Night Series Collection: Books 1 and 2 (15 page)

That wasn’t fair. I had my reasons. He might not understand them, but I couldn’t forget the feeling of those phantom fingers squeezing the life out of me. Or the echoing words of
trust no one
constantly beating at my skull.

“I told you everything that happened at Grace’s.”

He eyed me coolly. “No you didn’t.”

I’d set the ring on my nightstand, not daring to wear it for fear that someone would see it and maybe recognize what it was. He was right, I hadn’t.

“And the fact that you phrased it that way lets me know something happened outside of Grace’s. Didn’t it?”

Ugh, we’d just had two of the greatest hours of sex and here he was grilling me like I was some common criminal. And men say we’re difficult.

“It was that priest. Wasn’t it, Pandora?” A vein throbbed at his temple. I could feel his power beginning to ride the air between us, it made my skin tingle.

I patted the fine hairs at the back of my neck down and glared at him.

“Yeah, whatever. Protect him; you’ve gotten real good at that these past few days.” He rolled off the bed, snatched up his boxers and stomped out the door.

Shocked, my mouth parted into a tiny O. I watched him go, wondering yet again what was wrong with Luc. He’d never been like this before. If he’d been anyone else I’d call it jealousy, but Luc wasn’t anyone else and I knew it to be impossible.

I touched the scar above my chest. The only mar on my otherwise perfect skin. The only flaw that would never heal.

Once, long ago I thought I’d been in love with him. I’d told Luc, confessed my feelings; he’d looked at me as if I were an abomination. A detestable and foul creature. He’d flung me away. I shivered thinking about that night. About the hatred and rage I’d seen grow in his eyes to a malevolent level. He’d twisted into a creature straight out of a kid’s worst nightmare.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, something can happen that triggers our demon to take us over completely. No longer half human, we become the creature.

I pressed my palm against my chest, feeling the rigid thickness of the scar and trembled remembering what he’d become. A black and shiny thing of scales and claws, long, sharp fangs glistening silver with spittle.

To this day I still can’t understand why he’d done what he’d done. Or what I’d said that had made him turn. Luc had never harmed me before, or since.

My memories of that long ago night in the horse stable are vague and half formed. The only thing I can recall with any type of clarity is him hovering over me, legs straddling my chest as he’d carved a jagged heart in my flesh with a spelled knife.

I’d nearly bled out, passing in and out of consciousness. One second there’d be darkness, nothing; the next I’d hear garbled nonsense and feel blood soaked hands running over my cheeks. A body rocking me back and forth and hot wetness splashing my face.

Unlike most of our family now, Luc and I hadn’t grown up alone. We’d been born in the same small village ten miles south of what would someday become ancient Babylon. When those around us died, we’d lived on and been together for most of it. We’ve seen the world around us change while we remained the same. We’d learned, lived, and loved together. Or so I’d thought, until the night I’d spilled the secrets of my heart.

I’d survived, but I’ve never been the same. Something died in me that night, a part of my soul. Because I knew my hero didn’t exist. I was a freak amongst freaks and would forever be an outsider in a world that hated me.

It’d taken me over a thousand years to even come within earshot of Luc again. But no matter where I ran, he’d found me. He always found me. Those had been the worst years of my life. The bitter loneliness of no one to confide in, to trust in. In the end I’d returned, not because I was desperate for his love, no...he’d killed that, but because there was safety in numbers. Gradually I’d learned to trust Luc, to an extent, but never completely. Never again.

I’d been so lost to the pain I’m still not sure why I didn’t go through with the suicide attempt. But I’d grown strong, found a place deep inside, locked all the pain away and went about my life as if it never happened.

It may not be the best way to deal with things, sweep them under the proverbial rug, but you try seeing half the stuff I’ve seen and tell me you’d do it any differently. Sometimes pretending the monster’s not there is the only way to hang onto your sanity. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. Even the illusion of it.

I got up and got dressed.

My knight in shining armor died a long time ago. I accept death and destruction. Do I like it? No. Will I ever grow fond of it? I hope not. But each day I grow more and more jaded.

I zipped up my corset top, walked out into the living room, ignoring a brooding Luc and grabbed the last two boxes of doughnuts. I slipped on my sandals and then walked out the door.

Still, for all that, Luc taught me a valuable lesson that night.

Love doesn’t exist.

And I’m not talking about Agape love. The love of a parent for a child, I’ve witnessed that. Seen a mother—human or animal—lay down her life in exchange for her offspring’s. But Eros love. The love a man has for his mate. How can imperfect beings grasp such a profound concept as that? Every day I witness hearts getting broken, lies being told, by both men and women.

Is what we call love simply little more than lust disguised? I’ve lived with Lust my entire life. I know what it feels like to need someone to the point that you cannot breathe for want of him. But that is not love. That is obsession masked as something noble.

Love is the cruelest myth of all.

I
t was a typical gray and gloomy day in the Black Hills, though for once, no wind. That was almost a minor miracle in this place.

I was tempted to head back to my trailer, try and take a nap and then maybe call Grace a little later, but honestly, I had no desire to be alone. I didn’t think, but headed where my feet guided me, which just so happened to be our version of the chow hall. It was a large, nondescript, army green tent set several hundred yards behind the carnival proper.

I walked inside, dropped my cold box of doughnuts onto the nearest bench with a loud thud. Several heads turned in my direction.

Bubba got up, mug of something in his hand—you never know what it is with him, coffee, cocoa, blood—and nodded at the box. “What’s that?” he asked, voice sleep roughened, yet no less sexy.

His eyes were blood shot, his skin pinched. He looked ashen; clearly I wasn’t the only one suffering from a case of insomnia. Bubba yawned while scratching the back of his head, looking at me curiously, as if wondering why I stared at him so long. I couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been that he should look so bad.

“Doughnuts, whoever wants can have,” I finally said with an indifferent shrug.

He flicked open the box, grabbed two, placed one in his mouth, then grabbed another. I shook my head; we should be the fattest people on Earth.

I grabbed a foam cup, poured some hot water into it, grabbed a tea bag—all they had left was Earl Gray, not my favorite, but I could force it down when I had to—then I stalked over to one of the empty benches and sat.

My head was pounding, felt like someone had taken a blunt object to it and kept pounding away at the base of my skull. I groaned, steeping the tea and tried to ignore the chatter around me.

I felt movement beside me. I glanced up to find Vyxyn sitting down.

“What do you want?” I growled, rubbing a circle at my temple.

She sat a Tupperware bowl down on the table, popped open the plastic seal and proceeded to pretend like I hadn’t even talked. In the dim twilight of morning her hair looked an even more absurd shade, more like a cotton candy pink. She had on no makeup and wore a pair of Hello Kitty flannel pants and sweater top. She began eating.

I wrinkled my nose when I caught a whiff of the food, my stomach complained violently. “That smells like rotten fish.” I held my cup up to my nose to try and mask the odor with the lemony zest of the tea.

“It’s called seaweed salad.”

I eyed the stuff. It was green, slimy, and smelled even worse that it looked. I ushered her away. “Well get it away from me, makes me feel like I’m gonna yak.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a baby, Pandora. If anyone’s gonna move, it’s not gonna be me.”

In that moment I hated her. All I’d wanted was peace and solitude, why had she come and sat down next to me? To make me more miserable? Actually, now that I thought about it, that was probably why exactly.

I snarled and scooted to the far end of the bench, all the other tables were taken up, or I’d have moved to a different one completely.

Vyxyn laughed, curled a long length of slime around her fork and made a giant show of slowly dropping it into her mouth with a happy sigh as she chewed. “Mmm...mmm,” she said, “sure you don’t want some?”

Bubba, Stryker, and a few others came and sat down on either side of us, sparing me the sudden urge to snap my fangs at the wench.

“That stuff reeks,” Bubba said a few seconds later and pinched his nose shut. “I think you oughta take it out back and put it out of its misery.”

I chuckled, raised my brows and pinned Vyxyn with an I-told-you-so look. She twisted her mouth.

“I’ll have you know I got this stuff at Neo’s. A five star restaurant, I might add.” She said it as if we should be envious of her.

Bubba’s brows gathered. “How much money you pay for that garbage? Why I’ll go to one of our dumpsters out back and pull out some slop for ya if you’re hard up for turd salad. I’ll only charge half a what they do. What you say?” He grinned, and Stryker elbowed him in the rib, laughing as if he’d never heard anything funnier.

I sipped on my tea, but the biting banter between Vyx and Bubba was only making my headache worse. It had been a bad idea to come here.

When I left, no one noticed or tried to stop me. I still didn’t want to be alone though, Luc was out of the question, the tent was a no go, there was only one person I hadn’t seen. Before I left the tent, I checked to see if there were any leftover doughnuts. One. I grabbed it with a napkin then walked toward Kemen’s place.

It was one of those silver bullet looking trailers, a little rusted around the undercarriage, he rarely got up the energy to keep up with the maintenance. I knocked on the door. No response.

I peeked inside. “Kemen,” I called, “you here?”

I heard a faucet running.

It was dark inside. He’d hung several thick blankets over the windows to keep out almost any trace of light. I swatted at the flying dust motes when I stepped inside. His living room was a sea of clothes; it cluttered the floor so you could barely make out the tan carpet. His table might as well have been a giant waste bin. It was riddled with empty pizza boxes and cans of beer.

By the lack of smell, I knew the laundry was clean, just not folded. He’d thrown away any food before it had a chance to rot and stink up the place. But that was the extent of his cleaning. My lips twitched, poor thing, maybe I’d help him organize before I left.

I took a deep breath, already feeling some of the tension creep out of my body. There was something about being around Kemen that soothed me. He wasn’t like the other demons and it was a nice change of pace.

The faucet turned off, then Kemen stepped out of the bathroom. “Pandora.” He sounded startled. He ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. “What are you doing here?”

I kicked a pile of clothes to the side, cutting a path to the couch. “I...” I frowned. “Well, I’m not sure. First I was at Luc’s, then I went to the mess hall, and now,” I shrugged, “I’m here.”

“You can’t sleep can you?” he asked, knowledge evident in his liquid amber gaze.

My shoulders slumped. “Guilty as charged.”

He smiled, eyeing the bundle in my hand. “What’s that?”

I held it up before me. “Peace offering?”

He ushered me toward him. “C’mon.” Then he headed into the bedroom, which again, aside from the bed itself, was a veritable pig sty.

I handed him the doughnut. He polished it off in three bites. I crawled onto the bed, glancing at the floor around me. Instead of clothes, it was books that littered the carpet.

Things like:
Journey of Souls. Tackling the Afterlife. So, you’re dead; now what? Gods and mythology. Major Gods of the Ancient World.

I frowned, picked up a thick book, never realizing Kemen liked to read and also a little wigged out by the titles. “What’s all this, Kemen?” I asked, waving a copy of
The study of Hubris as it relates to Gods
, under his nose. “I never knew you to be a religious sorta guy.”

He took the book from my hand and tossed it back to the floor. “Don’t you ever wonder about that stuff? What happens after we kick the big one?”

I hugged my arms to my chest, rubbing my hands up and down. “I try never to think about it.” I looked at him, and saw in his face the raw truth of the pain we all grappled with. Could a thing who’d never had a choice to be good or evil, someday find peace? I shook my head. “No, I never think about it. I never want to know.”

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. I wasn’t going to ask him if he’d ever contemplated suicide. We all have at some point. Life isn’t fair, it isn’t perfect, but it’s all that’s guaranteed. I’d respect Kemen’s decision to decide for himself; but it would never mean I’d stop caring. I grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He looked at me then, gave a lopsided, half-hearted grin and shook his head. “Of course, Pandora, I know that. I just wonder.”

He stared at the wall over my head and I couldn’t stand it. Not from him. “Would you like me to grab my guitar?”

I don’t know why, I don’t think I’m a particularly good singer, but he’d always loved listening to me. Especially when mired in an existential crises.

“That’d be nice,” he said.

I nodded, ported back to my house, grabbed my guitar and rejoined him a second later. I grabbed the chair from under his computer desk, sat down and started to tune it. “Any requests,” I asked, around the pick in my mouth.