The Beautiful and the Damned (19 page)

The car was less than ten feet away. Cyn stood up and slowly walked over to it.
Keys! Where did I put the goddamn keys?
Then she realized that they were still in the ignition. Declan didn’t take them when
he made her get out.

A hysterical laugh threatened to spill out of her, but Cyn clamped her mouth shut
and mutely shook her head as she slid behind the wheel. “This is what happens when
you don’t follow through with your plan, Declan,” she said out loud. “It makes everything
easier.”

She put the car in reverse and was just about to back up when an odd clanking sound
came from the rear passenger-side door.

“Shit.”

Cyn slammed on her brakes and mulled over what she should do.

The sound came again.

“What the fuck
is
that?” Cyn already had her door halfway open, determined to see what she’d hit, when
the back door suddenly opened.

Declan’s eyes met hers in the rearview, and she saw him propping a bloody left arm
up against the backseat as he dragged himself the rest of the way into the car. With
his right hand, he lifted the gun to the back of her head.

“Drive,” he mumbled.

His top lip was split into two pieces—part of it hanging down the side of his cheek
like a hunk of dead meat—and his upper and lower front teeth were gone. A nasty black
and blue bruise circled his nose. The veins in his face were discolored, pulsing like
throbbing black caterpillars. He turned his head and spit out a mouthful of red-tinted
foam.

There was no time for panic. Cyn’s brain had gone past that now and was operating
only on sheer logic. “Where?”

“The falls. Just go straight, it’s not far.”

Cyn put the car in gear and pulled away from the salvage yard. She knew now there
was no escaping him. Declan was going to kill her. It was just a matter of how long
it would take, and how painful it would be.

When the wooded area that led to the falls came into view, Cyn turned onto the road
that would take them to their final destination. The road gave way to a path, and
at the end of the path was the bluff. The sound of rushing water was loud enough to
drown out the car’s engine.

Declan used the gun again to prompt Cyn to get out and prodded her closer to the water’s
edge. He stumbled behind her and almost fell but managed to catch himself at the last
second.

Cyn glanced around. “How did you know about this place?”

“Followed you from the gas station.”

He saw me with Thirteen
. “Then you should probably know that I don’t put out on the first date. Just FYI.”
She crossed her arms but realized what else it meant that he’d followed them that
night. “Did you overhear our conversation?”

“Part of it.”

“Which part?”

“The part that means I know all about you being an Echo. Is that why you killed Hunter?
Because you don’t have a soul?”

“Don’t have a soul? I—”

“You’re some kind of soul freak. I heard that guy telling you.”

“I don’t know what you think you heard, but you sound crazy.”

At the mention of the word “crazy,” Declan grew agitated and started waving the gun
around. “Crazy?
I’m
not fucking crazy. Do you understand that? I’m not stupid, either. Of course, you
wouldn’t confess something like that to me. It sounds crazy because it is. But I know
all about crazy. And I know other ways to get you to confess your sins to me.”

He dropped the arm holding the gun to his side. Cyn tried not to flinch as he suddenly
moved closer. Little flecks of blood flew out of his mouth as he sneered, “I also
know how to make you beg.”

“You want to hear someone beg?” a voice said from behind them. “I’ll get right on
that.”

Cyn turned around to see Thirteen standing there, the large black dog from the junkyard
next to him.

Ears back, hair raised, every single one of the dog’s razorlike teeth showed as its
lips curled in a snarl. Steam rose from its fur in wisps that matched the smoke rising
off of Thirteen. Vivid burn marks covered Thirteen’s arms, and his red eyes and horns
were in full effect. He was six feet five inches of badass mixed with pissed-off motherfucker.

“What
are
you?” Declan said.

Thirteen just glared at him. “Really? Are you going to make me say it?”

“Yeah, I’m going to make you say it.
What
the
fuck
are you?”

“Your worst nightmare.”

He took a step forward, and Declan turned the gun on Cyn. “Don’t get any ideas. This
is between me and her.”

Thirteen took another step closer. “What did she do to you?”

“She killed my little brother! He was stabbed in his own bed. And
she
was
there
.”

“Doesn’t mean she did it.”

Declan tilted his head toward him, like he was sharing a secret. “I heard what you
told her the other night. She’s an Echo. That’s why she did it. Some sort of satanic
ritual or something.”

“Okay.” Thirteen nodded like he was in full agreement. “But do you have any proof
that she killed him? You were a cop. You know you need proof.”

Cyn glanced over at Thirteen. “
Was?
He
was
a cop? He told me he’s with the Sleepy Hollow Police Department.”

“So I fucking lied,” Declan said. Distracted, he lowered the gun. “I was with the
NYPD and they put me on suspension.”

“Maybe you just pissed off the wrong person.” Thirteen looked Declan straight in the
eye. “You’re with the Navarro
coven, right? Vampires know a lot of interesting ways to get a message across. They
can be pretty brutal.”

Cyn tried to follow what Thirteen was saying.
Vampires are real too? And Declan is working with them?

“We have an understanding,” Declan argued. “I make sure no one ever notices when they
do their thing, and in exchange, they’ll turn me. I’ve always held up my end—they
have no reason to come after me or my brother.”

“They’re sharing their blood with you?”

Declan nodded, then started coughing uncontrollably. Doubled over, he fought to bring
the gun back up so it was pointed at Cyn, but his hand was shaking. The black veins
in his face bulged with every wheeze and seemed to be growing larger. When Cyn glanced
down at his hand, she saw the veins there were turning black too. Traveling up his
arms like they were carrying black ink.

“What’s wrong with me?” Declan finally said.

Thirteen gestured at the gaping wound covering Declan’s shoulder. “Looks like a dog
bite to me.”

“I fought him off.” Declan glared over at the large dog, who was keeping silent watch.
“Hit him with the butt of my gun. Should have been enough to crack his skull.”

“It probably was,” Thirteen said. “He heals fast. Like me.”

“So, am I infected?” Declan glanced back down at his black veins. “Is he some kind
of . . . werewolf or something?”

“Hellhound. Let’s just say you don’t have to worry about turning into a vampire anymore.
Hell, you don’t have to worry about
anything
anymore. Time’s up.”

Thirteen took one more step and was finally close enough to reach out and take the
gun.

Cyn could tell that he was going to go for it, but instead of waiting for him to make
his move she reached for the sharpened spoon in her pocket. She wasn’t done with Declan
yet.

Quickly counting to three, she pulled it out and jabbed it over her shoulder. Right
where Declan was standing. Slight resistance gave way to a gelatinous substance, and
then a sudden spurt of warm blood against the back of her head and Declan’s howl of
pain let her know that her aim was true: She’d hit him in the eye.

Declan’s gun dropped to the ground with a dull thud. “You fucking bitch!” he spit
out.

Blood was pouring down his face, and something flashed dark and deadly in his good
eye.

In that instant, Cyn knew what he was going to do.

Declan reached out and sunk both hands into her shoulders, hauled her up against him,
and then stepped off the edge of the bluff.

C
yn screamed as they went over, and Avian’s wings burst out of his jacket. With two
strong pumps, he was over the side of the cliff and diving down after her.

The spray of water from the falls was almost strong enough to knock him off course,
but he reached out to snag her ankle and managed to stop them midfall. Their combined
weight made it cumbersome to navigate, and he fought to pull them back up over the
cliff.

“Get
off
of
me
,” he heard Cyn grunting, and he looked down to see her kicking at Declan.

The cop’s face was a mangled mess—one eye bloody and bulging, his lip split into two,
broken capillaries and blood vessels
covering his face and arms. The hellhound’s bite had done a considerable amount of
damage.

But so had Cyn.

She kicked one more time, and Declan started coughing again. His body convulsed as
he struggled for air. With one final heave, she knocked him loose.

Avian leveled off, and they both watched Declan’s body free-fall into the water below.
He disappeared and then resurfaced, bobbing lifelessly until the current carried him
over the falls. If there was any question as to whether or not he could have survived,
it was answered as his body was dashed against the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall
over and over again.

Avian cleared the edge of the bluff and let go of Cyn’s ankle as soon as the ground
was close enough for them to land safely. He came to a stop several feet away. The
scars on his back were burning like a son of a bitch, and he fought to keep himself
under control.

“Holy shit, Thirteen,” Cyn said. “I was just getting used to the horns. You can
fly
?!”

She came closer, and he arched backward, hissing with pain. “
Don’t.
Don’t come near me.”

The burns on Avian’s arms deepened, like someone was branding him with a hot poker
from the inside, and his horns
throbbed with a painful intensity. When he got pissed off, the demon side of him wanted
to do some damage. Regardless of what, or
who
, was around.

That’s how he’d gotten the scar from Shelley. When he wasn’t careful, and the demon
side had slipped out. Luckily, she’d been smart enough to use the knife she’d always
carried and had nicked the side of his neck just below his left ear. He’d been distracted
enough by it to rein himself back in.

“What’s happening to you?” Cyn asked. “It looks . . . painful.”

Avian contorted as the burns flared up again, and he landed hard with one knee on
the ground. He didn’t answer her question. It took all of his willpower to make sure
his demon side stayed under wraps.

Eventually his horns receded to nubs, and he changed his eye color back to brown.
The wings were another matter—they would have to wait until he could bind them again.

When he stood, Cyn glanced at his arms and the fading scars left behind. “Happens
when I get angry,” he offered by way of explanation. “I burn from the inside out.
It’s my curse.”

“So the burn marks are coming from the
inside
and pushing their way
out
of your skin?”

He nodded.

She looked at his shoulders. “And
that’s
”—she gestured to the black feathers sprouting from his shoulder blades—“all part
of this too?”

“They come from my mother’s side of the family.”

“Wings
and
horns.” She turned away from him, then turned back with a confused expression on
her face. “Have they always been there?”

“Always.”

“I didn’t feel them when I rode behind you on your bike.”

“I keep them bound.”

Cyn gave him a brief, sweeping glance. “Anything else I should know about? Any other
surprises?”

Besides the healing, shape shifting, persuasion, memory reading, and general-ass-kicking
skills?

Avian shook his head. “Nope. That’s it.” Removing his jacket, he folded his wings
down and then put the jacket back on.

“Okay. Good. But you and I are going to have a little chat when we get back to the
house.” She glanced around and absentmindedly rubbed her arms. Her clothing was wet
from coming so close to the waterfall.

“My bike is back where the road ends,” he said, answering her unasked question. “I
didn’t want to lose the element of surprise, so I left it there.”

He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. The hellhound followed them back to
the bike.

“What’s with the dog?” Cyn asked, climbing behind him. She was careful not to touch
his wings. “He was at the junkyard Declan made me go to.”

“He’s a hellhound. A guardian of the dead. I passed by the junkyard when I was out
looking for you and saw the dog heading in this direction. Since the cop was drinking
blood from the undead, the hellhound was able to follow his scent.”