My Heart be Damned (22 page)

“You don’t think I look like a hooker, right?” I asked, trying to pull down my dress.

Mercy swatted my hand away. “You look incredible. At least your butt’s not hanging out.”

“I feel like it is.”

Mercy ignored me and stretched out to shut off her light. I grabbed the bag she’d loaned me and followed her to Sam’s car outside.

Chuck wolf-whistled as we climbed in.

“Nice,” Sam agreed. “Snow White and Red Riding Hood.”

“And what are you supposed to be?” Mercy challenged as Sam pulled away from her house and headed to the gates at the end of her long driveway.

“
Erm
, duh. I’m Spock,” he answered.

Mercy and I exchanged looks of confusion.

“Who?” I asked.

“Spock. From Star Trek? Tell me that you’ve seen Star Trek.”

We both shook our heads.

“Can’t say I have,” Mercy said with a shrug. “It just looks like you’re a weirdo in a yellow jumpsuit and big ears.”

Chuck laughed from the passenger seat. “Well, you all know who I am.”

“A vampire. How original,” I scoffed.

“The girls love a vampire,” he said, sliding in some fake fangs. “I
vant
to suck your blood.
Muhahaha
.”

“Talk about jump on the vampire hype,” Mercy said, but I could tell she was secretly digging the vampire version of Chuck. His hair was slicked back. I was pretty sure that this was the first time that I’d seen him wear a tux. Even if it did have fake blood on the shirt.

“I can’t believe you don’t know who Spock is,” Sam whined.

“I can tell you now, my man, that you’re not scoring any action tonight wearing that,” Chuck said, patting Sam sympathetically on the shoulder.

Mercy and I giggled.

The party was already in full swing by the time we arrived. None of us had the initiative to bring a map, so we got lost quite a few times before Sam finally agreed to ask for directions from someone walking their dog.

Mercy hadn’t been exaggerating when she said the house was big. It was at least four stories tall, with acres and acres of land that stretched back towards a huge forest. The driveway went on for miles, and every space that could be used for parking was taken. Cars had resorted to parking on the grass and across perfectly tended flowers. Doing the same, Sam parked behind a cute convertible Mini, and we climbed out, invites at the ready.

The pumping bass coming from inside of the house was going in time with my thumping heartbeat. I couldn’t tell what song was playing, but whatever it was sounded fantastic. Leading us as if we were lost sheep, Mercy stepped up to the front door and pressed the bell. They’d changed the tone for the occasion, and instead of a regular chime, a creepy, shrill scream echoed through the house.

The door quickly swung open, and a guy dressed as Frankenstein stood in the doorway, clutching a beer and a girl in a maid’s costume.

“Invite only,” he said, taking a swig.

Mercy shoved our invites at him. “We got ‘
em
.”

His eyes roamed over the writing and then he bent one of the invites before nodding and stepping aside to allow us entry. “Gotta check these weren’t photocopied, you know,” he said, shoving the invites in an overflowing bin bag full of other invites.

“You gotta tell them the rules,” the auburn haired girl whined. “I love when you say the rules.”

“There’s rules?” Chuck repeated incredulously.

“Not many, but yeah, there are,” Frankenstein answered. “Firstly, stay out of the garden and don’t go up any of the stairs. The alarm’s set, so if you’re caught, being thrown out won’t be the worst thing we’ll do to you.”

Chuck snorted.

“Secondly, if there ain’t a drink in your hand when we look at you, you forfeit to doing two shots of a spirit of our choice. Don’t like it? Get the hell out. Thirdly, you party downstairs and you come upstairs to chill.
Parlor
room is open if you wanna, you know, talk to a lady friend away from the loud music. Two bathrooms available and the kitchen is where you’ll find food and more drink. But there’s plenty downstairs. Got it?”

I nodded, not quite understanding why we needed to hear that, but going along with it anyway. Frankenstein stepped aside revealing a long stairwell leading down. Ah, a basement party. I hadn’t been to one of those in a long while.

Being careful not to trip in my massively high heels, I followed Mercy, Chuck and Sam down. The music got louder with every step. At least now, I could
recognize
it. The basement was positively huge. It stretched below the whole house, and decorated for the party with fake cobwebs, hanging plastic spiders, bowls with fake eyes, and skeletons that popped out of coffins and grabbed at you. I loved it.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” I shouted to Mercy. “Want anything?”

“Yeah. Get me a glass of wine,” she yelled back.

I nodded and pushed my way through the crowd to the long table set up with snacks and drinks. I was pleased to notice I wasn’t wearing the sluttiest costume by far. Girls had shorts that looked more like thongs than outerwear, or tops that showed more boob than they covered. I’d forgotten Halloween was an excuse to dress up like a whore for some girls.

I grabbed two clean plastic cups, and set them upright before reaching out for the wine. I wasn’t much of a wine fan myself, but I was looking to get totally smashed tonight. I deserved the right not to be sensible for one night, even if the voice in the back of my head kept asking me: what if?

“I wouldn’t drink that one,” a familiar voice warned from behind me.

I turned, the wine bottle still clutched in my hand. It was
 
Hayley – one of Sarah’s witches. Dressed as Cleopatra, she looked stunning. She certainly had the skin tone and figure for the outfit she wore.

“What’s wrong with the wine?” I asked.

“Someone drank from the bottle earlier, couldn’t handle it, and spat it all back inside. So yeah, I’d open up that new bottle there.” She pointed to a cluster of other bottles.

“Oh, thanks.” I reached over for a bottle of white wine.

“
Amerie
,” she said, tapping me on the shoulder. “Can we go upstairs and talk in a bit? I know we’re not exactly friends, and I know we don’t like each other, but I
kinda
need a
favor
.”

“What
favor
?” I demanded. It was such a shock that the wine missed the cup altogether and poured over the white tablecloth.

“I know you’re good at English, and I’m really stuck with our coursework. Some tips would be great.”

I didn’t want to give Hayley anything. All she’d done for my whole time at Maxwell Academy was act like a total bitch. Her and her two stupid friends. But standing in front of me, looking so beautiful it annoyed me, I
realized
I was better than that. I nodded, and she smiled gratefully.

“Thanks,
Amerie
.” Then she froze. “Oh no.”

I narrowed my eyebrows and following her gaze, spun around. Sarah and the other witch in their trio were making their way over. Unlike Hayley, they didn’t look beautiful. They looked like prostitutes on the prowl for their next customer.

“Hayley!” Sarah called, her voice sickly sweet as always. “There you are!”

She slipped a skinny arm around Hayley’s shoulder. “Sorry. I was just getting a drink,” Hayley said.

Sarah smiled, showing lipstick on her teeth. “No problem! I just missed you, babe.”

As the trio sauntered away, Hayley looked back and gave me a pointed look. I knew she’d be back at some point - once she got away from her prison guard.

I filled my cup half way with wine and quickly downed it in one gulp before filling it up again. I couldn’t do that conversation with Hayley sober. I gulped back another drink and then filled both cups, ready to take one back to Mercy.

Then Sam appeared.

“Don’t mind me,” he said over the music, bopping his head out of beat. “Just wanted a beer.”

I shoved one at him. “Have fun with it.”

Grabbing both plastic cups, I turned to walk away when he snagged my arm and pulled me back.

“I never got to say happy birthday. I also never got to say how glad I am that you learned to trust me and let me in your group,
Amerie
.”

I pointed to my ears. “Now’s not the time for a heart to heart,” I shouted. “But thanks for the happy birthday or whatever.”

He looked disheartened. “You’re not the most approachable person, though. When can we talk?”

I felt sorry for him. “Call me tomorrow?” Then I strolled away.

“God,” Mercy complained when I handed her the drink. “Talk about take forever.”

“Sorry,” I took a sip of the disgusting wine. “There was a queue for drinks.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Damn You

Four cups of wine later and I was on my way to tipsy land. Beside me, Mercy sang at the top of her lungs to the music and thrashed her curly hair about, almost hitting me in the face with it. The strobe light flashing through the room made her look deformed as she jumped up and down, her mouth moving wildly.

I downed the remainder of my cup, and staggered through the crowd, to get a refill. As I went, I scanned the basement, looking out for the one person I knew wouldn’t show. He didn’t want me. The asshole didn’t bloody want me. I’d show him.

I slammed my empty cup down on the table with a little too much strength. The cup crumbled in my grasp and cracked down the side. Screwing it up in a ball, I threw it and reached for another one.

And then, as I poured another drink, the coldest of shivers ran down my spine, making all the hairs on my arms stand on end. I froze. One of them was here.

I slowly turned around, my eyes frantically roaming through the crowd of horny, drunk teenagers. There was no way to spot them. Everyone was in costume, and there were too many strangers for a plausible guess.

Staggering forward, I pushed my way back through the crowd, looking for my bag. My Blessed weapon was in there. Judging by the cold turn of my stomach, there was more than one Damned in the basement. And they were here for me. I wouldn’t let them attack first. I needed to draw them out and fight on my own terms.

“Where you going?” Sam asked, clamping a hand on my shoulder.

Instinct warring with reflexes hindered by drink, I turned and snapped his hand back before I could stop myself. He cried out and stared at me in confusion.

“What the hell,
Amerie
?”

“Sorry!” I slurred. “I thought you were...never mind. Sorry, Sam.”

“You okay? You look wild like you’re all hyped up for a fight.”

I found my bag and swung it over my shoulder. “I’m fine, Sam. Look, I might head back with a friend. So, if you can’t find me later, I probably caught a lift with them.”

“A friend, like a friend -friend? Or a friend, like a boy-friend?”

“Does it matter?” Without letting him answer, I pushed past him and made my way for the stairs. I tripped a couple of times but made it to the top in one piece. Frankenstein and some other people blocked the door, trying to keep out a group of gatecrashers. Obviously not my exit. Had to be the garden then. Screw the rules.

Not that I knew where the garden was.

I ended up in the
parlor
room surrounded by couples on the sofas, huddled in corners, lying on the floor. All with no shame. The square room had a large fireplace against the far side and a whole wall of windows opposite me. Maybe there was a door there too, or even a window I could climb through to escape.

“Excuse me,” someone interjected as I rushed over to the window.

I spun around. Something heavy connected with my face, and it knocked me backward, through the wall of windows. The glass shattered all around me. Tiny shards cut at my skin, and I threw my hands up, trying to protect my face. I landed on my back on the patio with a hard thud, and straight away, I rolled to my knees and ran towards the forest.

Not only were my heels not made for running, but also I was sure I had a mother-sized gash on my leg that stung like a bitch. Feet pounded behind me, and I could hear the commotion of confusion back inside the house. Keeping my breathing steady, I kept running, reaching inside my bag for my weapon.

I had just barely made it into the forest, when something jumped me from behind. I dropped to my knees under the weight, spinning around and blocking a punch. A fat, longhaired man stood over me, and another guy rushed up behind him. I could take on two. No problem.

I jumped to my feet, kicking the fat one in his neck. He staggered back. By this time, the skinny one was there to take his place. He swung a punch at me that I dodged. I punched him back, following it with a roundhouse kick. Fatty yelled a vulgar word at me before charging forward. I grabbed his wrist, pulled him so that his back was against my chest, and bent his arm backwards. I didn’t stop until I heard something snap, then I pushed him down to the ground. I cow-kicked the one coming up behind me, and plunged my dagger straight through the fat one’s back.

One down one to...

I turned around, but he was gone. The smart thing to do would have been to leave it and cut my losses – I wasn’t exactly prepared for this fight - but the Hunter thing to do was to hunt him down and send his soul right back to Hell. Thus, began my hunt.

Knife clutched tightly in my hand, I edged forward, my whole body tense. He was around here somewhere. I could feel him.

Something rustled. I spun around. There he was, standing behind me as if he’d been waiting for me this whole time. I froze, wondering what his game was. Why was he standing out in the open?

He stepped towards me, and I held my ground, every inch of my body prepared for a fight. He wasn’t too bad looking with tousled, blonde hair that made him look like he could have stepped right out of a magazine.

“What a coincidence that you’d be here,” he said, his voice velvety. “I come to party, and there you are.”

“I wasn’t banking on seeing you either.”

He grinned. “I’m not supposed to spill any of your precious blood.” He licked his bottom lip. “Meant to snap your neck or something. A clean kill. But I’ve heard
amazing things about Hunter blood. Mix it with the right stuff, chant the right things, and I’m more powerful than any other Damned.”

“Seal will kill you,” I hissed.

“Not if I kill him first.” He stepped forward again. “But I’m gonna need your help.”

I swung forward, but his arms shot up, blocking my punch. He grabbed my fist with one hand and elbowed me in the face with his other arm. I staggered back and ducked as he threw a punch at me. His knee came up to my face, and I jumped back, the stupid cloak on my outfit flying up and momentarily blinding me. His hand closed around it. He yanked me back, and his fist slammed down in my face.

Still clutching the knife, I pulled myself free, spun around, and kicked him under the chin. He fell, but managed to turn the fall into a flip, and was right back on his feet.

“
Amerie
!”

It only took a second for my attention to drift towards the person shouting my name, but it was the second the Damned needed. He rushed forward, threw a punch at me, and as I blocked it, knife still in my hand, he grabbed my wrist and swung it down towards my gut.

The blade of the dagger slid through my stomach, and I cried out, my eyes widening in shock. The pain flooded through my whole body, and I sank to my knees. Everything began to swim in and out of focus. Another fight was happening now. This one not involving me. Panting heavily, I stared down at the dagger protruding from my stomach and tried not to panic. I wouldn’t die. Not on my birthday. Not like my mum died. Sucking in a deep breath, I yanked the dagger out, crying out in pain as the knife slid slowly free from my stomach. There was blood all over my hands, and the forest began to sway as the grass came up to cradle my shoulder.

A pair of arms locked around me, holding me. Looking up, I briefly recognized Marshall before everything faded to black.

I expected to wake up in the afterlife or in a hospital bed. I didn’t expect to wake up in a strange bedroom wearing a pair of shorts that were way too big for me and an oversized t-shirt. The room was dark, and I barely made out the outlines of furniture. I pulled back the sheets and moved to sit up; when a crippling pain shot through my abdomen and made it clear, I was going nowhere. Oh, right. I’d been stabbed. By my own dagger no less.

I didn’t even want to think about how close to dying I’d been. How stupid I was for being distracted. I focused on my location instead.

“Hello?” I called out. “Anyone there?”

Something stirred in the corner of my room and suddenly a lamp switched on, bathing the room in light. Marshall was slumped in an armchair, his hand still on the lamp cord. He stared at me, relief washing over his features, before standing up.

“This your bedroom?” I asked, my voice croaky.

He nodded. “How you feeling?”

“Like I was stabbed.”

He shook his head and dropped to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Sorry I didn’t take you to a hospital, but you heal fast enough.”

I stared down at my body and slowly lifted the t-shirt. He’d wrapped bandages around my stomach, hiding the wound. “How bad is it?”

“Not too terrible. You were already healing when I got you back here. You bled all over my car, though.”

“Sorry about that,” I muttered sarcastically. “If you’ll take me home, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid,
Amerie
. I don’t know why you have it in your head that I don’t want you around. You’re staying here until you can actually walk by yourself. Let me know if you need anything.”

Water. The bathroom. A chance to see myself in the mirror. Food. Some pain killers. Instead, I got angry. “You told me that you didn’t want me around. By the way, nice new bruises. I don’t suppose they were from the fight earlier.”

He looked down sheepishly. “They were from a fight...just not one you saw.”

“So that’s where you were when I needed you.”

He looked up, eyes wide. “Don’t say that,
Amerie
. Please don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true. You chose to fight over coming to the party where you could have helped me. And now look.” I pointed to my stomach for emphasis. “You can’t be keeping me safe if you put cage fighting before me.”

“Look,” he snapped, “I don’t do it because it’s fun. And it’s not just a way of gaining money. I do it because it’s a distraction. You really pissed me off yesterday. I went to let off some steam and win a bit of cash in the meanwhile. But if you want me to stop then fine, I’ll stop.”

“You will?” I asked incredulously.

“Sure. It doesn’t mean more to me than your life,
Amerie
. And I’m proving it to you.”

I nodded, unable to say anything. Was this him caring for me in a strictly ‘I have to keep you alive, or I might die’ way? Or an ‘I can’t stop thinking of you and want to kiss you’ way?

“So,
erm
, where’s this place you’re doing all your fighting?” I asked, coughing slightly. The jolt irritated my wound and sent a sharp pain up my side. I tried to pretend it didn’t hurt by holding in my gasp, but the wince was automatic.

Marshall stood up. “Down in this factory by The Hut. Roosevelt Way. They have it there every night.” He walked over to his dresser and grabbed a bottle of pills and a glass of water. He shook two out and handed them to me. Gratefully, I popped them both into my mouth and chased it down with the water.

“How did you find out about it?”

He took the empty glass from me. “Through a friend.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press him for more information. If he truly planned to quit, then there was no sense in talking about it now. Instead, I surveyed his bedroom in more detail. I was in the king-sized bed, which was the predominant
feature of the room. Opposite the bed was a mahogany chest of drawers, and on my right was a matching armoire. Thick brown curtains were closed over a big window, and below it was a chest, much bigger than my own. In the corner, to my left, was a bookshelf, filled with all kinds of weird looking books. For some reason, I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes away from them.