face now. Maybe she'd been offended by my warning, maybe it was something else. All I knew was I needed to get the fuck out of this apartment.

  For some reason, these two were involved with vamps.

  There were some rules in my life I didn't mind bending. Then there were some that were absolutely iron clad.

  For me, the only good vamp was a dead vamp. And if these two were tangled up in them, they'd be far better off if I was gone before the blood sucker showed up and got him or herself killed.

  So I picked up the cat by the scruff of its loose-skinned neck, set it aside, and left.

  5

  Sylvie

  Maisey and I didn't speak for a few moments after the huge guy I'd hit with a bat left. I could still remember how the scruff of his stubble had felt against my fingertips and how furnace hot his skin had been. I thought I'd killed him, and then he was up and standing there like nothing was wrong after just a minute or two.

  But God, he'd looked like bad news. If the guy on the street corner with the phone had been the perfect hero from my romance books, this guy had been the one who is clearly being set up to be the bad guy in a TV show. He was all darkness. Black hair, bold eyebrows, and scorching gray eyes that made me feel like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a wolf. He'd practically radiated danger.

  And then the moment he saw my pills, he'd bolted without a word.

  Of course he had.

  I didn't just have baggage, I was baggage. And I couldn't blame any guy for not wanting to be anywhere near it. It wasn't self-pity, it was just common sense. There were too many perfectly normal, perfectly healthy people out there for someone to willingly get involved with someone like me.

  Maisey finally pulled the door closed after the brief shock seemed to pass. She tossed her yoga mat in the corner by the door, then put her hands on her hips and gave me that dreaded big sister look.

  My sister was thirty and had a hectic schedule because of her multiple gigs doing yoga classes at three studios across the city. I knew she worked her ass off to help pay for our place and my pills, and I was always grateful for that. I was also her little sister, though, so I was still contractually obliged to be a little brat from time to time.

  "What?" I asked, not making eye contact.

  "You're not going to explain why whoever that was just rushed out of here? Or why he was here in the first place? Or what the hell you were thinking?"

  I gave her the abridged version of what had happened. Of course, I might've taken an artist's license and omitted the part where I actually included the apartment number, and I might've softened the content of my note to be less cringe-inducing. In my version of the story, I also only hit him once with the baseball bat.

  Maisey was still looking at me like I'd lost my mind when I finished.

  She sighed, sanitized her hands, and then went toward the shower. She stopped at the door, holding a finger out at me. "You need to be more careful, Syl. I know it's hard, but I can't lose you. And hey, I could cancel tonight and maybe we could just watch a movie together like you've been wanting. Sound good?"

  "Yeah," I said, grateful she hadn't lingered on the guilt trip part for very long. "That actually sounds gr
eat."

  Maisey had stepped into the bathroom but popped her head out of the door suddenly. "Oh, by the way. You realize you aren't wearing pants, right?"

  Narrator: No, Sylvie had not realized she wasn't wearing pants. But she suspected the scary hottie had, and suddenly wished she would poof out of existence.

  6

  Riggs

  I cranked up the air conditioning in my truck, then leaned forward and felt my sweaty back try to stick to the seat.

  I had a thousand better things to be doing. Tens of thousands, actually. Instead, I was camped out in my car like some cop watching a stranger's apartment. And for what?

  Two days ago, I'd picked up the scent of a vamp on the girl I assumed was Cassonovette's sister. I'd made all sorts of internal promises to erase her and the encounter from my mind after that. One burrito later and I found my sorry ass here, watching.

  I studied everyone who so much as looked in the direction of her building. There was an old man with a bent back who spent far too long staring in the vague direction of her window. I'd gotten out of my car and given him a hard time, but the encounter ended with him whacking me in the leg with his cane. I'd called him a few choice names and gone back to my car.

  With that threat handled, I was back to the tedious business of watching. Waiting.

  My wolf had been practically dormant these last few months. The only way to describe the feeling was when he was happy and well, I had a sort of internal furnace of energy. I couldn't exactly communicate with him, but I could feel his emotions. But that went both ways, and lately, it mostly felt like he curled up and had entered a state of hibernation. Except during full moons, of course.

  I squinted toward her window, where I'd just caught a glimpse of movement. Sylvie appeared to sit in front of her window and read books for literally hours at a time. That godforsaken skin bag of a cat would sit beside her too, watching me. She hadn't noticed me, but the little bastard Gravy Boat had. I was sure of it.