Blood Cursed (2 page)

Drugsmoke shone in eerie purple light, green lasers flashing shadows from bodies, crawling wingbones, limbs contorted in pain or delight. Back here, the floor lay littered with crunched foil and dusty mirror shards, the sickly gleam of broken syringes smeared with green-metal fluid. My sharp fairy ears twitched, and even in the crunching din I heard sighs, heartbeats, wet rasping breath.

I sidled into flashing blue dark, stretching onto my tiptoes to look for Jasper. The tip of my nose whiffled, searching for his distinctive honeycomb scent amongst cologne and candy and the dark flowery cream of fairy-dust.

And there he was. Lounging against the iron wall, a long lean shadow sparking with static charge, the heavy glamour that turned him ordinary if you didn’t know how to look. Long lean legs in his habitual black, his pale arms and face a bitter contrast. Wild, crisp black hair, fresh with glitter and perfume, golden rings flashing in his ears. His velvetdark butterfly wings shed dust that glimmered and swirled in purple-shot lights.

I swallowed, and walked in his direction.

He leaned one steel-bangled forearm against the metal, muscles roped tight. Talking to someone, one of his sleazy friends or a mark, I couldn’t see. And then his wings swept back, and his long hair tumbled forward over a narrow green shoulder slick with blue waterfae sweat. Lavender lips, wet neongreen wings, a slow tempting smile.

I halted, my heart thumping.

A female smile.

Her green arm slipped around his waist, and he tugged her rippling golden hair back and kissed her.

My skin burned cold. I didn’t want to look. But horrid steel spikes jabbed my muscles, pinning me in place, and I could only stand and stare.

Kissing another girl. Not just a
hello, darling, wanna buy my drugs?
kiss. A slow, deep, wet, tongue-on-tongue,
let’s get naked
kiss. Bodies rubbing together, his thumb pressing her chin upward the way he liked, holding her so she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. And she already melted in his arms. I could tell by the way her eyes closed, her head fell back, her neon wing-veins glowed brighter. I knew that hot, helpless dizziness, how he made you feel wanted, beautiful, the sexiest woman in the room. His hand crept up her skirt, between her thighs, caressing, and she moaned and pulled him closer.

Numb, I turned away, and that old clockwork denial wound its creaking springs tight in my heart. It was okay, wasn’t it? Just kissing. Stupid to be upset. I knew Jasper wasn’t a saint. Hell, he sold drugs and stole stuff for a living. What did I expect? And I wasn’t exactly blameless, right? I’d just been kissing another guy. It didn’t mean anything.

Crazy laughter burst from my lips. Tick, tock, wind the clock, pretend it isn’t happening. Only I could come up with an excuse like that. They weren’t just kissing. The fucker was cheating on me. After everything I’d done for him.

Music throbbed, stirring in my guts. I felt hot and sick, impotent anger chewing me raw. I’d followed his rules, put up with his temper, made myself into the girl I thought he wanted. And now I’d sold my blood for him, the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do. Whored my dignity. Let some horny bloodsick beast chew on my throat and come in my lap with my blood running down his throat. I’d humiliated myself for Jasper, and he didn’t care.

I swallowed, sniffling, but my throat cramped hot, and the tears just flowed faster. Not because Jasper lied to me. Not because he’d treated me like an idiot and it hurt deep inside like a poisoned blade.

Because I knew. I’d always known. I’d just never seen with my own eyes before.

I was besotted, but I wasn’t dumb, and fear and puppy love hadn’t dulled my sense of smell. Sometimes he reeked of cheap perfume and sex, fruity kisses in his mouth that weren’t mine, and like an obedient little wifey, I never complained. Only smiled and did my best to forget about it, and cried later in the bathroom where he wouldn’t see.

I had only myself to blame. Too pathetic and weak to do anything about it.

Well, not anymore.

Blindly, I walked off, fisting my tears, blood and makeup smearing glitterbright. My sharp heels scraped welts in my ankles as I stumbled. I didn’t care. This was the last time Jasper would humiliate me like this. If he wanted to screw other women, fine. He could do it without me to come home to.

I plonked my ass onto a bar stool, my bruises aching. The neonglass bar glowed blue, vibrating under my palms as the music throbbed, and my blood invigorated, strength flowering in my muscles.

Conviction hardened like iron in my heart. Yes. He could have his precious gemstone—whatever the horrid thing was for—and then I was dumping his dusty fairy ass.

But the cowardly worm in my stomach quailed and shivered, chewing its tail in mocking fright.
But you’ve got no cash, Emmy. No stuff. Nowhere to go. Whatcha gonna do, get a job? You’re just a useless bloodfae bitch. Who’ll protect you? How will you ever survive in that big old nasty world?

I clenched hot fists on the glass, sparking my courage. “Shut up. Screw him. I’ll get by somehow.”

But that sniveling fearworm just coiled there, a greasy smile on its fat face.
Sure, Emmy. You keep telling yourself that
.

I ordered a vodka and lime, and as I sipped the tart chill through a straw, determination ebbed uneasy in my heart. I could do it, right? I wouldn’t let Jasper charm me this time. I’d forget his absent tenderness, the heady flavor of his kiss, the safety I felt in his arms. Instead I’d remember all the times he’d hurt me, all the thoughtless assumptions, harsh asides, and jokes at my expense, and I’d give him his gemstone and take off before he could work his sultry spell on me.

Get your hand off it, Emmy. One glance from those hot hellviolet eyes, and you’ll melt. You really think you can stand up to him? Remember what happens when you piss him off.

My courage wavered, the twin tangs of vodka and dread sour on my tongue. I still had aches from the last time he’d taught me a lesson, and the old justifications slid comfortably into my veins, warm and oily from constant use. I should just forget about it, the way I forgot all the fights and slaps and nasty words. Most of the time, it was okay between us. Maybe this time he’d change, stop snorting so much of his own product, treat me better … .

Yeah. And we’d all get ice-skating lessons in hell.

No, it was over. I was leaving him. I’d give him his lousy gemstone and walk away, and I’d never let anyone rule my life like that again.

Uh-huh.

In a minute.

I gulped my drink, trying to suck confidence from alcohol and sweat-drenched air.

“Ember? You okay?”

That crystalchime voice rang sweet alarm in my head. The smell of roses rolled warm and tempting over my skin, and on the blue glass before me, my shadow’s edge glowed pink.

Shit. Not Jasper. Worse.

My heart sank.

2

Behind the club, the alley shrivels in parched summer moonlight. Heat shimmers above black pavement, hovering over a rusted Dumpster, stacks of empty kegs, crates, garbage dusted in lost fairy glitter. Hot concrete and sweat lick the air with the scent of salt and tar. And beneath an awning pooled in blackness like ink, a cunning glassfairy named Diamond waits to make a killing.

He flexes tense muscles, sharpglitter wings slick in the heat. His glassfae glamour fades him dim, not quite invisible but translucent like a ghost, shedding a faint rosy glow that barely casts a shadow in the dark.

Adrenaline and anticipation wet his tongue sharp, and his pulse throbs hot and swift. After weeks of sly faedazzle and trickery, it’s here. And it’s a lovely hot night for a murdering.

Footsteps ring in harsh moonlight. His crystalsharp ears prickle, and he crouches tighter, fading deeper into shadow. Two people: one large, one small. A limp’s uneven cadence, one foot scraping. A dark laugh, a snatch of conversation in bastardized Sicilian.

The rotting scent of ancient bloodfever aches Diamond’s delicate fairy sinuses, and his nerves screw tight like tinfoil. Vampire. Sure as sugarplums. And not just any vampire.

Angelo Valenti, Diamond’s gangland boss, the vampire prince of Melbourne and the meanest gangster in town. Tight dark curls, hard eyes gray like slate, heavy-built but calm and graceful like a cunning panther in his expensive charcoal suit. Flanked as always by LaFaro the lizard, his hunchbacked faeborn confidant with the splayed hipbones and double-lidded yellow eyes.

Striding coolly along the street like the world owes them obeisance, which around here, it does. Ange and Tony, the Valenti boys. Favorites of Kane, the reigning demon lord, whose gang rules Melbourne’s underworld with rage and demonfear. Powerful. Impeccably connectified. Untouchable.

Hatred burns cold in Diamond’s iceglass heart. Angelo. Stealifier of girlfriends. Spreader of vile vampire virusicality. Ange fucking Valenti, soon to be the deadest vampire asshole in town.

Diamond’s translucent fingers clench, and in his palm a half-empty poison vial glitters emeraldine. The poison is strong, he made sure of that, a nasty flesh-rotting brew designed especiamally for vampires, crafted in a stinking underground laboratory by a mad fairy spell-worker. And he’s bought the sickest faecrazy killers he knows, with cash and sparkle and frightful promisicalities that make even a hardened deceiver like Diamond shudder and sweat.

He slips the vial away carefully. All in a day’s treachery.

It takes cunning to kill a 350-year-old hellcursed vampire ganglord. Cunning, and some serious balls. Both of which Diamond has in plentification. He’s had eyes on Ange’s empire for a long time. Kill the boss, take the spoils. That’s what gangsters do. But now, Diamond has reasonicality plus to want Ange dead.

Sweet vengeance thrills his blood. Angelo didn’t just steal the woman Diamond loved. He corruptified her. Made her dirty. Fed her virustainted blood until the vampire infection took hold. Killed her, or as good as. Rosa was beautiful, dazzling, an earthly goddess. Now, she’s a ravenous monster.

A life for a life. It won’t make his rosepetal girl well, or bring her back to him after what happened. But that’s not the pointificality. Ange deserves to die.

And then … well, the demon lord already likes Diamond’s sense of funnification. Owning the town is a tough gig, but someone’s gotta step up. And then Diamond will be as untouchable as Ange was.

After so many years of untruths and trickspringings and dirty gang politics that end in death, Diamond has to win. Otherwise, it’s all for nothing. Without Rosa, it’s the only way to make his sordid life worthwhile.

Ange and Tony round the corner. Tony flicks away a cigarette, ash glowing. Behind them, three silent fairy shadows loom and grow.

Diamond’s mouth dries, and before he can swallow, the assassins strike.

It’s swift, soundless, brutal. In an instant, Tony slams facefirst into the ground under a mess of flaming firefae wings. The firefairy laughs, shaking copperbright hair, and straddles Tony’s neck, grinding his flat lizard nose on concrete. Tony grunts and whips misshapen legs, but he’s overpowered.

Angelo tenses, spins fluidly like a dancer. His vampire reflexes are sharp like icicles, those hard gray eyes afire with danger. The second fairy assassin dives for Ange’s legs in a clatter of steely blue wingbones. The third one leaps, spearing down like a crazyass vulture, her greasy black hair streaming. Oily black wings stretch rubberlike, petrolscent spraying, and moonlight glints on her evil green-tinged blade. Poison drips, hissing on the pavement.

Diamond watches, his nerves glass-sharp. Just one slice. One splash of greenified death. That’s all.

The cackling blue one aims a sharp elbow at Ange’s kneecap, missing by a fraction. Angelo growls and kicks back, but the oily vulturefairy lands on sharp black haunches atop Ange’s shoulders, her long feet curling in tight. She yanks the vampire’s head back by wet dark curls, and snakyquick she slashes with her knife, bright-green steel blurring across Ange’s throat.

Diamond sucks in a triumphant breath. Angelo snarls, the hole in his throat gushing crimson.

It doesn’t even slow him down.

Ancient vampire anger roasts the air like a furnace. Ange ducks like a charging bull, the fairy still yowling triumph on his shoulders, and runs headfirst for the wall.

Bones crunch wet. Vulturegirl screeches like a wounded bird, and the blade clatters to the concrete in a scarletgreen spray.

Ange bounces off, blood still spilling down his chest. Kicks the one chewing at his ankles in the face. Grabs the shattered vulturegirl’s wrist, and yanks.

Her slender arm cracks like kindling. She howls, fighting limp legs, feet flapping uselessly. Ange hauls the broken fairy from his back, throws her on the ground with a foul curse that blisters Diamond’s palms, and rips her shiny black throat out with his teeth.

Oily blood sprays black. Angelo chews, flesh tearing like paper. Shakes his head like a sleek dark dog. Wrenches the vertebrae free with a pop, black fairy meat hanging in shreds. And spits the dripping head out onto the concrete.

Splat.

Diamond’s guts wrench tight. Fuck. Fight’s done. Chance is lostified. No point leaving any trailification.

With a sharp crystalline flash, he sheds his dark-glamour.

Rosy light flares, stinging his skin raw. He dives for the dropped knife, glass wings clattering along the pavement as he rolls, and springs shrieking into the fight. The poisoned blade flashes warm in his hand, and he crashes like crystal on steel into the cackling blue fairy.

Limbs writhe and tangle. An elbow rams into his guts, retchworthy, but he cracks the blueshit’s pointy chin upward with a glasshard fist. Stabbifies the clumsyfae in his skinny blue throat before he can talk and give Diamond’s traitorfication away.

Blueberry blood squirts into Diamond’s face. The fairy chokes and dies, blueshine draining from his skin. Diamond rips the knife out and heaves the body aside.

Two down. One to go.

The firefairy holding Tony down scuttles backwards like a flame-drenched crayfish. Ange leaps after him, but Diamond reverses the knife and switches on his shimmering fairysight with a crackle of static. The alley telescopes, his directionicality homing in. He lets fly. The knife cartwheels, bloody steel shining blue, and plants itself in the firefairy’s eye socket.

Schllpp.

The fairy crumples to the ground, and his wingflames hiss out.

Silence. Just moonlight, and labored breath, and the trickle of blood from corpses.

Diamond sucks in air, fights to still his racing pulse. Three dead fairies. No prisoners. No one left to talkify.

Tony clambers to his feet, his face a mess of slimy lizard blood. He plants both hands on his broken nose and jerks it straight with a crackle like splintering wood. “Mother
fucker
.” He aims a kick at the dead firefairy’s face, and broken teeth scatter.

Angelo cracks his neck viciously, the shallow wound in his throat already healing, and rips off a handful of the blue fairy’s shirt to wipe his face clean. “Jesus Christ on a racehorse. Can’t a man walk the street in peace?”

A frustrated scream wells cold in Diamond’s throat. No trace of poison. Stupidfae missed her shot. Opportunity wastified.

He spits, casual, pinkshimmer stained with blue fairy gore. Blame their rival gang. Ange’ll believify. “DiLuca scumfuckers.”

“Most like.” Ange prods the girl’s greasy black wings with his toe, cold eyes calculating. “These assholes are freelancers. I’ve used ’em meself.” He claps Diamond’s bare shoulder. “Appreciate you coming by. Nice bladework. Find me who bought these dickheads and I’ll let you kill him, too.”

Diamond grins sickly. Usually, the vampire virus makes them faintly warm, like a fever. But Ange’s fingers are cold, his palm stony hard. “On it. Appreciamated, boss.”

Tony spears him on a suspicious yellow glare. “What you hanging out back for, anyway? Jerking off?”

Crippled lizardman doesn’t trust him. Diamond’s worming himself into Ange’s confidence, undermining Tony at every deceitalicious opportunity. Diamond’s chewed his way up the hierarchy lately, played some wicked sly fuckery on snaky Joey DiLuca, Ange’s top gang rival. Ange liked Diamond’s work, even if Joey and his bloodthirsty vampire funboy, Vincent, are still alive.

Discomfort spikes his wings, the delicate leading edge aching. The panes are only just healing where Joey’s minions smashified them to shards, and it still fucking hurts. But no matterfy. The DiLucas did him favors in the end. They killed Ange’s mean-ass cousins, and now, Diamond’s the best Ange has left.

All in the plannification, see. Get close. Make Ange trustify him. Get even closer. And strike.

He winks back at Tony, glitter flashing. “Nah. Looking for a horny lizardboy to suck my cock. Wanna try?”

Tony scowls. “Or maybe checking up on your handiwork.”

Diamond returns his stare, level.

But Ange just laughs and shoves Tony’s shoulder. “Give it a rest. Let’s get drinking. Coming, D-man?”

“Sure-sure.” Diamond shoves nonchalant hands in his pockets. But as they skip the queue and walk into the club, the hidden poison vial burns accusation in his palm, and he seethes with frustration.

Fuckity shit. Vampire not dead. No idea if the poison works. And now LaFaro the Lizard suspectifies. Already, Tony slinks off through fragrant smoke, beady yellow eyes tracking Diamond from across the dance floor.

Diamond flashes his glamour in threat, sparks showering, and Tony slips him a sly two-lidded wink and skulks away. Tony is faeborn, one of those weird humanfae hybrids. Nasty lizard freakboy, senseless taunterizer of fairies and slipper of sexdrugs in girly gin fizzes. Jealous of Diamond for stealing Ange’s favor. For his part, Diamond’s got nothing against faeborn. It’s assholes he doesn’t like.

Music’s heavy vibration heats his muscles, the delicious smells of flesh and alcohol a teasing pleasure. Angelo drags Diamond to the bar, and the girl brings him glowing fairy wine, chilled, rising apricot mist and a sparkly dusting of hallucinogen.

“To dead DiLuca fuckwits.” Angelo clinks glasses, his own a bourbon and blood on a chili chaser, and drinks deep.

“Amen.” Diamond forces a smile, the wine starry on his tongue and pleasantly warm. Already, his sinuses twinge, a sparkalicious rush. Flashes of color and breath, a cool caress, soft sighs.

Ange grins, a hungry predator. “Oh, hello, love.”

Diamond chokes.

Feathersoft dark hair, smooth on creamy shoulders. Red satin dress, luscious hips swaying, a flash of dark violet eyes.

He swallows wine and acid, sick, but can’t tear his eyes away.

Rosa slides a slim arm around Ange’s neck, and they kiss, lingering, his hand creeping up her curving thigh, her long scarlet nails sliding into his hair. But her eyes flicker open, and her gaze locks on Diamond’s. Hot. Sultry. Mockifying.

His fist jerks tight, and the glass splinters in his hand.

Wine splashes, and glowing pink blood oozes hot. The pain is delicious, stroking his desire. Bitch. Traitor. Vampire’s whore. Ange infected her, sure. But virus-sharing takes two.

Ange darts him a cool,
dare you to complainify
glare. “Darlin’, you remember Diamond?”

Rosa licks ripe lips, and props one hand on her hip, showing off that glorious body he can no longer touch. “Of course.” Her voice, deep and husky like a whore, a hot caress on his cock. “How could I forget?”

Diamond nods, twitches a smile, shakes broken glass from his bleeding hand. But his blood slithers hot. He hasn’t forgotten, either. Not her body slick under his, her spicy kisses zinging his mouth, the intoxicating chiliwarmth of her breasts. Not her flesh so smooth and tight around him, her soft moan, her hair’s freshmint whisper on his face. Not the thrill that tingled his bonehollows when he wrapped her in a gentle glowing embrace and whispered
I love you.

Not the coldsick betrayal when he found vampire marks on her thigh. The empty heartshock that whatever it takifies to keep this gloryvibrant woman—the only woman who ever laid siege to his glass-walled heart and won—he doesn’t got it.

Diamond isn’t used to feeling inadequate. Always magical, strong, beautiful, rich, charmified. None of that means shit now.

Things disintegrated, that night. Rosa tauntified him, flaunted her scars. He … hurt her. They can’t ever go back.

Rosa grins, wicked, and her flashing fangtips make his skin crawl. He forces another smile. “Gotta go, Ange, see my boy Jasper about a score. Letcha know about that thing outside. Have a good night, Rosa.”

Aching, he turns and loses himself in the crowd. Laser lights glint off his glassy wings, shedding shatterfied rainbows on the floor, and his bleeding fingers clench tight around the poison vial in his pocket. No, she’s a nasty lying whore. He doesn’t want her back. And the part he does want—the part where he still had some self-respectification, when he’d never touch a girl in anger and still believed he deserves to be alive—well, that part can’t be recovered. Ever.