by E Hall
“I took a cue from your ax-throwing habit.”
“That’s Huxley’s doing. Anytime I mess up, I have to throw axes until I hit the target a number equal to the cost of my screw up.” It’s not as cool as it sounds.
“I’ve been practicing throwing knives, juggling them even.” Lea’s lips quirk.
I’m not sure if she’s joking. The thing about Lea is it’s probably true.
“Aren’t we a violent pair,” I mutter. The word pair does something to me. It makes me want to close the space between us. Hold her. Hug her. Chase away the demons in her mind that she can’t seem to shake.
“I’d argue that we’re compassionate. Three fewer demons in Brooklyn.”
“Hope the girl got home okay. Did you notice her eyes? They looked lavender,” I say.
Lea doesn’t reply. She still has the sword in hand and then lets out a nervous laugh. With the tip of the blade, she writes Leajka was here in the sandy gravel. Sometimes, I worry about her.
“Maybe we should invest our time in more wholesome activities. Want to go ice skating this weekend?” I ask.
She snorts.
“You used to love it.”
“Used to.” She turns away from me. “I didn’t know demons could appear to look like humans. It’s getting worse. I should talk to Ivan.”
“I should get the car back. But about those wholesome activities, I take it the promposal didn’t go well.”
“I could take up baking. Pie was always your favorite,” Lea says instead of answering. “The cream-filled kind are also good for smooshing into people’s faces.”
I take this to mean that’s what she’d like to do to Lucas. He wasn’t good enough for her anyway.
“Hungry?” I ask.
She has a scratch on her cheek and I wipe it with the edge of my shirt. The sight of blood makes me ill, but I hate to see her wounded.
She lifts her hand to the spot and our fingers brush, sending a jolt through me. She dips her head and gets in the car.
I’ll be spending the rest of my life trying to clean this thing, if I still have a job, so since the damage is done, I pull a cool-guy move out of the movies and slide across the hood. I nearly trip when I land but recover with a smile and a salute as I get in the passenger seat. “Good work, soldier.”
She laughs and peels back toward the street. Instead of taking the turn to the garage, she gets on the parkway toward Long Island.
“Are you running away?” I ask.
“Is that an option?” Lea replies while changing lanes.
“Use your blinker,” I remind her.
She zooms around another car without using her blinker.
“I could see the two of us, way out there in Montauk, in a little cottage, throwing sharp objects,” I say with a laugh because when we were kids my parents would take us to the beach every weekend. The most trouble we’d get in was not wiping the sand from our feet before we got back on the bus.
“I don’t think there are any little cottages left in Montauk.”
I don’t want to take her reply as a subtle rejection just a fact.
Passing traffic casts Lea in light, shadow, light, shadow. I want it to pause long enough to see the fullness of her face, for her to smile in that way that lights up her eyes, and to notice that I’m the one looking and not Lucas.
“Not Montauk. Somewhere else, anywhere. Spin the globe. Close your eyes. See where your finger lands.” I silently command that she not close her eyes while driving for this symbolic activity.
“I’ve always wondered where my parents were from. Other than that, I’ll get back to you.” She closes the door on that convo.
“For the record, Lucas’s name rhymes with mucous. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good name. I have a cousin named Lucas. But Lucas from school is—”
“Like a wad of spit. I agree. Whatever.” Again, she closes further discussion on the topic.
I push on the imaginary brake pedal on the passenger side when she comes up behind a delivery truck. “If you’d asked me to prom, I would’ve said yes.” Oh, my sword. Did I just say that aloud? My cheeks heat. Thankfully, she’s focused on the road.
Lea answers by driving ten miles over the speed limit.
“This isn’t our car,” I say. “If we get pulled over, we could get arrested.”
“It’s not stealing if you have the keys.” In a flash of a streetlamp, I catch her sly smile.
“You have your license with you, right?”
She doesn’t answer.
“That’s a problem.”
“Not unless you make it one.” She exits the parkway somewhere on the north shore of Long Island.
A canopy of trees, boughs dipping low, open to a broad road.
Lea is quiet while the engine does the talking for us.
She veers across the double yellow lines to pass a caravan of dirty sedans, a minivan, and a work truck. The Lamborghini handles like a bolt of liquid lightning as she blasts past numerous shopping plazas.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the seat.
I want to fill the space with conversation, ask questions, hear answers, and unravel the knots and webs Lea uses to protect herself. If I could reveal the truth about how I feel and she wouldn’t push me out the door at sixty miles per hour, I would.
As I think about how we just slayed three demons, my stomach churns, staging a riot of ache and nausea.
Abruptly, Lea slams the car onto the rough shoulder of the road. “What’s the matter with me?” Her voice is a husky whisper.
I shake my head, confused. “Nothing—”
She stops me from saying what she’s not ready to hear or doesn’t want to hear. It’s almost like she wants to think something is wrong with her. Tears glisten in the corners of her eyes.
I get out of the car and open the driver’s side door. Taking Lea’s hand, I draw her to her feet. I pull her close, wrapping her in a hug, anchoring her, offering a promise with my proximity. I will always be here for you. The world might hurt you, but I never will.
Her citrus spice scent threatens to knock me over. Right now, I’m her best friend. Not the boy who’s had a crush on her since jump street.
She sags a little in my arms. “I’m tired of being strong. For just one moment, I want to—”
I squeeze tighter, enveloping her, drawing the tension from her muscles. And for just one moment, it works. Her shoulders relax and she leans into me, letting me support her. I wasn’t there sophomore year when she was attacked. Fortunately, she walked away unharmed but shaken up as though what happened had been her fault. It wasn’t.
Lea pulls away. There’s no sense in lingering long enough to let myself think this could be anything more between us. I lead Lea to the passenger side, get back on the road, and drive until I spot a diner.
Inside, we settle into a worn vinyl booth. An abandoned newspaper sits folded by the salt and pepper shakers. The image of the edge of a burning building catches my attention, no doubt more bad news related to the misfits called the X-Crew.
A fuzzy-haired waitress who looks like she’s been here since the place opened asks to take our order.
I don’t even need to look at a menu. My order is always the same in places like this. “Tea and a slice of lemon meringue pie, please.”
“Coffee,” Lea says.
“Also, a piece of whatever pie you have that’s chocolate, please,” I add for Lea. Chocolate is her favorite.
“Do you mean the one with the Oreo cookie crust?” the server asks.
The corner of Lea’s lip turns up. She loves Oreos.
I wink. “Slaying demons builds up an appetite, you know. If those demons were human-looking, even Shirley there with the pouf of white hair could be one. I need you to have your energy.”
Lea lifts an eyebrow and almost smiles.
“If that were the case, we’d get a pie in the face and probably worse. I just don’t understand why. What do the demons want? Why all the violence and destructi
on?” I ask.
Lea’s eyes flash like she knows more than she lets on. Not surprising since her uncle is in the business of keeping demons and bloodthirsty vampires off the streets.
The pie arrives and I watch Lea take a big bite. My eyes are hungry for her. I dismiss the notion and dig into my slice of meringue piled so high it’s twice as big as the layer of lemon.
“This is so good,” she says around a mouthful.
“Always got your back. I came here a few times with my parents.” I blink away the memory. No sense in looking back.
“I miss them,” Lea says. “They were like family to me too.”
This reminds me that Lea is off-limits. We’re squarely in the friendzone and I’m grateful to at least have that.
“Right about now, your dad would be passing your mom a coin to put in the jukebox.” She fusses with the buttons on the old music player at our table.
It clicks and a song begins. Someone must not have used their credits because a Beatles song comes on, but not just any Beatles song. My parents’ song. She Loves You.
To my surprise, Lea gets to her feet and holds out her hand. “Come on, for them.”
At the back of the diner, we dance like we’ve been doing since we were kids...best friends. Take that, Lucas.
There’s a moment, during the chorus, when a piece of Lea’s long dark hair catches in her mouth. I gently pull it away. Our eyes meet. My racing heart thumps in my ears. I suddenly feel confident that Lea likes the idea of us, but it scares her. Me too if I’m honest.
When the song ends, we return to our seats and awkward silence laces between us. A news report flashes on the television in the front of the diner. The rest of the patrons go quiet.
“Breaking report. A fire, another in a wave of mass destruction happening throughout the city, rages out of control in Queens. Is it the work of the infamous and mysterious X-Crew, plaguing our streets?” the newscaster asks. “By the enormous black letter X painted across the top of the building, I would say so. Police report to follow.”
“They’re hitting each of the boroughs,” Lea says.
“If so, that means Brooklyn is next.” I shiver.
She lets out a long sigh. “I don’t understand why,” she echoes my earlier question. “But I wonder if Ivan knows who.” She fiddles with her fork. “He’s been strange lately. Distant. I imagine he has a lot on his mind. Doesn’t seem to keep him from his usual dating life though.” She snorts.
The guy has a different girlfriend every week.
“We should get back,” I say, tossing some money on the table.
“Thanks for the pie.” I get another almost-smile from her.
Since my parents died, Lea hasn’t said thank you for anything and it fills me with hope despite the crazy world we live in.
Chapter 3
Leajka
I park in the underground garage as if tucking the Lamborghini into bed. I linger in the driver’s seat, sliding my hands over the smooth steering wheel. I moor myself to the tangible over what I cannot begin to understand or explain. Demons who looked like humans.
Tyrren rubs a chamois over the interior and pulls the key out of the ignition. He replaces it on the pegboard along with dozens of others including Audis, Jaguars, and BMWs. “I’ll have to wash and polish the thing.”
“Want help?” I ask.
“Nah. You should get home—you’ve had a long day.”
I know he refers to the thing with Lucas. I don’t dare look at my phone. I’m sure there are posts capturing my humiliation. It wasn’t lost on me that Tyrren said he’d have said yes. Of course, he would, we’re best friends. That’s what we do for each other. Like in a movie, if we’re still single when we’re fifty, we’ll just get married because why not.
He puts on the parking-security-attendant jacket and we bump fists. His biceps and forearms flex. I hadn’t noticed how strong he’s gotten from working at the forge. Where there were once noodle-like boy-arms, now there are man-muscles. I certainly felt them when he hugged me. Somehow he always knows what I need.
“Next Wednesday I heard we’re getting a new Stingray,” Tyrren says, referring to one of my favorite cars.
As I walk into the night, I leave him with a smile, unable to tell him I won’t be returning. Not to school for sure. It’s time to leave Brooklyn. No one will miss me. Especially not Lucas. Maybe Tyrren, but he doesn’t count.
When I get home to the penthouse I share with Ivan, my uncle, I breeze into my room. I don’t leave for the entire weekend. I guess he doesn’t notice—why would he? It was only this past autumn that I returned to the land of the living. If you could call having a vampire for an uncle living.
Despite my long dark hair, tawny skin, and deep, dark eyes, I’ve always been different. There are things in the past that I force myself to forget. Things more recently that are harder to block from my memory. Unfortunately, events at the end of my sophomore year made my attendance spotty until my uncle decided I ought to graduate.
It’s not happening now.
On Monday, I don’t go to school. I don’t pick up my phone. I don’t do anything other than plan my departure. I’ll probably get fired from my job at the bookstore. Then again, my favorite coworker, Aina, put in her resignation a couple of weeks ago.
After exactly ninety texts from friends spilling tea about Lucas rejecting me (turns out Saundra ambushed him outside the locker room before the game), thirty-one voicemails (including several reporting me truant), and an email reminder that there are only fifteen days until I’m supposed to collect my diploma, Ivan enters my room without knocking.
I ignore the click of heels echoing from the living room—probably one of the many women who fawn over Ivan. He’s tall, dark, dangerous, and handsome. Devastatingly handsome hence the many dates. When I was a little girl, I thought I had a lot of aunties. When Tyrren and I were old enough to become aware of what was going on, we guessed that maybe he was involved in something untoward. Nope. Not unless you count vanquishing demons a bad thing.
Ivan’s expression is grim. No surprise.
He wants to talk. No thank you.
To his credit, he doesn’t bite any of the women he goes out with. Ivan and the Brooklyn Vampire Club are humane vampires. They adhere to a strict code of only drinking human blood that’s been voluntarily donated. In other words, he has his own version of a blood dispensary. He also rehabs bloodsuckers (vampires who feed on humans) and helps them end the cycle of violence. Usually, they end up joining him to keep the streets clean and safe. Though there’s no shortage of bloodshed since there are rival, brutal vampire gangs who do feed directly on humans along with regular non-vampire gangs that are territorial. If only they knew how Ivan protected them, they’d be grateful.
“We have to talk,” Ivan says, moving a pile of books from a chair in my room and sitting down. He rests his elbows on his knees.
“You want to know what happened?” I ask.
He shrugs.
We’ve never been the mushy, emotional kind of family who talks about our feelings.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I thought Lucas liked me. He didn’t.” I’m sure the video of my promposal and subsequent rejection even reached his social media feed. As part of his job, he keeps his finger on the pulse of what’s happening locally.
Ivan claps his hands lightly together. “I’m not meddling in your personal life. No, I’m referring to the incident a few nights ago. By the canal off 2nd.”
“Do you mean the borrowed car and the demons that were disguised as humans?” I figured that would catch up with me eventually. After all, I did sign my name in the dirt.
“No, I mean the two humans who were killed by—”
I know the word he stops himself from saying starts with the letter M and rhymes with tragic. It’s something we never talk about and not because we don’t believe that it exists.
“I’m referring to the couple, Lea.”
“I don’t know what you’re tal
king about.” For once, I’m not lying.
Ivan’s expression softens and he moves as if he’s going to pull me into a hug then stops himself. We don’t do hugs.
If I were honest, I could use one.
I haven’t even answered Tyrren’s texts, acknowledged the Thai takeaway he had delivered, or the post on his social media of a goose with fangs—inside joke. Tyrren’s hugs are usually pretty good.
Ivan’s gaze flicks to a list I made of the blood dispensaries he’s established all over the country. “Lea, we’ve talked about turning you. It’s not going to happen and jumping into a vampire fight isn’t going to change that. I’ve asked you not to use your—”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t—” I’ve certainly been thinking of having someone turn me, but I didn’t do anything to hurt two people by the canal and I certainly didn’t use magic. The one time I did, it was sophomore year and involuntary.
He holds his hand up, silencing me.
Along with everyone else in Brooklyn, I obey him.
“Because of your delinquency from school, the trouble with the rival vampire gang, and your repeated defiance, my hands are tied.”
“Um, I’m pretty sure if your hands were tied you’d bite your way out.”
He doesn’t laugh.
“The officers from Magical Management will be here shortly.”
My stomach flips. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, Lea. I did everything I could to keep you out of hot water.” He scrubs his hand down his face. “While you’ve been holed up in here, I’ve had my people on the inside, lawyers, advisors, everyone working to keep you, well, in here.”
“I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything.” Once again, my stomach plunges. “I mean, I did. I borrowed a car. Drove around with Tyrren. Slayed a couple of demons with a—but nothing else happened.”
“I’d like to believe you, but your track record isn’t in your favor.”
I grind my teeth. “That was different.”
“I know, I know. There was an altercation with some demons, another vamp gang was involved, there were eyewitnesses who claimed you attacked them with—” He doesn’t say the word and I don’t need him to. The reality of who I am is something I refuse to think about.
