This needs to be a quick in-and-out.
Riskus looks up at her like the loyal companion he is.
“Think you can do that?” Rachel asks.
He nods, his pointed nose wiggling on his face.
Realizing something, I ask, “How’d you send him into Adam’s basement last time? It’s not like you had any specific ingredients to take you there.”
She points at one of her spell books. “The exact instructions were in the book. You know, the one you couldn’t read.”
“I can read just fine—” I argue, but she cuts me off.
“It wasn’t a typical portal spell. It was specific to locating the talisman.”
“Stupid magic,” I say, and she looks at me like I unburied her dead grandmother. “Would you relax? You’re so goddamn sensitive. You’re sixteen, for fuck’s sake. Grow up.”
Pouting, she reaches for her lime-green rain jacket.
“Where’re you going?” I ask.
Have I crossed a line? Sure, I need her help, but she needs me too if she wants her stuff back. What was I supposed to do? She’s acting like a goddamn hormonal teenager—
Closing my eyes, I draw in a long, calculated breath.
That’s exactly what she is… a teenager, and I’m being a drunken bitch.
I have to at least try to be understanding that she’s a human pumped full of hormones. Maybe there’s a reason she is the way she is. I have no intention of trying to figure it out, but I can cut back on my bitchiness.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I say, not quite meaning it. “I want this to be over, okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice now monotone. “Me, too. Come on, Riskus.”
Rising to my feet, I clench my water bottle, causing it to crack in half and spill on my feet. “Where are you going?”
She throws an oversized baseball cap over Riskus’s head and wraps a child’s jacket around him. “To get this over with so I can move on with my life. We should get Riskus inside before the party starts. Are you staying here, or are you coming to do your job? The least you could do is call me a taxi.”
I’m about to point her toward my closet and tell her to find herself a broom, but I stop myself before the words come out. I reach down into my pile of many leather jackets and grab the first thing my fingers find. Slipping it on, I say, “All right, let’s go. And there are tons of taxis outside.”
Rachel and Riskus walk ahead of me, resembling a mother and her child. Something looks off, but I doubt anyone in San Halos will take the time to look at them twice. It’s funny to see Riskus walk like a penguin with his long, oversized Converse sneakers, but it’s better that than his hideous demon feet.
How does she keep him a secret, anyway? Does she typically avoid walking with him in daylight? I’m certain his appearance is much different in the eyes of a feeble.
As we walk out into the streets of downtown San Halos, Riskus runs his fingers along my new Ducati bike.
“Hey!” I hiss, and he retreats like he touched a pot of boiling water.
“Is that yours?” Rachel asks.
“Apparently,” I say.
A hint of a smile appears on her face. “It’s nice.”
I’m too stunned by her compliment to respond. So instead, I wave an arm up at the nearest yellow taxi I can see and the driver comes speeding toward us as if his life depends on it. His tires screech as he slams his breaks and Riskus jumps back. Behind him, another taxi driver wails on his horn.
This isn’t unusual in San Halos—everyone’s in a rush, everyone’s bitchy, and everyone is looking to make a fast penny. This city reminds me a lot of New York City, only with way more shadow dwellers.
The first taxi driver flips him the bird, but his competitor keeps honking like a psychopath, arms flailing above his head.
What the fuck does he think will happen? That we’ll ask him, the maniac flipping out in his car, to give us a lift?
“Get inside,” I say, opening the first taxi’s back door.
Rachel rounds her back to get in, while Riskus simply hops in.
Standing up straight, I make my way over to the aggressive taxi driver. When he sees me approaching, an exaggerated smile morphs his face, and he sticks his head out the window.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he says. “I didn’t mean to startle you and your daughter.”
My daughter? He’s digging his own grave.
“John and I go way back. He poaches my clients, ya know? How ’bout you hop on in here and I’ll take good care of—”
I don’t even give him the time to finish. I’m still buzzed from my day drinking, irritated by Rachel’s maddening teenage attitude, and stressed out about having to kill an untouchable vampire tonight. The last thing I need is some fucking asshole blaring his horn in my ear.
With both hands, I grab his front bumper and raise the front of his car until I can see the underneath.
“Hey! Hey! What the fuck, lady? What the fuck are you doing? Jesus Christ!”
Stepping back, I let go of his car, and it comes slamming down on the ground. His suspension falls apart and his tires blow—a sound so satisfying it’s almost equivalent to the feeling of cold liquor sliding into my stomach.
His car’s alarm goes off and the driver jumps out in a panic. Pushing him aside, I reach inside his taxi and tear out his dashcam. The last thing I need is for this video to go viral. Fortunately, no one has a phone’s camera pointed at me, and before giving anyone the time to change that, I climb into our taxi with the other guy’s busted dashcam in my fist.
Our driver looks at me with bulging eyes and a line of drool on his chin.
“What?” I say. “I’m a powerlifting champion. Now come on, we don’t have all day. Take us to the Lotus Hotel.”
Chapter 27
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“Holy shit,” I say. “What is he? A monkey?”
Rachel doesn’t respond and instead leans the weight of her body against the green dumpster behind her.
Before I have time to blink again, Riskus has made his way up the brick wall at the back of the Lotus Hotel.
“So is he going in through the roof?” I ask. “And how will he know who Veerka is?”
I tried to discuss all of this before we went ahead with the mission, but Riskus went running off like a kid at a waterpark.
“Riskus is smart,” she says. “He’ll figure it out.”
Arching an eyebrow, I wait for her to explain to me how he’s going to communicate to us that he’s found her.
“We have a telepathic connection,” she says.
I’m about to start laughing when I realize we live in a world full of magic. So instead, I keep my mouth shut, something that doesn’t come easily to me.
We stand in silence, intoxicated by the alleyway’s garbage fumes. In downtown San Halos, it doesn’t matter how fancy an establishment is; there are alleyways everywhere and they’re typically filled with garbage, piss, and vampires.
Staring at the back of the Lotus Hotel, I breathe out and glance down at my phone.
7:21 p.m.
Goddamn it. I don’t have the patience to sit here for another forty minutes. I’m about to start walking down the alley when Rachel snorts and says, “Seriously?”
I spin around. “Seriously, what?”
“You’re going to a bar, aren’t you?”
I shrug at her like the answer’s obvious. Where else would I be going?
“Are you that miserable with your life that you have to drink every damn day?”
Who does she think she is? She knows nothing about me. And the last thing I’m going to do is listen to some sixteen-year-old’s bullshit about—
“Look, I get it,” she says. “My dad’s ex-military.”
I stop talking. Where is she going with this?
“Ever since he came back from some mission in Russia, he hasn’t been the same. Like, at all. He’s angry all the time.”
She averts her gaze and kicks
at the cracked asphalt under her feet.
Is this where I’m supposed to step in and comfort her? It isn’t my strong suit, so instead, I stand there staring at her, waiting for her to finish talking.
“He drinks every night until I don’t even recognize him anymore. Mom tries to defend him by saying he’s been through a lot, even when he gets physical. I’m sure he’s been through hell, but that doesn’t give him any right to treat us like shit or put his hands on my mom. We’re the ones suffering now because of it. Grandma would have turned him into a frog if she were still here…”
Is that why Rachel is so snippy with me all the time? Because my drinking reminds her of her abusive father?
“I… I’m sorry,” I say.
I’m not sure how else to respond. The kid’s hurting badly, and while I may be cold most of the time, I don’t enjoy seeing a young girl suffer at the hands of her father. I especially don’t like the idea of hurting someone because I can’t control my anger without numbing myself. It’s selfish, and it makes me feel worthless. I know I’m better than that. So instead of giving in to my craving for alcohol, I make my way back to her, lean against the garbage dumpster’s cool metal, and aim my face toward the sky.
“Don’t tell Drax,” I say.
“Tell him what?”
“That you stopped me from going to a bar. He’s never been able to.”
After a prolonged silence, I say, “So, you think your little minion’s gonna pull this off?”
Without blinking, she says, “He will.”
“How long have you had him?”
She shakes her head. “You make him sound like a pet.”
“Isn’t he?”
“No,” she says sternly. “He’s family.”
I’m about to say, I consider Mr. Mushroom family, but he’s still my pet, but refrain from doing so.
Sighing, I check my phone again.
7:26
Jesus Christ.
Fidgeting, I shift the weight of my body onto one leg. There’s too much time to kill, and I’m not a patient person.
Rachel must notice my discomfort. She turns toward me, gives me a look full of attitude, and says, “How old you are?”
“Excuse me?”
“How old are you?” she repeats.
I scoff. “How is that any of your business?”
“Vampires can be super old, so I’m wondering if you are, too,” she says. “When were you born?”
“First of all,” I say, “I’m not a vampire.”
“Answer the question,” she says.
Sighing, I kick a pile of pebbles away from me. “October twenty-seventh, one thousand and eighteen.”
“So you’re a Scorpio,” she points out.
“Really?” I say. “I’m over a thousand years old and the first thing you point out is my zodiac sign?”
Smirking, she says, “I’m an Aries.”
“Big surprise.”
She frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I resist the urge to laugh at the ugly face she’s making. “Always wanting to be the center of attention.”
“Better than being a coldhearted stuck-up bitch,” she says.
For the first time since meeting this girl, I’m speechless. I’m running as many comebacks as I can through my mind, but I’m coming up blank. She isn’t wrong.
“Well…” I say, “at least I get paid to be this way.”
She scoffs and turns away. At the same time, Riskus comes running from across the street with a clenched fist by his head. He grins from ear to ear, waddling with every step.
“What is it, Riskus?” Rachel asks.
Saying nothing, he reaches his fist into the air and drops a torn piece of clothing into Rachel’s palm. Is this Veerka’s? If so, what’s this for? Accuracy? It must be. Rachel never did get her toenail, so maybe some of Veerka’s clothing, along with her hair, will help her create the perfect portal. I’m happy to know she won’t be sending me somewhere stupid, like between two sheets of drywall.
“Still nothing?” Rachel asks.
Riskus nods fast. “She is early. But she is not alone. Not safe yet.”
“Okay,” Rachel says, patting Riskus on the head. He seems to like this. His grin widens and his eyes turn into vertical lines. “Let us know when she’s alone, okay?”
He nods again and disappears as fast as a squirrel on speed.
“You feel confident about your portal?” I ask.
She crosses her arms, refusing to look at me.
“Listen,” I say, “I’m sorry I stole from you. I shouldn’t have done that. But you don’t understand. You’re only a—”
Swinging around so fast her hair sweeps the air beside her, she aims a finger at me. “Don’t even say it. I’m so sick of hearing that. I’m not a kid. I’m legally an adult in two years.”
“When this is over,” I say, “I’ll give you back your shit and you can go home and pretend none of this ever happened, okay?”
She doesn’t respond, so I figure that means she agrees with my terms.
I press my back against the dumpster and lower myself to the ground. For some reason, I suspect we’ll be here longer than expected.
“You say when this is over,” she says. “What does that mean, anyway? What is it you have to do?”
I roll my head against the dumpster to look at her. “My work is confidential.” I don’t want to tell her she’s too young to know what I do. Even if she weren’t too young, it’s not like I go around telling people I’m a hitwoman. She already knows I’m a demon, which is way more than what most people know. “So don’t worry about what I do and trust me when I say I’ll give you back your stuff. You have my word. Okay?”
Chapter 28
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“Get up!” Rachel says.
“Wh-what?” I say, rubbing my eyes.
Ogre balls. Did I fall asleep? What time is it?
“She’s alone,” Rachel hisses. Then, she steps back, pulls a pouch out of her pocket, and starts talking gibberish.
It’s hard not to laugh at her because it sounds like she’s making up words. But judging by the pink and purple light coming out of the tips of her wand, it’s obvious she isn’t making shit up. She’s casting some sort of spell, and I’m assuming it’s for my portal.
She shouts one more thing, then throws a handful of powdery white dust in the air. At once, the air in front of her spins as if swirling around the blades of a blender.
“Go, now!” she says.
I hesitate. I want to trust her, but the truth is, she doesn’t trust me, which makes this entire partnership a bit risky. But if she wants her stuff back—and I know she does—she’ll make sure I succeed in doing what I have to do.
Holding my breath, I lunge straight into the portal.
There’s a loud ringing in my ears, and for a second, I feel like I just stepped off the world’s fastest rollercoaster. But the next thing I know, I’m lying flat on my face on what feels like a bearskin rug.
I’m all for killing sick sons of bitches, but using an animal’s carcass for decoration? Not my thing. Repulsed, I push myself up and crawl onto my knees.
“I didn’t realize I was receiving company,” comes a cold voice.
What the fuck?
I know that voice.
And why couldn’t I have landed on my feet?
Slowly, I look up to find her sitting on her bed, her perfectly toned legs crossed under a silk red dress. Her hair, long and ash blond, rests over her shoulder and drapes down over her right breast. Her skin is so white she looks like she’s been dipped inside a giant bucket of white latex paint.
“Holy mother of—” I breathe.
“What’s wrong, Emily?” she says. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I part my lips, but nothing comes out. So instead, I blink hard to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
How is this even possible?
I thought she was dea
d.
This isn’t possible… Rachel must have sent me back in time.
“What’s the matter, Emily?” she says. “Cat got your tongue?”
The words come out of her mouth with a seductive hiss.
“Elizabeth,” I breathe.
It isn’t her vampiric charm that’s throwing me off my game; it’s that I know this woman. Elizabeth—Veerka, now—and I were lovers centuries ago.
“I thought you were dead,” I say.
She throws her head back and releases a playful chuckle. “Oh, Emily—”
“It’s Alexis now.”
Her smirk doesn’t falter. “Alexis. Interesting.”
I stand up and dust my pants off. “What kind of name is Veerka?”
With an elevated chin, she watches me, and I can’t help but be drawn to her.
Elizab—Veerka, is the only person who could make me weak in the knees. And when I knew her all those years ago, she was a feeble.
“Why are you here, Emily?” she asks.
Every time she calls me by my old name, it brings me back hundreds of years ago. I don’t like to look back—I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of gal.
“Alexis,” I correct again.
She flicks her wrist, uncrosses her legs as if purposely trying to make me look up her dress, then crosses them again.
“Well…” she draws a circle on her bedsheets. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
Five million dollars. Five million dollars. Five million dollars.
Extracting my wrist blades, I lower my head and clench my fists. This woman isn’t Elizabeth anymore. She isn’t the woman I loved. That woman died a long time ago, and this shell of an existence is messing with my head.
“You don’t seriously plan on killing me, do you, darling?”
Unlike me, she still has her British accent, which makes everything that much harder. Her cheekbones, high and defined, give her a domineering look that I wouldn’t normally find attractive. But on her, it does something to me. Her bright blue eyes dart back and forth between me and my blades.
Why isn’t she afraid? Is she that powerful? Could she kill me if she wanted to?
The only reason I’m able to even consider killing her is that she’s already dead.
Mortal Blow: An Urban Fantasy Series (Succubus Hitwoman Book 1) Page 15
