“Your weapon,” I say. “As long as you wear it, any homunculus that touches you will be instantly destroyed.”
Her silver eyes match the necklace as she takes it, her fingers brushing my palm in a way that makes my every muscle yearn for more. Her Azoth is no less sweet-smelling, wafting up from her exposed skin like a cloud of spiced honey and lilacs. I clear my throat and reapply my focus that always seems to scatter to pieces when she’s around.
“Oh god, what happened to your thumb?” She sucks in a breath. I hide my bandaged hand quickly behind my back.
“It’s nothing. A small sacrifice.”
“You sacrificed your thumb?”
“I’ve made another one,” I insist. “I will reattach it when I return home. Let us focus on the important things -”
“I’m sorry, is chopping off a body part to make me a necklace not important?” She snaps. “Why would you do that? It must’ve hurt -”
“In addition,” I interrupt her. “You can condense your Azoth and focus it through the pendant.”
She glares for a moment, sharp and angry. But I must be imagining it - anger at my pain is a mark of concern. And she holds no such tender affections for me. Not after how I’ve treated her.
“Which means?” She finally asks.
“I’m not entirely sure - this weapon is far beyond anything I’ve ever made before. I suggest you ask whichever alchemist you live with in the future to supply you with a training facility - something secure, where you won’t accidentally hurt someone as you experiment with it.”
She stares at the pendant, then up at me, with eyes both curious and - again, I must be wanting to see what isn’t there - forlorn.
“But if I put this on, that means you can’t -”
“I will be very careful,” I interrupt quickly. “Not to touch you. You have my word. Not that it will matter - you and I will see very little of each other after the showing.”
There’s a long silence in which we stare at each other, and though I’m perfectly composed I feel stricken sick on the inside - like something’s been taken from me forever. Something good and pure. But this is for the best. She must be protected at all costs.
Her pale throat swallows hard, and she opens her mouth to say something, but I’m faster.
“I’m glad you and your friend are unharmed. Be more careful from now on.”
“But -”
“I have much work to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”
I bow towards her friend - a pretty girl, though completely Azoth-less, and with no such inner fire that Mia has. But her concern for Mia shines through her face.
I leave, as I have left many others before. Mia was my Azoth for a day - a single exhilarating, hope-filled day. She will soon be someone else’s, for a very long time. For the rest of her life. I look back once at her door, reach for the knob, and stop myself.
It is not my place to desire a woman, nor an Azoth. I would hurt both. I have hurt both.
Reeves waits downstairs in the car. The air is so much cooler inside, my heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm the farther I get from the scent of her.
“I am the devil, Reeves.”
He looks at me in the rearview mirror. I straighten my suit and stare out the window as the car pulls away and the city rushes by - a city full of people I’ve condemned to a life of danger and tragedy.
“I am the devil, and she was the angel.”
“Sir?” Reeves questions.
“You must never forget that,” I murmur. “Never forget that we desire exactly what we can never have.”
That night the hunger burns, hotter and darker than anything I’ve felt in decades. I lay tangled in my sheets, the silk suffocating as I stare at the ceiling. I close my eyes, conjuring up the scent of her. My mind obeys, losing itself in a haze of golden sweetness and the curve of her cheek. Just once can’t hurt. Just one fantasy in a hundred years, one moment of weakness, and then I’ll forget about her forever.
My hand slides low, my own hardness unsurprising. My body awakens at the thought of her like a lion in the sun - luxurious and powerful. I haven’t indulged my own pleasure for years - what little pleasure I derive from it is fleeting and dull. But this sensation lingers powerfully, the thought of running my hands over her delicate skin intoxicating. Not that she’d let me touch her, but in my fantasy she does. In my fantasy she cares for me, perhaps - though I know it’s impossible - loves me. She kisses me, her mouth addicting and tasting just as her Azoth smells. She laughs, happiness flushing her cheeks, and the laugh turns to a yearning gasp as I pay worship to her neck and scar - licking, kissing, biting softly, the tantalizing nectar beneath her skin matching the nectar gathered at the apex of her thighs. I part them, toying with her slit. The urge to be in her is overpowering, and I oblige, going so deep her head lolls back. I tug at her glorious black hair as I take her, long and hard, and her sweet moans bring me to the edge. She is mine, and she says it as she tightens around me, and the thought of her wanting to belong to me sends me plummeting into sweet, dark oblivion. She is mine - she is mine and no one else’s in this fleeting moment.
When the waves subside and the dream-scent of her fades long after, reality closes in around me. I am cold and alone.
And I always will be, for all eternity.
PART TWELVE
TWELVE
Chapter 12
TWELVE
Sergeant Annie Tilbrook pulled her flaming red hair off her sweaty forehead and into a ponytail. She glanced around the misty forest and shone her flashlight between the trees. In the distance she could see other flashlights bobbing as her squad searched every inch of the woods in the dead of night.
Annie swore and pulled her bomber jacket tighter around her neck. If there was one thing about Idaho in October she hated, it was the cold. She only half-believed the tip that had them out here - a anonymous person called the station and said a body was in the woods behind the Shivering River Trailer Park. In a small town like Halifax, Idaho, a body was a ludicrous idea - people fought each other after a few drinks, they didn’t murder each other in cold blood. The last murder had been nearly fifty years ago. Still, Sheriff Vanu insisted they investigate, and so off they went; ass-tired, chilled to the bone, and all kinds of skeptical.
At twenty-five, Annie had been in the police force long enough to know a prank call when she heard one. She’d also been in the force long enough to have seen a corpse, and she wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.
The night air bit at her skin as she pressed farther into the woods. The lights of the trailer park were a distant memory on the horizon, and she stuck her hands under her armpits, longing for a cup of hot coffee. Or a vacation. Either would be great, really.
She flashed her light on the narrow path and inched further down it. She spotted candy wrappers near a stump, and moved towards them. Pencil stubs, used eyeliner, cigarettes, and an empty bottle of Svedka gave it away - teenagers. A teenager definitely hung out here at one point. Annie bent and rifled through the refuse with a pair of tongs, looking for blood, or any sign of dragging a heavy body. There was nothing.
Annie sighed and wiped dirt off her palms on her jeans. Just as she was about to radio her squad and ask if they found anything, she spotted movement in the distance.
“This is Unit Five,” Annie murmured into her chest radio. “I’ve got unknown movement to the east of the main path. Could be a wild animal.”
“Could be a person,” her radio crackled. “Unit Three en route to your location. Stay where you are and wait for backup.”
Annie squinted. The figure turned, looked right at her, and started to run.
“Shit,” she swore, and held her chest radio as she sprinted. “Unit Five here - the unknown is running. I’m going after ‘em.”
“I said wait for backup, Unit Five!”
Annie grit her teeth and swung herself around a tree to hairpin down the forest path. Whoever they were, they were fast as hell.
“Police!” She shouted. “Stop where you are!”
The shadow took a sharp left around a dead tree, and Annie followed, her lungs burning and her legs screaming for more oxygen. When she rounded the bend, her breath caught in her throat. In the middle of the forest, torches burned in a perfect circle, stuck into the ground. The torches ringed a pit dug into the earth, nearly six feet deep. The shadow was illuminated by the fire - a woman, with long brown hair. She turned and looked at Annie, her eyes strangely sharp and filled with killing instinct. She wasn’t alone - two men in long robes stood at the lip of the pit, and looked up when Annie pulled her gun out.
“Freeze,” she shouted. “This is the police. Who are you?”
“I could ask you the same,” One of the robed figures asked coolly. The brown-haired woman smirked and snarled at Annie, sounding more like a dog than a person.
“I’m Sergeant Annie Tillbrook, with the Halifax Police Department. This is the scene of an investigation. You’re not allowed to be here.”
The man smiled, and removed his hood. His eyes were icy-blue, his graying hair slicked back. He was old, but impeccably groomed.
“My name is Oliver Rothschild,” he said. “And this is my son, Vox.”
He nodded at the other hooded figure, who removed his hood. Annie’s breath nearly caught - his eyes were the same ice-blue, but burning with so much more intensity. His face was darkly handsome, his eyebrows fierce and his Roman nose aquiline and proud. His height and broad shoulders would’ve intimidated her, if he hadn’t had a passive expression, neither angry nor pleased. He simply stared at her, taking her in. Annie struggled to find her voice.
“I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me,” she said. “Unless you own the trailer park, it’s illegal to dig here.”
The brunette woman’s smirk grew hungry, and she slowly approached. Annie cocked her gun.
“Don’t move!”
“Come now,” Oliver smiled at her. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”
Annie blinked. The woman’s incisors were suddenly much longer, protruding over her lips. A cold terror gripped her.
“I said stay back!”
The woman suddenly lunged for her, and Annie panickedly pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang through the night, and the woman staggered back, the bullet hole dark in her forehead. Annie’s insides began to shrivel, the thought of killing someone curdling her very blood. The woman righted herself slowly, then looked at Annie and smiled. The bullet hole was dark and obvious, but the wound wasn’t bleeding, and the woman wasn’t dead.
“Impossible…” Annie whispered. “Who are you?”
“I am the thing in the night,” The woman laughed. “I am the daughter of Lalei, immortal and mighty. And you? You are a fool to oppose my masters.”
“Enough,” the man named Vox spoke, his voice silk and molten chocolate. “Leave her be.”
The woman turned to Vox. “Oh? I didn’t know you had a soft spot for normals, master.” The woman approached Annie, but she was frozen in place, disbelief paralyzing her. The woman ran her hands over Annie’s uniformed breasts, up to her neck, and through her hair. “She is quite pretty. Do you desire her body? Or does your shadow desire to kill her more?”
Vox’s face crumpled, and Oliver laughed. Annie pulled free, her shaking hands aiming the pistol at the woman.
“That’s enough!” Annie barked. “All of you are under arrest for obstructing an officer of the law during an investigation!”
Oliver’s laugh grew only louder. “I don’t think so.”
The woman was behind her in the blink of an eye, pinning Annie’s arms behind her back. Annie cried out, the pain making her drop her pistol. She fought, but the woman’s strength was incredible. Annie’s 2nd Dan black belt in taekwondo couldn’t break her grip at all.
Oliver turned back to the pit. “Watch and learn, child. This is the reality of this world.”
An ominous chill swept over the woods suddenly. The torch fire instantly turned from a bright orange to a sickly, bruised purple. Oliver raised his hands, one of them grasping a vial of what looked like blood. Cultists? Annie looked around desperately for anything to free herself with. In the woods, the outline of her squad formed, Unit Three - Jay Brown leading them. His serious face as he raised his gun gave her a wave of relief. He’d shoot them, and free her.
“Oliver,” Jay stepped into the ring of light the torches shed. “Let her go.”
“You know him?” Annie shouted. “Jay, what the hell is going on?”
“Silence,” The woman holding her hissed, covering her mouth with her hand. Annie bit it as hard as she could, until she tasted blood, but the woman just laughed. “Pain means nothing to me, you moron.”
Jay looked at Annie, and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have run ahead alone, Tillbrook.”
“Brown,” Oliver said sternly. “Remove her, so that we can finish this. And give her the memoriam.”
“You’re working with these insane cultists?” Annie snarled at Brown. “All of you?”
The squad behind him shifted nervously, looking from Oliver to Brown.
“You dirty cowards!” Annie shouted. “Let me go!”
Brown slowly walked up to Annie, uncapping a needle of a strange orange liquid. Behind him, Oliver raised his arms and poured the vial of blood into the pit. The fire in the torches suddenly sprang from the sconces and rimmed the pit like a blazing fence, burning high. Vox’s eyes watched her the entire time, his expression torn.
“Those who have passed, heed my call,” Oliver chanted. “I summon you with the blood from the heart of an infant. Let this innocent sacrifice beckon you, let this dust of gold shape you.”
He poured out a pouch of gold dust into the pit, and Brown took hold of Annie’s elbow.
“This won’t hurt,” He murmured. “Just stay still and it’ll be over soon.”
“Fuck you!” Annie spat. “You never told me - you never told me anything! I trusted you!”
She felt the sharp needle in her arm, and the world began to blur, a heavy drowsiness worming into her brain. Her eyelids became heavy, too heavy to keep open, and the last thing she saw before she passed out was the icy-blue of Vox’s regret-laden eyes.
***
The necklace is even prettier in the moonlight. The sapphire is a deep, gorgeous blue, the kind you only see in movies and on rich people. The rose pendant is perfectly carved, every petal so soft-looking it seems real. Not only is it beautiful, it’s deadly.
My Azoth made such a beautiful thing?
No, it wasn’t my Azoth alone. Darius’ skill is top-notch. It damn well should be, after six hundred years of experimenting. When he barged in today, I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at him. I wanted to - I wanted to be furious, to blame him for Ellie’s kidnapping, for dragging me and her into this gang war. But the look on his face was pure fear - the kind you see on someone in the hospital rushing in to ask how someone is doing. And it struck me. He…actually cares. But not about me.
About my Azoth.
If I die, it dies with me. That’s the only reason he made the necklace for me - the only reason he hurried over to see if I was alright. For a split-second, I thought he cared about me as a person. But it’s been so long since someone’s done that, outside of Ellie, that I mistook it for what I wanted. I’m valuable. My body, my blood is valuable in Darius’s world. That’s the only reason anyone from now on will try to protect me, or like me, or be my friend.
I have to remember that.
I clutch the necklace in the dark, shifting on my mattress. Soon, this bed won’t be mine. Ellie and I talked it over - I’ll sell my mattress, and give her most of the money I got from Silveria Enterprises to pay for the rest of my lease. I’ll send her the difference, once I’m settled with a new alchemist and getting paid reliably. It’s so surreal - I moved here to be with her, to start over with her, and now I’m starting over on my own. She was devastated, I could tell by the way her eyes crinkled with disapp
ointment. We’ve promised to hang out, and Lake, when he came back later as a cat in my window, told me Darius asked him to watch Ellie, in case the Mutus try anything again. Something about Lake’s changed, too. His smile’s gone, his face now dour and determined. He took his failure to heart. I tried to tell him it was alright, but he wouldn’t hear it.
“I should’ve done better,” He murmured. “Darius trusted me, and I fucked up. I’m a fuck-up. The one time he asks me to do something, and I don’t do it right.”
He made an excuse about scouting the perimeter, and took off. I watched his motorcycle rev down the dark street. Darius has such a profound hold on him. Darius had a massive effect on Oliver, too. Even Zhen felt the urge to warn me off him. It seems like everyone has an opinion about Darius - either good, or bad.
So what’s mine?
I know he’s beautiful and regal, built like a sinfully sculpted swimmer and smart as the razor daggers he carries around. He likes suits and only suits. But beneath that he’s cold, and distant. Arrogant. And then sometimes, he’s softer than a kitten, caring and fiercely ready to protect what he deems valuable. Fiercely ready to protect me. And further beneath that layer, he hates himself. He’s guilt-ridden and self-loathing, to the point he doesn’t even realize he’s worthy of kindness as much as any other person. He punishes himself more than I do, and that’s saying something. He’s lived longer than I have, and ever will.
Sometimes I’m afraid of him, sometimes I hate him, sometimes I’m crazily turned on by him, and more than often I’m confused, but one thing is certain - I’m enraptured by him. And I’m not the only one.
I clutch the rose of the necklace to my chest.
How did Oliver know about Dad? The only person who knows is Ellie. She’s the only one who knows how evil I really, truly am. I’m not the helpless girl Lake thinks I am. I’m not the pure, good solution to the world’s ills, like Darius thinks I am.
I am not the hero. I am the bad guy.