Heavy Metal Heart (10 page)

“Now you.” She purred like a jungle cat smelling blood.

She moved off him and knelt to his side on the couch. Her eyes stayed on his face as she started to undo his belt buckle. Hunger tore through him. He could feed from her forever.

The air shuddered with a wave of hate. Teeth gnashing and curses to the death. She must’ve felt it too; her eyes went wide with shock. He sprang to his feet. Fixing her jeans, she stumbled to his side.

He spoke through the choking air of malice. “They’re here.”

Chapter Seven

“I can’t see anything,” Misty said. Live views of the club on the TVs showed people dancing and drinking and checking their phones. But something was definitely out there. She had never felt such cruelty in the air.

“Electric eyes can’t detect them.” Trevor approached the door cautiously. “But you did. You’re tuned.”

“I saw a bar fight between two dudes who really didn’t like each other. It was ugly. There was broken glass and teeth on the ground. They were trying to kill each other. I thought knew what killing hate felt like. It was nothing compared to this.”

He placed his palm on the door. “Now your eyes are really open.”

Another wave of the putrid brutality washed over her. “Not for long. If they get what they want.”

Stepping from the door, he faced her. “They’ll die, no matter what they want.” He moved before she could respond. Pawing at the curtains along the walls, he searched. “But this is no place to take them on. It’s too small, and if we tried to face them in the club someone out there would get hurt.”

Behind a curtain in the corner was a plain door. He threw it open and the two of them rushed into a bare hallway. The other back exit doors from the VIP rooms lined one long wall. At the end of the fluorescent-lit hallway was a stairwell. The pounding waves of evil continued, pushing them quickly to the stairs and down.

The ground floor was a closed loading dock. It was too late at night for deliveries. She and Trevor were the only two people in the dock. No. There was something else here.

True hate had a body. A Shroud. It became visible to her, with its black robes of tattered fabric and skin that seemed to have no blood flowing through it. The beast swooped toward them from the shadows in the corner of the dock. Leading its approach was an atmosphere of pure malice.

She froze. Fear nailed her feet to the ground. This was a nightmare come to life.

The swift creature extended its hands, revealing yellow fingers and long jagged talons. It was so damn fast. And still she could pick out every detail as the monster approached. Its eyes were black, surrounded by reddened folds of flesh.

“No!” Trevor shouted and threw his body into the beast. The two of them spun into the metal steps with an echoing clang.

It hissed and shrieked. The Shroud knocked Trevor back and slashed with his talons. Trevor blocked the attack with his forearm. The nails screeched against his stone-hard skin.

Rising to its full seven-foot height, the Shroud prepared for another attack. Trevor bared his teeth and balled his hands into fists. He truly was willing to die protecting her.

Fuck that.

Energy from a surging crowd had filled her body. Red and gold power from Trevor fed her. He said she’d started a transformation, becoming something like him. She wasn’t just fragile human flesh anymore. And when she had been, she’d still fought back when she had to. The nightmare had to end. Now.

Stone. She remembered the granite of Trevor’s hand. And the fire he’d inspired in her. Tearing her feet from the ground, she ran toward the Shroud. How the hell did any of this work? No time to think about it. Just willpower.
Make your fists stone
, she told herself.

The Shroud plunged its talons toward Trevor’s heart just as she arrived. Trevor swiped the attack to one side and punched hard into the beast’s chest. Misty added her fist to the monster’s gut as it staggered back.

Rubbery flesh gave under her blow. Bones cracked. Putrid breath wheezed out. Yes, she was stronger. Screw this beast. She was strong enough to crush it.

Before the Shroud collected itself, Trevor chopped his fingers straight into its throat. Sputtering, the beast flailed. A clawed hand swiped toward her, but she ducked underneath. This creature’s only purpose was bringing death. It recklessly tried another attack.

Trevor kicked the side of its knee. The beast’s seven feet reduced to four as it crumpled. It lunged its claws at Trevor’s belly, but Misty lashed out and caught its wrist. The dead yet alive skin turned her stomach, but she held strong. The monster screeched again. Its teeth were long, sharp like jagged glass.

Its shriek was shattered by Trevor’s fist in its face. The impact even shook Misty as she held the Shroud. The creature didn’t give up and raked its other claws along Trevor’s chest. His shirt tore, but his flesh was hard as stone.

Rock stars kicked over amps and punched holes in hotel walls. Trevor was a warrior. He brought his stone fist back and punched the creature in its skull. Again. And again. The limp beast pulled from her grip and slumped on the floor.

Trevor took a step back, his mouth turned down, nostrils flared. His fist uncurled slowly. Rage drained from his face as he turned to Misty.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

Her fist was still solid as stone. She shook her head. “I hurt that son of a bitch.”

His grin was as wicked as she felt. The dead Shroud dissolved at their feet. Trevor came close. They shared a kiss. Her strength and his combined. Even with her eyes closed, she saw the glow of colors passed between them.

All she’d been looking for was one night out of the ordinary. She got a revolution. But with each step forward, it seemed she belonged. The fate of it all might be a mystery, but at least she was on her feet, making an impact on her world.

The kiss ended naturally. They turned toward the door to the outside.

“There are more surprises, right?” she asked.

“Always.” He strode toward the door. “You’re the biggest surprise. Taking on all that power and not crumbling.”

“It just feels so...fucking good.” She never considered herself a violent person, but to fight for her life, and for Trevor’s, and actually make a difference was a unique pleasure.

He chuckled and put his hand on the release for the door. “I guess a Muse isn’t just there to look pretty and inspire songs. You’re learning to use the elements. I think there’ll come a point when you can control them enough that these simple monsters can’t hurt you.”

“Which means they’ll press their opportunity now.”

Clanging metallically like a guillotine, the door unlatched and swung open. The loading dock extended into a short alley that dead-ended to the right. There was just enough space for a small truck to turn around. A weak sodium lamp cast yellow light over the dingy counterpoint to all the glam of the Strip. Against a retaining wall on the far side of the alley were a couple Dumpsters and stacks of crates. Farther up were the dark Hollywood hills, rising into the night sky.

As soon as the loading dock door swung shut, they only had one exit. The alley led to a small steep side street to the left. They headed in that direction.

But what was safe in this city? “Where are we headed?” she asked. “You have to have a lair or something, a castle of rock and roll.”

He smiled. “We live on the road. On foot, carrying our instruments. Or horse and cart. Buses, airplanes. I own property but don’t live there. Few of my kind do. We book our own gigs. After hundreds of years of experience, no one is better than us at negotiating our contracts.”

“No brown M&Ms.”

“A trick to make sure the venue’s paying attention to all the details of the contract.”

“What do you do with all that rock star money?” she wondered.

“We tip big.”

Two Shrouds blocked the end of the alley, cutting them off. There was no escape. The beasts’ hate rippled the air. But the cold fear didn’t clutch Misty this time. She felt tension and danger, but less fear. She braced herself for the fight, glancing at Trevor and seeing he did the same.

Stone in her fists, she whispered, “I can’t tell if it’s good or bad that I’m getting used to this.”

“It’s yours now. Make it what you want.”

The Shrouds approached silently, talons ready to shred. They bared their glassy teeth.

She shook the tension from her arms. “At least we’re not cornered by Hollywood producers.”

Rage seemed to fuel these beasts. But their singular focus could work against them. Misty remembered the crossover dribble move she put on the jerk at the Rascal. Fake one way, go the other.

The Shrouds attacked. One engaged quickly with Trevor, who threw hard punches and elbows into the tall creature. The other was hers. It dragged its claws along the ground, digging three stripes in the asphalt. Those wounds would be death to a human.

It loomed close enough for her to smell its rotten breath. When the beast was almost upon her, Misty pretended to lunge to the left. It was eager to kill. Its black eyes went wide, and the creature followed her feint. Staying light on her feet, she brought herself back to the right, avoiding the attack.

Flowing robes brushed past her. The Shroud turned to face her again. But she was already bringing down a stone-hard fist into its face. How many times had she wanted to punch her way out of a meeting with idiots who held all the control and money? Those bastards took her time, her creativity. This son of a bitch wanted her life. Finally, the control was in her hands.

The impact with the beast was jarring. She staggered back and the Shroud stumbled to the side. Trevor’s struggle went on behind her. This was her fight to finish.

Or it would finish her.

The Shroud swiped back with its claws. She could make her fists hard as stone, but she wasn’t sure if the rest of her body was that hard. Experimenting with the attacking beast meant bleeding, a lot. She leaned back, just in time to avoid the razor-sharp talons.

The attack left the Shroud exposed. She grabbed the beast’s wrist and swung her left fist into its face. As the beast spun to the ground, the talons of its free hand slid across her shoulder, leaving three burning stripes of pain.

She hissed in agony through gritted teeth.

“Misty!” Trevor shouted. From the corner of her eye, she saw he struggled to get to her, but his Shroud grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him to the ground. Trevor rolled quickly and kicked the beast in the face. “Break his neck,” he called back to her.

Her Shroud slowly rose from the ground. She leaped on its back, driving it back into the pavement. To her right, Trevor growled and the monster’s bones broke. What better encouragement could she ask for? She grabbed her beast by the shoulders and smashed its head against the ground. Still it writhed, trying to twist out of her grip. She gave it another blow onto the pavement. Pinning it down with one hand, she drove her rock-hard fist into the base of the Shroud’s skull. If this wasn’t kill or be killed, the crunching and snapping of bone would’ve made her sick.

She stood from the dead beast. Just a few feet away, Trevor did the same. He kicked through the dissolving robes and hurried to her.

“How bad is it?” he asked, trying to look at her arm.

She remembered the wound and pain stabbed again into her shoulder. “Don’t know.” Looking at it made the injury too real. Blood cooled down her arm, revealing it wasn’t just a scratch.

Gingerly, he turned her so the shoulder faced the dim light. “Deep.”

“Can you heal it?”

He frowned. “Don’t have those kinds of powers. If I did, things would’ve turned out differently for Jimi Hendrix.”

“You were there?”

“Been a lot of places.” He frowned with frustration. “I wish I could cure this. But maybe you have the power.”

“If you don’t...”

“Stone can’t heal. But trees can.” His gaze moved from the wound. He looked into her eyes, that soulful look she’d first seen on an album cover was hers alone. “Think of the oak, its bark and curled leaves.”

Like hypnosis, he etched the images in her head. “I’ve seen them, when I was hiking in the hills around LA. Like they’re holding the mountains together.”

“That’s you,” he encouraged. “In you. Bring it up, to the surface. In your shoulder.”

Her eyes closed. She imagined the hot wind through the mountains. The leaves shook, sun flickered. But the trunk of the tree stood strong. Just as she did.

“It’s working,” he whispered.

The dry summer wind continued to waft over her. She swayed with it for a moment more then opened her eyes. Trevor stood close, staring with awe.

“Mortal no more,” he said softly.

She tentatively reached for her shoulder. What would she feel? The pain had diminished. No new blood fell. The tips of her fingers just brushed against her skin. Instead of torn flesh, there were three raised scars. Only then could she bring herself to look.

“Healed?” The word hardly conveyed her surprise. Dried blood surrounded three waxy scars. “Holy hell.”

“Neither.” Trevor grinned.

Her mind reeled. “But I’m just a girl from KC with a shitty car and unfinished projects in the computer and no plans for the weekend and I’d only been in a couple of fights and now I’ve killed a supernatural giant and healed my own damn skin.”

“How many times do I have to say it? You’re not
just
anything.”

Her laugh bounced off the hard concrete around them. “Fuck making movies, I want to live this real life.”

His grin widened. Then disappeared.

Four more Shrouds descended from the roof of the club behind them, landing in the alley and cutting off all exits.

Healing her skin was possible, but it took some concentration. A deeper wound could still kill her. Which was what the Shrouds must’ve been thinking. They gnashed their glassy teeth and bared their talons.

“Stay close,” Trevor told her. “They’ll try to separate us.”

She circled, back to back with him. Like giant vultures, the Shrouds darted in and out, testing Misty and Trevor. Closer, their claws raked the air. The monsters’ teeth snapped, wanting flesh. She readied herself for another fight. And more pain.

Fresh footsteps broke the moment with staccato rhythm. Two men rushed into the alley. They were immediately behind one of the Shrouds. She almost called out to warn the men. To normal people the monsters were invisible.

But the men weren’t normal people.

They attacked fast, pummeling the beast with their fists. It was driven, screeching, to the ground. When its cries fell silent, the other three creatures howled in rage. The men didn’t hesitate to charge the rest of the beasts.