by A L Hart
I ground my teeth—then stayed quiet. Every bit of her words, every last one of them, were right. This was my fault. It didn’t matter that those around me had played their parts or that Ophelia had encouraged me up until the very end. At the crux of it all, there was no denying it. The idea had been mine alone.
After a few breaths, I managed to rein in enough control to force the wings into their pockets, the girths compacting, retracting and curling around my ribs before the sensation vanished as a whole.
Jera’s gaze slid over me and at once, I wanted to recoil from it, from the truth of it all, but her hand was tight around mine. She never let go.
Even when we made it back to the SUV and even when we arrived back at the coffeeshop.
She must have thought I would somehow manage to do something even more condemning than the last plan, or maybe she’d lost hope in my ability to utilize basic judgement in dire situations.
Despite it, against the rebellion in my chest, the heat she emitted traveled from our joined hands, up my arm and into that space in my chest that threatened to grow colder and colder, until there was nothing left but the awareness of what I’d done.
Reluctant to move from the front seat, I stared into the coffeeshop blankly.
The lights were out, the construction trucks gone. The neighborhood was dead quiet at the nearing midnight hour, unruffled by the events that’d transpired. Unfazed by the disconcertion moving through me.
I thought of Ophelia’s screams.
“She did it to herself,” Jera said, emotionless.
I said nothing. There was nothing to say, even if I disagreed. Ophelia had claimed the idea to infiltrate the compound was her idea, but that was a lie. A coverup to protect me.
“She is as headstrong as the rest of us, only infinitely more ignorant.” Which was why—didn’t matter the situation, the stakes—Jera had always felt the need to watch over her. Had titled herself her sister’s keeper.
“She said the two of you had done infiltration missions plenty of times in the past.”
Jera gave a creeping chuckle that didn’t reach her eyes. “We most certainly have, but you’re forgetting I was always there and we were both at our prime, no collars holding us back. And do not forget the fundamentally important difference—I’ve no aversion to slaying those who get in my way.”
I’d considered that possible hindrance, but that wasn’t what’d been our downfall tonight. It was Dave’s betrayal.
“Had you slaughtered him that day,” Jera said smoothly. “You would not have been caught in his trap. Had you trusted me—”
“You never gave me a reason to!” I erupted suddenly, all of the ill emotions that had been stewing beneath the surface now boiling over. From the beginning, this woman had done nothing but meet me with blades and fire and derision. And after one mistaken kiss, all of those blades and fire had conjoined, and rather than derision, she’d opted for contempt and aimed it at me at every given opportunity.
“I told you once, Peter. The world is cruel. The sooner you learn that, embrace it, and change, the sooner you can take charge of the way the world unfolds around you.”
“Spare me your cheap words of wisdom.”
“These are not words of wisdom, human. They’re a solid truth, proven time and again through the failures of many men.”
I barely opened my mouth before she said over me, “Ophelia’s suffering now, because of you. Knives burrowing into her chest, chemicals disbanding all in which she’s made of. HB has a way of pushing immortals to the brink of death, then beckoning them back from that edge—”
“Ophelia is her own woman,” I growled, contradicting my earlier opinion, but I couldn’t help it. The pain of her words spiked my own defense. “She told me plain and clear she wanted to go through with it.”
“Ah yes, but again, I’m no fool. I know the idea to infiltrate the compound was your plan and yours alone. Had you never thought to cross me, I’d have been able to talk you out of the foolish ordeal. Communication, Peter. It does not always require trust of morality, but trust of logic.”
“You’re constantly belittling my intelligence, but I didn’t see you doing anything to prevent those hunters from coming after us. You were content to stay hidden in this shop for who knows how long. You stagnated, Jera. Not me.”
“Patience supersedes impatience. Impatience inspires failure and miscalculations.”
I bared my teeth. “Patience would have led to those men moving on us first and killing us all.”
“How do you know that?”
“How do you know otherwise?” I challenged.
“Because I’ve lived longer than you. Played this field longer than you. And am infinitely more all-knowing. But that’s not the problem here.”
“Then enlighten me to the problem.”
“The problem is you went behind my back,” she snipped, and finally all of her other resolves shed away, baring the core of her anger. Not that Ophelia had gotten caught. Not that the three of us could have been killed. But simply that I hadn’t trusted her.
Which brought me back to, “I’d trust you if you gave me a reason—”
Her body whipped from the passenger side, saddling mine in the next breath. Her mouth closed in over my neck, lips hovering above the pulse which hitched wildly beneath the fiery press of her hands over my chest, the sudden scrape of her serrates over the flesh.
“We do not need trust, human. I do not need it. All I need is your obedience and for you to never withhold information from me again.”
I sat still beneath her. Her locks were cool against my cheek, my collarbone, and when she turned her head the slightest, her horns roved through my own hair, hushed against my skin.
I suppressed the need to gasp at their icy touch. “That is not how relationships—”
This time I did cry out as her claws extended into my chest, breaking skin.
“Do not define this arrangement as a relationship. You are sustenance to me, nothing more. I endure you because it is now the bane of my survival. But I will not tolerate my food threatening me or my sister’s livelihood again.”
I didn’t know why I did it—why I said it, but rather than push the absurd female away, my hands closed around the small curve of her waist and pulled her closer, words snarling from me before I could contain them. “Liars never prosper.”
She leaned back just far enough so that I could see the startle in the metallic gleam of her gaze. Then the anger.
“Before I kissed you, what was I?” I asked.
She opened her mouth—and I leaned forward and kissed her. Hard, dumping my own rage there on rosebud lips.
“Was I food then?” I challenged.
“A means of survival,” she breathed.
“Then why . . .” My hands were bold then, finally crawling up the subtle dip of her spine, into the raven curls poured down the scape of her. They were like velvet fibers, indescribable threads of lush, softness twining between my fingers. “Why haven’t you fed from me?” I asked. “If I’m but food and survival, what’s stopped you?”
Her claws burrowed deeper into my flesh, hiking my breaths and the fire boiling beneath. “I have my reasons, human.”
“Enlighten me, demon. Because from where I’m sitting, seems to me you’re afraid of tarnishing what loose relationship we have.”
At this, she bulked, eyes flashing. “Seems to me you’re desperate to fill a void carved inside of you.”
“A void you share.”
“Ah, human, make no mistake, my void is a singularity and if you think to go near to it again, I cannot promise you will return whole.”
That wrath of loneliness I’d tasted on her tongue. That roaring black beast curled at the heart of her . . .
“I’m not afraid of it,” I said. “If you would just let me in, trust that I’m not trying to cage you, that none of this has to be a power struggle, we could—”
“What?” she laughed. “Be the family we both lost? Mend
over our gaping holes with the flimsy membrane of our dynamic?”
My eyes hardened. I was going to say make this work, but at the core of it, I’d meant exactly what she’d said, and now with it gutted and laid out before us, I saw the tatters and holes in the hopeful wishing.
She was immortal.
I was a hybrid of it.
She did not belong to this world, likely wished to return to her own, while I was firmly grounded here, married to my past. And if Jera’s past actions were any warning, it was only a matter of time before she uprooted me by force or bargain and staked me to her world.
Either that, or I would fight to remain.
Either one would lead to our dispute.
I saw it then in her eyes, the truth I’d been blind to until this moment.
All this time, beneath all of my actions—assisting these twins, devoting my life to someone I’d known in a fraction of a month, kissing this otherworldly creature—it was but a means to mask what I was really after. Trying to twist this dynamic into a relationship, into something to care for, love, replace the darkness that’d been inside of me with a distraction.
That wasn’t what true relationships were supposed to be composed of. Forcing two concepts into a cage and sedating their natures, who they were, and then branding it a fairytale love affair. Meant to be.
Dave had implied it well. The twins were demons, but Jera specifically was a monster who made no attempt to hide or alter her nature. Whether she was born one or had become one didn’t matter. What mattered was, even were I to bow my head and follow her blindly for my own self-preservation or in some bid to chase a chance at mending past scars, that fire inside of her flared too brightly, scorching anything stupid enough to come in close to it.
No matter which way this turned out, whether I followed her willingly or reluctantly, was there any chance of preserving my nature? She wanted me to change.
In the last two weeks, simply being around her had altered parts of myself that had nothing to do with dark energy.
If I stayed long enough, how long would it be before I ended up like Dave?
He’d been poisoned with dark energy. It’d taken over him, had injected him with an urge to kill and HB had lured him in and gave life to the low burning embers.
Jera watched me, watched the understanding unfold in my eyes, and then she smiled. A smile that said, in time, she would do more than give life to my own embers. She would inexorably alter my image until I didn’t recognize my own reflection. Until I discovered a hatred for it.
And when I dug around my past for the source, when I came away with an image of her—well, how then could I ever consider someone like her family? How could I ever love a demon?
She reached over and threw the car’s door open.
When she clamored out, I didn’t move, but stared through the windshield bitterly at the coffeeshop.
“Come now, darling,” she purred. “Rest. It will be a while before they retrieve what they want of Ophelia and she’s far stronger than you might think—mentally that is. And no matter what information they divulge, it will be tarnished when their organization is dismantled.”
At this, I turned and looked at her. Did she mean what I thought she did?
She nodded. “This may not be my world, but I would never allow such an organization the likes of HB to persist. As I said, patience. We need far more alliances than that of that succubus and vampire.”
Had that been her plan all along? Assisting those afflicted with dark magic woes to garner their alliance more so than their money? Why go the length to hide the intention from me, if so? It only circled my questions back to the previous one, why were these women here?
Ophelia had said it was for me, but for me to what? Collect alliances for them through what I could do? Or something even greater than that?
All possibilities was suddenly a black smear of unknowns in the face of this woman, she of many secrets.
“I do believe your human pest is waiting for you,” she said then, her eyes on the shop.
My human pest? The shop was darkened. Dead. The tarp still up in the windows, the door’s window showing nothing more than black patches inside.
She meant Danny.
My brows came together, remembering the phone call. I forgot I was supposed to be paying him. Still, I hadn’t expected him to actually wait around all of that time for me to get back. It was almost twelve at night.
When I looked at Jera, she shrugged, as though to say don’t ask me.
Our conversation behind us, we entered the shop together to find the boy sitting there in the first booth where a piece of the construction’s tarp had come down, the night’s light turning his coppery hair golden. He sat with his hands in his lap, fidgeting restlessly, his eyes pinned downward.
On the table was a pile of money. One dollar bills, tens, twenties, all heaped together as if once crumpled up in a pocket.
“Danny,” I said softly, not liking the shadows beneath his eyes. “Danny, why are you here so late?”
His mouth puckered thoughtfully for a moment, brows pulling together as if the act of contemplation was straining. “I . . .” That hazelnut gaze flicked over the bills in front of him. I could hear his breathing increase.
Jera melted to the back to lean on the register’s counter, watching quietly. The look she gave the boy, I’d seen it before. It was the same studious look she’d given our afterhours customers.
I swallowed down a lump, willing away the thought. This was just Danny. That sprightly, wound boy who’d insisted to work here until I’d finally caved. Nothing more.
“What’s wrong?” I pressed quietly, moving to sit across from him so I wasn’t a shadow looming in the dark.
More fidgeting. Consternation.
Then he reached up and pushed the pile of money to me. “It’s yours.”
Confused, I shook my head. “No, it’s yours. You earned it.” He worked harder than some of the employees who’d been here for years.
He nodded. “I did. But . . .” His breathing spiked again.
I reached across the table and placed my hand over his. “Danny, it’s alright, just tell me what’s wrong.”
Finally, the boy looked up, that persistent squint to his gaze as he regarded me tentatively before saying, “I know it might not be enough and I promise I can work to make up the difference, but please—please, boss, help me.”
“Help you?”
He sucked his bottom lip for just a moment before he said with renewed strength and reform, “My brother, boss—I think he’s dying.”
Ch. 26
“Dying?” The word fell slowly from my tongue, the taste of it foul, reminding me of smoke.
Danny lurched to his feet then, his eyes staring holes into the floorboards as he rushed to say, “I know you’re busy. I know it’s a lot to ask. Mom always said to be mindful of another’s time and I’m asking you to be mindful of Ethan’s.”
I could sense him fraying, approaching a breaking point that would leave him sputtering unintelligible words that would be of little help in getting to the bottom of it.
“Danny, calm down. I’m not busy—” In a sense. “Tell me what’s wrong with your brother.”
He shook his head and bit down on his lip hard, eyes squeezed shut.
When it was clear he would soon break skin, I slowly extended my hands and wrapped them gently around his arms. “It’s alright. You can trust me.”
Just when I thought I’d see a small bead of blood form on his lip, his muscles loosened in my hold, his eyes creaking open gradually, but their attention were devout to the floors. “I took care of him,” he whispered.
I nodded. “You did.”
“I gave him what he needed.”
Another inclination. “Of course.” Softly, “Danny, what’s wrong with your brother?”
After a moment, the boy gave a small shrug, one I would have missed had I not been holding him and felt the small bones hitch. “I don’t know. H
e used to play with me and laugh. It didn’t matter that Mom and Dad were gone. We still laughed. But now he won’t wake up.”
I glanced up at Jera, but her expression was closed, blank.
On my own, again.
Hoping Danny didn’t mean what I thought he meant, I ventured, “Your mom and dad, where are they?”
No answer.
“What about your sister—she picks you up from here, right?”
By the brief flash of confusion on his face, I knew then.
His sister didn’t exist. A lie.
My brows knitted as it all began to dawn on me.
“Danny,” I said with caution. “Why did you wait until now to tell me this?”
Frown screwing his features, he deigned, “Because nothing in life is free. It’s what you told her.” His eyes went to Jera briefly.
I remembered then, barely. Jera’s first day here, which was coincidentally his first day at the shop as well. He’d been standing there as I chided her for eating the merchandise, as I told her she had to work to receive things. Even help, as Danny had interpreted it. Had I not said that, would he have come forward sooner?
I had to fight back all of the implications that knowledge came with. “Where is your brother now?”
Again, no answer.
All the times he’d been here during what should have been school hours, saying he was home schooled . . .
The first time he’d shown up here, dirty from head to toe . . .
“Where is he?” I asked again, weaving in a tender sense of urgency.
“At home,” he whispered, honeyed gaze meeting mine.
“Can you take me to him?” I pressed, half-expecting Jera to object, insist that I rest to recoup for our rescue mission.
She said nothing.
Danny nodded.
I was further surprised when she followed the two of us out to the car, but that faded quickly. Food. Sustenance. She was doing nothing more than protecting it. Even so, I was glad she came, glad there was another adult—be them demon and sadistic—when a churning anxiety was goading my insides.
Danny led us over ten miles away, out of Wamego and down a backroad of nothing but dead wheatfields and the occasionally barn or shack off in the gloomy background. One of those shacks, he pointed me towards and that anxiety soured to a dread so strong, I forgot to breathe.
