Darling sputters and coughs as her body sags to the ground, desperately conjuring what’s left of her strength. “I’m…I’m like you!” she rasps, her voice hoarse.
“Bullshit,” I deadpan, looming over her crumpled frame. “No one is like us. Try again.”
She shakes her head. “I thought maybe since I couldn’t see you that… I thought we might be the same. I swear, I wasn’t trying to trick you or lie. It’s just, I’ve never not seen. Not since I was a child.”
Michael crouches down to Darling’s level. “What do you mean you can’t see us? What do you see?”
Darling takes a pained gulp of air. “I can see people’s true faces. Not their outer appearance, but what’s really inside. The shit they try to hide with beauty products and plastic surgery. And the meaner and nastier someone is, the uglier they are.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest and glance at Michael before looking back to Darling. “You see souls.”
She nods. “It’s a real bitch when you just want to be a regular teenager and go on dates like every other high school girl.”
“How?” Michael inquires, his voice urgent.
Darling shrugs. “When my brother and I were five, we both got what our mom thought was the flu. One night, a man came into my bedroom. He was tall and beautiful and mesmerizing. He was a lot like you two. He said he was going to give me and my brother each a present, but we had to keep it a secret. I thought I was in some type of fever-induced hallucination, but that next morning, we were both perfectly healthy. No sign of illness, not even a runny nose. However, I saw something that scared the hell out of me.”
“What?” Michael and I ask in unison.
“My mom’s boyfriend. He was a mean drunk who cheated on my mom almost weekly. Used to beat the shit out of us too. But he was known as Pretty Rick. He fucked anything in a skirt and couldn’t keep a steady job to save his life. But that morning, Pretty Rick wasn’t so pretty anymore. He was hideous.”
“And your brother has the same gift?” I question, prompting Darling to shake her head. She grimaces, bringing her fingers up to soothe the soreness in her neck.
“My brother wasn’t as careful with concealing his gift. I found out shortly after that he can hear the things people want to say but are too afraid to. The real truth. And when he was bored, he would use those truths against people to hurt them or others.” She swallows thickly. “I thought whoever or whatever that beautiful stranger was… I thought he had made us like him.”
“This male who visited you in the night,” Michael begins, his tone gentle yet eager. “What did he look like?”
“Like you,” she says before looking to me. She hesitates. “And like you. But not like either of you. It’s strange. It’s more of a feeling of complete contentment and euphoria. It’s this bone-deep sensation of knowing you are secure and that there’s no need to be afraid. I mean, sure he was mesmerizing and so handsome it hurt, but he made me feel…safe. Loved.”
Which is the exact reaction humans experience when they come in contact with an angel. But that doesn’t explain why she can’t see me for who I am. If her gifts truly were bestowed by a heavenly being, then she should be able to see my true face. She should see the blackness of my soul. Or maybe she would simply peer into endless nothingness as I have no soul to look upon.
I take a beat to choose my next move carefully. Having this girl in our presence could be dangerous for all of us, especially her. It doesn’t seem like she knows what we are, but she obviously can tell that we’re not typical humans. And if word ever got out, her young life would be cut short without a second thought. But for now, I extend a simple show of grace.
Darling appears reluctant to receive my outstretched hand, but eventually slides her trembling fingers over my palm to allow me to lift her to her feet.
“Thanks,” she mutters, clutching the robe at her chest to hold it together. She doesn’t look at me. Even if she can’t seem me for what I am, she knows better. With Michael she may feel safe and content. But if she were alone with me, she’d think twice about being so free with her tongue lest she lose it. And while that thought once thrilled me, now it just makes me…uncomfortable. Almost sad.
“You should get some sleep,” I murmur, nodding towards one of the bedrooms. “We need to hit the road in a few hours.”
“You’re right. Thanks,” Darling nods. Then a small, timid smile gently curls her lips, and honestly, the very sight of it scares me. What kind of psycho could find a reason to smile after the last twelve hours? And why the hell would she smile at me when I just choked her out minutes ago?
I open my mouth, then promptly close it. Shit. I’m speechless. I’m never speechless. Especially not for silly, freckle-faced girls.
Michael and I watch as she takes the room with the queen size bed and shuts the door behind her. And just as I expect, Michael wastes no time.
“Wow, Lucie,” he muses, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Could that have been compassion I just saw? Maybe a little humility? Humanity is starting to rub off on you. Or maybe it’s just my positive influence?”
I shrug off the grip on my shoulder. “Don’t be absurd. That would suggest that I had a soul. And if I remember correctly, you took mine before you banished me to Hell on Father’s orders.”
The corner of Michael’s mouth curls into a roguish grin. “But did I?”
Chapter 3
I fidget against the time-hardened fake leather seat and try to stretch my back and neck for what seems like the hundredth time since we sat down in this dilapidated diner. Along with a first class shopping experience and five-star accommodations, we’re also treating ourselves with a bit of fine dining before hitting the road. I look down at the yellowing plastic menu and try not gag at the holiday special of the day: Turducken. The fuck is a turducken?
Just as I’m about to commit to a fast, a waitress with shocking Ronald McDonald red hair comes over to take our order. A nametag with the name Doris is pinned to her old-fashioned outfit.
“What will you folks be having today?” Doris asks without looking up from the pencil and pad of paper in her hands.
Michael wastes no time launching into his order. “I’ll take the meat lover’s omelet, the deluxe cheeseburger with onion rings, short stack with a side of sausage, chicken tenders with fries, a chocolate shake, and—oh, yeah—today’s special. I’ve always wanted to try turducken.”
I shoot Michael a withering glare, but he ignores me. There are some facets of humanity that positively thrill him, eating being one of them.
The waitress lifts her surprised gaze, taken aback by the hefty order and the blond Adonis with the shocking blue eyes. “Um, uh, anything else?”
Darling smiles nervously. “I’ll, uh, have the grilled ham and cheese with fries, please. And coffee.”
“And you, sugar?”
Although my face is turned towards the window, I can feel Doris’s expectant eyes on me. Even with the lack of sleep due to having to share a bed with my brother who hogged the covers and pillows the entire night, I refuse to take it out on this woman, who most likely will pull a double shift in order to scrounge up enough cash to buy a carton of Marlboros and a few Christmas gifts for her grandkids. So I turn to face her, donning the most dazzling of all my smiles and glance up at her unabashedly, my violet eyes twinkling with heat and hidden desire.
Her pencil and order pad slip from her fingers and go clattering to the floor. But it takes her a few moments to collect her wits enough to realize that she’s dropped them. She open and closes her mouth like a fish, unable to speak or even formulate a coherent sentence. Michael is right—I really shouldn’t do this to humans. But how can I refrain from fucking with their senses when it’s just so damn fun?
“Hello, Doris. I’ve got a taste for something sweet and savory. What would you suggest?”
Doris scrambles to pick up her forgotten belongings then nervously smoothes the apron of her polyester dress. “Um, um…we, uh…w
e have pancakes.”
“Anything else?” My voice is like warm, slow-pouring honey.
“Waffles? Is that sweet enough for you?”
I lick my bottom lip, giving her the illusion that I can taste just how sweet it is. “Yes. I believe it is.” Then I close my menu with a startling snap that breaks the spell and hand the menu to our glassy eyed waitress. “And coffee, please.”
She’s trembling as she collects the plastic folders and turns back towards the counter. Michael shakes his head at me.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just wondering if there will be enough room for us in the car, seeing as your ego is sure to take up the entire back seat.”
I roll my eyes and turn back towards the window, yet I don’t miss Darling silently laughing from across the table.
Our food arrives much sooner than I expect, and I assume Doris pushed our order in front of the other patrons’. Funnily enough, Michael doesn’t seem to mind that perk of my obnoxious ego and eagerly digs in.
“So Darling is an interesting name,” he begins around a mouthful of pancakes and sausage smothered in syrup. “How did you get it?”
Darling nibbles a fry. “My real name is Darleen. My twin literally thought my name was Darling until we were ten, and it kinda stuck. Probably had something to do with Mom’s boyfriend, Rick. He always called me that.”
I note the way she looks down at her still full plate as a quiet, painful shame paints her features. He had hurt her.
“Where is Rick now?” I ask, my tone icy. Michael glares at me, silently telling me to stand down.
Darling shrugs. “He ran off eventually. Probably got sick of playing house with my mom and her two weirdo kids. Kinda hard to keep secrets in a small town. Hopefully, he finally drank himself to death.”
I want to give her the comfort and closure she needs by confirming that he is dead, but there’s no way I could know that. Not now at least. I look at Michael who slightly shakes his head. He doesn’t know either, yet I highly doubt Pretty Rick would have earned himself a trip to the gilded penthouse.
We finish up, and Darling excuses herself to the ladies’ room before we head out. When Doris brings us the check, I don’t even bother looking. I peel off two hundred-dollar bills and hand them over, leaving her with a fat tip and a devious wink. Her knees nearly buckle under her as she flits back to the counter.
“You’re in high spirits today,” Michael muses.
I sip my coffee. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, we’re in Indiana when we should be in Florida. And we’re babysitting a soul seer created by one of our brothers. Any guess who would have an interest in two ailing twins, enough interest to heal their bodies and leave a piece of themselves behind?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “Maybe we should ask Darling for a better description when she gets back.”
Seconds after I finish my thought, Darling shuffles back to the table, but instead of scooting in beside Michael, she slides next to me, bringing her side flush against mine.
“Those guys,” she whispers, head down and tilted towards me. “I didn’t see them before because my back was turned. They’re bad—really bad. And I don’t think they’re here for the turducken.”
I stealthily glance across the diner, and sure enough, there are four ugly fuckers with only cups of coffee in front of them. Human but filled with hate and malice. I’m surprised I didn’t catch a whiff of their stink.
Michael pretends to drop a fork and catches a glimpse while picking it up. His expression gives nothing away. “They sat by the door purposely. They have no intention of letting us leave.”
“So what are we going to do?” Darling asks. “There are so many people here…innocent people. And they won’t give a damn about shooting through them to get to me.”
I nod slowly, thinking. How do we quietly kill four men without alerting or harming a diner full of patrons in the process?
“We lure them outside,” I say, answering my own question.
I raise my coffee cup, silently signaling Doris to rush over with a coffee carafe. While she tops off the mug, I move in close to her and whisper, “Doris, love, there are four gentlemen in a booth by the door. After you leave this table, I’d like you to wait for five minutes and then tell them that their car is being towed.”
Doris frowns, perplexed. “It is?”
“Yes, dear,” I nod. “Can you do that for me please? I’d really appreciate it.”
Luckily, Doris is only too eager to do as I request and doesn’t even question why I’ve asked her to wait. And right on the dot, she makes her way over to them to inform them of their unfortunate fictional circumstance. They all shoot her nasty looks of frustration and annoyance in response, but eventually they slide out of their booth and head outside.
My eyes still tracking their path to the back lot, I slide the key fob over to Michael. “Get her to the car after I leave.”
“Are you certain? Four against one doesn’t seem fair.”
I turn to my brother and smile devilishly. “It isn’t. But I’ll give them a head start.”
By the time they realize that there is no tow truck, I’m already behind them, armed only with a handful of pilfered diner silverware and a wicked glare.
“Apologies for the ruse, gentlemen. This is my last clean suit and I wouldn’t dream of leaving a mess for Doris to clean.”
The first of the four steps forward. He isn’t the biggest but probably the smartest, which isn’t too high of a compliment considering each of these guys are two chicken McNuggets short of a Happy Meal.
“You must have a fucking death wish,” he sneers. I note his haircut, his clothes, the way he reaches for his holster. He’s a cop.
I glance down at my nail beds casually. I’m in desperate need of a manicure and while the thought of grasping their beating hearts in my hand and ripping them from their chests gives me the warm fuzzies, I really don’t feel like getting my hands dirty today.
“A death wish? Not exactly. But apparently, you do. You’re following us, yes?”
The cop spits. Such a filthy gesture. His disrespect only heightens my excitement. “I saw what you did to Butch’s brother, motherfucker. You fucked with the wrong crew. Give us the girl and maybe we won’t leave you unrecognizable, so your boyfriend can identify your body.”
I smile, showing teeth. “Seems as if Christmas has come early. Please, tell me what you’ll do if I don’t cooperate.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” The cop aims his gun, prompting the other three to do the same. “Go to hell, asshole.”
They don’t even see me flick my wrist, let alone get a round off before metal forks are whizzing through the air, embedding themselves in the middle of their skulls. All four of them are dead before their useless bodies even hit the ground. Pity. I wanted it to hurt.
I cross the dirt lot until I’m standing over their corpses, shaking my head. “Not today, guys. Maybe tomorrow. And I can’t wait to see you there.”
When I return to the car, Darling looks sheet white while a knowing grin graces Michael’s lips. They were able to watch the whole exchange, which lasted less than five minutes. As much as I like to play with my prey, I’m sure there will be more where they came from.
I start up the car and we head straight to the interstate. Roughly twenty-four hours stand between us and our destination so aside from gas, food, and bathroom needs, stopping doesn’t seem like the smartest idea. Not unless we plan to leave a trail of blood and bodies from Louisville to Las Vegas.
We hit Missouri by nightfall. Michael is passed out in the front seat and without his running commentary on every-fucking-thing, even the music on the radio can’t drown out the thoughts running through my head. And each one of them revolves around her. Eden.
Shit, I’m pathetic. I can’t drink her away. I can’t fuck her away. And try as I motherfucking may, I can’t kill her away.
When I left that cemetery in New Orleans, I left be
hind everything I was, everything I had.
Except Eden.
She was and is the one thing I would carry with me to the ends of the earth. Even if she’s just a memory. I’d burn for eternity if it meant the remembrance of her lips on my skin and her fingers in my hair and her thighs around my waist could beat within the hollow of my chest.
Over miles and miles of dark asphalt, I go over our last moments together. Is she happy? Is there any part of her that misses me, even the things she despised? Does she ever look up at the sky and glimpse the bright morning star and think of me?
I shake my head, answering my own tortured questions. Of course, she doesn’t look back at our time together with fondness. I stripped her of my kiss, my touch, even my voice. She remembers only what I left of myself: the ruthless ruler of all evil that stole her away from her precious Legion.
Then I let her watch me walk towards my death, her lips still burning with goodbye. But I was already gone.
“Hey, I can drive if you’re tired,” Darling yawns from behind me, jolting me from my forlorn thoughts. I didn’t even realize she was awake, and it takes a bit of effort to keep from swerving out of surprise.
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve been driving for hours. You should sleep,” she insists.
“I can’t sleep.”
A beat of heavy silence. “Oh. Well…why don’t I help you pass the time?”
“How?” I ask, my tone flat.
“I don’t know. We could talk. You don’t say much. Not like Michael.” She pauses, her curiosity almost palpable. “I know you said you two are brothers and all, but…I mean…if you’re not, that’s totally fine. You don’t have to lie. I know in some areas of the country—”
“What are you getting at? Are you trying to ask if Michael and I are lovers?”
Such Violent Delights: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 24
