When I returned to myself, I was panting, collapsed on Theo’s chest. A low laugh started to build inside, making me shake until I finally laughed out loud, limp yet strangely energized.
He was breathing hard, too, and was sheened with sweat. I usually never perspired, not unless I drank something and was struggling to expel it. But now my skin was moistened and flush.
And just like that, I remembered that I was lying to him. Every second I pretended to be human was a lie. Guiltily, I remembered how the power rushed into me as I came. That had never happened before. I hoped I hadn’t hurt him.
I raised my head, examining him anxiously. He looked spent, but it had been a long night for him. He was smiling slightly.
For a moment I thought he would kiss me, but he tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear. He was still inside of me, as deeply as he could be, looking into my eyes.
Suddenly it was too close, too intimate, given that I didn’t even know him. This was why casual sex was crazy; you found yourself in the most vulnerable and revealing moments with a stranger, a blank slate. But that also made it intoxicating. . . . He was exactly what I needed him to be.
Too bad it was over.
5
By the time I disentangled myself from Theo, he was asleep. I covered him with the blanket and backed out of the room. I liked watching his face, with that slight smile of contentment. He looked younger now.
But I couldn’t sit there all night watching him and day-dreaming about love. Only needy codependent psychos did that with a guy they had just met—or rather, needy codependent
human
psychos.
So I grabbed a change of clothes and went to the front room to check on Shock. She was the same, out cold but with her eyes weirdly half open. Her aura was not as strong as usual, and her shields were clearly down. I kept telling myself that she would be fine tomorrow.
I settled in an easy chair across from her with a book in my hand, but I couldn’t read. My entire body still tingled. When I shifted, rubbing my thighs together, it sent a zing right to my core. Everything, including Theo’s terrible need, inspiring such urgency that he had to have me, was exactly what I’d needed. His face, his hands, those heavenly abs with a hint of extra flesh over his hips, just like a man should be . . .
yum.
Everything had felt bigger and more intense; my feelings, my response . . . I had never felt that way before. My lust had been like a bolt of lightning, searing everything else from my mind.
Maybe it was because he had saved my life. Maybe it was because I had been so close to killing Petrify. Despite all the energy I had consumed, I still felt a deep, burning need inside that said my time was running out. It was as if I were desperately grabbing for what I could get. I had forgotten the constant struggle to live, and for a moment simply lived.
It had been sublime, worth every second of grief that would follow when I couldn’t have him again.
I had fed off him; it ruined everything. Even if he was capable of it, I couldn’t have a real relationship with him. Better to say good- bye now and still have the memory of us. I thought about it all night, and that was the only conclusion I could come to.
When the night was over, I was still sitting there with a book dangling from one hand, torturing myself with flashes of what could have been—and worrying about what to do next. I had almost killed Petrify. I had really wanted to. I needed to take another demon in order to survive. But I couldn’t. That was a problem I’d have to solve sooner rather than later.
Eventually the sky brightened with the dawn, and soon afterward the buzzer sounded, ending my little masochistic game. Theo groaned and shifted on the chaise as I peeked into the shadowy bedroom. But he didn’t wake up.
I punched the button to the speaker. “Yes? Who is it?”
“Delivery from Dag’s,” replied a scratchy voice.
I pushed the button again. “I’ll be right there.”
I had already changed into a tank top with a white flowered skirt. I slipped on a pair of red flip- flops and left the door cracked open, ready to return on the fly if need be. I was worried that Shock might wake up disoriented and feed off Theo. I wanted to be able to hear him if he called out for help.
Eddie, the delivery guy from the grocery store, was waiting patiently at the door to my foyer. He carried two big boxes of bagels inside as I unlocked the door into the bar. I couldn’t let him into the bar directly because the metal shutter was down, covering the windows and wooden front door. It made the interior of the bar darker than usual, but a pretty, dappled light shone through the rear windows, casting shadows on the pool table. I didn’t bother to turn on the overhead lights.
Eddie set the two boxes down on the bar, talking in his slow, slightly monotone way about the nice weather. His parents had moved here from Guatemala when his older brother was a baby, and he now was the tallest in the family. It was his pride, as he’d declared dozens of times.
Twice he carefully counted the money I gave him. I snagged five dollars from my tip jar and handed it over, telling him, as I always did, “This is for you and your family.”
“Thank you, Miss Allay.” He was one of the few humans other than Lo who said it the demon way, A- lay instead of Al-ly. “I’ll see you next week.”
I got the bagels every weekend and gave them away for free in the afternoon with a Bloody Mary. I had started the slightly twisted tradition when I first came to the bar.
Eddie stopped to give Snowplow his obligatory pet. Unlike Lolita, Snowplow had no loyalty—he indiscriminately loved everyone, except demons, who walked into the bar. He patronized me when there was no alternative, unless I happened to be busy wrestling with a keg or arguing with a salesman, and then he suddenly had to have pets from me
now
. I indulged him because nothing could radiate pleasure quite like that cat when he was petted exactly when and where he needed it.
I walked Eddie back through the bar, touching his shoulder as I mentioned that he should check out the tulips across the street, sipping the sunshiny glow of his response. Eddie loved flowers.
From the foyer, I opened the steel-reinforced front door to let him out. The sounds of passing cars and people talking were growing louder as the morning brightened. A dozen sparrows flew from the sidewalk into the tree in front of the bar as Eddie returned to his van. They had been eating some crumbs he had dropped on the curb. I stood watching as Eddie got into the van and the birds flew back down to peck at the dirty concrete. The house sparrows were tiny, brown-striped birds, much like the wild tabby cats who roamed everywhere in the city.
But my enjoyment of the fresh morning was shattered when I caught sight of a man across the street. Tall, lanky, and handsome in a haggard sort of way, Phil Anchor was a one-time famous journalist who had come to fetch his payola. He was wearing an old leather jacket paired with expensive leather shoes, as usual.
The fat envelope I had stashed upstairs must belong to him. He would give me the code words and I was supposed to hand it over to him. Phil wasn’t the first guy who’d come to my bar to fetch dirty money, but he was the most enduring. Most cheaters and scam artists sent messengers to the bar, but Phil always came himself.
Phil ran to the center of the street and stopped awkwardly to let a car go by before crossing all the way. His smile, showing off his straight, white teeth, was boyishly charming, despite his being in his late forties,.
But then his gaze slid off mine, maybe because I stopped smiling, abruptly reminded of the real world. In the bright light of day, his hair was lank and greasy, and his pale skin seemed dried and leathery. His neck was also wrinkled, showing his age. That must bother him. He’d always been vain about his looks, relying on women throwing themselves at him.
When I first met Phil, there had been an instant spark of attraction. But sanity required that we keep our hands off each other. He was working for Vex, like I was, and he was even more deeply compromised because of his prominent, public position. I don’t know how much of a temptation I had been to him—I’m sure it was some—but now I was glad we hadn’t been intimate. As the years went by, he had grown bitter.
“You look gorgeous, gorgeous,” he rasped, holding up his hand to block the mellow morning light. “I lost my sunglasses last night. Could you let me in?”
“You look like shit, Phil,” I said honestly. “Been up all night?”
He shrugged as I let him into the foyer. I’d left the door to the bar still open, and he ducked inside, sniffing. “It’s been a tough one. I could use a drink, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, help yourself. I’ll be right back.”
I ran up the creaking stairs to my apartment. Peering into the darkened bedroom, I could see that Theo had rolled over, dropping the blanket to the floor. He was still asleep, and I decided not to bother him by replacing it.
A quick glance showed Shock was the same. I grabbed the envelope and checked the code words. Tucking it into my back waistband, underneath my tank top, I went downstairs.
Phil was downing what appeared to be his second shot of whiskey, my best brand. He was standing behind the bar as if he owned the place. That cockiness had suited him when he was on his way up. I wondered if he ever admitted to himself that he was now in a terminal dive.
I didn’t know how Phil felt, because I never fed from him. He avoided even the slightest touch. I wasn’t sure whether it was because he didn’t want to cross the line between us, or whether he was that way with everyone. But his aloofness, and the mystery of what he was feeling, had made him particularly intriguing back in the day.
“You should take a rest between binges,” I reminded him. Cocaine had once been an accessory of his affluence, but now I was afraid it was getting to be the most important thing to him.
“I’ll sleep later. I have to finish a story.”
“For the
Times
?”
He grimaced. “No, the
Post
again.”
I shouldn’t have asked. “At least it isn’t
AM NewYork
.” That was the free paper they left in stacks in the subways and on the street corners.
“They just bought my piece on alternate-side parking.” He looked at the bottle as if debating whether to have another shot.
I slid it away from him. I couldn’t have another repeat of the day he passed out when he came to get his bribe money. I’d had to roll him under the pool table to sleep it off. That wasn’t good for patron morale.
His blue eyes were dull without the sheer force of will that made them sparkle. “Your boss is the devil himself. I don’t know how you live with yourself.”
“Whoa.” I held up both hands. “Don’t blame me. I’m just the post office. You can pick up your checks in Brooklyn, if you’d rather hike over the bridge.”
“Maybe I should.”
That stung. “What’s wrong with you, Phil? I’ve never done anything to you.”
He glared back at me, making me nervous. Phil relied on being charming; it was his main weapon. But there was something ugly in his tone and the way he faced me—fueled by the whiff of desperation.
My fingers braced against the worn leather of the barstool as I readied to defend myself. I had never been scared of Phil before; it had never occurred to me. Some of the guys I had to deal with were intimidating. But not my old flirt-friend, Phil.
“Have a little pride,” I told him, using the word “pride” that was my half of the code that had been written on the envelope of cash. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I forgot the code words.” His hand scrubbed at the stubble on his chin.
I sharpened my eyesight and saw there was a lot more gray in his beard than before. Desperate and deteriorating—it was not a good combination. “Then we don’t have anything to talk about. You know the rules, Phil. Your drinks are on the house—”
His hand slammed down on the bar. “Just give it to me!”
The cats took off like shots, skittering around the corner and back into the storage room. My shoulders hunched until the din died down. It was at times like this I was glad I was a demon. He didn’t know who he was dealing with. Even if he was in a drug rage, I could survive anything he did to me, though it might really hurt.
But when he took his hand away, there was a USB storage device lying on the bar. It had an orange tip and was about the size of my finger.
“There. My life’s blood, my future trussed up on a stick for your prophet. Your man of God. The biggest hypocrite of the Holy Rollers with their prostitutes and gay boys who don’t have the guts to be honest about themselves.” His voice was rough as if he were about to cry, and he kept raking his hand through his greasy hair. “You don’t know what I had to do to get that. I swear, if I saw him now . . .”
I had to know if he was telling the truth. What if the USB device was blank, and Phil was shaking me down for drug money? Then again, how would he even have known I had a packet of money waiting for someone?
I patted his hand, saying, “I understand exactly how you feel.” He pulled away, as I expected, but not before I sampled a good surge of his emotions—anger, frustration, humiliation, and the endless need to fill that empty hole inside of him. He didn’t want to give me what was on that USB storage device, but he felt forced into a corner. He thought he had to do it.
I scooped it up and pulled out the envelope of money. He glanced down at the code words written on the front. “Yeah, right. You say ‘pride’ and I was supposed to say ‘or ganic.’ How could I forget that?”
I lifted my shoulder in a half shrug. “It happens.”
