by Unknown
Girls who looked like Sam.
Chapter Eighteen
Sam
Jax’s footsteps echoed against the floorboards above the living room as I paced the floor. He must have been worried that the demon would attack Rick, because he insisted on stopping off to check on his uncle. He’d asked me to wait outside, but I hadn’t seen Rick in so long.
“Do you ever listen?” Jax growled, coming down two steps at a time. “Outside means not in the building last I checked.”
“Next you’ll try slapping a collar on me and commanding I bark like a dog,” I said. It was the perfect opening for a Jax-like retort, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t even snicker. I looked around the room. “So where’s Rick? I wanted to say hi.”
“He’s upstairs. Sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” I said. “In the middle of the afternoon?”
He didn’t answer.
“Jax?” I tried again.
“He’s sick,” Jax said after a moment. “Cancer. That’s why I came back to Harlow. He doesn’t have much time left.”
Everything started to spin. “Sick— How—? Kelly never said a word. Chase either.”
“He asked them not to. It happened really fast. He went downhill quickly. Didn’t want anyone to know.”
I blinked. I didn’t know what to say. Rick Flynn was family. “I… I’m sorry, Jax.”
“He doesn’t want your pity,” he said coolly. “Neither do I.”
“I know.”
“Then forget I said anything.”
I stared. Forget? Was he crazy? “I can’t just—”
He was in front of me, face so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “You have more important things to worry about. You need to learn what it’s like to deal with a demon.”
One second he was burning for me like a California wildfire, the next he was trying to cram an iceberg the size of Texas between us. The back-and-forth of his mood was making me dizzy. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, eyes narrowing to thin slits, “maybe you need to see the truth firsthand. Maybe then you’ll keep your pathetic human ass away from me.”
He wanted me to be afraid of him. The big bad demon next door. Hah, right. I’d seen him puke all over himself after eating too many Atomic Dogs at the fair. Watched him rescue a litter of kittens from a partially submerged storm drain on prom night. And knew all about his annoying obsession with old John Belushi films. Once you see someone recite every line from The Blues Brothers wearing a hat and shades, it was impossible to view him as an emotion-sucking, flesh-eating demon hell-bent on terror and destruction.
But as sure of him as I was, I didn’t need the attitude. I leaned in a little closer, catching him off guard. “You didn’t think my ass was that pathetic when you were staring at it before.”
“I wasn’t—” His eyes went wide, and he mumbled something too low for me to hear. Fist curling tight, he smashed it into the wall by the door, sending me about a foot off the ground. Tiny bits of paint and plaster rained down, scattering on the floor at our feet. “This mess is your fault.”
“My fault?” I snapped. “While I don’t for a second believe any of this is your fault, I sure as hell don’t blame myself, either.”
When Jax turned back around, I was barely able to hold back a gasp. While not completely blackened like they’d been in my apartment, his eyes were rimmed with black. The demon.
“It—I—” Something furious sparked behind Jax’s eyes, but he stepped back and took a deep breath. “You need to see what I am.”
We’d borrowed Rick’s car and were sitting, parked around the corner of Harbor Street and Forty-Fifth Avenue. I didn’t come down this way if I could help it. Hell, the cops didn’t even come down this way. Every week there was something in the paper about a murder, and there wasn’t any street corner you could hit without seeing either a hooker, a drug dealer, or gang-style graffiti.
“Why are we here, Jax?”
“Because you need to understand what I am, Sammy. You need to see it firsthand.”
“And we’re going to do that inside Rick’s car?”
“We’re waiting for something.”
“That’s not too cryptic. Any chance you’re going to tell me what?”
No answer.
A few moments passed. When it was obvious he had no plans to talk, I took matters into my own hands. The silence was too much. “This is why you left? This thing inside you?”
“Yes,” he responded without turning away from the window. “The members of my family are the cursed descendants of Cain. Sometimes the male children are born with a demon attached to their soul.”
“Sometimes?”
Jax’s posture relaxed just a bit and he turned to me. Now, eyes their normal shade of gray, he seemed to be more himself. Guarded, not cruel. Angry, not vicious. “Sometimes it will skip several generations. The last person on record to have been born infested was my great-grandfather.”
My next question had been burning a hole in my mouth, and I was proud of myself for keeping it bottled up until now. “What about Chase? You guys are twins. Does he…?”
“Have a demon?” The light in his eyes changed. It became darker. Angrier and more like the Jax I’d seen before we came down here. “No. I was the lucky one.”
“Is that why you two fought so much as kids? Because you got stuck with it and he didn’t?”
He thought about it, picking at a loose thread on the steering wheel leather. “I guess a small part of me resented his freedom. The curse means having to live with a demon whispering in your ear all the time. There’s a lot of suicide in my family tree… But the thing with Chase and me? The animosity? That’s mostly the demon.”
“How do you mean?”
“It hates him.” He shook his head. “The things it wants me to do to him. The things it shows me… Part of the curse, I suppose. Cain killed his brother, Abel. Guess history is doomed to repeat itself.”
I squeezed his hand. “But you resist. You’re stronger than that thing inside you, Jax. It’s why no matter what you say or show me, I know you’d never hurt me.”
“I’m not stronger,” he said. The agony in his voice made my heart squeeze. “It’s why I have to stay away. When I’m not near him, it’s easier. Quieter. When he’s standing in front of me—I want to give in to the demon. It shows pictures of Chase lying broken and bleeding by my hand, and you want to know something, Sammy? I like it.
“As a kid, I used to make excuses. Blame the dark thoughts and short fuse on the demon, but as I got older, I realized that was bullshit. It’s not all because of the curse, it’s just me. Who I am. And who I am will always have this little voice in my head that whispers, as long as Chase is alive, I’m no good. I’m ruined.”
“You’re not ruined,” I insisted, angry. Jax was messed up, and yes, he’d probably done things I couldn’t even comprehend to survive, but he was still Jax. And that meant that I’d do whatever was necessary to save him from himself. Just like he’d done for me as a child. Just like we’d been doing for each other most of our lives. “And I’m going to prove it. Have a little faith.”
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “How are you going to accomplish that?” He twisted in the seat. “And faith? I prefer reality,” he said. “You can’t save me, Sammy. You want to save everyone—but you can’t.”
“I do not,” I responded.
“Sure you do. You’ve always interfered in Chase’s relationships, nudging him toward who you thought were the good ones and talking him away from the ones you deemed unworthy. Teachers, friends, family—everyone. I’m not judging. It’s just who you are, and I get it, but it’s not always possible. Not with me. Not anymore.”
Heat flamed to life in my cheeks. He was right, of course—even if his observation was worded callously. I tried to save everyone. It was because of my parents. I hadn’t been able to save them. It was crazy. There was nothing I could have possibly done to chan
ge the outcome of that horrible night. But as I got older, I saw it. There was always someone to save. Rick, when Jax left home. Kelly, when Uncle Ken left her for a younger woman. Chase. Jax… Everyone. Everyone but myself.
But this was different.
“I know I can’t save you from the curse.” I kept my voice even. “But I believe I can save you from yourself.” I reached across the car and slid my hand through his hair, wrapping it around to the back of his head.
Jax closed his eyes and sighed.
The sound was warm, running through my body like liquid heat, and gave me the courage to do something bold. Twisting, I pulled his head close, guiding his lips to mine. Surprisingly, I met with no restraint.
His teeth grazed my bottom lip, tongue slipping between to give him unrestricted access. Our position was awkward, both twisted sideways and leaning forward, but it didn’t take away from the rush. In the back of my head, a small voice chided me for this. Anyone could walk right over and pull up a chair. The problem was, I didn’t give a damn. And neither did he.
One minute his hands were idle. The left still on the steering wheel and the right at his side. The next, he was dragging me across the car, hefting me onto his lap so that there was no space between us—which wasn’t hard because there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room in a Toyota.
Mint and leather filled the small space, taking me back to the night of our first kiss. Just like then, I lost myself. The warmth of his body pressed against mine. The sound of his breath, quickened and raw. The way his arms wound tight around me like he’d never let go. The way his lips moved with mine was symmetry in its most basic form. It was all perfection.
“This was worth waiting for,” he whispered into my mouth. He ran his tongue along my upper lip, tasting it, then captured the bottom one, drawing it into his mouth before letting go. He pulled back and watched me for a minute, the heat in his eyes blazing. His pointer finger traced across my cheek, lingering at the corner of my mouth before he bent forward and kissed me again.
That’s when things got intense.
I tilted my head back as he trailed a line of scorching kisses along my chin and down the left side of my neck, pausing at the collar of my T-shirt with a frustrated growl. Beneath me, his hips lifted. The friction sent tingles so exquisite, I couldn’t help the low moan that escaped my lips. He chuckled. “That sound… Again.” He breathed the words into the hollow of my neck. Each syllable was like a flamethrower held close to the flesh. “Do it again.”
He didn’t need to ask. The second his teeth grazed the soft skin above my collarbone, I let out another soft whimper.
“Perfect.”
His voice, so deep and dark and full of promise, was enough to bring me close to the brink. Leaning closer, I tried to reclaim his lips, but Jax wasn’t interested in my mouth. Not right then. With his left hand, he grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged. Not with enough force to be painful, but hard enough to prove he meant business. He ran his tongue from just below my ear, down to the corner of my collarbone. The trail it left was volcanic, igniting every inch of my body, turning me into a single raw nerve.
I threw my arms around him, desperate to pull him close. If not for the fact that he was so much taller and had the seat pushed all the way back, there wouldn’t be room between us. He resisted with another chuckle and lifted his hips again, and I pressed harder against him, the feel of our bodies so close it stole my breath.
It had the same effect on Jax. He gasped, pushing me back against the steering wheel. When I tried to lean forward, though, he held me there, arms locked tight and eyes stormy with need. His breathing was heavy and he seemed so conflicted.
Something over my shoulder seemed to catch his attention.
“It’s showtime,” he rasped.
Chapter Nineteen
Jax
The demon raged inside. When I saw the target pass by, a man in his late thirties sporting dark sweatpants and a bright-blue hoodie, I was tempted to ignore him. Despite the reason I’d brought Sam out here. Despite of what common sense was telling me. Despite the pain I was in…
The definition of stupid was doing something even though you knew the outcome would be unpleasant. I’d kissed Sam twice since coming back to town. Each time it happened, things got worse. The demon seemed hungrier. Angrier. The pain was sharper. Still, I was almost willing to ignore it all and continue kissing her—even though Calvin Gutierrez had just walked by.
In the dark hours of the early morning, I’d stopped here to feed the demon, sure I could find some poor bastard deserving a good ass-kicking. What I found was Calvin Gutierrez beating the shit out of some girl in the alley behind the liquor store on Eighth. I would have gone for him then, but I’d hesitated and the opportunity was lost. But I hadn’t forgotten about him. A little digging and some Internet research, and I had all the information needed to nail the bastard.
I was out of the car and around the front before Sam even opened the door. “Jax?” she called. I ignored her. The best thing I could do right now was tune her out. Even if I was having second thoughts about showing her this side of my life, the demon was too far gone to care. It needed to feed. Really feed.
Now.
Sam called to me again, but her voice was far away and tinny. Ahead, Gutierrez leaned casually against the corner of the liquor store talking to a heavyset man. There was a quick exchange—a wad of bills passed off in return for a small white bag—and the other man was gone. I quickly took his place.
“Hey man,” Gutierrez said with a nod. “You wanna—”
I grabbed the corners of the bastard’s hoodie and hauled him into the shadows of the alley. Azirak roared with excitement, soaking in the man’s surprise and fear. The emotion seeped into the air around us, sinking into my skin and slipping down my throat as I breathed.
I pushed him up against the wall, pinning him there by jamming an elbow up against his throat. The first blow was about to hit when footsteps pounded the pavement at the mouth of the alley.
“Jax! What the hell are you doing?”
I inhaled again, savoring the sweet scent of the man’s fear, and without looking at Sam, said, “This is what I am.” I brought my head forward, bashing it hard against Gutierrez’s. I felt the vibration, and heard the mingled screams of both Calvin and Sam as they begged me to stop.
But it was too late. The demon had gotten a taste, and it wouldn’t let go now. Not until sated. This is what it craved. The little portions I took from random people here and there allowed me to function, but this was what the demon thrived on. True violence.
“You think that I’m worth saving?” I yanked my prey away from the wall, spinning hard and letting go. Gutierrez stumbled back, landing between two garbage pails. They clattered and fell to the ground, spilling trash all around. “You think I’m a good man?”
I hauled Gutierrez off the ground and shook him hard. “What—” the man mumbled. “What did I do to you?”
“This isn’t who you are,” Sam insisted. She inched closer, standing at the mouth of the alley. Even with the sick, delectable smell wafting all around, I still sensed her there. But it didn’t matter. There was no turning back.
As the demon fed, the poisonous emotion seeping in, a twisted feeling of euphoria filled me. A detached, weightless sensation that made me feel like I was bulletproof. I pushed Gutierrez back against the wall again, grabbing hold of a fistful of his hair. Once. Twice. Three times. I slammed his head into the brick. “Does this feel familiar?” I whispered in the man’s ear. He was barely conscious. “Do you remember doing this to that girl a few days ago?”
“Stop!” Sam screamed. A second later, she was dragging me away. Gutierrez slid down the wall and crumbled into a heap. I resisted the urge to spit on him. People like him were garbage. Gutierrez was just like me. He fed on the misery of others. His nose was bleeding. So was his head, and both his top and bottom lip were split with a nasty-looking gash, but he was still alive. Still breathing. But I’d ta
ken what I needed. For now.
Reality would set in soon. It always did. The amped, contented feeling never lasted long. But at that moment, I reveled in the mist of my prey’s emotions. Pain. Suffering. Fear. They fed the demon and eased my pain and that was all that mattered. Those first few moments after a feed were blissful. They were the only ones that brought any semblance of peace. There was no pain and no itching hunger creeping out from the darkest corners of my subconscious. There was only satisfaction.
“The corner of Eighth and Broadway,” I heard Sam say. When I turned, she was on my cell phone. It brought the world crashing back down, and with it, the demon’s rage.
Before I could stop myself, I ripped the phone from her hands. She gasped. “What the hell—”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I advanced, and for the first time, Sam actually looked scared. Tufts of gray rose around her shoulders and swirled above her head.
“I didn’t give my name. I had to call an ambulance. That poor guy is—”
“Is still alive,” I snapped. “And unfortunately he’ll continue to live, which is more than he deserves. And that poor guy beat some girl the other day. I’m sure he’s beaten others, too.”
“It doesn’t matter what he did, Jax. You’re not God. You’re not judge and jury. You don’t get to decide what he deserves.”
Azirak was amused by Sam’s words, and I, still feeding off the demon’s high, couldn’t help smiling. I didn’t know where the words came from, but somehow I knew they were true. “But I am. I’m this world’s judge, jury, and executioner.”
In the distance, sirens wailed, and Sam paled. She grabbed my hand, flinching for just a second. “We need to go.”
I looked down. The front of my shirt was splattered with red. Same with my forearms and hands. “I’m—” That tiny switch inside, the one that shut down my humanity and set the demon free, flipped back. Guilt flooded in and a rush of cold came over me. The broken bones, the echo of screams inside my head, the blood… This part I hated. The guilt. Not because of what I’d done—but because of how I’d felt while doing it. Invigorated and enthusiastic. I didn’t like feeding the demon. I loved it. And Sam had seen the whole thing.
