Better Off Red (25 page)

“I didn’t make it that far before I passed out again, and when I came to, Abrah had me in his arms.” He spoke soothing words to her, promising to save her. She was the only one left, his only child, and he refused to let her die. She barely held on to consciousness as he carried her swiftly through the forest all the way back to the concealed ledges of his cave. She remembered cool ferns against her charred skin and the golden glow of his eyes in the darkness, but nothing else.

“When I woke up, I was completely healed and Abrah was dead. There was a huge gash in his neck. For a long time I wondered how I’d overpowered him, but Dalhem told me it was impossible for a healthy human to take down a demon, especially at night.” She was silent for a moment staring at the ceiling. There was no need for her to go on. I didn’t want to know the rest. I saw the pain on her face.

My birth father had never existed to me and my mother had been a piss-poor definition of the word. It couldn’t have been easier

• 186 •

Better Off red

for the Carmichaels to replace them. It was amazing to think how great they’d turned out to be, how they’d healed me.

Abrah had saved Camila’s life, a life that she had no one left to share with.

In the remaining darkness, her instincts had told her to drag her maker’s body to the exposed cliffs just outside the cave. She hid in the shadows the following day, ignoring the scent of scorched demon flesh as Abrah’s body was ignited by the rising sun. And that night she set out to find the men who had killed her family. She’d drained three of them completely before Dalhem found her.

“He found you the next day?” I asked.

“The seven bourne-demons are linked, but Dalhem and Abrah were spawned twins. Dalhem knew the moment I’d taken his brother’s life and his powers.” Camila had fought him when he tried to pull her away from the developer’s encampment. She was strong enough to show some genuine resistance, but there was still human in her. Dalhem’s demon quickly overpowered her and pulled her back to the cover of the forest. Somehow, he’d been able to talk some sense into her, convince her that the mass-murder of her family’s killers wouldn’t bring her sons or her husband back. That age-old lecture of the downside to revenge. He promised he would prevent them from destroying the land, but there was nothing he could do about the events that had already unfolded. The approaching sunrise had been the only reason she’d given in and followed Dalhem back to the States.

“He’d had a home set up in DC for years by the time I met him, so he brought me there. Taught me how to use my powers, figure out my weaknesses.”

“You have weaknesses?”

“I do, baby. Redheads being one of them,” she said, letting out another deep breath. I looked up at her just as she looked at me and that’s when I saw the blue tears, a few stray, translucent blue streaks of moisture trailing down the side of her face. There hadn’t been a hint of a tremble in her voice, but of course she would cry thinking of her family. Or course she would miss them.

• 187 •

reBekah WeatherspOOn

I jumped up on the bed beside her and didn’t hesitate to brush the tears gently away from her face. More followed. And more even though her voice continued with its solid rhythm.

“Lino and I would be dead by now, but Acui and Lan could still be alive.”

“Really?” I pulled back and gazed at her young face. “How old would they be? How old are you?”

She burst out laughing through her tears. “I’m eighty-three, Red.”“Oh.” The disappointment in my voice made absolutely no sense. “I thought you were older. How old were you when you died?”“Eighteen.”

“What?” I actually yelled that time.

She huffed a short laugh, then wiped her face and sat up. “I’m not human, baby, and you’d be surprised what a difference a little confidence makes.”

“I guess. So we’re the same age, sorta?”

“Sorta.” She smiled.

“When’s your birthday?” I had to stop sounding like a complete tool. “July twenty-fifth. I think. Your birthday is December fourth, if my information from Benny is correct.”

“Ha ha. Yeah, it is.”

“Well, that gives me plenty of time to pick out a present for you.” I felt myself blush, embarrassed by just how good the idea of us being together three months from now sounded. I wiped away the last traces of her tears with my thumb.

“You still want me? Even though I’m younger than you hoped?”

she asked, faking a pout. I shoved her shoulder gently.

“I’m the obsessed one, remember. I’m sorry about your family.

I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

“I don’t want you to. I miss them. I always will, but I have my sisters. I have Cleo’s smartass mouth and I have you.”

“Poor substitutes,” I said, knowing I only meant it in terms of me.

• 188 •

Better Off red

She cupped the side of my neck, stroking me with her thumb and I found it was impossible not to look up into her shimmering eyes.“Not a substitute, just something different and special.”

Instantly, I was done with the subject. I didn’t want her to have to remember anymore, at least for the rest of the night.

I squared my shoulders and frowned very seriously. “There is a cluster of freckles on my butt that I am positive looks like a jack-o-lantern.”

“Oh, this I gotta see,” she said. I met her laughter with a shriek, giggling uncontrollably as she flipped me over.

There was nothing that could have been done to fix our screwed up, tattered pasts, and I had no clue what our future would be like, but I had her with me now. I held on to that thought and let the feeling of it warm my heart as she used her body to warm mine all over again.

❖

I dreamed about cats. Cats crying. I could hear the meowing coming from the dark corner of an unfamiliar room. Every time I thought I found the source of the sound, the corner would be empty.

It sounded like kittens, crying out for their mother. I couldn’t stop looking, but I did once I felt something brush across my face.

Something rough and sandpapery.

I shot up in bed, gasping in the bright sunlight.

The early morning sunlight.

It was morning.

“Shit!” A small heart attack ripped through my chest when a sleek black cat jumped into my lap. “What the—” My hand automatically went to its soft fur, my body realizing before my brain that the animal in the sheets with me was indeed Camila and not some stray who had magically learned how to work an elevator. It was the brightest morning Baltimore had probably seen in years, and we were sitting atop the city’s tallest hotel, in a penthouse with wall-sized windows.

With open curtains. Of course Camila would take a safer form.

• 189 •

reBekah WeatherspOOn

I looked around the room, checking stupidly to make sure the cat and I were alone. Then I stared back at Camila.

“Oh, this is really happening.” I sighed deeply. Her hazel eyes were exactly the same, gazing back at me. She meowed again before jumping off the bed and running toward the bathroom. I followed, thankful I didn’t get tangled in the covers.

I closed us inside and double-checked to see if any light was coming in from under the door. I flicked the light switch, praying the room was truly UV free.

“Jesus.” I jumped. Camila, the hu—vampire version of her, was standing behind me in the mirror. I spun around facing her.

“I’m sorry,” she said frantically.

“What the hell happened?”

“I overslept.”

“Second most powerful demon in all of North America and you overslept. Please tell me how.”

“I haven’t slept in four months.”

“Why not?” I gasped. “We slept together last weekend, and I mean before that—”

“We spend the summer setting the older girls up with their new feeders and just all the shit with the shop—” She cut herself off, hanging her head, frustrated.

An unusual calm came over me. I could freak out later. I had to get her back to the house.

“It’s fine. What do we do now?”

She rubbed her palm over her eyes before looking back at me.

“There’s a shopping bag in the closet in the bedroom. Throw all our stuff in there. When we get downstairs, tell the valet you’re picking up Ms. Sanchez’s Range Rover. He doesn’t know me, but he knows my name and he knows which car is mine. He’ll bring it up. You remember the address to the house?”

“Yeah.” Right, because I’d been too busy trying to make out with her and feeling up her vinyl pants to pay attention to the way we’d come. I had no fucking idea where the hotel was in relationship to the house. This was just getting better.

• 190 •

Better Off red

“The GPS is unnecessarily fancy, but it’ll get you back to the house.”

“Good. And you’re okay?” It was my turn to ask.

“Yes, I’m fine. I shifted in my sleep. Red, I’m—”

“I know. It’s cool. Let’s just get out of here.” Camila let her apology drop, and then a fraction of a second later was down on all furry black fours looking up at me.

“This is really fucking happening,” I muttered before opening the door for the black cat at my ankles. I wasted no time digging up the shopping bag. I threw in Camila’s clothes and shoes, all the toys she bought me. No way was I leaving them behind. Even though I was freaking out, I’d want them later. I chucked my jewelry and my shredded underwear in the bag and cursed out loud when I realized the only shoes I had to walk and drive in were four-inch platform pumps. I wanted to kill Amy.

I felt like a complete whore as I slithered back into my bra and my dress. After a final sweep of the penthouse and reclaiming my jacket and my clutch, I turned to the cat.

“So do I just carry you…”

She meowed, pawing the air under the shopping bag.

“Of course.” I put the bag on the floor. Camila hopped in, meowing at me again when she was settled on top of the toys and her vinyl pants.

I clicked my heel on the marble floor as I waited for the elevator.

I nearly bit through my lip; my teeth wouldn’t stop gnawing at it. I could not believe this was happening.

The ride down was a fucking nightmare. Three old ladies got on on the eighteenth floor. The situation would have only been worse if it had been Nanny and Pop-Pop Carmichael in the elevator with me instead, may they rest in peace. One of the old ladies was just rude enough to peer into the huge bag slung over my shoulder.

I didn’t realize she was even looking in my direction until she screeched, “Oh, what a gorgeous cat.” The other two women had been purposely ignoring me. My dress, my red do-me pumps, and my messy ponytail did not make for presentable Sunday brunch attire.

• 191 •

reBekah WeatherspOOn

I wanted to die. The woman actually reaching into the bag and stroking Camila’s head made it the best walk of shame ever. They hopped off at the dining room on the second floor, and that gave me about fifteen seconds to prepare myself for my power walk past the front desk.

The valet, Frank, had apparently seen worse morning-afters and spared me his disapproving stares. Once I was behind the wheel, Camila hopped out of the bag and into my lap. My thigh twitched under her weight, a mix of annoyance and arousal. It twitched again when I looked at the clock on the dash. It was seven fifty-five a.m.

There were only three menus to get through before I could enter the address to the house. I gripped the steering wheel the whole seven point three miles back to campus, doing my best to ignore my mewling girlfriend in my lap.

I knew I had to do something to keep my mind off the anger boiling in my stomach. Reciting the code to the garage over in my head was the only thing that seemed to work. At mile three, I realized repeating the numbers was only putting me more and more on edge. If Camila could sense my pleasure and my pain, there was way no way she couldn’t sense my emotions now. By the time we pulled into the safety of the underground garage, my knuckles were white and I was nearly shaking.

I opened the door and Camila hopped off my lap. She trotted slowly down the hall and I followed, wondering why she hadn’t changed back. Then I remembered I had her clothes in the bag at my side. She wasn’t shy on nudity, but this wasn’t the time. I felt bad for a moment, thinking of how crappy waking up four-legged and furry would actually be.

The tension in me started to ease, until we turned the corner to the sister-queens’ quarters. Tokyo, dressed in nothing but a kimono robe, had Mel, naked, up against the wall. I could only assume the hallway was the perfect place to feed this time of the morning. The two of them had probably never been to bed. At least they had the good sense to remain underground.

My annoyed grunt brought Tokyo up short.

• 192 •

Better Off red

“What’s wrong?” she asked a moment before she looked at Camila. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Ginger. It sucks when that happens.”

“I bet it does,” I grumbled as I stormed by, feeling Tokyo’s receding laughter like a punch in the back.

We hung a right to Camila’s door. She sprinted in front of me, blinking into her two-legged, two-armed, very naked form. My stare lingered on her ass just for a second. I forced myself to look at her feet once she opened the door. I stepped inside and waited.

“Red—”

“May I use your shower?”

“You know you can. You don’t have to ask. You’re welcome to my space and my things. Just let me—”

“Thank you.” I dropped my stuff on the couch, and without another word, marched into the bathroom.

The shower was perfectly hot, but I didn’t wash. I just stood there under the raining spray. My body was still for a long time as I let the hot water trickle in and out of my mouth. There was no shampooing my hair. I couldn’t be bothered to lather up my body. All I could do was stare at the black tile because every time I closed my eyes all I could see was Camila’s ashes piled next to me in the white sheets.

For months after my mother died, I’d pictured what it must have been like to drag the razor across my own wrists. I wondered if it would hurt or, if you were someone like my mother, would you enjoy that sort of pain. Would you only be sad because you realized ending your life meant you would never be able to feel that sort of agony again. I thought of my mother, thought of my dreams, new and old, of her dead and bleeding, pregnant and bleeding. And I thought of Camila.