Silver-Tongued Devil (32 page)

He looked like I’d struck him. “Nice. You lie to me but I’m the asshole.”

I took a step toward him and put out a hand to touch his cheek. He reared back like he expected a slap. I paused and pulled back. “I’m just asking you to love me without demanding I ignore half of my nature.”

With that, I walked away and took refuge in the bedroom we used to share. When the door closed, I leaned against it and closed my eyes. I started counting, willing him to come after me.

One, two, three…

To walk through that door and tell me that I was enough.

Four, five, six…

That I’d misunderstood and that of course he loved me, all of me.

Seven, eight, nine—

The front door slammed. The sound echoed in my head like a judge’s gavel condemning our relationship to death.

I didn’t come back out of my room until the next evening. And then only because Giguhl threatened to break the door down if I didn’t open up.

He took one look at my red-rimmed eyes and held up a claw. “Get dressed first and then you can tell me all about it on the way to Vein.”

Thirty minutes later, we were in a cab on the way to the club. In cat form now, Giguhl sat in my lap and listened to my sordid and sad tale. The cabdriver shot me worried looks in the rearview but spent most of the ride chattering to someone on his cell phone. When I finished, Giguhl stood and put his paws on my shoulder. He looked me in the eyes and blasted me with his rank cat breath. “I know you’re hurting right now, but you did the right thing. I respect the hell out of Adam, but you haven’t been yourself for months.”

“So if I did the right thing, why do I feel like I ruined my life?”

“Stop being a drama queen,” he said. “Of course it’s going to hurt. You love Adam and he loves you. But sometimes that’s not enough.”

The cab pulled up in front of the Chinese restaurant then. I was so busy getting my gear and juggling Giguhl and making my way through the restaurant to the secret entrance that I couldn’t respond to the cat’s insightful comment. But I thought about it all the way through the restaurant and down into the tunnel, as we made our way through the club to the dressing rooms. I pondered it while I changed into my ridiculous costume and laced up my skates.

Was the demon right? Was love not enough? I’d not known love before Adam. Lust, sure. Passion, definitely. But loving someone? Never. Not before Adam barged into my life. I’d fought my feelings for him for a long time, but in the end, he’d gotten to me. I lowered my defenses and let him in because he’d proven I could trust him. Yet all along, I was blind to what was really happening. To the price I had to pay personally to live up to his image of who he thought I could become.

From the start, Adam had encouraged me to get in touch with my mage side. Until he showed up, my mage blood had been a source of shame, something to ignore and hide. Because of him, I realized I had power I’d never conceived of before. Because of him, I found my sister and an extended family made up of both relatives and friends.

But all of those wonderful things had a darker side. Because even as he was pushing me to get in touch with my magic, he was also pulling me away from my vampire side. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I’d missed her. She didn’t let anyone push her around. She went after goals with the stubbornness of a mule. She was strong and brave and confident. All things I’d lost when I left her behind on that battlefield in the Big Easy.

What had Slade said about vampires who embraced the light? As much as I hated to admit it, he’d called this inevitable implosion between me and my darker nature. He’d been through it himself to some extent.

I sat on a bench, thinking all this over, when Giguhl blew his whistle. “All right, Marauders. It’s time to go kick some ass. Who’s ready?”

When the ladies around me shouted, I stood and joined them. I was looking forward to getting on the track and unleashing my dark side. It’d been far too long since I’d let her play.

As I skated out of the room, something else Slade had said popped into my mind:
How long has it been since you killed anyone?

29

T
he elbow smacked me in the nose. A painful crunch. Wetness on my lips. The taste of my own blood.

“Oops,” Merry Machete said, shooting an evil smile over her shoulder. The vampire wore boy shorts, fishnets, and a tank top with a skull bedazzled on the back. I smiled at her retreating back. Finally, an excuse to get serious.

My legs pumped harder, faster. I caught up with the vampire. Delivered a jab to Merry’s ribs as I passed.

Her fist slammed into my kidneys with the force of a sledgehammer. Spine-bending pain almost sent me to my knees. My skates scrambled for purchase, but I somehow managed to dig in and right myself.

Rounding the corner, I scooted ahead. Adrenaline buzzed through my veins. Giguhl screamed something. I looked over my shoulder and spied my real prey. The black star on her helmet acted like a bull’s eye.

What’s it been, three months?

The jammer for the Jersey Devils was a mage who went by the name Ima Cutchoo. She was tough for a mage, but she lacked my vampiric stamina and speed. In a real battle, her magic skills might have made her a contender, but the brass armbands we were required to wear put the kibosh on that option. They dampened my magic, but I didn’t need spells to defeat the bitch. I had fists and the need to make someone bleed urging me on.

I slowed so she could catch up, dug in, and bent my knees. Muscles bunched, waiting to strike. Ima fought off bumps from my teammates but passed them easily, earning two more points. On her left, the Marauders’ jammer, Stankerbell, struggled to make it through the gang of Jersey Devils defenders.

The scent of blood filled the arena. Heightened my predatory instincts, made my fangs throb. I turned to glare at Ima. She made eye contact, her eyes sparkling with confidence. My own eyes narrowed with deadly determination.

All around me, my teammates were taking out Jersey Devils to clear a path for Stankerbell. A faery slammed to the floor and rolled into my path. My leg muscles screaming, I jumped her writhing form.

The crowd went insane. Hands and fists pounded wood, urging us on. In the chaos, some fingers might have been rolled over, but it was hard to tell screams of pain from screams for blood.

She was gaining on me. Almost there.

No, that can’t be right. Ninety days?

Ima rode my ass. Her breaths coming out in harsh pants. I could feel her indecision, her brain working to decide the safest path around me. I held myself in check, luring her into a false sense of security. Then, just as she drew up on my right, I threw out my arm like a snake’s strike. Ulna to windpipe—a satisfying crunch.

The force of the blow knocked her feet into the air. She hovered there for a moment like someone hit the pause button for a better view of the action. Gravity kicked in and
bam
! Her back slammed into the wooden floor with a loud crack as her spine broke.

Whistles screamed. Boos and cheers from the audience.

I skated away. Raised a fist and extended the universal finger salute.

No, wait, ninety-one days. Three months and a day.

Ignoring the threats coming from the Devils’ bench, I allowed my speed to drop and aimed for the center of the round track and Giguhl. He wore his usual green shorts with knee-high tube socks and a T-shirt that advertised the Manhattan Marauders logo. A clipboard and a scowl accessorized his coach’s uniform.

“Seriously, Red?” he demanded. “This isn’t Thunderdome.”

I waved off his judgey tone and bent over with my palms on my knees. I wasn’t really winded. But the adrenaline was already evaporating and in its wake, the now-familiar lethargy pulling at my shoulders.

I glanced up to see the ref point at me and then jerk a thumb, damning me to the penalty box. Heaving a sigh, I stood and put my hands on my hips. I should have been pissed. Put on a show for the audience. But I was too bored to care.

“Nice going, Betty Bloodshed!” This from Stankerbell, the nymph jammer for my team. I cringed at the ridiculous nickname Giguhl insisted I use. In fact, this whole charade was ridiculous.

I looked past Stankerbell to the crowd surrounding the ring. Their mouths stretched to scream, demanding more thrown elbows, more tripping, more pain. Watching their bloodlust, I was overcome with disgust. These mages, vampires, and faeries were nothing more than armchair warriors. They only wanted vicarious violence. But put them in a dark alley with a Vengeance demon and they’d all crap their pants.

I glanced up as the electronic scoreboard flashed the time—one a.m.
Scratch that, it’s been ninety-two days now.

From the clock my gaze landed on a familiar face among a crowd. Alexis sat three rows up. Seeing me notice her, she raised his chin and saluted me.

How long had it been for her? Probably hours.

Up in the announcer’s box, Slade stood with his arms crossed. The corner of his lips lifted in a knowing smile.

I looked away from the weight of his stare and took off my helmet. “I’m out of here.” I wasn’t sure if those words were for Giguhl’s benefit or my own.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Giguhl grabbed my arm.

“This is lame, G. I’m not cut out for Roller Derby.” And by Roller Derby, I really meant Roller Derby and everything else my life had become.

“Well, excuse me, Miss Thang. I thought you were the one begging to join the team. Besides, you of all people should enjoy the violence.”

“Skating in a circle wearing fishnets and a helmet isn’t violence, Giguhl. It’s a game. And I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.”

The demon’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about Adam?”

My stomach dropped. I crossed my arms and glared at my best friend. “It’s about everything.”

I don’t know who I am anymore.

The disappointed glare he shot me sent me over the edge.

I threw up my hands. “Gods! Can’t I just have an off night?”

“Okay,” he said. “But if you need to talk, I’m here.”

I looked around the huge room and our audience. Already the refs were preparing to blow the whistle to restart the action. Not the time or the place to get into a discussion about my existential crisis. Not that I was ready to discuss it with anyone. I was done talking.

“Forget it,” I said. “I’m fine.” With that, I took off my helmet and went into the locker room. I could feel Giguhl’s and Alexis’s eyes on me as I skated away.

It’s been ninety-two days since I felt alive.

After I’d showered and changed, I left the locker room. The water hadn’t calmed my itchy nerve endings or my restless muscles. Pent-up emotion and adrenaline mixed to form a dangerous cocktail in my veins.

The hallway echoed with chants from the audience and the rumble of wheels pounding wood. Instead of going through the club’s front door, I slipped out a back entrance. It dumped me into an alley behind the Chinese joint.

I should have gone home. But the idea of spending a night alone with my thoughts held as much appeal as stabbing myself in the eye. Rhea and Maisie were at the Crossroads. But I couldn’t face them right now, either. Not with my head so screwed up. Not with their inevitable questions. Slade was back in Vein. He’d be more than willing to help me work off my excess energy. But I wasn’t looking to repeat that mistake again.

The alley smelled of sour garbage and stale urine. It had started to snow while I was in the club, but the minute the city streets got ahold of them, the pristine white flakes turned into gray slush. I trudged to the end of the alley and stopped. Traffic sped by, kicking up brackish water and soggy cigarette butts. Neon lights flashed like spastic fireflies. I blinked, feeling disoriented as the world spun around me like a gritty kaleidoscope.

I’d never liked New York. It always felt like Los Angeles’s bitchy cousin with the gray teeth and the abrasive accent. The one who never wore makeup and refused to apologize for smelling like piss.

Surrounded by the snow and the traffic and the concrete and the cold steel, I had a sudden intense longing for California. My life there hadn’t been perfect either, but at least I understood my place there. I had a job and a home of my own and a life. A shitty life, but a life nonetheless. It was easy to forget that I’d also been lonely. Easy to gloss over the fact that my life had been in constant danger.

Someone bumped into me. “Watch it, bitch,” the man spat. He wore brown polyester pants and an ill-fitting sports coat.

I swiveled my head and glared at his back. Suddenly, that one mortal male became the breathing embodiment of everything I hated about New York in general and mortal New Yorkers specifically. Without putting too much thought into what I was doing, I followed him. I didn’t make it obvious. Just hung back half a block, tracking his progress.

My heart rate picked up. It had been far too long since I had hunted. As far as prey went, this tubby asshole wasn’t much of a challenge. He strutted along with his flabby beer belly hanging over his cheap pants. As he passed pretty women, he’d rake his eyes over their bodies like they existed purely for his viewing pleasure.

Eventually, he made his way to a subway entrance. He waddled down the steps, totally unaware he was being tracked. Adrenaline coursed through me like a drug. I was a junky looking to leap off the wagon. With each step down into the tunnels, my need grew. There was no turning back now. After my aborted feeding on Adam the night before, that brief taste of fresh blood, my body yearned for a fix.

On the C train, I sat on the opposite side of the car. Every now and then, the bodies in front of me would shift and I’d get a glimpse of him sprawled on the bench. Directly in front of him, an elderly woman and a pregnant mother with a tearful toddler clung to the bars. I added his lack of chivalry to my list of justifications.

My vampire whispered seductively.
An asshole like that? He deserves it. No one will miss him. No one will ever know.