Shadowglass (12 page)

Indigo’s hand hardened in mine like tempering steel. Sparks sizzled along his wings, threatening.

Blaze snarled, angry scarlet flame licking around his wrists.

Alarm hitched my breath tight. Blaze had guts and a nasty rat-fighting streak, but Indigo could probably tear him in half and munch up the pieces. Reluctantly I pulled my hand from Indigo’s, his dark metal warmth still lingering on my palm. “It’s okay, Blaze. Calm down. It’s nothing.”

“Don’t look like nothing.” Blaze’s stare didn’t falter.

“It’s okay. Let it be.” I looked over my shoulder at Indigo as I dragged Blaze away. “Talk to you later, okay?”

Indigo just stared at me, his eyes glowing orange, ragged black hair slicked to his face with static.

I shivered and looked away, my skin prickling.

I stumbled with my arm around Blaze’s shoulder, and a warm hand arrested my fall.

The dark kid in bike leathers again. Thorny tattoos, tarnished silver necklace with ruby skulls, drug-stunned girl on his arm. He clutched my forearm tightly. “Show us.”

I flushed in a strange scent of flowers, and my control snapped. I pushed him in the chest, anger vibrating in my blood. “Are you following me? Huh? What the fuck you looking at, stalkerboy?”

He caught himself on shining mirrors, palms smearing. His girlfriend scowled and stepped forward, and I flexed irate claws, my heart galloping, ready for a scrap. But Stalkerboy rested a cooling hand on her shoulder and smiled at me, his eyes glowing sapphire blue.

Blaze tugged me away and spat wet golden flame onto the ribbed metal under our feet as we reached the dance floor. He wore pale jeans and a tight green rubber tank top that steamed on his super-heated skin, and his crimson wings quivered in anger. “You okay?”

I yanked him to a stop, lustful blood cooking my body wet like a sauna. The echo of Indigo’s electricity still tingled through me, and my traitorous skin clamored for more. “What’d you do that for?” I demanded for maybe the tenth time tonight. “What is it with you people? I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, sure looks like it.” He wiped blood from my throat and evaporated it on his fingertip, sizzling.

“Indigo didn’t do that, okay? Some other asshole did that. I’m over it. I was doing fine, thanks.”

“Oh.” Blaze bit the inside of his lip, flushing guiltily like a kid who knows he’s done wrong. “Sorry. I thought—”

“So you should be. What’s your problem with him anyway?”

“Don’t care how hot he is. Bet he wanted something.”

Warm embarrassment splashed my cheeks. Damn it. I mean, I knew that now, but hearing Blaze say it squirmed sordid disappointment through my limbs. How were these things obvious to everyone but me? “Yeah, okay. You’re right. Don’t rub it in.”

Blaze slipped both elbows onto my shoulders and heated himself a few degrees in sympathy, wrapping me in flickering warmth as he stroked my hair. “Hey. Don’t be upset. Let’s have a good time. Come dance with me.”

I scowled. “No.”

“Pretty sparkles say yes.” That wheedling tone glossed his voice, and he slipped crafty fingers into his pocket and came up with a shiny glass vial. Emerald fairy sparkle glittered inside like a magic potion. He tilted it before my eyes with a tempting little smile, and the glimmering liquid swirled, mesmerizing, bubbles jumping in the strobe lights.

I eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Just a little bliss. I got it for you. Pleeease?” He flashed me his pretty black eyes under a rakish scarlet sweep of hair.

I sighed, a reluctant smile twisting my lips, and plucked the vial from his fingers. It was hard staying angry with Blaze when he turned on the charm. He meant well, bless him. Probably better nothing happened between me and Indigo anyway, no matter the tender under-skin he’d at last shown me. The two-faced bastard would only have hardened up afterwards and broken my heart.

For the so-called sensible one, I’d sure fallen for an untouchable metal prince. Stupid, faefoolish me.

I ripped the cork out and snorted. Sugary bliss burned a hole through my sinuses. Water misted my eyes, sun and grass and violets glaring like rainbows. My muscles flushed with warmth, and slow pleasure stroked my sex, sly and breathless like a gentle blow job. My wings swelled, quivering in violet delight. If I were a boy, I’d have a hard-on. My head swirled, candy tanging fresh in my mouth. I felt warm, safe, uncomplicated. Life was easy. Everyone was my friend. Nothing mattered. Not mirrors, not sexy coldhearted blue fairies. Just this.

I smiled, lazy, and held the vial to Blaze’s nose. “Love ya to bits, ya know that?”

He inhaled, sucking up the last green waft of sparkle, and his eyes shimmered wet, his pupils blossoming scarlet. He grinned with drunken cunning and tossed the vial aside to smash on the floor, flames ribboning from his fingers. “Likewise, sweetie. Come here and dance with me, and I’ll keep all those horny boy sluts off you.”

Colors assaulted me from space, swirling. My limbs quivered, blood flowing fresh, burning for contact and sensation. I slid my hands around his narrow-muscled ribs, tickling him with my claws, and his lit-phosphorous scent tasted like home and safety as well as like challenge. “Who’ll keep you off me, then?”

“Guess you’ll have to.” He sniffed my hair, poking his nose in beside my ear, and his lips curved in a grin against my cheek. “You stink of copper. See if we can’t sweat that off, huh?”

I giggled. Sweet, dirty Blaze. “Can I trust you?”

“Nope. You care?”

“Never.” I rested my head on his shoulder, our bodies snug and warm together, his hot blood soothing my still-racing heart.

11

I
n a mirrored corner, Ebony grins and stretches against warm glass, relishing the warm, clean desire flowering inside. Oh, now he understands Indigo’s trouble—yes, he does. She’s very tasty, this Icygirl. So fresh and clean and sweet like plums he could eat all day and not get sick. And the madness sniggering in her veins calls to him like nothing else. She’s seen the mirror. She’d know him. She’d understand.

But that was close. He giggles, hiding his face with cheeky hands. They nearly spotted him, Indigo and his succulent death wish girl. She caught him unawares, her pretty tears warming his heart. The bright candy taste of her confusion drenched him with impulsive desire, and he showed himself before it was time. Lucky the snarky faeboy had interrupted.

Lucky, and maddening. She’s glorious, and Eb nearly stole her from Indigo in one sneaky little switch. Now he’ll have to try again.

He straightens, stretching out the sweet cramp in his loins. Beyond time Indigo got laid. Eb hasn’t time for such squalid things. He has a queen to worship. Queen Icygirl, mirror lady of chaos.

Beyond the comforting shadows, Ice and her friend walk away, and Ebony smiles and watches the muscles in her legs move, tight and tasty under the thin golden membrane of her skin. He can feel that movement on his palms, as if he’s sliding them up over her thighs, pulling her down onto him to kiss and bite and love her despair away. . . .

Mmm. Naughty. No way to think about your queen.

But Indigo played his tricks on her, the svelte gold-brushed pretty, turning her on, making her breath shorten and her juicy nipples tighten and her body ache, and Ebony couldn’t help but enjoy it. The berry scent of her sex still tingles his nose.

And now this other thing, festering inside him like greasy black cancer, sucking away his life and his energy. She wants Indigo, though that blue metal freak swats her away like a mosquito, and the stumbling hot shimmer of emotion wasting between them boils Ebony’s blood like a furnace. Jealousy, pure and savage, spoiling his fresh desire.

If she were his, Ebony would treat her like the queen she is. Hold her, keep her, kiss her softly, as Indigo never will. Beg to drink away her misery, open that salty conduit to heaven with his claw and let her sorrow bleed away. She deserves no less.

Ebony scrapes back sparking hair, and it cuts his fingers, sharp like wire. Blood oozes. He licks dripping knuckles. Next time, he won’t let Indigo misuse her so. He won’t hide, not anymore.

Now, she’s half-buried in the crowd, gold-dusted tendons curving in her naked limbs as she cuddles her handsome firefae boy. Her breasts press into his chest, soft flesh swelling to escape her tight dress. Her friend sneaks his fingers into her fruity hair, and she smiles, sharp white teeth gleaming.

Ebony watches, discomfort scraping his nerves like a wire brush, that writhing envycancer growing inside him until his guts hurt. She’s very pretty. His balls still ache from the episode with Indigo, and watching her dance lithe and slow against hot flamefae flesh isn’t helping. So fresh, so clean. Even Indigo said so.

Ebony licks salty lips, transfixed. Indigo wants to have her, taste her, love her, slide himself inside her and feel her soft wetness on his metalbright skin. It might be nice. Ebony wonders if she’d like that with him, and dryness tickles his throat until he coughs it away, flushing.

Indigo’s always done those sordid, empty things for him. Eb finds no delight in them, not anymore.

But such thoughts about his queen are unworthy. Disgusting. He bangs his head back into the glass as punishment. Metal crunches, and glass shards spike his scalp, deliciously painful. But his greedy gaze slides back to her, and he stares intent as her luscious golden lips open for sly firefairy kisses.

Foul sweat crusts him, burning, and he wants to scrape it off with wild hands, wash himself all over until this horrid lust is gone. They aren’t clean, the things he’d like to do with her. They aren’t nice. They don’t mean anything. And he knows where they lead.

He’d like to take that dirty firefae and rip his pretty head from his neck, too. But Ice looks happy. Eb’s got no cause.

A whiff of cold fairy blood brightens his nose like berries. It’s her. Stolen. He rips his gaze away to follow her scent, glad to have something else to do. There it goes, a splash of her, staining some thin white vampire’s breath. Some filthy tricksy animal that’s tasted her, drunk from her, knows her touch and her smile and her damp golden flesh. It won’t do. She shouldn’t be treated like that. Her smell belongs to Ebony.

Rage fires his frustration, and he jerks himself upright to follow, muscles twitching hard.

Around the corner, where the strobes don’t stab and the green neon fades in smoke-throttled distance, he slides eager fingers over the thieving vampire’s shoulder, pulling him to a halt. “I like how you smell.”

A lie. He stinks, this thoughtless murderer, stinks of meat and rude lust, and the only nice thing about him is Ice’s faint stolen flavor. Ebony savors his rage, swallows it, lets it spread until he’s quivering with bright fury. He’ll lick that berry delight off before he’s done. He’ll scrape it off with his nails if he has to, stick his tongue down the boy’s dying throat and suck it out.

“Sure you do.” The boy shrugs him off, coal-dyed hair falling, but his penciled blue eyes jerk a swift double take, and he hesitates, the hunger that whitens his thin cheeks no doubt weakening his resolve. “I mean, thanks. You, um, looking for someone?”

Ebony tightens his grip, cold vampire veins pulsing under his palm. Bones shift, only a suggestion of his strength. A promise. “I’d like to show you something.”

Sapphire glints in a purple splash of eyebrow, and the boy’s lip curves in a shadow of lust. “Look, I don’t normally do guys—”

“—but you’ll make an exception for me.” Ebony lets the vampire taste the iron-rich scents on his breath. “I’m . . . jaded, you see. Bored. Over it. Looking for something special. Something . . . delicious.”

The boy’s drugged eyes glaze. “Umm . . .”

Ebony wets his ear with a seductive sigh. “You can swallow. I won’t struggle. Or I will. Whatever you want. I promise you’ll like it.”

The vampire licks ruby lips, fresh spit dripping on hungry teeth. “Okay. I’m in. Can we . . . umm . . . make it quick?”

“Oh, it won’t take long.” Ebony slides his palm over the boy’s throat, testing the skin with brittle claws, and tugs the boy closer until those raw red lips quiver under his. “Do you know death, beautiful boy? Have you tasted it?”

“Oh, yeah. Tastes like hell.” Spit flecks dance in the vampire’s snarl, strawberry-rich with Ice’s blood.

Ebony attacks with an angry kiss, sucking that stolen bliss from cold, rotten lips. His pulse quickens at last on the sultry scent of surrender, and he grins. “Then come show me.”

I
don’t have all night, Joey. Whatta ya got?” Delilah slouches her elbows back on the warm glass bar, whiskey and salty skin thick on her demon tongue. Lights glow around her in drifts of nightclub smoke, the damp air slicking pleasantly on the dark brown skin of her human form. The noise grates sweetly in her ears, a pleasant change from silence and black despair.

She shifts her shoulders, enjoying the tactile pleasure of her copper-mesh dress and the slide of wine-dark hair on her back. Too long she’s been away, too long skulking in hellblack holes with the worms, only emerging when the stink of the demon court’s wrath ebbs. No longer. Kane is old and stale. She’s young. Time for a change.

Beside her, Joey DiLuca swallows white aniseed liquor, glossy green eyes unblinking. The drink he offered her sits untouched beside him on the bar. His ravenous banshee would-be lover croons protectively at his side, her vicious blue hair slashing over the shoulder of his pewter-gray suit. Her perfume is pure rage, tainted with corruptible devotion. Joey, on the other hand, smells dry and dusty, of leather and an empty conscience.

Joey jerks his pale chin forward, snakelike under his gray fedora, and the black creature living inside him roils darkly under his skin. “That yellow one? She took your mirror. From Kane, no less. Must be quite a thief. Told you this wouldn’t be easy.”

Joey drags lightly on his cigarette, ash glowing, and as he releases the smoke, his white fingers relax on the filter and shiny black webs show, glinting wet.

Delilah’s nipples tweak inside her meshed metal dress, and she scowls. DiLuca scum. The snake thing is a turn-on. But it’s not enough.

She’d wanted Dante, their charmingly insane vampire prince, pretty and ruthless and mad like some ancient imperial despot. But he got himself murdered, and this Joey’s a gutter-slinking gunrunner with no imagination. If he’s the best the DiLuca clan can do, she’s half a mind to leave them to bloody ruin at the hands of their Valenti enemies. But Valenti are Kane’s, and any enemy of Kane’s is an asset to be used.

She follows his gaze, her shoulders slipping into a lying shrug. “Don’t give a fuck. Okay? We’ve had this discussion.”

Joey shrugs, too, unruffled. “Just thought you might need some help. Now you’re on your own, so to speak.”

“I don’t need your help, little man.” Irritation rains snowy ash from her hair. Kane is already weak. She tastes it on the strong summer air, that toxic tingle of freedom and opportunity that fires her black demon blood. She smells it in the sickly stench of honey that drifts like a foul oily coating on the fresh water of willing souls. The old enemy from the sky has returned. Kane is under attack. The demon court can go fuck themselves, with their rules and protocols and dusty lore that must be obeyed.

Joey leans back on the bar and shows his unnerving toothy smile. “You’re not supposed to be here. Not in Kane’s town without an invitation. You know that.”

She stretches her arms to the light, laughter frothing in her chest as she spins in a joyful circle. “That just makes the air taste better. The demon court can suck my dick. Whatta they done for me lately?”

“Besides throw you out on your ass?” Joey tosses the empty filter away and lights another one, smoke puffing, a lock of soft blond hair slipping incongruous from beneath his hat.

Steam hisses from Delilah’s teeth before she can stop it. “How’d you know that?”

Joey laughs, charming. “I know stuff about things, rosebud, and that includes you and your demon pals. Just because Kane acts like a spoiled brat with Asperger’s doesn’t make him stupid or slow. Don’t underestimate him. Look where it got Dante.”

Anger still boils brimstone-rich in her blood. “Dante was a fucking idiot,” she snaps, enjoying the banshee’s yowl of protest. “A walking vampire hard-on, all ego and no thought. Couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“I don’t have that problem.” Joey snakes out his free hand for her wrist, and suddenly his lips are inches from hers, his emerald eyes glinting with promise. “Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll get it for you.”

Delilah inhales reptilian breath, the cold smell of scales and venom, and her skin shivers. Curiosity cools her fury, and she slides a freckled brown arm across his shoulder, pressing closer. “And in return you’d expect what?”

Joey shrugs faintly. “We can be good for each other. I have people, money, resources. If you’ve got ambitions in this town, you need me.”

“I asked what’s in it for you.” She licks plump lips, tempting him. The banshee’s neon hair quivers, a growl rumbling in her chest.

Joey grins, and stretches his neck to whisper, bones popping. His voice slithers in Delilah’s ear, reptilian sibilants hissing. “I want Ange Valenti’sss head on a ssstick. And Sssonny. And Fabian, and LaFaro and their whole ssstinking crew.” He withdraws, resting his hand lazily on her hip, smoke drifting from his cigarette. “I assume that’s in the offing.”

“Mmm. Now you’re getting interesting.” She slides long fingers into his lap and clicks her tongue in mock disappointment. “Why, Joseph, such feeble ambition. Your dick’s not even hard.”

“That’s because you’re about as sexy as a dogshit sandwich. Don’t doubt my ambition because you don’t turn me on.”

Delilah chuckles, challenge twinkling fresh in her jaded blood. One blink of spell-sparked lashes and he’d be drooling on his knees. Perhaps another time. She flicks a provocative glance to the snarling blue banshee and back again. “What, I’m too powerful for you? Not delicate and breakable enough?”

Joey’s forked tongue flickers along his lips. “Something like that.”

Delilah smiles and sways away from him. “I was wrong about you, Joey DiLuca. You’re not quite the sniveling wormeater I had you pegged for. Perhaps we’ll have a little game, see if we play nice together.”

Joey crushes his cigarette out on the bar and rests his cane on his thigh to dust off his hands. “Whatever you say. What’ll we play for?”

“Why, your famous mirror, of course.” She reaches at last for the drink he bought her, and aniseed burns her tongue. “I chase it; you chase it. Whoever gets there first wins.”

“And what do we win?”

“Well, that depends. If you win, you get me being nice to you for a while. If I win . . .” She swallows the rest, and stretches happily with a warm belly. “I get to eat your skin, of course.”