by Jen Ponce
“Some.” I wasn’t an idiot just because I wasn’t a member of the Lodge. Ass.
“They often take … a sacrifice from you to work. A bit of blood, say. That attunes the object to your will and then you can direct the magic.”
“Huh.”
“Would you like to try it?”
“Nope. I just thought it was pretty.” I dropped it back down between my boobs and smile at him. “You want to show me the rest of the house? That meal, by the way, was delicious.”
Forced to change the subject or look entirely too interested in my necklace, he pushed away from the table and took me on the grand tour. None of the rooms had solid walls on all four sides—at least one was made of glass. It was ridiculous and I hated it. Not even the luxurious multi-head shower could make me want to live in this house. Hell to the No Way.
“How do you deal with the feeling of being watched all the time?” I asked, unable to contain the question.
“The glass walls are illusions. Watch.” He stepped behind the glass wall and I should have been able to see him, but as far as I could tell, the room was empty. He poked his head back out. “See? It takes some getting used to but now I like how free I feel. They’re working on this tech for airplanes, you know.”
Yeah, hard no from me. I wanted the illusion I was safe when flying thousands of feet in the air, thanks. I feigned a yawn, then tried to look embarrassed and not ready to get out of there. “Sorry. Long day.”
“Would you like a nightcap before you leave?” he asked, doing that thing men liked to do with women, lightly touch their back to guide them wherever. If anyone else was doing it, I’d probably be fine, but I wanted to smack his hand away and then stab him with something sharp.
“No, thanks. I have work tomorrow.”
He paused in the doorway between the hallway and the living room, hands stuffed into his pockets, a strangely vulnerable look on his face. “I get the feeling you don’t like me very much, Korri.”
Shit. How was he so damned perceptive? He saw through my disguise when I was stalking Harriet and now this. I debated what to say and decided to go with honesty—at least, as close as I could get to it without telling him I was planning to murder him. “I guess I don’t trust you Lodge types. You’re all wealthy, out of touch with normal people, and you worship a god that’s vindictive, cruel, and downright petty. You’re constantly proposing laws that restrict the freedoms of people who don’t believe as you do, and half the time throw a shit ton of money at the lawmakers to make sure they pass.” I waved my hands at his house. “This is like the ultimate metaphor. Everything looks transparent but it’s all a lie. Smoke and mirrors. Or maybe, tech and mirrors. I didn’t walk away from my family’s money because I’m a rebel. I walked away from it because it was wrong that my mama was shunned for loving my daddy.” I forced myself to shut my mouth before I gave anything else away to this man who didn’t deserve so much as a second’s explanation. He’d used his position of power to hide the perfidies of those like him.
Instead of getting angry or telling me to go fuck myself, he merely stood there and stayed silent, and for such a long time, I thought maybe I’d exploded something inside his brain. When he finally spoke, he shocked the ever-loving Hell out of me. “You’re right. We are out of touch. We do meddle way too often in the government, trying to change things to suit our purposes. I won’t comment on your views of God, since I believe He is our salvation in this world, but I understand how you might conclude He’s cruel. He is not meant to be nice. Not when we are only twice-removed from darkness and evil.”
He meant demons, of course. Was this how they justified enslaving them? By positioning them as evil within the construct of their religion? It was a shit thing to do, but who was I to say? I wasn’t a theologian or philosopher, only a horny chick who’d boned a few and didn’t find them evil at all. Perhaps, though, that was because I was evil myself.
“Not my god,” I said shortly.
“Understood.” Another pause. “Would it surprise you to know that I’ve often thought the Lodge was wrong in its thoughts on the witches?”
Considering he knew damn well that the Lodge was wrong and I knew he knew it, I had a Hell of a time keeping the derision of my face. “Oh?” was the best I could manage.
He nodded. “We aren’t above them, evolutionarily speaking. I believe the witches could assimilate into our culture with proper training. We could help them rise above their baser instincts and find their place in our world.”
Proper training? Rise above their baser instincts?
I wanted to stab him so hard.
“We are merely a race of people uniquely designed for success. How else can you explain how many of our families have been in power for centuries? Fortunes rise and fall but Lodge families have stayed the course.”
“You have got to be shitting me,” I said. He looked so startled I almost laughed. “Please tell me you don’t believe that crap. You do?” I shook my head, heading for the door, anger making me vibrate. “Money, you dumb motherfucker. Money and privilege and laws that fucking favor you and ‘your kind.’” Your demon-stealing kind, I added but managed to keep that to myself. “The people living in Hell’s Mudroom aren’t your inferiors. They’re better than you will ever be because they’ve gotten where they are through merit and hard work, not bullshit inheritance and regular infusions of fucking cash. You’re where you are because your daddy bought and paid for your position.”
“You and I both know magi are naturally more talented. Surely you understand that because of your father. Compare him to your mother—”
“Did you just bring my daddy into this? My kindhearted, never says anything bad about anyone, loved my mama to death daddy? Because you can go fuck yourself with a sharp spoon, you ass-nugget.” I yanked open the door and strode down the sidewalk, anger making me see red. “And another thing,” I yelled, halfway to the street, “your house sucks!”
I didn’t notice until I was a block gone that I’d left my shoes behind. Ah well, Alice would get a cool-ass dress but would have to accessorize herself.
Fuck. As my anger faded, I realized I had just made things a hundred times harder on myself. If I’d kept my cool, I might have been able to lure him into a false sense of security. I could have used that to get the medallion from him or figured out a way to kill him that wouldn’t implicate me. Now, he’d never let me near him and everything had gotten way more difficult.
Ah well. Difficult was my middle name. I was pretty sure my grandmother thought so, anyway. I contemplated calling her to send Dempsey to pick me up, but I didn’t want to talk with her. She’d find out I dissed her golden boy soon enough and the shit would fly. Postponing that conversation until never was my preference.
I hit a rock with my heel and cursed, hopping on one foot as I inspected the damage. Damned bare feet. Damned rocks. And damned bigoted magi.
I yanked open my clutch to pull out my phone and when I did, Kyle’s card fluttered to the ground.
The darkness inside me pulsed. Call him.
I shouldn’t. I knew I shouldn’t. I wasn’t prepped. Hell, I didn’t have a weapon.
Let him take you back to his place. He’ll have kitchen knives. Or just use your necklace.
I bent to pick up the card and after a moment’s hesitation, blocked my number and dialed Kyle.
“Who the fuck is this?”
Classy, I thought. “Korri.”
His knowing laugh made me glad I called. He was so dying tonight. “Adam is a lame ass duck, ain’t he?”
“Yep.” Though not in the way Kyle meant. “Think I could get a ride?”
“Sure thing. Where are you?”
I gave him the address and when I hung up, wrapped my fingers around Malphas’s crystal. “Help me erase all trace of my call,” I whispered. A surge of power ran through me and into my phone. The screen went blank and then the loading screen popped up. “Thank you.”
As I waited by the street sign, I heard the flutter o
f wings somewhere in the darkness. Big wings. I searched the shadowed treetops but couldn’t see whatever animal was making the sound and then the noise of an engine drowned out all hope of hearing anything else. I glanced over my shoulder, and when the car glided to a stop beside me, I braced myself as the tinted glass slid down and Kyle’s smarmy little face came into view.
“I was right, wasn’t I? He disappointed you.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes, just, and fluttered my lashes instead. “How’d you guess?”
He laughed his rich boy’s laugh, his eyes moving suggestively over my form. “Hop in.”
I looked around. The houses were dark, the street quiet. The rich people on this block were either not at home or inside doing fancy rich people things. “Thanks,” I said, yanking open the door to slide into the seat beside him. The car was expensive, the interior immaculate. He didn’t immediately grope me either which was almost a disappointment. “So, Kyle Klein,” I said, deciding to grope him instead.
He smiled down at my hand on his knee, then said, “Kyle Klein, of the Havershaw Kleins,” as if his family name held some sort of power to make me horny.
As if I gave a flying fuck. “How fancy for you,” I managed. “You went to Conventud Academy, right? Graduated a few years ago?”
“You didn’t attend. I would have remembered you.”
I wrinkled my nose as if I were impressed by that. “You work for your father now, don’t you? Remember a woman named Poppy Ballinger?”
I felt it when his muscles tensed, but he kept the same fake smile in place he’d had since rolling down the window. “Nope. Why?”
“No reason.” I moved my hand up his thigh. “No reason at all.”
18
Kyle took me back to his place. A douche-pad if ever I saw one, but at least there were actual fucking walls.
His hands were all over me and I only had to do the bare minimum to make him believe I was into him too. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Book smart, street stupid.
I made an excuse to use the bathroom when we got there, insinuating dirty things with my smile and silence so he’d be glad to give me a moment. I supposed he was undressing and that was all right with me.
I was undressing too. Didn’t want to fuck up the dress, after all.
I draped it over the railing of the shower rod, then squatted to look under the bathroom sink for weapons. Nothing.
“I am a dumbass,” I muttered to my reflection in the mirror. Did I want to do this? Now? What would Poppy think? She’ll finally have her revenge, that dark part of me whispered. She’ll thank you.
I hoped so.
After a moment’s consideration, I searched the bathroom. No weapons but a pair of scissors. They would have to do. I wanted it to be a bloody, difficult death anyway. I needed some release and his pain and terror would give it to me.
Maybe that was what had gone wrong tonight. I hadn’t had a good kill since Oscar and had missed his death spirit. I was on edge, the kind of edge only a murder would dull.
I slipped the scissors in the back of my panties and left the bathroom. Kyle was naked on the bed, cock jutting hopefully in the air.
Poor guy. I almost felt sorry for him. Eager to fuck but he’d only be experiencing penetration of the painful sort tonight.
“Kyle Klein,” I said, moving toward the bed in a slink, one foot crossing over the other to showcase my hips and the way my breasts moved as I walked.
“Korri Marchand,” he said, his voice dripping with sleaze. “I heard you spent a bit of time with Adam at your grandmother’s party the other night.”
“Mmm,” I said, noncommittally. Boy, my grandmother sure hadn’t wasted any time spreading that gossip around.
“So why’re you here with me instead of with him?” He flicked his eyes over me. “Conservative dress, no shoes. You two have a fight? Am I beating Adam fucking Windhaven to the punch?”
He so deserved getting stabbed. “You’re so observant, Kyle. More observant than Adam. He didn’t even notice my flower.” I touched the small yellow barrette as I put a knee on the bed.
His cock twitched in anticipation. “He’s a self-centered prick. Come here, baby. I’ll notice everything about you.”
Like the murderous gleam in my eye and the scissors I’ve hidden behind my back? “I’ll bet you will,” I purred. I put another knee on the bed and reached behind me to grasp the scissors in my hand. The medallion around his neck gleamed an angry red and I wondered what kind of demon I would find trapped in its depths.
“What do you have behind your—”
His words cut off in a shrill scream as I stabbed the point of the scissors into his upper thigh. The inner bit. The part closest to his dick. Before he had a chance to do much more than panic, I yanked the scissors out and then held them, poised, by his cock. “Tell me what you know about Poppy Ballinger.”
“I don’t know—”
I snipped. He screamed. When he attempted to move away, I grabbed his dick and twisted. He screamed again, then stilled when I jabbed the scissors into his balls. Not hard, but he noticed. His eyes were wide with fear.
“Please don’t.”
“Then answer the question.”
He was panting, his eyes on his cock as if he wasn’t sure he’d see it again.
He might not.
“She was a fucking witch, I don’t know. A shifty-eyed—” The words went up in a shriek of sound as I twisted harder.
“Be careful what you say about her.”
His lips were white, his nostrils flared, his eyes still on his dick. “Sorry. Sorry! Okay? I just, she was just a fucking witch.”
“Not just a fucking anything. She’s a living, breathing person, Kyle. A feeling person. And when she turned your stalker-ass down, you lied to the Keepers about her family. You got her parents and her siblings killed you fuck.” I squeezed again. “Little damned kids.”
A bitty bit of anger rose up in him. I saw the sudden defiance in his eyes. “That bitch didn’t know what was good for her. And her parents did summon demons. I fucking saw it.”
“And the little kids?”
“Fucking dirty demon summoners,” he spat.
I stared him down and smiled. Then I stabbed.
He screamed, lifting off the bed in his pain. I really hoped his house was as well-made as it looked. Wouldn’t want the neighbors wondering what the poor guy was up to.
I twisted the scissors and he swung at me. I blocked it easily because he was a little too concerned with his junk to put any real force behind it. I rose up on my knees and put my forearm against his windpipe. “Poppy still has nightmares, you bastard. She still can’t even be near magi without having an anxiety attack. She feels safer in the Witch District, Kyle. What kind of fucking loser is so afraid of rejection that he gets a woman’s entire family murdered? Kyle, you didn’t even have the balls to do it yourself.”
“You bitch, you bitch,” he babbled. I didn’t notice him dipping his fingers into his own blood until he grabbed the damned medallion around his neck. He shouted out words of power and pain blossomed on my skin, blisters forming, swelling, popping.
I screamed, swinging the scissors into his flesh again, stabbing him twice before he fell off the bed.
My skin was on fire and I couldn’t stop the pain. I had to kill him before his demon killed me, and I had to do it fast before I lost … oh shit, it hurt. I fell on top of him, pain tearing into my flesh, my bones, my very marrow as I stabbed him—in the neck, in the chest—while he struggled.
How many times did I punch holes into him?
Blood was smeared everywhere, and its heat burned my skin. Tears fell from my eyes as I scrambled for the medallion, cutting it off with the scissors. I made a slice in my own arm and smeared my blood onto the crystal, then I laid it on the ground and smashed it.
The demon that rose from the broken pieces was tall, blond, and covered in roiling black tattoos. His blue eyes blazed with fury and I had an,
‘Oh, shit’ moment when I was pretty sure he was going to kill me. “Why did you release me?”
“Heal me,” I gasped. “Please?”
His furious eyes took me in, took in the dying magus on the floor, and then he snapped his fingers. Almost immediately, the pain receded. I exhaled in relief and collapsed to the floor. “Thank you.”
He squatted down and stared at me like a scientist might study a bug. “Why. Did you. Release me?”
Pink blood bubbled on Kyle’s lips. His eyes bugged when he realized the demon was free. He tried moving but went white as a sheet. More blood spilled out of the many holes in his body.
“Because no one deserves to be enslaved. Especially not to pricks like him.”
His mouth twitched. “I could kill you.”
My eyebrows rose. “I know.”
He dipped his finger in Kyle’s blood and tasted it. “He was a sick bastard.” He brushed his thumb across my chin. “Why did you kill him?”
“He hurt my friend.”
“Vengeance.” His eyes went half-shut as if he were enjoying the word a little too much. “What was her name? I might be able to tell you what he did.”
“Poppy Ballinger.”
His eyes closed, then popped back open. “Young. Curly black hair. Oh, yes. He lied to her, wooed her. Became unaccountably angry when she rejected him. He thought he was better than her because she was a witch. Such pettiness. He thought it was his right to have her and he hated that she turned him away.”
I wasn’t surprised that he thought he had a right to Poppy. He was a typical magus that way. I wasn’t even surprised that he’d gone to such extremes to get back at her—he probably didn’t think having an entire family murdered was extreme at all.
The now free demon picked up Kyle’s arm and bit into it, his eyes still on mine. Kyle’s chest rose, fell, rose, and the fell for the last time. The demon took a long, sucking pull from Kyle’s vein, his cheeks hollowing as he did. He kept drinking until, I presumed, there wasn’t anything left. When he dropped Kyle’s arm, he wiped his lips, though he hadn’t let any blood drip from his mouth. “Should I have offered you some?”
