Devil's Cry
Page 8
I kept my face blank, shaking my head. “It was Agatha. I think you returned the favor by breaking her head open like a melon.”
Natalie nodded with a faint smile. “I think I remember that.”
“Do you remember anything else?” I asked hesitantly.
She rolled her neck, loosening up stiff muscles. “Bits and pieces. I made you bite me—” She suddenly went still, meeting my eyes with a familiar hunger. “Tell me we had sex.”
I shook my head firmly. “No. Absolutely not.”
She frowned playfully. “Damn.” She lifted her hand as if trying to pinch something out of the air before her. “What is this? I can feel something between us right here,” she explained, pinching at the empty air again.
I sighed, sensing the bond between us as well. “I’m not entirely sure, but we somehow bonded when I bit you. Could be because we were both severely weakened or it could be something else,” I admitted with a shrug.
Natalie licked her lips, sniffing at the air curiously. “But it’s not just us, is it? There’s another person in this bond,” she said, testing out the word. She indicated another unseen cord stretching off into the distance—the same direction where I felt our third member.
“I think so, but we’ll have to wait to find out more. We need to get to Tequila Mockingbird,” I reminded her. “You mentioned Poole Street while you were unconscious,” I explained, gesturing behind me.
She nodded, squinting her eyes. Then she grunted, pointing over my shoulder and giving me a suspicious frown, as if she thought I was trying to trick her. “That’s Tequila Mockingbird.”
I glanced back to see a nondescript building across the road. A set of stairs led down to a level below the street, and an aged, peeling sign read, Tequila Mockingbird.
I grunted, shaking my head. “Oh. Then I found it.”
She chuckled, holding out her hand for me to pull her to her feet. I did and she immediately paused, glancing down at her unbuttoned pants. Then she shot me a sinister grin.
I held out my hands, shaking my head. “You took them off. I didn’t know how to button them back up without waking you—only to suffer you decapitating me on reflex.”
She grinned, nodding her agreement. “Now is when you tell me what really happened,” she said dryly. “Why you punched me in the jaw and blamed it on Agatha. I think I can sense your lies with this new bond.”
I stared at her, wincing. “Well…it happened pretty fast…” I explained quickly, doing my best to recount the whole affair without making her sound like a sex-crazed lunatic. She stared at me with wide eyes, listening to every word. I could feel her focusing on our bond as if testing it for lies, so I stuck to the pure truth.
I was very concerned about the new bond. In some ways, it was similar to me making a human blood slave, but where they would have been openly submissive, nothing about Natalie felt submissive. She was definitely agreeable, but I knew she was still herself.
I was simply learning that herself was very interested in sexual escapades—at least with me. Despite now having her mental faculties restored—unlike earlier when she’d been overcome by instinct—I knew what her answer would be if I asked her to have sex. Right here in the alley.
A resounding yes.
In a way, this revelation was much worse for me. Natalie wasn’t brain-washed, she was simply determined to get what she wanted from me—which would result in Victoria killing me. I couldn’t tell if it was a direct consequence of our new bond, or if our new bond was simply forcing her to openly admit her personal feelings.
And Natalie was well aware of my feelings for Victoria.
I wondered if Natalie was willingly submitting herself to me, much like an alpha controlled a subordinate werewolf. Submission meant something else entirely when it came to werewolves. They were independently dominant with a complicated hierarchy. By their definition, submissive meant respectfully obedient. If they wanted to argue with their alpha, they would—and he would bite back hard to put them in their place if they stepped out of line.
I was very concerned that I had accidentally blood-bonded her. I’d done it to willing humans before—my old blood slaves.
But never a willing werewolf.
Because there was the very strong chance that I had just stolen her from her alpha, Stevie, and I didn’t know how to break it. If she was entirely agreeable with her new vampire master, then I stood no chance of breaking it. Stevie was nowhere near strong enough to overpower my control over Natalie because she wanted me more.
Much like I had bonded Hugo, Aristos, Valentine, and Renfield to my command. Except she was a female werewolf and we’d shared blood via a hypersexual bond before.
Only someone stronger than me could take it over, and Stevie was the strongest werewolf in New York City. But was he capable of breaking our bond? I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he couldn’t best me in a fight, but he might know another way to fix the problem.
One problem at a time, I thought to myself.
“Let’s go find a phone and get off the roads,” Natalie said, tugging me across Poole Street. It looked like the rest of the area was mostly residential and that someone had converted their basement into a restaurant. “You just jogged through town with a naked werewolf slung over your shoulder. Imagine how that must have looked.”
I grunted. “You weren’t naked,” I argued stubbornly.
“I have a bruise on my right cheek that says otherwise,” she said, swatting her rump playfully to clarify that she wasn’t talking about her face. “In the shape of a horny vampire’s hand.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, and she burst out laughing. “Maybe I should have just dragged you by your hair,” I muttered.
She cast me a hungry grin. “Sounds kinky. Let’s do it.”
This time I actually blushed. “Just stop, Natalie. Victoria is going to kill me.”
She nodded thoughtfully, pulling me down the stairs. “Don’t worry, Sorin. I’ll talk to her. Woman-to-woman.” I nodded gratefully. “But I mean every word, Sorin,” she said, squeezing my hand. I looked into her eyes to let her know that I was paying attention. “You. Me. We’re going to break a bed together, Sorin. I promise.” She noticed the startled look on my face and rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking for your eternal love. Victoria can have your heart—I just want to be a part. I just want this,” she said, seeming to indicate our shared bond.
Then she was turning away, leaving me to gape at her with a stunned look on my face. I was pretty sure that was not how things worked. And we didn’t need to have sex to maintain our bond. “We will talk about it,” I said, running a hand through my hair.
“We just did, Sorin. We just did.”
I was entirely sure that her supposed woman-to-woman talk with Victoria was going to be a bloodbath, and that it would somehow be all my fault.
I let out a defeated sigh. Then I leaned close to the door, listening. I could hear faint violin music playing inside, so I was assuming it was open for business—even at this late hour. I tugged open the door and motioned Natalie to enter ahead of me. I warily glanced back at the street before following her inside and gently closing the door behind me. Luckily, I had been paying attention, because six wide wooden steps led down to the floor.
Lively violin music played from unseen speakers, but it wasn’t loud enough to be distracting. The place had a heavy, pleasant aroma of old cigar smoke, reminding me of a thick, comforting blanket. The room was dim and full of heavy wooden tables and rickety chairs—not quite a tavern from my era, but definitely a place out of time. A bar, as they called drinking establishments these days.
Everything consisted of exquisitely carved wood, complete with beauty scars and worn edges, from the rather high ceiling to the solid flooring. A bar stood against the adjacent wall, and a man in a crisp, white, dress shirt with rolled up sleeves stared at me. He wore suspenders and had a large, bushy, curled mustache that looked as thick as a broom. His hair was slicked over to one side
, not a single strand out of place.
“What’ll it be, lass? Lad?” he asked in a brusque, no-nonsense voice as he absently polished a glass with a white hand towel. His forearms were layered with corded muscle, thick hair, and impressive scars, letting me know that he was no stranger to violence. He was an old lover of that macabre mistress—maybe even her first.
A mirror covered the wall behind him, and shelves of dusty liquor bottles hung from the reflective surface. My lips thinned, realizing that I didn’t want to stand in front of that mirror. Not with this quietly dangerous man as the barkeep. The calm, silent types were often the deadliest of foes.
We seemed to be the only patrons in the room besides him.
“Barkeep’s choice,” I said with a carefully polite smile. I wasn’t here to make friends, but I wasn’t here to make enemies either. I just needed to get to a phone to check on Victoria, Nosh, and Isabella. I had a lot of work left to do yet tonight and dealing with the witches hadn’t been on that list. Despite my plans, I knew I hadn’t seen the last of them. They wanted Nosh’s head—and probably mine after tonight.
The barkeep kept his eyes on me, setting the glass down as his curled mustache rose above his amused smirk. “Is that so?”
I slowly nodded. “It is.”
Natalie piped up, sounding relieved to get a drink. “I’ll take three fingers of your finest tequila. Neat.”
This amused the barkeep even further, judging by his deep chuckle. “No offense, but it’s not every day that a werewolf walks into the bar,” he said in a jovial tone. I waited, but he didn’t say anything about me being a vampire. Was that good or bad? “I’ve only got one other customer, so step right up.” He held out his arm, indicating the row of stools.
14
Upon hearing about another customer, I immediately tensed, scanning the room in case it happened to be a witch. The small space had a very high ceiling, making it feel like a cavern rather than a tavern—or the hull of an aged ship at sea. Booths lined the walls, and not a single television hung above the bar—which was strange, even in my limited experience.
Having been too distracted by Natalie’s indomitable persistence over our future sexual relations, I hadn’t noticed the semi-solid cloud of smoke hovering in the back corner of the room, emanating from a shadowed booth. The nearby light had gone out and never been replaced. I saw a red ember floating within that cloud, flaring brightly off and on before the smoke thickened again in lazy puffs.
A cigar.
A thick glass pitcher of beer sat on the aged wooden table, and a massive boot rested on the bench—easily as large as my torso. I felt a flash of concern as I saw a hunk of scarred meat snatch up the pitcher, momentarily escaping the smoke and shadow, only to realize that it had been a hand.
One big enough to grab my head and squeeze it like an apple.
He chugged the pitcher of beer in one pull before slamming it back down on the table with a contented sigh. Then he resumed his puffing, the red dot flaring brighter until he exhaled another plume of thick smoke.
I nodded politely. A deep, basso chuckle rolled out of the unseen man’s chest as I turned back to the barkeep. He had already poured a glass of tequila for Natalie and was setting a wineglass down on the bar beside it, except it didn’t contain wine. It was a glass of fresh blood. The heady aroma made my nostrils flare, but I kept my face composed.
“You own a fine establishment,” I said carefully, wondering why he’d served me blood yet hadn’t mentioned me being a vampire like he’d done when he’d called Natalie a werewolf.
The barkeep pinched one end of his mustache, curling it between thumb and forefinger. “I just work here. That’s the owner over there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the floating red ember and the impossibly large man. “And my permanent customer, of course.”
“Oh?” I asked politely as I walked up to the bar to accept my glass. “And what might his name be?” I asked conversationally, alert for any sense of movement behind me.
He paused, glancing in the direction of the man. “His name might be Dr. Jekyll. Or it might be Mr. Hyde.”
“Might?” I asked, ignoring Natalie’s sharp intake of breath. She’d known where to find Hyde but hadn’t known who he was? How dangerous was this man, and why had Dr. Stein told me to come here for safety? The tension in the room didn’t indicate safety at all. Quite the opposite.
The barkeep nodded—not hostile but no longer welcoming. “Just like you might not have a reflection.” I froze in the act of reaching for the glass, and he nodded satisfactorily. “We don’t take too kindly to vampires. You walked into the wrong bar.”
“We should leave,” Natalie murmured. “Thank you for the drinks.” she said apologetically, even though we hadn’t touched them.
“Oh, lass. I think we are well beyond that,” he said, folding his arms and leaning back against the bar with a resigned sigh. “It would be better for everyone if you went and introduced yourself. No one should die without a name, after all. That would be a shame.”
Despite the obvious threat, the barkeep looked as calm as ever.
I heard old wood squeal and creak behind me, and I glanced back to see a giant emerging from the cloud of smoke, the wood gasping in relief as he came to his feet. He had a large cigar clamped between a set of gnarled, yellow teeth that were four times larger than they should be.
One of his eyes was slightly larger than the other and glowed with an inner light, making it sparkle like a sapphire. The other was a dull, swampy green. The man’s face had more scar tissue and hair than unblemished skin, and his bulging lower lip was a grotesque slug compared to the upper lip. He wore a round-topped, brimmed hat, and it was perched to the side, unable to fit over his colossal cranium. His shoulders more resembled that of a bear than a man, and he had to slouch so as not to destroy the high ceiling with his head.
When it came to his clothes, they were all torn at the seams in some form or fashion, not initially designed for his bulk. It was almost as if he had shifted into this monster, having once been wearing clothes designed for a larger than average man. Except now he had to be the size of two larger than average men—if not more.
He wore a wrinkled and ripped white shirt with a vest that strained the buttons to the point of snapping, and his fists hung like lead weights, each arm practically the width of my waist. His pants ended in ragged tears at the knees, and his gnarled toes had burst through the front of one of his boots, revealing toenails that were thick enough to be confused with ancient bones.
“What a horrifying visage,” I murmured instinctively, taking a step back.
“What a puny little vampire,” he grumbled in a voice so low that I could feel it more than hear it. His heartbeat was an incredibly deep thumping sound, and the amount of blood coursing through his veins instantly made my fangs extend—even though I wasn’t hungry.
Natalie stepped up beside me, fur bristling over her arms and hands as she narrowed her eyes at the hulking man towering over her—he had to weigh ten times more than her dainty frame, but she didn’t seem to particularly care. “Unlike those who feel the need to overcompensate by whipping out their pride and joy on the first date,” she said, eyeing him up and down with a derisive snort, “Sorin is more of a grow-er than a show-er. I’ve always found them infinitely more impressive. Especially compared to present company.”
I had no idea what she meant by a grow-er versus a show-er, but I understood the part where she’d said he was overcompensating. The barkeep’s muffled cough sounded suspiciously like laughter.
The beastly nightmare of hair and gristle narrowed his eyes at Natalie, his eyebrows bunching up like fur hoods as his face darkened.
I gently shoved Natalie clear of his reach, not breaking eye contact with him. “Keep your eyes off my wolf before I take it personal.” I felt a delighted sensation from Natalie through our strange new bond, almost making me gasp in surprise. Thankfully, I managed to keep my face hard and merciless.
I nodded. “So I’ve heard.” I paused for a moment before shrugging dismissively. “The thing is, I really don’t care what you like, Hyde. I’m just here to use your phone.”
Hyde grunted, slowly extracting his cigar to point a thick finger at his horribly asymmetric face. “Does this look like the face of a man who shares his things, you mouthy little shit?”
I felt a slight tugging sensation on my new bond, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Hyde. It hadn’t come from Natalie. “It looks like a face that not even a mother could love.”
The barkeep cleared his throat politely, drawing Hyde’s attention away from my insult. “I think this is the man from the news. The one who killed the Griffins.” I risked a glance to find the barkeep still leaning against the bar, seemingly unconcerned about the impending violence.
“Is that so?” Hyde grumbled thoughtfully, turning to assess me up and down with a drooling sneer as he replaced his cigar, puffing smoke into the air between us. “This cute little thing?”
“I am the man from the news,” I admitted, waving away his smoke, “although I didn’t kill the Griffins. I was framed by Mina Harker—”
Hyde abruptly lost his cool composure and slammed a fist down onto a nearby table, obliterating it in a shower of splinters. “Never say that name around me,” he sputtered warningly.
I smirked arrogantly, deciding that I didn’t much feel like obeying his demands. My teasing hadn’t seemed to bother him, but now I knew what did get under his skin.
“What name?” I asked innocently. “Mina Harker?” I mused, drawing out her name.
Hyde growled ominously, his fist clenching to the sound of snapping bones rather than popping knuckles. “I’m warning you, vampire—”
“Mina Harker was a tramp, but she gave me a wild ride.”