by Sarah Black
“That is a conversation best left for—”
Metal crunches inward. Everything moves too quickly. My world spins and pain flares in my hip, then dissipates as my sister shares in that same fate. A scream tears from my throat, forgotten in the clash and dance of metal as it warps with each volatile screech.
And for one blissful moment, the world fades to nothing but a fool’s errand of vengeance and magic. That’s where I float without the weight of reality.
17
I teeter on the edge of consciousness. Longing to stay in the blissful dreaming of my mind. Where nothing exists but the pleasant sensation of inebriation. Yet not of drugs or alcohol.
But of the mind and the heights it can take me to. To a world that hangs in the balance of command.
I want to sleep there forever.
Penny! Poppy’s voice draws me back to where pain and violence are a premonition of a future I dare not hold. My body aches and burns as screaming the likes of which hell would embrace echoes all around me. Penny, wake up, you don’t have much time. Move.
Her demand echoes through my body, and as though I’ve lost all control, she moves the strings attached to my joints like a marionette, the puppeteer to my puppet. My eyes feel as though they are weighed down by paste, opening them doesn’t come easy. My hands reach shakily over my hips to my seatbelt where I press the release button.
My head crashes to the roof. I should worry that the pain doesn’t register. Yet. Though I know it will.
I’m upside down. But no longer. Eyes still shut, I roll on broken glass, each little bite akin to knives slicing through my sensitive skin. I knew the pain would set in, I just didn’t think it would be brought on by this. I swallow bile, pushing back the pain. Outside glass crunches beneath booted feet.
Move, Penny! Again, Poppy’s voice in my ears echoes the danger I’m in. I press my hands to the roof of the car as I flop and struggle to rise. To crawl out of a broken window. Blood trickles onto my closed eyes, running in rivulets down my cheek to my chin where it drips onto my hands. I peel my eyes open. I can’t think of Valentino. I keep moving. He’s a vampire, he will be fine. Me? My body is very much human in every sense of the word. Even as a young girl, magic didn’t heal me from the wounds I received from falling off my bike or the pain of heartbreak.
Even now as blood seeps onto my face and the pain in my hip escalates, I don’t heal with superhuman powers. Not even as I crawl out of the window and my head ricochets to the side. A scream lodges in my throat, torn from a boot landing on my jaw.
Penny, please fight back. Please, for me. Poppy’s voice is a plea that I cannot ignore.
I cough and sputter as a hand grips my hair, lifting me by my scalp and yanking me up. Dull eyes greet my own. His hard jaw and military haircut sear into my mind along with the Hitler moustache.
How. Fitting.
I spit blood onto his face.
He doesn’t even flinch. Those cold, dark eyes stare at me without a soul. “Foolish girl.” Yet his words sound more like a gurgle.
“Russian?” My head aches and pain engulfs my hips as though set on fire.
“Come.” He spins, taking my body with him, dragging me behind him like a ragdoll. One cut, it’s all I need.
Penny, now! Don’t let them take you! I glance around, looking for Poppy and her voice, yet she is nowhere.
Either it’s all in my head or something more.
Giving up the struggle, I allow my body to go limp. Rule one of martial arts, if you can’t fight then use your own deadweight.
He stumbles as I run my hands shakily to my hip where a piece of the door is embedded. At least I think it’s the door, it’s sharp and metal and hot to the touch. I don’t look back down for fear of passing out. I can feel my blood draining from me. Each precious drip a cut lifeline.
I will not be a victim.
I rip the piece of metal from my flesh with a cry. I can’t hold it back and I don’t dare try to. The pain is too great. The man releases his hold on my hair, instead lunging for the metal in my hand. I drop to the ground.
Let him grab it. Poppy’s voice fills my ears, encouraging me. Guiding me. Let his blood flow, Penny.
His hand grips the metal and he snatches it from my grasp. I hold on for as long as I can. But the damage has been done and I smile.
“Why smile, little girl?” He wrenches me back up by my hair.
The world slows as his power signature reaches me, rushing over me like a wave. I shudder. “Because you fucked up.”
This time the mountain’s dark eyes widen. Realizing for the first time just what I might be. What I can do to him.
I release my magic. No longer holding back to stay safe. No, now I allow it to rush from me like a tsunami crashing over its victim with a deadly wave. It doesn’t escape me that I use my magic when in danger. I’ll assess that later.
Right now, the blood in his hand calls to me like a drug.
He drops me.
“Oh God of Spirits,” he prays in Russian.
“There is no God here.” Only me, and I will not gift him salvation.
I call on his blood, and like a peon it rushes forward, rolling into me with fierce abandon. My eyes roll heavenward. My body shakes and shudders and every ounce of his power flows from him and into me. I absorb every molecule of it.
My cuts and scrapes begin to heal, easing my pain.
Like a drug addict, I pull harder and harder. My eyes widen and lock on his. The world rushes around us in a volatile storm of sirens and screams. But nothing can break us apart. I’ve latched onto him, and with a sick sense of recklessness, I lean in and lick his hand. His blood greets my tongue with the bitter taste of ginger. Yet the thrum still invigorates me.
What is it to an addict if his supply is good or bad? It still exists, and I fall head over feet into that addiction.
I watch his life bleed out before me as his blood pulls from his simple wound to splatter onto the ground, used and worthless. The light fades from his eyes.
I release the grip I didn’t know I held on him, his lifeless body falling from my fingertips to tumble into his own blood.
I drained him.
But not like a vampire, no. I bled him like a leech. Taking what I needed and discarding the rest. My labored breaths slow as a chill races through me.
Focus on my voice. Again, Poppy instructs me. Breathe.
My head jerks up as sirens close in while doors open and slam. Ahead, my eyes seek the feeling of home, and Joe climbs out of his sedan. He eyes swallow me whole. Assessing and checking for wounds. Wounds I know exist, though not as severe as they were.
“Kid.” His voice is soft, the one he uses in negotiations.
“Joe.” How much can I convey in that one word?
“Valentino.” His eyes jerk behind me, and I slowly follow, spinning to see a pissed off vampire trying to reduce the ethereal glow of his gaze. “Get our girl to the ambulance.”
Valentino jerks his head before rushing to me, faster than any human. But no one is watching. Instead, they are working on the bodies surrounding us.
The scene explodes before me like a bad dream. Ambulances block in two cars smashed to pieces. Police cruisers light up the sky and buildings with their lights. While all around people peek from their windows and some sit on their stoops.
Focus. Poppy’s voice reverberates in my head, grounding me.
“Miss, miss, can you tell me where you’re hurt?” My head turns to the EMT, her brown eyes soft and full of concern.
“You can’t help me anymore,” I whisper, watching as confusion pinches her cheeks.
“Miss, please sit.” Her eyes flicker to Valentino whose own struggle plays across his face as he tries and fails to hide his fangs. “Sir, you too. Detective Palozzi will want to speak to you.”
It’s been so long since I’ve heard Joe’s last name that I falter and sink onto the bumper of the ambulance. Joseph Palozzi, the detective himself, walks over, smiling where h
e needs to and dismissing others as well. As he nears, his hand brushes against the EMT. “I’ll take it from here.”
Without much question, she disappears into the throng of people, rushing about to save those that cannot be saved. I killed one and I know Valentino would never allow the others to live. I count four bodies in total scattered around the street. To anyone observing, it would just look like they weren’t wearing seatbelts. But I know better.
My eyes peer past Joe’s form, glancing to those doing CPR and running lines.
There isn’t any point. Valentino drank them dry. How else would he be standing beside me unscathed?
“Want to tell me what happened here, peanut?” The pet name drives into my soul, ripping me wide open.
I gaze at up at him and swallow. This was no ordinary accident. But do I tell him that and risk his life? “Joe.”
“No bullshit, sweetheart.” His eyes land on Valentino. “You’d do well to tell me the truth, you know who I work for.”
That catches my attention. “Who do you work for, Joe?”
Valentino blows out a humorless laugh. “Long ago, the supernatural order felt the only ones who could be impartial to our crimes are the humans. Joe determines our fate, he is the liaison to the human who sits on the council.”
“I thought you said that vampires run this town?” I hiss.
“Vampires hold the highest power, but even we need to be policed.” His eyes remain on Joe, impassive.
“Exactly. What happened?” Joe pushes.
“Even you know that words spoken in public aren’t safe.”
“This is pointless.” I stand, and immediately a hiss escapes my lips as a searing pain explodes in my hip. Black spots dance in my vision.
Penny, you need help. Again, Poppy’s voice reverberates in my head, a haunting melody of comfort, and yet, an illusion.
“How are you in my head?” I grip my hair, tugging at the strands as I wobble back to the bumper. Though I can feel my shoes squish with my own blood, hearing my sister is more alarming.
“Okay, here’s what we are going to do.” Joe leans in, lifting me by my armpits to guide me away. Valentino wraps another arm around my waist. “We are going to get into my car, and we are going to go see an old friend. Okay, kiddo?”
“Yeah.” My voice sounds weak, even to me. My vision continues to dance as I slump in the backseat. My head rests against the cushion as my body turns to Jello. For the first time, I glance at my hip. Blood saturates my jeans and my shirt while my head aches from where I fell out of the seatbelt. “What a waste of blood.”
The door beside me slams as Valentino climbs in with a chuckle. “I couldn’t agree more, kitten.”
I peek up at him from beneath my ratty curtain of hair. “Your fangs aren’t achy, are they?”
“I wouldn’t worry about his fangs there, kiddo.” I roll my head on the rest behind me, my eyes catching Joe’s in the mirror. “Still with me, peanut?”
I cough, sending zings of pain all through my body. “What good am I if I can’t heal like a vampire?”
Valentino reaches across me to lift my shirt. Below, the wound seeps and oozes blood with each breath. Again, my vision darkens at the edges.
“Joe, this isn’t good.” Valentino rips off his shirt, buttons flying as he slaps in onto my wound.
“Almost there, keep her conscious.”
On my way, Penny, hang in there.
“How is she in my damn head?” I rub my temple, my hands seeking to do anything but touch the wound in my side. Valentino is too close, his spicy scent drifting to me in the closed confines of the car.
“Who?” Joe takes a turn, sending me sliding closer to Valentino.
He smells so damn good. “Can I bite you?” I may or may not snuggle into his neck. I’m blaming blood loss. Especially when my tongue drags along his skin and my teeth nip.
“Not unless you want to create a deeper tie to me, kitten.” He grabs my hand, placing it over my wound, but not before hearing him mutter, “If you bit me, there will be no stopping me from biting you,” below his breath.
“Why isn’t your blood still working? It should work like Poppy and Alaric. He healed her. I drank your blood, I should be healing.” I’m one, long, run-on sentence heavy on the whine.
Valentino’s firm grip pinches my chin as his other finger lifts my lips. “You have teeny tiny little fangs.” He sounds equal parts horrified and awed by that.
Letting go of his shirt, I prod my teeth while his hand slides back to my wound. Teeny tiny fangs really do exist there. “Shit.”
Woozy, I flop back like a fish, my hands holding the damn shirt in place.
The car rumbles down a back alley, which is far too narrow, while buildings tower over us. I could open the window and touch the brick caging us in.
“Very well,” Joe states from the front before the car pulls into an opening. City streets are nothing but man-made mazes of brick and stone. I have no idea where we are, and part of that could be from blood loss.
My door flies open just as it breaches the wall of brick. Before me, steel-cut, ice-blue eyes stare at me with such concern that my heart breaks.
“You really were on your way.”
“Of course, dipshit.” Poppy reaches in and pulls me out of the car with far more strength than I’d ever given her credit for. I hold the shirt in place, hoping it keeps the wound from deepening.
“I thought I was going insane.” The pain in my side doubles then quickly fades. Poppy stumbles, her breath coming in quick bursts, and her jaw clenches.
I slap her away. “Don’t take it.” I stagger backward into Valentino’s hands.
Alaric suddenly appears at Poppy’s side to hold her up. But unlike me, she kicks out his knee. I watch, wide-eyed, as he stumbles away, his eyes flashing with danger. Poppy flings her pink hair back, her leathers stretching across her body.
“Now, Pete will see you, but we need to move quickly.” She hustles to a side entrance, holding the door open while her eyes dance wildly in the weird parking lot surrounded by buildings.
“Bring ‘er in!” comes the old man’s voice from the darkened doorway.
“You’re going to patch me up in a bar?” I cough, sending a zing of pain through me. My fists clench the blood sodden fabric which is doing nothing to staunch my wound.
“Hurry, Penny.” Poppy’s face turns ashen. Gripping my elbow, she hustles me down a long hallway. Valentino, Alaric, and Joe are forgotten as her single purpose fades to me.
Truth be told, I can feel my body fading. If I hadn’t stolen the magic from the Russian, I would have died long ago. Yet, somehow, I hold on by a thread.
Together, we stumble into a dusty room with a dentist’s chair. Books line the walls, while dust motes float in the air. As one, we fall into the chair, both of us breathing heavily, our hands entwined in blood.
“How did—”
“Shhhh.” She turns toward me, our eyes locking. In my mind, she cautions, Vampires can hear everything, sister. Also, I have no idea how I’m doing this. I felt your pain and it just sort of happened.
“Noted.”
“All ‘ight, which of ye got stabbed?” Pete strolls in, his thick beard puffed out like a fluffy duck while he wears what I swear are steampunk glasses. He sits in a rolling stool, his thick body skating toward us as he flips up what looks like a magnifying glass.
“Car accident, not stabbed.” I roll my head back, my energy fading with each breath. If I could just nap for a mere moment…
“Oh, I beg ta differ, lass. I can smell it on ye.” Without waiting, he lifts the white shirt away and then my own. “Yep, right here. Metal.”
“It was a metal car, Pete.”
His blue eyes jerk up to stare at me. “I cannae tell a lie, lass. You were stabbed. I can also smell the tip of the sword stuck in yer bone. It’s a good thing I can trace that.”
My hand tightens on Poppy’s as the realization that someone is desperately trying to kill us
sinks in. We were never safe in this world. Skating by, pretending to be human. It was only a matter of time until shit hit the fan, and it has.
“Will be but a pinch,” are the last words I hear before he shoves his fingertips inside my body.
18
Milky white fog thickens the air before me. Dense and damp with the scent of lilac. My arms stretch above my head as muscles lengthen without pain. Looking down, I watch as my hands roam over my hips. I clench the fabric in my fist, lifting the black shirt and revealing creamy white skin.
“What do you think?” Startled, I gaze over at Poppy. Her blue eyes rolling to the cathedral surrounding us. Polished, light gray columns rise skyward into the creamy fog. Beneath my sneakered feet, gleaming white marble smiles up at me with streaming black lines.
“Yours?” I gift her with a half-smile as my memories return. As children, running away was never a physical endeavor, but a thought that landed us on a plane of existence where there were only the two of us. Poppy would pull us to places she imagined or saw in magazines. The only vacations we ever had.
There was a long period where we solely dominated a certain chocolate factory.
She shrugs a shoulder, her eyes gazing around while a small smile lifts her beautiful face. “This was easiest.” She holds her hand out. “Come, it works best if you’re touching me.”
My hand slides into her warm one, our fingers intertwined. Her touch is comforting in a way that bubbles emotion in my throat. “How did things get this messed up?”
We step up and into a sharp opening where the fog disappears and the scent of incense mixes with lilac. A scent I’m beginning to associate with my sister.
“Mom and Dad, Penny, they did their best to protect us.” Our footsteps clack in the open space. The sweeping cathedral echoes all around us as light gray, almost white arches rise above us to the heavens. “Our real parents.”
I bite my tongue. This we will disagree on. The ones who raised us will forever be the ones who held me at night when I had a nightmare. Who fed me chicken soup when I fell ill. The ones who sat at every single soccer game, even though I hardly played, and when I did, I fell more often than that ball. Those are my parents.