“Are the Blood Outlaws part of the cost of doing business too? What are you going to do when they turn on you?” Bishop raised and eyebrow, his expression bored, but I continued anyway. “Haven’t you watched any vampire movies, Bishop? The young and strong always turn on the old and weak. How long do you think it’s going to take for Oren and his ragged-ass followers to decide that they don’t like the way you do business?”
“I think this meeting is over,” Bishop said tersely.
“Your bartended called a Malleus hit on me the other day. I was locked in the coldroom. I could have died in your club, Bishop. What happened to everyone being welcome here?”
“I said we’re done here,” he snapped. I let out a frustrated breath and stood up.
“Fine. We can be done. For now. But if you don’t do something about your junkyard dogs, I will. And you won’t like it.”
Bishop smiled, seemingly amused by my bold statement. He shook his head and gestured for me to leave. A firm hand closed over my arm, just above my elbow.
“Time to go, hitea,” a voice spoke close to my ear. Church. He’d come down from his perch at the front door to escort me out. I jerked my arm out of the Laudan bouncer’s grip and glared at Bishop.
“I can see myself out,” I spun around and put my finger in Church’s face, the tip of my fingernail touching the end of the bouncer’s long nose. “Don’t call me that again.” I reached out with a little bit of magic, letting it arc between my finger and the Laudan’s face. He jumped back with a little yelp and I smiled sweetly.
“I’ll see you boys at Eli’s next gig, make sure you have some drink tickets for me, okay?” I winked at Church and made my way through the throng of moshing punks and climbed the stairs to the exit with my back straight and a calm expression on my face. I was in charge. I was cool and collected. I was fine. Everything was fine. No one needed to know that my stomach was a hot ball of panic and that I wanted nothing more than to take off running as soon as my boots hit the concrete of the sidewalk.
I jumped over the yellow rope blocking the entrance and stood in the red light of the neon sign for just a moment before zipping up my leather jacket and pointing my boots in the direction of the subway. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was nervous being out here at night, but I was. And that meeting I’d just had with Bishop had probably put a great big target on my back.
Situation normal, all fucked up.
15
I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t hoping that Eli would be waiting for me at the subway entrance at Prospect Park. Just like always. But his usual spot under the street lamp was empty. The butt of a cigarette smoldered in the gravel, and I kicked at it. Maybe he had been here. Then again, I could just be projecting. He’d been so different lately, strange. I wanted my Eli back.
I shook my head and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket. Maybe I was getting attached to him. That was never a good sign. The talk I’d had with Bishop hadn’t settled my nerves at all. Sure, he’d listened, but he hadn’t given me any answers, or promised to do anything about the Blood Outlaws. I could only hope that I’d given him something to think about. The Laudan who had turned Oren had been staked out on JFK’s international runway for treason... if I’d been in charge, I would have done a purge of the entire clan to root out other dissenters. But Bishop hadn’t bothered. He’d been satisfied that Indigo’s (second) death had been enough of a warning to anyone who was looking for a change. Oren was promoted to his current position as leader of the Blood Outlaws securing his loyalty.
It wasn’t my problem. It was Bishop’s.
Not my circus, not my monkeys... but if those monkeys started fucking with my life? It was suddenly very much my problem.
I could smell the rose garden, and while it extended the time it would take me to get home, I felt like I needed to touch them, to push my face into the blooms and try to forget everything shitty that was happening right now.
Fat chance.
My boots crunched over the gravel as I passed familiar landmarks. I passed couples on their way to dinner in the restaurant in the park, people coming home from work in the city, bored kids with nothing better to do than harass each other and ride their bikes through the gardens... little shits. It took all kinds to make a city, and New York was full of every kind, even here on the fringes.
“Hey! Get out of the roses!” I shouted. It was a half-hearted shout, but the kids hooted and shouted at me as they rode past, making me jump as they passed a little too close for comfort. “Assholes,” I muttered. I reached out to touch the abused rose bushes, offering a silent apology as I brushed my fingers over the dark leaves. The plants soaked up the magic of my fingerprints as I caressed them, and I took a moment to bend down and push my nose into a fat orange flower and inhale the thick spicy scent.
“Ophelia Turner, champion of the rose gardens...” A voice floated out of the dark and I straightened quickly and stepped away from the flowers.
I squinted into the dark, thrown off balance by the pale light of the streetlights.
“Eli?”
No answer.
It couldn’t be anyone else. “Eli, stop lurking, you shit, you’re the worst stalker, I hope you know that. An embarrassment to every creep that came before you.” I crossed my arms over my chest and put an unimpressed expression on my face. It wasn’t hard. I was unimpressed. But I was also nervous, and I couldn’t explain why, which was even more infuriating.
“Nervous, pussycat?” The voice called again. When I didn’t respond or flinch, a dark chuckle floated out of the reach of the light I stood under. I could feel my magic surging inside me, pushing at me to run, to get the fuck out of there.
“Eli, quit playing around. I don’t have time for your bullshit tonight. I have a headache and I want to go home,” I snapped. It was true, I did want to go home, and the seed of a serious migraine was beginning to settle behind my eyes.
“How was the DJ? Skylar says he’s shit.”
“Skylar? Who the fuck is Skylar?” I wasn’t jealous, or was I? Could that be the rude little bartender who’d flirted with me before she’d figured out what I was? She looked like a Skylar. “Funny, she didn’t say anything to me. I thought he did an okay job. The kids didn’t seem to mind.”
“Bishop says we’ll all be replaced by DJ’s pretty soon. No one wants the raw power of a live act anymore. Too many imperfections in a live performance... people complain that it’s not the same.” I knew it was Eli, and I also knew that he wasn’t alone... but that didn’t matter. I wanted to see him.
“People complain even if you’re perfect... are you thinking of quitting the band? You’d make a great DJ, Eli... we could go on a tour of the west coast...”
“Do you really want to leave New York, Ophelia?” He paused, but I didn’t answer. I heard him sigh in the darkness before he continued, “I don’t think I could leave. Not now. Not when we’re going into the studio soon. I couldn’t do that to Bishop. I couldn’t do that to the band.” I’d heard the hesitation in his voice. He knew what he was supposed to say. How he was supposed to feel. “Why were you at Spiral tonight?”
Cut to the chase.
“I had to see Bishop. I’m worried about you,” I replied. There was no sense lying. If he was with Oren, or any of the other Blood Morons, I wanted them to know what was up. I heard laughter in the trees.
“Worried about me? Why are you worried?”
I could see him now, just an outline at the very edge of the lamplight. A long, lean silhouette, his hair spiked and wild just the way I liked it.
I shrugged, “Women’s intuition.” Keep it simple, stupid.
Eli chuckled and stepped to the edge of the light, “Intuition... that’s pretty rich coming from you.” He was paler than I’d seen him before. Gaunt... ‘looking the part’ they might say. The allure of death around the eyes. He was beautiful, and my heart ached just looking at him.
“I’m going home, Eli,” I said, extending a ha
nd towards him. “Will you come with me?” He stiffened slightly. It had been twenty years since I’d expressly invited him into my apartment. After the first time, it was always implied and had turned into a bit of a joke between us. A Bram Stoker holdover that never failed to make me laugh.
“Home? That’s rich. You’ve locked me out for how many nights in a row now?” he said, stepping forward just a little. As he came into the light cast by the streetlamp, his companions materialized behind him. The Blood Outlaws. All of them. No wonder they hadn’t been at the club, they’d been out showing my boyfriend the sights. “I don’t think so. I’m not quite ready for bed yet.”
Over Eli’s shoulder, Oren, the leader of the group grinned at me. Malicious and feral.
Fuck, I hated him.
“Fine. You go play with the Lost Boys tonight, I’m going home,” I said shortly, turning on my heel and marching down the path. I counted my steps as my heart hammered in time. One. Two. Three. Four... and I resisted the urge to break into a jog, and then into a run, and then into a sprint. There were way too many of them, and if I panicked I’d be finished.
I had to pretend that I was confident.
Dangerous.
Because I was. I mean, I could be. If I wanted to. I shouldn’t have left my boot knife at home. Hindsight is 20/20, right.
I jumped and choked back a scream as something brushed over the back of my neck, moving my hair aside as it passed.
“I’ll walk you through the park,” Eli said into my ear, winding his arm through mine.
“I hate it when you do that,” I hissed. Hesitating briefly before allowing him to put his hand in my jacket pocket to grab mine and pull it free.
“You hate everything, Ophelia,” he said with a quick smile.
“I do not...” I said, feigning hurt at his comment.
“Well, you say it often enough, someday you’re going to believe it.” Eli was full of these little nuggets of teenage wisdom. I hated and loved him for it. Knowing that Oren and the rest of his stooges were listening in, I didn’t know what I could say. They would hear everything, and that was the last thing I wanted.
“You didn’t answer my question, Ophelia. What were you doing at Spiral tonight? I usually have to beg you to come down... and even then you only come down on nights that I’m performing, and you always come late...”
Fuck.
I shrugged. “I was tired of being cooped up in my apartment.” I didn’t owe him an explanation, and I definitely didn’t owe one to Oren. I could hear the Laudan following us, whispering in the dark.
“What’s with the escort? I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Sure, I know that. I just want you to get home safe,” Eli said. He didn’t seem nervous or uncomfortable, but something wasn’t right.
I stopped and pushed my finger into his chest. “Hey, I don’t need rescuing. I’ve been just fine without you for a really long time.”
Eli looked down at my finger and then down the lighted path that led through the park. “Whatever you say,” he said absently.
“What’s going on with you?” This was getting tiresome.
“It’s nothing,” he replied. I narrowed my eyes and stabbed my finger into his chest again.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you! What the hell, Eli. You’ve been just fine hanging out with Bishop, feeding on the groupies… they knew what they signed up for. But ever since you’ve been hanging around with these Blood Outlaw assholes you’ve been different, and I’m getting bored of this ‘new you’ bullshit. ‘New you’ is a dick.”
Eli met my furious gaze briefly, and then looked into the darkness over my shoulder. “That’s too bad, Ophelia. Oren has shown me what being a Laudan is actually about.”
“Eli, you’re feeding on innocents!” I gestured at the rose garden behind us. “You murdered her, Eli. Her name was Rachel. I worked with her, you fucker!” I pushed my finger into his chest, but he didn’t move, he just swiped my hand aside.
“I’m not surprised that you don’t understand. Oren has helped me to see that I’m more than just an accessory in Bishop’s plans. He only makes deals that benefit himself.” Eli’s hands tightened into fists, and I felt my stomach twist. “I feel like I finally have a purpose, I know what I’m supposed to be.” His fangs flashed in the lamplight and I took a step back.
“What you’re supposed to be? What was wrong with just being yourself?” This was not going well. Not at all. The whispers in the dark behind me were getting louder.
“Everything,” he snarled, his lip curling over his fangs. He turned away, his long strides taking him away from me.
“Bullshit! You’re nothing like Oren. You don’t have to be.” I was shouting, and I didn’t need to be, but I couldn’t help it. The whispers in the dark were oppressive, like the sound of thousands of leathery wings. I turned and shouted into the darkness, “You are SO lame! Pick another vampire cliché why don’t you!” That might not have been the smartest thing to say, but I was irrationally mad and scared at the same time, and I hated feeling this out of control.
I could hear Oren laughing in the dark. Taunting me. The sound swirled around me, and I could feel my magic pumping in my veins.
“You assholes,” I muttered.
All at once, the whispering stopped, the laughter stopped. I looked around quickly, turning in a circle. The park was quiet except for the faint rumble of the subway and the hum of the light above me. I was alone.
I groaned and ran down the path in the direction Eli had gone. The streetlights flickered, and the cold wind that rattled through the bare branches of the trees overhead bit at my cheeks and my ears burned with the chill. The only sound was the soles of my boots hitting the path and the occasional scuffed crunch of the leaves underfoot. October had arrived with a vengeance, and I knew we’d have snow by Halloween, if not before.
A scream cut through the silence.
Eli.
I ran harder, my heart pounding in my throat. I rounded a corner, hoping that what I thought was happening was just my imagination working in overdrive. But it wasn’t.
Two figures were grappling in the soft glow of the streetlight. Eli in his black vest covered in patches and safety pins had his arm wrapped around the throat of a young man almost the same height as him. He had grabbed his victim from behind, and had almost overpowered him. As I ran harder, Eli released the young man’s throat and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head to the side to expose his throat.
“Eli! No!” I screamed, hoping that he would listen to me. I watched in horror as he plunged his fangs into the other man’s neck. Shit. The whispers in the dark started again, and I fell to my knees. Eli’s victim sagged in his arms and Eli dropped him to the ground. I could hear him breathing hard, and I could smell the blood that spilled from his victim’s throat onto the path. I also heard something else... cops.
“Eli...”
I had to get him out of here before the cops arrived, but the blue and red lights were already flashing over the trees. I dragged myself to my feet and ran over to him. I tried not to look at the body on the ground; it was too late for him.
Eli was standing stiffly at the edge of the light cast by the streetlamp. His fists curling and uncurling at his sides, his face tilted up towards the stars. His mouth gaped open wide, and his chin was covered in blood.
I reached out a tentative hand to touch his shoulder, “Eli... Eli we have to go.” I tugged at his jacket, but he didn’t move. I pulled harder. “Eli! We’re running out of time!” He turned suddenly, throwing me off balance.
His eyes were wide and dark. Red and black. Blood and death. Fuck. “Eli, come on!” Panic rose inside me and I saw that the cop cars were coming across the grass in our direction. The corpse on the ground was still, and I could see the blood sinking into the concrete. “You’re in a fuckload of trouble if we don’t get out of here.”
I reached for him again, but he grabbed my wrist and held it tightly, his terrifyi
ng red-black eyes burning into mine. “Hiteaaaa,” he whispered. I tried to pull my wrist out of his grip, but his fingers were like ice. I twisted my arm desperately and gritted my teeth. I’d never seen him in the grip of the blood before, and I never wanted to see it again.
“Let me the fuck GO!” My magic surged, and he hissed in surprise at the sudden pain in his hand. With a grunt, he threw me away from him, and I stumbled and fell to the concrete. He snarled and advanced on me. I skidded backwards on my ass, trying to get my feet underneath me.
The cops were running over, shouting, their weapons drawn.
Where were the other Laudan?
“Eli, you have to run! You have to get away, Oren’s abandoned you!”
Eli turned on the advancing cops, his face a twisted mask of anger, and arms spread wide. His mouth opened, showing his fangs.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
16
I couldn’t let this happen. If he killed one of them, or did anything remotely undead-ish... there was no telling what would happen. What if they tried to put him down with bullets? There would be no explaining that away. It would take more than bullets to take him down.
The cops were focused on Eli; they hadn’t even noticed me yet. I gritted my teeth and raised my hand. If I knocked him out, they might treat him like a drunk and take him into custody. I reached out with my magic, trying to put him to sleep. His mind was deep in the grip of the blood he’d drunk, and I tightened my hold on it, willing him to sleep. His steps faltered, and he lurched to the side, shaking his head.
I pushed harder, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek. I’d never seen him like this, and I was fighting for control over something I didn’t understand.
“I said freeze!” shouted one of the officers again, leveling his firearm at Eli’s chest.
All it would take was one shot, maybe two, and it would be painfully obvious that they were dealing with a very different kind of suspect. I pushed again, throwing more of my magic into my concentration. Eli stumbled forward and fell to one knee, he roared in anger, his teeth flashing in the light, and then he was lying face down in the grass at the edge of the concrete, out cold.
Sticks & Stones: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 11
