Dark Cravings

by Pryce, Madeline

  Wait. Maybe the noise was the engine coming to life.

  “Can I ask you a question about Hannah?” Eli voice popped the bubble that was engulfing me.

  I struggled to open my eyes. “Sure.”

  “Why isn’t she at Yale or Princeton? She’s crazy smart but pretends like she isn’t. She called me a couple of weeks ago to pick her up from a frat party after she’d had too much to drink. Her friends were doped up within an inch of their lives. It’s like she’s a totally different person around them. Don’t even get me started on the jock she had hanging all over her like a giant piece of arm candy. She smiled and nodded at the right times, but her eyes, she hated every second of it. Why does she do it? And what’s up with the blood thing? When we brought you home last week, she took one look and hit the floor. I barely caught her.”

  I flopped my head to the side and studied his profile through a kaleidoscope of colors. “You said ‘a’ question.”

  He tilted his lips up in a half-smile and readjusted his hands on the crumbling steering wheel. “Sorry.”

  “Hannah has a photographic memory. What she sees she remembers. Forever. You probably know our parents were murdered, right?”

  Eli nodded.

  “She was four when she found our mother’s bloody and beaten body laid out on our porch swing. Ten when she stumbled upon my father in a similar condition. Hannah wants boring and normal. She’ll do just about anything to get it, even if it includes becoming someone she isn’t.”

  His jaw clenched. “That’s fucked up.”

  I closed my eyes and let the world melt away as I muttered, “Life’s fucked up.”

  Chapter Six

  Shifting from foot to foot, I eyed Micah’s apartment building like it was an infectious disease. I imagined gremlins disguised as viruses crawling across the reddish-brown brick with sharp teeth and claws. Those little critters were waiting for me to get close enough so they could pounce.

  Obviously, I’d lost too much blood on the fifteen-minute drive over.

  I tilted my head from side to side and tried to pinpoint the degree of slant that left the brownstone slightly askew. The angle was the least of the structural problems. The missing chunk of roof was what really caught my eye. The crumbling, charred remains exposed the blackened shell of the sixth floor.

  I shook my head and gazed at the line of windows facing the graffiti-covered building behind me. The windowpanes not covered by wooden planks were lined with a combination of razor wire and steel bars. The ghetto motif blended in well with the two neighboring buildings decorated in crime scene tape.

  Surely this was wrong. Micah couldn’t possibly live here. “Are you sure this is the right place? We didn’t make some pit stop for drugs or something? I’ll keep your secret, I swear.”

  Eli let out a low chuckle. “Wait until you see the inside.”

  I was having a hard time picturing Micah, with his perfect hair, his perfect leather jacket and his perfectly well-worn jeans, walking through the double doors in front of me, carrying grocery bags or dry cleaning.

  I looked up one side of the street, then the other. Who would have guessed there would be this much activity at three o’clock in the morning? A woman was on the street corner, dressed in torn, dirt-smudged rags. A couple stood toe-to-toe, screaming at each other. Something about cheating bastards and dried-up whores. Not my business. From the shadowed alleys on either side, gleaming eyes stared back at me. The dark cluster of figures drew closer to the mouth of the alley.

  Cackling laughter.

  Claws on asphalt.

  “Little hunter, little hunter, have you come out to play?” The whispered words echoed off the walls of the alley and slithered down my spine. “You smell of blood and power. Please, come and play.” More laughter.

  A shiver ran through me and pulled at my skin.

  Demons.

  The District was popular with demon immigrants who’d managed to escape whichever hellish overlord they lived under. The rent was cheap, the buildings were mostly abandoned and the cops didn’t give a fuck. Hell, a few of them were demons themselves. Humans had no idea just how closely their lives were intertwined with the demons and the vampires. Non-sensitives who came in contact with a creature from the underworld couldn’t see past the human veneer they used to cloak themselves. And the sensitives? They were institutionalized. As a Shadow Hunter, it was my job to keep the demons in line and kill the ones who crossed it. These days, though, the line was blurry.

  Thumping bass vibrated the ground and I looked away from my admirers to watch a gleaming black Audi pull out from around the corner. The car was so out of place in this dump I couldn’t help but stare. The closer the vehicle got, the more agitated the darkness inside me became.

  Danger. Threat. Eliminate.

  My fangs slid free.

  Someone—or something—immensely powerful was behind the pitch-black windows. With a hiss, the demons in the alleys scuttled back and vanished between the buildings.

  “You all right?” Eli asked.

  I shook my head to clear out the lingering creepy-crawlies and turned to the door Eli held open for me. I walked inside.

  Good. Lord.

  I staggered back a step. My eyes watered. The smell was overpowering. What in the hell had died in here?

  I spotted the rickety wooden elevator that had a sign posted over it, ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK, and looked for the broken door labeled Stairwell. Well, I assumed that was what it said. Bright pink graffiti was sprayed over most of the letters. The door now read, I love cunt.

  “Charming.”

  I gazed at the yellow, water-stained ceiling and tried to gauge the draw inside me. I could sense Micah. My heart started to beat just a little bit faster. That, unfortunately, made the blood leak out of my shoulder quicker.

  Eli led us to a set of stairs. Although creaky and water-warped, they were sturdy enough and held our combined weight. The overwhelming fumes of urine, vomit and filth singed the hairs in my nose. Every step was agony. To make matters worse, I had to pause at every landing to restrain the tug of Micah’s energy. The closer we got, the more nervous I became. When we finally got to the fourth floor, the pull of him, the scent of him, was so strong I expected Micah to be leaning against the ripped wallpaper. He wasn’t.

  As we went down the long, dark hallway I was reminded of the tunnel in my head. The one I vowed not to dive into anymore. Each step echoed along the scuffed and stained floor. The only upside to this place was that the trail of blood I left in my wake blended right in. We passed four doors before reaching our destination. My heart beat in a frenzied rhythm. My vision doubled. That might have had more to do with the blood loss than the overwhelming energy on the other side of Micah’s door.

  The overhead lights flickered to life and illuminated the rotting walls. God, this place was disgusting.

  Surely Micah had enough money for something better than this. Shadow Hunters weren’t paid a lot, but we were paid. In all the months I spent wondering about Micah’s life outside of mine, I pictured him in some swanky bachelor pad with a leather sofa and black satin sheets. I saw mood lights, mini bars and fireplaces.

  I eyed the peeling green paint on Micah’s front door and braced myself.

  When I raised my fist to knock on the door, a stab of pain lanced through my shoulder. Damn it all to hell. Maybe it was the poison, but I wasn’t healing the way I should be. Blood dripped from my shoulder and down my arm.

  Eli gave me a funny look I didn’t know how to interpret. “You don’t have to knock.”

  I looked at my ripped shirt and mud-covered pants. What a mess. Why did I care anyway?

  Fuck it.

  He turned the knob and pushed open the door. I held my breath and tried to prepare myself for the blast of heat I felt whenever I was around Micah. It never came. I closed my eyes and waited for the rush of consuming lust that had driven us together at the hospital.

  Nothing.

  I opened my eyes a
nd walked into the tiny studio apartment behind Eli. The hair on my arms rose. Either it was the sight of Micah on the bed, lifeless, pale, with a blue tinge coloring his lips, or it was the tall, exotic woman leaning over him that sent my senses into a tailspin. Magic danced in the air and eclipsed everything else.

  Power poured off her in such a potent rush I had to take a step back. The woman lifted her gaze to me and I stumbled back another step. Her eyes were large, alien and black with magic. Blood magic. While Roy pulled from the mystical abilities he’d inherited from his Gypsy mother, this woman radiated a combination of blood sacrifice and earth power.

  Death lingered in the air. She looked as if she enjoyed killing things soft, furry and innocent. My imagination leapt straight to decapitated kittens and bunnies.

  “It’s okay, Ella,” Roy said. My uncle’s voice startled me. I’d been so focused on the witch I hadn’t seen him on the other side of Micah’s bed.

  “This is Gem,” he continued. “She isn’t here to hurt anyone. She came here as a favor to me, to see if she could be of any help in our current situation.”

  I looked from Roy back to Gem. The inky circles of her pupils shrunk and left behind the most stunning shade of purple I’d ever seen. The color matched the beads and jewels woven into her thick, golden dreadlocks.

  Still suspicious, I glanced at Micah. Despite Roy announcing my presence, Micah didn’t look in my direction or acknowledge me. He had other things on his mind.

  “Tell Hannah to check the translations again. I’m not a demon,” Micah said through chattering teeth.

  His glassy eyes moved from Roy to Gem, then back to Roy. The look on his face was unfriendly. I knew, because when he finally turned his head to look at me, the same hostile gleam flashed in his eyes.

  Coming here had been a bad idea.

  Did he hate me? Blame me for whatever was going on with him?

  Micah shivered and I watched tiny spasms twitch the exposed muscles of his chest and arms. I’m not sure what kind of look I gave, but Micah didn’t interpret it correctly.

  “I’m not going to jump you, if that’s why you’re inching to the door.” The hot anger of his gaze never released me.

  In the few seconds I stood there, speechless, Micah came back from the dead. His skin lost its ghostly pallor and some of the shadows under his eyes faded. It was almost as if the longer he looked at me, the more strength returned to him.

  “I wasn’t worried about it.” I shrugged. Inside, my stomach felt like Jell-O. Shaky. Unstable. After a moment, I added, “You don’t look like you could stand, much less do anything else.”

  Would conversation from now on be this awkward between us? The last time I’d seen Micah, nearly a week ago, we’d gone at it in a hospital bathroom like the world was ending.

  The fire in Micah’s eyes dimmed, just a little.

  Hope sprang, then sank.

  “You think you look much better? At least I’m not covered in mud, bleeding all over the floor and about to pass out,” he said with a sneer.

  I was not about to pass out.

  “I see he’s feeling better,” Eli muttered.

  I followed the sound of Eli’s voice and found him sitting in a chair next to the bed. I hadn’t even see him sit.

  Roy glared at Eli.

  “Why didn’t you tell me she was this injured?” He strode the few feet from the bed to where I stood.

  He pressed his hand against my forehead. Either Roy had been fondling ice cubes, or my skin was on fire. I leaned into the icy relief.

  “Don’t blame him,” I murmured. “Where’s Hannah?”

  “Out with her friends. Now sit before you collapse,” he ordered.

  Shaking my head, I let the wall support my weight. “I’m fine, really.”

  “Stubborn woman.” Micah huffed under his breath.

  Gem cleared her throat and I looked up in time to watch her cross her arms under her chest. “Roy, perhaps now is a good time to explain what is going on.”

  Nodding, Roy pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Hannah translated an ancient text regarding demon mating rituals. The marks both you and Micah came home with point to a binding ceremony. A demon ceremony.”

  Before I could stop it, the image of the grotesque two-headed penis popped into my mind.

  “Micah isn’t a demon,” Eli said.

  “That’s what I keep trying to tell them.” Micah shook his head. “She translated wrong. Tell her to check it again.”

  “Hannah is never wrong, not when it comes to translation. The meanings might be open to interpretation, but she gets the gist of it,” Roy said.

  Micah clenched his hands into fists. The alluring muscle in his jaw twitched under a thick dusting of facial hair. “Yeah, well, the gist says I’m a demon.”

  Was I hearing things, or was the blood poisoning getting to me? Who thought Micah was a demon? What exactly was Roy saying? Maybe I did need to sit down.

  When the prophecy texts hadn’t netted any useful information, Roy had instructed Hannah to memorize my tattoo this morning and scour through any and all books we had about magical bonds. By that point, I had removed myself from research duty and worked off some of my aggression via a punching bag. Roy had taken pity on me and authorized a supervised hunt.

  Micah moved on the bed and the dizziness inside me faded. I traced each impressive flex of muscle—abs, chest, shoulders and biceps. I remembered my mouth dragging over each spot.

  Mine. I shook the memory of Micah’s words away.

  “My father is the head of the Shadow Agency. He detests demons.” Micah glanced at me. “And vampires, of all sorts. I’m not demon spawn. I would’ve been killed at birth. The succubus bitch did something to Ella and me. I don’t care what you, Hannah or the witch say. You’re all wrong.” The more defensive Micah got, the more panicked he sounded.

  The witch in question narrowed her eyes and glared at him. The room heated. When she spoke, she spit the words at him. “I’m not wrong. Roy called me here for a reason. I don’t care who you think your father is. You’re demon born. Succubi do not alter genetics and they certainly do not force two people into a mating bond.

  “Only a demon male can initiate the ceremony. I believe magical bonds were placed on your demon spirit at some point, most likely when you were born. Think of it as a forced hibernation. You got the benefit of the demon’s strength, healing and instinct. No other demonic traits would have been visible. I’ve never seen any spell like it. I believe the succubus, or so you say, woke your demon with a strong dose of lust and broke the spell. As time progresses, you’ll become more at one with the demon.”

  She looked at me, then back at Micah. “I suspect your inner demon was already beginning to wake when you met your mate, before you even encountered the succubus. She just helped the process along. The blood rune I gave you will help you merge peacefully with your demon.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Micah threw up his hands. “Roy, do you actually believe this crap? You know my father, this just isn’t possible.”

  Roy opened his mouth, but Gem spoke first.

  “Ridiculous?” The gleam in her eye was the only warning. In one quick slash she drew a wickedly sharp nail across Micah’s chest. Blood welled to the surface and dripped down his stomach. The rich, spicy scent filled the air.

  “Ow! What the fuck!” Micah yelped.

  Gem brought her blood-covered finger to her mouth and stuck the digit between her ruby lips. I watched in rapt fascination. As if she were tasting fine wine, she rolled the liquid around in her mouth. My fangs throbbed.

  “Demon blood, I can taste it.” With the curve of her nail, she caught a line of blood on Micah’s stomach. She turned to me and held out her finger. “Taste this, vampire, and tell your mate he is a demon, so we can be done with this. I don’t think he’ll listen to anyone else.”

  I looked at her finger, at the witch, then at Roy with an expression I hoped conveyed my helplessness.

>   “Do as she says, Ella,” Roy instructed.

  I glanced at Micah, then Eli. Why was everyone staring at me like I’d grown a second head? Was it the fangs? Or were my blue, blue eyes now red? When I forced myself to back away, it took two steps until my ass hit the front door. I reached for the knob. My slick palm slid off the handle. I shook my head, unable to speak.

  Gem tilted her head, studied me. I could only imagine what she saw. My tight, black clothing was torn and stained with mud and blood. My hair was wet, tangled and probably starting to frizz. Then there were my eyes, which felt as wide as saucers.

  “Why are you so squeamish?” she asked. “I see your fang marks on his neck. I smell you on him. Taste. Surely you can tell demon from human blood. Even fledglings know the difference. The power you emit is far greater than the newly turned. Taste.”

  She thrust her finger at me and crossed the room. A tinkle of bells followed in her wake.

  “Let’s get a few things straight.” I stiffened my spine and used the door behind me to keep me upright. When I spoke, I knew I was flashing a fair amount of fang, but I couldn’t seem to make them go away. Not this close to blood anyway. “I’m not squeamish, I choose not to drink blood.”

  “You didn’t have a problem drinking my blood a week ago,” Micah said. “You don’t need another taste. Tell me, am I demon or not? You know I’m not. There is no way my father would have raised a demon, you know that as well as I.”

  Was Micah a demon? How in the hell should I know?

  Vampire Queen and Demon Son. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “I have no frame of reference. I’ve only had Julian’s and Micah’s blood. Yes, he tastes different from the vampire. Is he a demon? I wouldn’t know.”

  Eli took a protective step closer to his brother. He looked between Roy and Gem. “Roy, you know I don’t mean any disrespect, but…” He looked at Gem. “How do you know my brother is a demon by the taste of his blood?”

  Gem’s smile changed her face from attractive to stunning. “Did I forget to mention I’m part demon myself? On my father’s side.” As if to demonstrate, her purple eyes began to glow. The otherworldly sight made my skin crawl. She’d been camouflaging her aura. I hadn’t even known that was possible.