Rock and Ruin

by Saranna Dewylde

  Wrapping my backpack straps first one way, then the other, around my fingers, I debated my options.

  I’d worked odd jobs here and there to help Mom and make extra money for my music software. But I’d never tried to coerce a non-human into hiring me. Would this kill our friendship?

  Balls. I puffed out my cheeks.

  A large man clad in golden spandex jostled past me, forcing my attention back to my surroundings. Looking up, I found the green-storied cross of the MGM Grand peeking above Koval and turned left. This section of town was a strange brew of plain-clothed regular people and sequined run-off from the strip.

  I’d only been to the Ground Zero once properly—twice if I counted my accidental and aborted visit—but I remembered the way.

  The club was tucked into a slice of space between older hotels, just behind the towering lights of Vegas. If I walked fast enough, I could reach it before sundown. Vegas was funny, though. The flatness deceiving, making it tricky to gauge distance. I could see my next turn well before I reached it.

  My pack felt four times heavier by the time I ducked into the alley entrance.

  There it was, a black, blank door lurking beneath the subdued neon sign that marked the club entrance.

  My stomach flip-flopped.

  I caught my breath and stared at the entrance.

  It had taken a full forty minutes of walking to get here and inspiration hadn’t struck. This was a terrible idea. I didn’t want to force a friend to give me a job. Hell, I didn’t want to work for a demon club. But if Myrtle found out I’d lied she’d take it out on Jim. I couldn’t let that happen.

  I took one step towards the door, another backward.

  What if Cat’s invitation to drop by was nothing more than something adults said to get kids to go away, with no actual desire for me to follow through? Rough nylon dug into my hands as I pulled harder on the straps of my pack. I worried at my bottom lip.

  Come on. It’s not like Cat has to pay me.

  I raked my fingers through my hair.

  Unmarked black doors were fucking intimidating.

  What if I walked through those doors and disappeared, never to be seen again? No one knew where I was. I probably should have told Jim where I was going—having a dad was going to take some getting used to.

  Just get it over with.

  Giving myself a full-bodied shake that had books, pens and laptop rattling against my back, I walked firmly towards the door for Ground Zero. Pushing it open, I stepped cautiously into the near darkness. It was just as I remembered it. Only this time I wasn’t sopping wet (bonus). And Cat wasn’t here, ready to flick on the overhead lights (huge minus).

  Moving cautiously, with only a few, low pops of violet neon as my guides, I made my way past the entry counter—where I assumed people paid to get in when the bar was officially open. Bumping into a wall, I held my hands in front of me and felt my way along the pitch-black hallway. There was a buzzing sensation growing in my chest, one that was urging me run back out the door.

  I ignored it—I’d come too far to turn back now.

  Snippets of conversation fluttered up from the main room. I recognized Cat’s voice and had to swallow the urge to call out. Interrupting an important conversation was probably a bad call when you were about to ask someone to invent a job for you—besides, I had no idea who, or what, she was talking to.

  My eyes finally adjusted to the gloom as I eased down the short flight of stairs and onto the main floor of the larger bar area. Relief zinged through me at the familiar lines of faintly glowing purple lights and back-lit glass bar-top. At the end of the room was Cat, talking—on a cell phone.

  Coming to a dead stop, I stared at her.

  Despite everything, it hadn’t occurred to me that demonically inclined non-humans would call each other instead of using bonfires or ritual sacrifice.

  “Look, I understand it’s frustrating. Just give it time,” Cat said to the person on the other end of the line. She had one hand planted in the small of her back and was stretching backward. The action making me think her friend wasn’t the only one who was stressed. “Patience, right?”

  Hand raised halfway to a wave, I hovered awkwardly at the opposite end of the room.

  Should I let her know I was here, or let her finish her conversation in peace?

  Maybe today wasn’t a good day. Maybe I should just sneak back out and try again later… only Myrtle was already suspicious. I couldn’t avoid her anymore. The longer I waited, the more I risked her finding out I’d lied about having a job.

  The only solution was to make that job the truth.

  “I know, I know!” Cat waved a hand as she prowled around a polished black table. She was like a person-shaped jaguar, all grace and energy with the potential for lethal force at a moment’s notice. “We’ve talked about this. It’s not a good plan—it’s the only plan we’ve got.” She paused. “No, I don’t have any better ideas. Neither do you. Remember, this is partly your mess.”

  Shoot. Things sounded like they were getting personal.

  I glanced around, looking for a way to let her know I was here without interrupting. My gaze fixed on the bar. It wasn’t lit yet. Last week Cat had flipped something on the other side and turned on the built-in lights in the glass top. Ducking behind the piece, I searched for a switch.

  “Well, I can’t trade places with you, can I? That would sort of defeat the purpose of hiding,” Cat grumbled, the growling edge carrying from across the room.

  I swallowed.

  I really hoped she’d be okay with my visit, or at least not mad about. My fingers brushed a familiar shape and deep indigo lights flickered to life in the bar top. Standing up, I found Cat staring at me.

  I gave her a hesitant wave. Like a dork.

  She blinked in what looked like surprise, then offered me a quick smile in return. “I’ve gotta go,” she said into the phone. “Company.” She mouthed “one sec” at me while listening to the other person. “Yes, yes. Okay. Later. I’ll call you. No, wait till you hear from me. Yeah, love you, too.”

  With a press of her finger and a long sigh, she disconnected the call.

  She looked tired. Worried.

  Shit.

  I’d chosen a horrible day and she was going to say no. Why did I have to shoot my mouth off to Myrtle? I hugged my backpack in front of me as if the nylon could protect me from bad news.

  Cat wove lithely between tables toward where I stood. A Cheshire cat grinned widely on her t-shirt, bits of yellow feathers silk-screened overtop its cartoon mouth. “Hey, Ash. I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

  She hadn’t expected me?

  My stomach dropped. Cat hadn’t meant that invitation. I wasn’t really welcome. My cheeks burned with humiliation. I’d been so stupid to come here and think some Shifter I met on the side of the road was a friend.

  “Whoa. Someone die?” Reaching me, Cat ducked her head to stare at me eye to eye. “You okay?”

  “I’m sorry.” Gulping in air, I studied the floor and pulled on my backpack. The Bulldog was going to crucify me—or worse, Jim. Maybe I could beg and somehow convince her to take things out on me and leave him alone. “I’ll go.”

  “Wha— Huh?” Cat’s face scrunched up. “Did I miss something? You just got here and now you want to go…” She glanced down at herself, then back at me. “Do I look particularly scary today? I thought the shirt was funny.”

  “You didn’t mean it.” Spinning on my heels, I started for the door. “Don’t worry. I’m not staying where I’m not wanted!”

  Cat appeared before me, arms outstretched and hands splayed. “Whoa!”

  “Move.” I dodged to the side. It was bad enough I’d come here, why wouldn’t she let me leave?

  She blocked me with effortless grace, keeping her body perfectly between me and the door. Stupid Shifters. “Come on, Kid. Cut me some slack. How the hell did I offend you between hanging up the phone and now?”

  “You didn’
t expect me,” I bit out.

  “No,” she drew the word out. “So?”

  “So there.” Crossing my arms, I glared balefully at her.

  “Seriously?” She rubbed the back of her head. “Not being human doesn’t equal expertise in teenage-brain. Cut me some slack and explain this shit already.”

  I drew my eyebrows into what I hoped was a fearsome line.

  “Not expected means you said I was welcome, but didn’t really mean it. You just wanted me to go home,” I said. “So quit protesting. I’m going! You don’t need to feel bad, it’s not like you owe me anything.”

  “For fuck’s…” She pressed a palm to her forehead, sucking in an audibly loud breath. “Ash. Not expected means you weren’t expected. Which is different from not wanted and a far cry from get the fuck out.” She flinched. “Hell. I probably shouldn’t swear in front of you…”

  I shrugged.

  I desperately wanted to believe her, which would be an even bigger mistake than coming here today. “Whatever. It was stupid.”

  She let out a long breath. “Can’t you tell when someone’s lying?”

  My head tilted. “What do you mean?”

  “I rarely lie, because just about everyone in my world can tell if you are.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t cover selective truths.”

  Her face split into a wide grin that matched her shirt and showed off subtly pointed incisors. “Figured that one out, have you? Thought you might be a quick study.” Her strange purple eyes looked straight into mine. “I would like it if you stayed, Ash. Tell me if that’s true.”

  My chin jutted out as I weighed her words.

  They felt true. No, they were true. I knew it, just as I knew so many things my strange talent told me. Relief rushed through me. I hadn’t been wrong about Cat. But that meant I’d been, as Mom would have said, unforgivably rude.

  Relief morphed into a big, ashamed lump in my stomach.

  “It’s true.” I studied the bar top, too embarrassed to look at Cat. If she hadn’t wanted me gone before, she would now. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should go.”

  “As I said, you’re welcome to stay, Ash. Though the door is there if you want to use it.” I felt more than saw her ease out of my way. “Since you made the trek over here, maybe you want to give it a minute before you rush out again?”

  I really didn’t have another plan. Or anywhere else to turn.

  “Sure…” I mumbled, still studying the illuminated black glass of the bartop, where purple and indigo lights flickered. “I’ll stay for a few.”

  A hand patted me gently on the shoulder. “Alright, then. Put your bag somewhere and grab a seat.”

  Keeping my gaze low, I tucked my pack under a stool.

  “Worked out how you can tell whether or not people are lying?”

  My head shot up and I studied Cat warily.

  She had her brows raised and a slight smile dancing around the corners of her mouth.

  Did Cat know about my talent?

  Be careful who you tell, Mom’s warning echoed in my head.

  I chewed my lip, twisting my fingers together. I’d promised her I’d be careful who I told—so careful I wasn’t even speaking about my talent to my Dad. But oh, how I wanted someone to talk to about this…

  It wasn’t exactly telling if Cat already knew—was it?

  Mutely, I shook my head at her.

  “Then I bet you’re curious. But first things first. Sit.” She gestured toward a bar stool. Still uncertain, I perched awkwardly on the edge of the velvet-topped seat nearest the door. Her lips quirked up, but she made no comment as she moved behind the bar. “What’s today’s poison, Ash?”

  My eyes widened in alarm.

  She plunked a box before me. It looked like she was working awfully hard to keep a straight face. “Regular, chocolate-mint, or white-chocolate?”

  She’d bought a pack of hot chocolate.

  The fire in my cheeks reignited.

  I pointed at the white chocolate one, unable to tell if I was mad, mortified, or touched. She’d messed with me, but she’d also picked up specialty hot chocolates just in case I stopped by—cuz there’s no way that was regular demon-bar fare. Not expected really hadn’t meant not welcome. She’d honestly hoped I’d visit.

  Touched outdistanced the other feelings milling in my chest.

  “An excellent choice.” She started flipping on machines and a blue circle lit atop a sleek, modern coffee maker. “The reason lies feel different than truth is that we give off different energy when we tell them. Energy is what drives the world—especially the demonic one. Those of us who are sensitive to such things—which, I’m sorry to tell you, is just about everyone in this particular neck of infernal woods—can tell when that energy changes. Now, it’s not a simple thing. There are ways of telling the truth without revealing most of it—which it seems you’ve already figured out.”

  I mentally chewed that over for a moment. “Or if people don’t know they’re lying?”

  “Exactly.” Cat propped her elbows on the bar top and regarded me approvingly.

  “Is that why you won’t tell me your real name?” I asked her.

  “Maybe.” Her lips pulled farther to the side, revealing another hint of fang on the right side of her mouth.

  I wondered if all Shifters got fangs. I still wasn’t overly clear on what exactly a full-blown Shifter looked like. It sounded like there was a variety of Shifter sub-groups, though I was pretty sure all groups were predatory. Nash was looking forward to his claws—but maybe the fangs didn’t matter because they were cosmetic? Or maybe Cat wasn’t a Shifter at all, just something like them.

  Everything in this world was so complicated, whether or not I could read lies and creepy energy.

  I vented a dramatic sigh and leaned forward till my chin rested on the bar.

  “This sucks. Telling if someone’s lying is pretty useless if there are so many ways to hide it.”

  She laughed and tapped the top of my head. “You learn to ask the right questions. Now move, you’re gonna get hot chocolate in your hair if you leave your face there much longer.”

  “What if people don’t care about wrong or right—like sociopaths?”

  “Then it gets even trickier than it normally is,” she said. “Sometimes, those people take pleasure in misleading others, so you can sense a hint of that. But mostly if someone’s a true sociopath, there’s no way to get a clean read on them. That’s what makes it a handy tool, but not the only thing you should rely on.”

  Sighing, I straightened as a yellow mug of steaming hot chocolate appeared before me. The bright ceramic vessel looked ridiculously out of place in the sleek, nocturnal lair of Ground Zero. I loved it. “Is it weird to drink hot chocolate when it’s hot out?”

  She rolled her shoulders and ladled protein powder into a second mug. “It’s cold somewhere.”

  I grinned at her. And remembered why I’d come in the first place. “Er, Cat?”

  “Yes, Ash?”

  “Speaking of lying… I… Um—” Oh, crap. I had no idea how to ask for this. Mom and I had never asked for charity. Hot chocolate lightly scalded the back of my throat as I gulped down a mouthful before facing Cat. “Well… you see… I sort of told a selective truth to Myrtle the Bulldog, my apartment building’s Keeper, last Friday and…” I took a deep breath. Just spit it out. “I kind of implied I had a job after school—here. And I was wondering if you’d agree to call my dropping by a job? You don’t have to pay me. It would be a favor. Something to do. I can clean tables.”

  Stop talking, I ordered myself.

  But the words kept coming. “And maybe you won’t mind if I use the stage to practice. Sometimes. If no one’s around and you don’t mind… and no one’s around…”

  Cat looked like someone had hit her with a comic book freeze gun.

  Silence threatened to strangle me.

  Wrapping my arms around my middle, I waited for her to say something—anyt
hing. Any hope I’d had for a job, even by name, evaporated along with the steam from my mug.

  When she finally moved, it was to slowly take a sip from her steaming mug of chocolate-flavored protein powder. Her odd eyes studied me over the rim of her orange mug. “Ash, this is a bar—an adult, demon bar.” Her voice had a strange warble to it. “Hiring a human teenager, even in name only…”

  She was going to say no.

  My treacherous bottom lip started to quiver. I sucked it in between my teeth to stop it.

  “Hell. Don’t make that face.” She dropped onto a barstool beside me with a dull thud. “I thought you were gearing up for music class?”

  “Nope.” I emphatically shook my head, making hot liquid slosh onto my hands. “Ouch!” I plunked the mug down and glared at it.

  “Kid…” Cat sounded desperate. “It’s not exactly appropriate. Does your dad even know you’re here? Why can’t you use music class for band practice, did it not start as planned?”

  “Oh, it started. It’s a nightmare.” I threw my hands in the air. “The class is run by a creepy, evil pervert. Sunglasses’ classroom is not a place for me to practice in. It’s probably what he wants!”

  “Sunglasses? Creepy pervert…” Cat started choking on her drink and thumped a fist into her chest a couple times. “Uh, explain?”

  “Calls himself Claude Bournival and thinks that because he dresses better than the rest of the teachers that we’ll think he’s cool or something.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Not me. I mean, he tried to abduct me at a train station! Bet he got the job so he could be around all the girls. Creep.”

  “I see.” Cat’s face was oddly neutral.

  I swallowed a mouthful of white hot chocolate and darted a sideways glance at her. “You don’t need to think up some way to convince me to stay in school, you know. I’m not stupid. There’s no way I’m going to try and skip. I’m not giving the Bulldog anything to use against me—or Jim.”

  “Oh.” Her long fingers had started drumming atop the bar. “Well, that’s good.” She coughed again. “I guess I should point out that making yourself unhappy over music class might not be the best solution?”