Darksoul (27 page)

Hunter
was leaning against an unfamiliar car when I came up. He wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his tattoos almost blended into the night. A restless band of
zokyies
flurried around him. When they saw me, they stopped and blinked, as if startled. Then they patted their paws together and fluttered toward me, joining Io, who sat on my shoulder.

“Hi, little buddies,” I said, hugging some of them to me. Then,
looking at Hunter, I let out a low whistle. “Guess I’m going to have to fight the ladies tonight. Looking good, Slade.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” He opened the sleek passenger’s door for me, letting out a
waft of leather-scented air. The side of his mouth tilted up. “For a little rodent.”

I
cracked my knuckles. “Keep talking.”

A quiet laugh. When he
closed the door behind me and came around to slip into the driver’s seat, I asked, “Whose car is this?”

“Asher’s.”

“I—what?” I said, incredulous. “No—Hunter, that’s not—”

“He may or may not have taken my SUV without me noticing and replaced it with this. Didn’t have much of a choice.”

“I’m just—I’m still stuck on the fact that this is
his
ride. He lives in a nice modest house and—he just doesn’t have the kind of money—”

“Asher is a professional liar.”

“But I’ve seen his fucking house! It’s a nice middle-income house! With only one car, and—”

“Again. Professional liar. It’s unnervi
ng, even for me.” As he pulled out of my street, Hunter nodded his head at the glove compartment. “While you think about the lies your favorite little puppy may or may not have told you, look in there and see what you find. I bet you’ll enjoy it.”

I
sent him a wary look, to which he responded by giving me an amused sidelong glance. Then I went and did as he said—
And stopped at what I saw.

For a moment, there was silence in the car. The
zokyies
had planted themselves at the bottom of the windshield, staying stiller than I’d ever seen them. Io had curled up on my shoulder. The radio—which, I just noticed, had been playing the whole time—spewed out a soft melody that sounded suspiciously close to one of Bach’s cello suites. The only good thing about this situation.

“Are you serious?” I said.

Hunter laughed a little. “They were already there when I got in the car. Don’t look at me.”

Clenching my teeth, I held up one of the many,
many
condoms that winked at me from the glove box. “What the hell does he think we’re going to do with these? Huh? Blow them up like balloons? Matter of fact—” I ripped it open. “Watch me.”

He pursed his lips, and a dimple surfaced on his cheek
. “Don’t do it.”

“Oh, I’m doing it.”

“For the sake of my peace of mind—”

I blew
into it. Hunter couldn’t help it; he laughed. The
zokyies
straightened at the sound, started to happily flutter about. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and tried not to smile as I kept blowing the thing up.

“One for
Willa,” I said, tying it up and throwing it in the backseat. “You want one, too?”

“I’ll survive.”

“Three for me, then.”

By the time we got to the restaurant, I was out of breath
and my lipstick was almost gone. The things were resilient as hell and I wanted to see how far I could go before it’d blow up. Call me a risk-taker.

The valet looked impressed at the fancy car, though she said nothing as she took the keys. Inside, t
here was a reservation for us, and we were right away taken to our table. The decor was simple but elegant, and the lighting cast a warm glow on the decorative chandeliers. Damn. Ash had outdone himself this time. I raised my eyebrows at Hunter, who’d pursed his lips at the preparations, his eyes unreadable. Of course.

He
and I sat across each other at the dim, private booth the hostess led us to. He ordered wine, and I took secret sips of it when our waiter wasn’t looking. Being underage was so not fun. His
zokyies
, of course, flurried around us. As I asked Hunter more about his little sister and why in hell he’d never told me, I tore off a tiny piece of breadstick and fed it to Io. He simply said he didn’t think it was necessary for me to know. Blegh.

Halfway through dinner, I leaned forward and cupped a hand around my mouth. “Hey, hey,” I stage-whispered.

He met me across the table. “What?”

“In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, why don’t we get a little
cheesy. Eh?” I lifted my cup—which was filled with borange (read: boring) juice—at him. “Watch and learn, Slade. Don’t forget to swoon.”

“I can’t wait to see where this is going.”

Affecting a silly French accent, I said, “Your eyes…are like stars in the night. They shine so brightly that they, my dear, outperform the sun.”

“Outperform. Bulky word. Terribly placed.”
He took an amused sip of his wine. “I could outdo you with my eyes closed.”

“Oh?”

He leaned closer and curled an index finger under my chin. In a silky voice, he said, “There’s not one night I don’t go to sleep thinking about you.”

“Okay, that’s definitely puke-worthy.” Laughing, I clinked my cu
p against his. “Not bad, not bad. Here, how about this: You”—again with the French accent—“are the peanut butter to my jelly.”

“I didn’t think they could get worse, but then they did.”

“Hush, now,” I said in a sweet voice. “I’m not done talking.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“You complete me,” I breathed melodramatically. “You are my moon, my sun, my sky—”

“You’re so beautiful it hurts to look at you.”

Ugh. “Damn it,” I said, leaning back. “I was, like, completely on a roll.”

“It was a terrible roll.”

“What you said a moment ago—that was the biggest ball of cheese I’ve ever heard. That’s it, Slade. You won.”

“As expected.”

Annoyed, I sipped my juice. “The only reason you’re good at this is because you already know how to sweet talk girls. So congratulations. You know how to sweet talk girls. And crush their hearts while you’re at it.”

“I don’t sweet talk anyone.”

I stared at him over the rim of my cup. Then I murmured thoughtfully, “Hmm.”

He waited.

“As much as I hate to admit it…” I cocked my head to the side. “It works for you.”

He remained silent.

“The whole I-don’t-care thing, the no-sweet-talk shit—you actually pull it off. Girls like it. They find it cute, hot, alluring…Good God, no wonder you get laid.”

“I’m not going to pretend I care when I only want one thing.”

“Hmm,” I murmured again, and then decided to just—I had to do it. “Listen, as you can tell, I’m from the
femalia genus gender family ecosystem.”

“
Femalia genus gender family ecosystem.” Was he trying not to smile? “Of course.”

“Thing is, since I’m your friend, I feel like…I have to protect those that fall victim to your aloof charms. Okay? So—” I slapped my hands together as if in prayer. “Please be nice to them. Please?”

Silence.

“I’m glad you make it
clear that you want something casual,” I said. “It’s nice that you’re not trying to be all…boyfriend-ish and shit. But girls can get attached. Take it from me. A girl. So—just—let them down easy. Please. Okay? Please.”

After what seemed like a long while, he scooted back and rose out of his chair. “Fine,” he said lazily. “
Since you’re asking me to do it.”

I blinked. That was it? That was all? “Really?”

But he didn’t respond to that. “Get your things,” he said, taking his wallet out of his pocket and dropping two one-hundred dollar bills on the table. “There’s one last place I’d like for us to go.”

I’d never been a fan
of rock music. But looking at the way the crowd was jumping up and down, head-banging, singing along, I couldn’t help but see the appeal. The singer had pink streaks in her hair and had propped her boot on a speaker. She was good. No. She was fantastic, and she totally had the audience pumped.

Colorful lights flashed along the wall
, bouncing along sweaty faces and the burning tips of a hundred cigarettes. It was a strangely classy club, with curtained walls and a dark chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Closed glass doors led to what I guessed was a terrace. The moment we came in, Hunter loosened the neck of his shirt, and I took the pins out of my hair.

So we wou
ldn’t get lost in the crowd, I grabbed his hand, interlaced my fingers through his and gave him a thumbs-up when he spared me an unreadable sidelong glance. Then he looked straight ahead and led me across the thrumming floor. I brushed my thumb over one of the scars on his knuckles. Something jumped at his throat.

A slew of
people hung by the bar, smoking cigarettes or chatting to each other or watching the show. Hunter took a free stool. Instead of sitting next to him, I pressed in as much as I could so I was out of other people’s way. But someone still jostled me from behind, and I toppled forward and ended up trapped between his legs, my face inches away from his chest. Goddamn.

“
Sorry,” I tried to say over the music, but he was already grabbing my waist and gently righting me up. I gave him a quick smile in thanks and was about to move away when someone bumped into me, pushing me into him again. “You know what,” I said. “I’m just going to stay here.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’m literally in between your legs.”

“Like I said. I don’t mind.”

Ugh. Boys.

Leaning in
, I said, “I didn’t know you were into rock music.”

“I’
m not.” He tilted his head at the stage. “But the drummer is.”

“Hah,” I said, turning to look at the band that was playing. “Of course the drummer is into—”

I stopped.

Three rings.
That was the first thing I saw. Three rings. On the thumb, index, and middle finger of his left hand. A sleek lip ring. Black gauges; the twin orbs of an eyebrow piercing. Ash looked as if he were in his element, drumsticks flying wild, each thump precise and on point. The orb of his tongue ring was pressed between his lips in concentration, and he flipped it around and let it wedge through again.

Panther was coiled around his neck. She stayed out of the way, letting him do his thing even as she nuzzled the ink on his th
roat.

I stared, gape-mouthed
. Since when did Ash play the drums? Since when did he do gigs? Since when did he do anything other than screwing chicks and writing math equations in his secret notebook?

At last,
I turned to look at Hunter. His eyes were hooded and cool, and he nodded toward the closed doors that led to the terrace. To talk. I followed him outside and trapped him in a shadowed corner. People in coats and flashy hairdos hung around, smoking even more cigarettes.

“How did you—” My mind couldn’t even process it. “How did you know Ash played the drums? That he was here tonight?”

“Asher may
be a certified liar, but…” He leaned against the wall, the side of his lips tilting up. “Let’s just say I know him better than he thinks I do.”

“I thought he’d be
, you know—”

A quiet laugh.
“With a girl?”

“
Actually, two. Three, maybe, if he got lucky.”

“
He’s not as bad as he’s led you to believe. I mean, here he is, Hazel, on Valentine’s Day. Playing with a band that only hired him for tonight.” His voice seemed to soften for a second. “Do I really have to tell you why?”

I grew still.
Inside, the singer pointed the mic at the crowd, letting them sing the next verse. The ground shook with the sound of hundreds of raised voices and the thumps of feet jumping up and down.

“I don’t know what he’s doing,” said Hunter at last
, his gaze steady on mine. “Trying to set us up. It’s clear, at least to me, that that’s not what he wants.”

I remained frozen.

“After the show, he’ll go home, stay alone the whole night. Smoke a cigarette, maybe, write whatever the hell he writes in his notebook. Sit in his sofa, lean back, stare at the ceiling. Wondering what we’re doing. Whether we’re using the condoms he left in the car.”

“
It can’t—no,” I said, shaking my head. “Ash has, like, a hundred girls—”

“Asher only wants one person.” H
unter’s eyes were gray and even in the moonlight. White flakes began to fall, dusting across his hair, his dark eyelashes. In the corner of my vision, someone tilted his face back and bared his tongue to taste the snow. “Do I really have to tell you who she is, Hazel, or can you figure it out?”

“This—” I swallowed. “This
situation is like something out of a bad romantic comedy. Except it’s not funny. And I’m not laughing.”

The
corner of his mouth gave a faint twitch. “I’m afraid that the situation’s about to get worse. Let’s not forget that Asher isn’t the only one with feelings here.”

No.
“You wouldn’t.”

Hunter look
ed amused. “What should I call it?” With a mocking little smile, he said, “Lasagna?”

“I hate you.”

“With extra cheese.”

“Okay. I actually hate you.”

“And tomato sauce on top.”

“Disgusting. Who likes tomato sauce
on top of their shit?”

He reached into his back pocket a
nd took out a cigarette, nodding at the shuddering glass doors. “Well, I didn’t bring you here for nothing. The show will be ending soon. Go inside and say hello to Asher.”

“But he’s playing—”

“He’ll be getting off stage in a minute. You’d better run before the ladies swarm him.” Hunter ducked his head to light up. When I didn’t move, he said, “What?”

I searched his face.
Was unable to read it. “You’ll still be here. Right?”

“Like I have anywhere else to go.”

“I’m literally going inside for, like, a sec. Don’t move. Okay?”

“Aye, aye, little rodent.”

I cracked my knuckles. He laughed quietly to himself.

It was a hellish trip, the one to the stage.
But Hunter had been right—the show had been nearing its end, and soon, the singer was giving her farewells and blowing kisses at her fans. Talk about band tshirts and CD’s followed. There was deafening applause from the crowd. By the time I managed to make it up there, the club had put on pre-recorded rock music and Ash was shaking hands with the other band members, not aware of me yet. The people had dispersed, hanging out in pockets around the room.

“—need someone like you in the band,”
the bassist was saying. “Ever since Sean quit, we’ve been in the dumps—”

The lead singer nudged him in the ribs. “Stop airing our dirty laundry. In any case,” she said, turning back to Ash, all business now, “if you’d like to take the permanent position, that’d be
great. We just take gigs in the local area. Wouldn’t take too much of your time, I don’t think.”

Ash
tucked his drumsticks into his back pocket. “I’ll think about it.”

“By the way,” she said, and smiled, “cool accent. Definitely would win points with the la
dies. Definitely would give us more fans. More fans equals more gigs. More gigs equals more money. More money equals more shoes, and more shoes equals more happiness for us doomed musicians. See the connection?”

He laughed, and I couldn’
t help but admire her. Cool mindset.

“Okay, don’t look now,” the guitarist whispered to Ash, “but a girl over there is totally making moon eyes at you.”

I knew without a doubt he was talking about me, and I held back the urge to groan. Fuck. Really? Moon eyes?

Looking amuse
d, Ash started to turn. “Everyone makes moon eyes at—”

When he saw me,
he blinked, as if not sure I was there. And then his face lit up, going so bright that I couldn’t help but smile in return, and without looking at the band he excused himself, gracefully jumped off the stage, covered the distance between us in half a breath—and suddenly I was swept into his arms and into the air, my feet swinging uselessly under me. Panther wrapped herself around me and tucked me close to him.

He smiled against my collarbone
, the chill of his lip piercing caressing my skin. “Hi.”

“I believe,” I heard the bassist mutter, “that that was him
making moon eyes back at her.” Deciding to leave us alone, they turned toward their instruments and chatted among themselves.

I laughed and returned Ash’s hug,
patting him on the back. “Yeah. Hi. Did you actually miss me for the three minutes we were apart, or is this your laughable attempt at reenacting
The Notebook?”

“Clearly it’s
the latter.” Looking a little—breathless, maybe?—he set me down, suppressing a smile when he saw that I wasn’t the height of a naked mole rat. Panther curled herself around his neck. “Well, well. Who knew the day would come when I could look straight at your head, not down? Is it bad that I find it exciting as fuck?”

“Four-inch heel
s,” I said. “I feel like I can kick ass with these.”

“I’m still almost a foot taller than you.”

Sweetly, I said, “Why don’t you suck the dildo I don’t have.”

Ash laughed and scratched
the back of his head. “I’m actually—” Did he swallow? “I’m glad you’re—”

Right at that moment,
my phone rang in my purse, and I took it out. “Hold that thought.” Turning away, I swiped my finger across the screen and said, “Hello?”

A smooth, even voice. “How happy is he?”

I turned toward Ash. “How happy are you?”

Hunter sounded amused.
“You weren’t supposed to ask him.”

“So apparently I wasn’t supposed to ask you,” I said to Ash, giving him a thumbs-up. “Pretend I pressed the life undo button, which
will
be invented in the coming century, I assure you. By a genius. Who looks like a Victoria’s Secret model.”
Me
, I mouthed, in case that wasn’t clear. Ash coughed into his fist, covering up his laughter. Turning back to the phone, I said, “Why don’t you come inside? It’s cold as shit and I don’t feel like going out there and pretending the weather doesn’t exist.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“What? Why?”

“I’
m going to start the sketches for a watercolor painting tonight and I couldn’t stay. Tell Asher you’re welcome.”

I wanted to bang my head against the wall. The asshole was
on his way home. Of course he was.

“Ash,”
I said tiredly. “Hunter says you’re welcome.”

“Let me have him for a minute,” said Ash.

I handed the cell over. He didn’t even spare him a hello before he started speaking in quiet, even Russian. There was silence on the other side of the line. After a long, unending rant, Ash hung up. He didn’t look upset. Just…aggravated. Panther rushed to soothe him.

“Hey, listen
,” I said, grabbing my phone. “Just take me home, okay? So—”

“As if I’d
do that.” He gave a goodbye nod at the band—they were packing up—and started to walk toward the exit. “I want to show you something. Hope you don’t mind being out for a couple more hours.”

“Yeah. Sure.” As I settled beside him, I gave him a playful nudge with my elbow. “But can we talk about the fact that you’re a drummer and never thought about telling me? And let’s not even touch
on the expensive sports car you forced on Hunter. That you own. Like, yourself. Like, you bought it and you own it and it’s
yours
.”

Ash cast me an amused sidelong glance. “A man has his secrets.”

Of course.

During
the drive to wherever he was taking me, he prodded me about the stupid date with Hunter, and I grudgingly spilled the deets. He was like an eager girlfriend waiting to hear everything, except he wasn’t a girl and he certainly wasn’t eager, only murmuring thoughtfully here and there as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“So you blew up the condoms,” he said.

“Yep.”

“And you got to the restaurant and all you did was chill
with each other.”

“Yep.”

“And then he brought you to my gig and left.”

“Thanks for the summary,” I said. “
Consider working for a publishing company. As an editor. Or a janitor.”

“And I’m assuming
you didn’t kiss,” murmured Ash, blowing out the smoke in a slow exhale. He turned into the next street and leaned back in his seat, keeping his hand low on the steering wheel.