Blood Cursed (5 page)

Sharp lizard fingers crush his elbow, and he jerks back.

Tony LaFaro glares up at him, a satisfied smile on his dryscaled lips. “I knew you was up to something. Keep your shitfae hands where they belong. Them’s Ange’s pickings now.”

Diamond shakes him off, suppressing dark longing to smash his palm into the little freak’s flat-nosed face. “Chillify, mate. Didn’t do nothing. Set her straight. She’s just sparklefucked, or something.”

“Like that ever stopped you.”

“Screw you, okay? The bitch already dumpified me once. Think I’m gonna play there again? Riddified her skanky ass.”

“Bullshit.”

“C’mon, let it slidify. You see me fucking her?”

Tony laughs, yellow eyes cruel. “I seen Ange fucking her, that’s for sure. You should come watch sometime. That woman’s titties make a man’s mouth water. And the things she can do with her tongue, sweet Jesus. But I guess you already kn—Mph!”

Diamond’s glassy veins burn molten, and he slams the lizardman’s pointy chin upward and jams him against the curtained wall, teeth crunching an inch from the bastard’s nose. Rosa’s spiky silver burns his wrist, pain pulsing in harmony with his rage. His blood flows faster, hotter, trickling down his forearm. “Don’t scumtalk a lady like that, you fucking insect. You’re grit between her goddamn shower tiles.”

Tony just giggles, triumphant. “Yeah. You’re over her, all right. See through you like a fucking window, mate. No pun intended.”

Fury crackles Diamond’s wings aglow. “Like your blood, lizard? Fuckshut up and you might keep some inside y—”

“Yeah, whatever, glassboy. One chance, since I like you so much. A guy should be allowedta think with his dick the one time. But touch her again, and I’ll tell Ange you’re boning his girlfriend on the sly. On top of the fun you had trying to kill us tonight? Your life won’t be worth the spit in his mouth.”

Diamond crushes harder. “He won’t believify.”

Tony chuckles, wet. “Think he might.”

Diamond laughs, but dreadification seeps into his muscles like hot lead. Ange has three and a half centuries of brittle male vanity stacked up. He’ll believify in an instant,
zip zap,
and then a little pile of pinkglass dust on the floor that used to be called Diamond.

Disgusted, he flings the little shitball away and stalks off, a rasping lizard chuckle grating in his ears. He fucked up. LaFaro saw. And now there’s only one thing Diamond can do.

Screw conscience. He’s got a plan. And Ember’s not an innocent, no matter her pleadifying eyes. She’s exactly the kind of no-shame bloodslut he needs. It’s not like Rosa can just leave. Nothing less than Ange’s hot screambleeding death will do.

Find Ember. Friendify. Feed her the poison. Kill Angelo. Get Rosa out of there. And then … what? Take her back?

His wrist stings, and he works Rosa’s tightjeweled bracelet looser with a sweatslick finger and shakes the blood off.
Why d’you give a shit, D? Why don’t you hate her? She usified you. Untruthed you. Tell her to fuck off.

But guilt sparks his conscience alight.

Can’t let her suffer. Can’t let her stay with Ange and die. Even if it means Ember has to take a little discomforticality. She won’t get hurtified, not really.

And mayembe, if he can help Rosa now, it’ll make all the vileblack things he did and said okay.

Nothing else he can do. Choicem off.

Cynical laughter chokes him dry. Christ on a moldified cheeseburger. One day, his goddamn bleeding heart’s gonna get him killed.

Compelled, Diamond glances back for Rosa, but she’s already melted into darkness.

In hot clubsmoke, Vincent DiLuca lounges on his barstool, cradling a bloody bourbon cocktail and watching with vampiresharp eyes as Diamond slams LaFaro against the wall.

He inhales, flesh and perfume and hot fairy glamour, and his fangs ache as he grins. He’s enjoying the show. Always fun to watch Valentis backstabbing each other. The Valenti gang are DiLuca’s enemies. With any luck, LaFaro and Diamond will kill each other and save Vincent and his boys the trouble.

Vincent laughs, the dark bass beat throbbing pleasure into his fevered blood. “C’mon, ladies, just fuck and get it over with.”

Beside him, Joey DiLuca snickers and sips his scotch, blond hair falling over his cheekbone. Joey is Vincent’s boss, a snake-shifter with venomsharp instincts and an icewalled temper. “Can’t fault the entertainment tonight. My money’s on the lizard. Glassfairy’ll trip over his own swollen fucking ego before long.”

“Heh. You’re on. I pick the fairy. Snotty prick’s got balls, if ya know what I mean.”

Joey shrugs, silent. Vincent gets a lot of silence from Joey these days. Vincent has been a vampire for only a few weeks, since he contracted the virus in a little accident involving one very drunk Vincent and a vampire threesome. Since then, his transition to vampire has been … untidy. Bloody. Conspicuous. And if there’s one thing Joey doesn’t like, it’s unnecessary mess.

At last, Diamond shoves LaFaro backwards and stalks off, and the fury frothing from the fairy’s skin ignites Vincent’s veins with desire and loathing. Just looking at all that musclebound fairyflesh makes him feel dirty.

And hungry. But these days, he’s always hungry.

He gulps the last of his bourbon and blood, sweat dripping from his elaborately messy hair. Alcohol burns his throat and warms his belly. But it’s not enough, never enough anymore, and his fingers itch and curl, longing to scrape, pierce, kill.

Sure, he’s stronger now. Faster. His senses more alive. But being a vampire is one long torturefest of screaming famine.

Hah. That’s fucking poetry. They should put that in the safe sex brochure, underneath
Rethink your fifteenth swallow
and
Bathing in that shit is a really bad idea.

A golden-winged earthfae girl floats past on a cloud of sugary girlsmell, and Vincent’s mouth waters hard. Her flimsy dress wafts around long sunburnished legs, her wings’ trailing edges delicate and crushable. Her breasts are small and succulent, tantalizing beneath translucent fabric that shows the bronzed shadows of nipples. She smiles at him, her lips so soft … .

He tries to unstick his gaze, but he can’t. He can’t stop smelling her blood, so earthy and rich, the pulse throbbing in her neck, her wrists, her licksyrup thighs, an evil drumbeat in his veins. His fangs ache, the blood pressure rising like a tide until his skin burns and his muscles swell and his cock jumps hard with unslakeable thirst … .

“Sit the fuck down, Vincent.” Joey’s hellgreen serpent eyes flash warning.

Vincent shudders, hard. He didn’t even realize he was standing, and he jerks back down, trying to erase that throbbing pulse in his ears. Sweat runs inside his crisp white shirt, soaks his torn jeans, drenches him in feverbright lust, and he grits his teeth on bloodfresh hunger. “Gimme a break. You said I could.”

“I said you could eat. I didn’t say you could gorge yourself. You’ve already had one tonight. Order a pizza.” Joey lounges elegant and relaxed on his stool, one foot hooked in the rung, a faint sheen of luminous green sweat on his pale skin. Intense, unblinking. Snakes don’t blink.

“Who the fuck are you, my mother?” Vincent lights a cigarette with shaking hands and tries to concentrate, reason, think of anything except bloody meat ripping between his teeth.

“Put on this earth to kick your girly ass. Get used to it.” Joey grins, the sharp, confident smile of a guy who knows he’s won.

“Whatever.” Vincent blows smoke aside, irritated. What the hell’s Joey got that he doesn’t? Mina, Joey’s kick-ass banshee girlfriend, that’s what. Mina wouldn’t sleep with Vincent, and not for lack of him trying. Vincent’s nerves tighten with envy. One more reason to feel left out.

The other reasons—the indiscriminate bleeding, the rape, the torture—the rest of it wasn’t Vincent’s fault. No way. He was newly infected, crazy with fever and bloodlust. Once, Mina was his best friend. Now, she eyes him askance, like he’s dirty or wrong, and Joey circles like a vulture, waiting for him to fuck up.

And he will fuck up. The insatiable fever gnawing his blood makes that a certainty. Only a matter of time.

Gotta get some love back before it’s too late. Mina’s in the ladies’, powdering her knives or polishing her nose or whatever. Vincent sidles closer. “Seriously, boss. Gimme something here. What I gotta do to show you I’m better?”

“Be better.” Joey’s glance is cold, unsympathetic. Like he doesn’t have his own monster, waiting just beneath the skin. Vincent can smell it, scaly black skin cold and smooth like oil.

He sucks down more smoke, but it doesn’t calm him like it used to. Only one thing calms him anymore. He exhales, bitter. “Hey, I’m doing okay. Gimme some credit. C’mon, Joey, we used to be good together. What can I do to show a little faith?”

Joey shrugs, sipping his scotch like he couldn’t care, but he doesn’t say,
Fuck off, Vincent, you crazy flesheater
.

Encouraged, Vincent stubs out his cigarette. “I can get you some fairy product. Good stuff, fresh emotions. I know some cookers, we can get it on the street before them Valenti assholes even lay hands.”

Again, Joey shrugs, unimpressed.

“No? Okay. How about …” His mind scrabbles for something, anything he’s good at. He’s the guy who gets things. But now Joey has Mina, Joey’s got everything he wants.

And then, over the boss’s shoulder, Vincent spies a flash of rosetinted glass wing.

He leans over, a warm whisper of promise. “Diamond.”

Joey’s fingers whiten. “What about him?”

Vincent grins. Joey suppresses his hatred well. He’s had years of practice at wearing two skins. But Vincent’s known him too long, knows that narrowing eye and bunching thigh. Joey has one intensely personal reason to loathe Ange Valenti’s favorite glassfae minion, and she’s over in the ladies’ room putting on her face.

He shrugs, casual. “I’ll kill him for ya. Just to show I care.”

“I don’t need him dead.” Joey’s tone clips tight.

The hell. “But you’d like him dead. He fucking shot you, Joey.”

“I lived.”

“Not by his choice. And … well, I don’t wanna burst your bubble, mate, but he did fuck your girlfriend.” Vincent licks his teeth, satisfied, and waits for the explosion.

Shiny black fingerwebs burst from Joey’s knuckles, and the glass in his hand shatters. “Not while she was my girlfriend, he didn’t.”

Inwardly, Vincent laughs, bloodfresh. “Doesn’t soften the sting any, does it? And hey, you know what they say about fairy cock. Keeps us girls going back for more—”

Jasmine perfume tingles his nose, and he snaps his mouth shut. But he’s said enough. Joey’s insecurity will do the rest. Any idiot can see Mina’s head over heels, but Joey’s math adds differently. Diamond’s a glowing fairy god, glamorous and beautiful, and Joey’s a blackscaly serpent with ice for blood. To him, it’s inevitable.

Vincent giggles inside, virusblood tingling his tongue. The thought of either of them touching Mina ignites foul rage in his heart. It’s strange, compelling. Jealousy never consumed him like this before. But the vampire virus sharpens everything into a weapon.

Mina slides a graceful arm around Joey’s neck, her skyblue hair falling over his shoulder. She’s wearing tight leather pants with iron buckles and jackboots, and she looks fucking hot. She grins, ruby eyes shining. “You boys having a nice chat?”

Joey kisses her, and when he breaks off, he’s gasping to catch his breath. He inhales the scent of her hair, that kill-you-crazy besotted look on his face, like he wants to fall on his knees and worship her right there. Snakeheart Joey’s in love. It’s fucking priceless.

Joey’s fingers slide tight between hers, black skin caressing white. He sighs, closing his eyes with his cheek pressed to hers, and when he opens them again, his glare spears Vincent still, dark and burning cold with jealousy and everything he can’t afford to lose. “All right. Do it. But I know nothing, understand?”

“You got it.” Vincent lights another cigarette, delight twinging hot in his blood. Flashy glassboy is his. He’ll track the pinkass slutfae down and carve himself a piece of tasty fairy butt.

Snicker.

And then Joey will take him back, and Mina will like him again, and everything will be like it was before.

Mina eyes them both blankly. “Do what?”

Vincent glances over her shoulder. Diamond is on the phone, one long pink finger pressed to his pointed ear to block out the noise. No hurry. Not going anywhere.

He gives her his old handsome smile. “Nothing. Wanna dance, pretty girl?” And he winks sly triumph at Joey and twirls Mina out onto the floor.

5

Jasper tugged me away, slinging his arm around my shoulder, and I went, my nerves still jangling at Diamond’s snarky insults. “What the hell’s his problem?”

“Forget him.” Jasper walked me down the steps to the main floor, where smoke hung sweet and the ground thudded with grinding electric chords. My moon-sensitive blood hummed, every cell awake with magic and scent.

On the tables, fairy girls shimmied, showing off matchless bodies in tiny halter tops and hot pants, running long bony hands over lissome hips bare in sweaty heat. I flushed and tugged my tight skirt down over my butt. Blood still squelched inside my dress, trickling hot down my belly, and my skimpy top barely covered me. My boobs were practically bursting out of it. I wanted to go home and change. I liked to dress sexy, but not tacky and ridiculous. I felt false, like I wore a costume that neither fit nor suited me.

I felt like that a lot, no matter what I wore.

Jasper pulled me against the mirrors, nightshade hair tumbling over his gorgeous plumrich grin. “He’s just jealous. You’re my girl, and you done good, Emmy.”

He leaned in for a kiss, and when his lips caressed mine, so tender and warm, tears sprang to my eyes. I hated him for how I felt, shitty and miraculous at the same time. He tasted sugary and dark like spiced honey, the gentle sting of his teeth so much like home.

I wanted us to be like this all the time. Just wanted him to like me, care for me, give a shit how I felt.

But we weren’t. He didn’t care about me. I had to leave him, before I agreed to do something even worse, just for one dizzy moment of his affection.

“Mmm. You’re a peach, Emmy. Got something for ya.” He slipped the weird scarlet gem I’d stolen for him into his pocket, and came up holding something else.

My arm still hurt where he’d bruised me, and my wings ached. “Look, we need to t—”

My heart somersaulted, thieving my breath.

Another jewel sparkled in his pale fingers. Green like rainforest, flashed with gold, tapering to glittering points at each end.

And it was attached to a slim golden ring.

Jasper smiled, devastating, and dipped his forehead to mine in an intimate caress. “This is for you. Say you will.”

My pulse thudded.
Say I will what—?

Oh, shit.

I swallowed, dry, the mirrors suddenly cold against my shoulder. “Is … is that what I think it is?”

“I like having you around, Emmy. Say yes or I’ll die.” His earthy scent weakened my knees, and his lips drifting close to mine made me shiver. But something warm and sharp like a wire hook pulled my guts out of shape, and I realized it wasn’t hope or love or a dream come true.

That shining jewel terrified me.

Already I could feel it, snug around my finger, tight and unmovable. My future. Stuck there forever. No escape. And before I could speak—or run—he took my hand and slipped his ring onto my finger.

The cool band fit perfectly. The jewel sat oblique across my finger, so big, it brushed the knuckles either side, the golden setting curling like tiny leaves. I lifted my hand, fingers splayed, and smoky nightclub lights caught the facets, glittering blue and green and gold.

I swallowed, sick. “Umm … I dunno what to say.”

Jasper caught my hand and kissed it, his gaze aflame on mine. “Same color as your eyes, cherry girl.”

I bit my lip, and more tears leaked. He was right. The fucking thing looked gorgeous.

I tried to clear my eyes, to think. This was every fairy girl’s dream. Family, love, babies, a real life just like a human.

But rebellion spiked icy shards in my heart. I didn’t want to be a gangland wife. Didn’t want to be That Poor Woman, always elegantly dressed, perfectly groomed, that dull glaze of denial in her smile, and people gaze at her with pity aglimmer in their eyes, and whisper behind their hands,
That poor woman, surely she can’t not know
.

Jasper lifted my chin, caressing my lips with his thumb. “Hey, sugarpie, don’t cry. I want you pretty.”

My pulse skittered.
Last chance. Don’t crumble. One moment more, and it’ll be forever too late.
“Jasper, I can’t—”

“It’s okay. We can talk after. I’ll take you out, we’ll have a good time. But gotta go first. See a man about a thing. Wait for me?”

“But—”

“Sure you can.” His consonants sharpened, his fingers tightening on mine. A subtle nuance, but I felt it in my bones, saw it churning restless in his eyes, the first tiny smolder of his temper.

Tiny anger-coals stirred in my heart. What could out-important this? Some drug deal with his smart-ass boss? Meeting his slutty girlfriend?

But I just nodded, confusion blotting like storm-clouds.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed the top of my head, his wings brushing my face with that wonderful warm velvet glow, and seeped into the smoky crowd like a shadow.

Frustration itched like mosquito bites. Missed that chance. Almost like he’d known what I’d say.

But Jasper was far from the marrying kind, and despite everything, foolish hope still shone on my heart. It wasn’t the proposal I’d dreamed of, in that little girly part of me that wanted babies and puppy dogs and a petunia garden. He didn’t go down on one knee or shower me with roses or treat me to a candlelit supper on the beach. But he did ask me, and for an instant, I dared to hope I’d actually touched him.

I swallowed, salty with unease. Could I really leave him now? Maybe this was it. Maybe this time, he’d change. Things would be different.

But things were never different. He never changed. And neither did I.

I peered into the crowd, but he was gone.

I wiped my sweaty hands and couldn’t help glancing down at the beautiful ring. Most likely he didn’t own it. The gem probably wasn’t even real. It felt warm and slimy on my finger, sweat sticking in germs and dead skin. It trapped me, an invisible cage of acquiescence and silence and blind emotion that made no sense. I wanted it gone.

I wanted him gone.

I fingered the ragged hole in my throat, already healing but still sore to the bone with humiliation and rage. Urgency gripped me like hot vampire claws. No, this couldn’t wait. I needed to say my piece, here, now, tonight. And if he lost his temper and hurt me, so be it. All the more reason to do it in a public place. So long as I could still walk away, I’d win.

Greasy fearfingers wrapped the back of my neck, but I tightened my mouth and pushed them off, and took one step into the crowd.

No lightning bolt. No giant boot crushing me from on high. My newly growing backbone didn’t snap. I didn’t even feel sick.

I felt great.

A smile tugged my mouth wide, and I wiped my tears and sidled through the dancing crowd, my damp wings tucked in safe. A sexy troll boy bumped my hip and threw me a jagged black-toothed grin, and I grinned back. I liked the glint in his eye. Maybe I’d come dance with him later.

Then again, maybe I’d swear off men forever.

Jasper had disappeared toward the back, so I went that way, sidling to get through. Beneath the mezzanine, the air rippled with heat, thick with sex and candy. My reflection floated along the mirrored wall, a tall shadowy ghost with smoky wings, her knotted hair bloodred. Her eyes burned, her face determined. She looked strange and wild, like the specter of a crazy big sister I never knew I had. A smart, kick-ass, take-no-shit version of me, without the fear. The Ember I wished I could be.

I crunched my nose in a smile and waved. “Hey, Big Em. You go, girl.”

To my surprise, Big Em waved back and winked, eyes glowing red. And then she faded like a stain of breath, leaving only me.

I blinked. Weird. But good weird.

My silly heels clunked on the ribbed metal floor, and as I hopped down the stairs to the fire escape, my ankles ached. Sooner this was done, sooner I could get home, take a shower, dump this nasty outfit.

Assuming Jasper would let me take my things, of course, and didn’t leave me with nowhere to go. But I didn’t want to think about that.

The back firedoor lay ajar, its metal-hinged handle jammed down. I pushed, and it screeched open.

Hot dry air slammed my face, crinkling the blood on my skin to sticky lumps. I stepped into the alley, where garbagestink from the skip mixed with warm eucalyptus and stale beer. Moonlight glared yellow in my eyes, the brick walls a dusty rainbow of spraypaint and splashed vomit. Charming.

But my pulse sparkled, treacherous under the hot caress of the near-full moon. My body heated, warmth spreading, and I hated it.

Moonlight pleasures me. It’s the same with all bloodfae, something about cycles and tides and monthly madness. And in a couple of nights, the moon would be full, so fat and round and juicy, just the thought of it swelled my heart and throbbed my blood with ancient pleasure rhythms that urged me to twirl, dance, fly crazy pinwheels in the moonlight, find a beautiful fairy boy and slide my naked body over his until I moaned.

But the last thing I wanted to think about right now was my blood.

The door banged shut, blocking out the noise. My ears rang, clogged with cottony nightclub hangover, and I wobbled my head, straining for voices, footsteps, anything to show me where he’d gone. But silence, just the distant rough whisper of traffic and a screeching crow.

I flittered into the air and hovered, glancing left and right. Tire grooves lined the narrow asphalt lane, a few parched potholes left by last month’s storms. At the end of the block, a tram rattled up the hill, a distant silver streak.

No one. Maybe Jasper didn’t come this way after all … .

Scrape.

My eartips twitched. Behind me. I dived around in a breezy swish.

Scrape again. A metallic rattle. Maybe a voice.

I fluttered up the alley, summer air hot and strong beneath my wings. Garbage’s meaty smell twitched my nose, and my ears hummed. Definitely a voice.

And then a slim dark body crashed out from behind the row of rusty skips.

Alarm tingled my tongue, and I darted into the shadows for cover. And then my heart jolted cold. Jasper. On his back. Bleeding, his lovely face a mess.

He rolled over with a wet gurgle of agony, trying to crawl away, but his legs wouldn’t work. His soft wing membranes scraped the ground, dust shedding, and a jagged bone stuck out from one shoulder.

My pulse screamed. My feet hit the ground with a clunk, and my muscles jerked, urging me to jump, scuttle, run to him.

The monster in the shadows leapt out.

I recoiled, nerves squealing alive. A snarling hellbeast landed on all fours, black limbs gleaming like burnt toast, its birdlike legs folding backwards. Shining blue hair hung past its narrow waist, its lean black muscles wrapped tight over angular bones. Dripping needle teeth, monstrous black claws sharp as razors, flat yellow eyes dripping fire.

I hugged my knees to my chest, sweating. My pulse pounded. Already I could feel those teeth severing my tendons, feasting on me … .

But it didn’t see me. It crouched over Jasper, saliva dripping onto the pavement in hissing steam, and growled like a pissed-off hound of hell.

And then it
changed
.

Limbs shrinking pale, teeth sliding into a rosy mouth, claws sucked back into elegant fingertips, slim hands, fingers ringed in gold. Iceblue hair shortening to a golden pageboy bob, sunflash eyes darkening to shiny black.

Jasper choked and groaned, blood bubbling on torn mauve lips.

The blond man adjusted his dark suit and crouched over Jasper with a sniff of distaste. Green flame leapt in his hair, threatening. “I want them all, Jasper. Not just one. All.” He rested his wrist on one elegant knee and dangled something red and glinting on a chain before Jasper’s bloodshot eyes.

The vampire’s gemstone. The one I’d stolen.

It squirmed on the chain’s end like a fishhooked worm, fighting blindly to escape, and that desperate squeal shrieked in my ears again. I stared, agape. What the hell was that thing?

Jasper flopped, broken bones grating. “Time. Just give me time, Kane. I’ll get them. Promise …”

Disbelief blotted my vision scarlet. Black-eyed monsterblond was Kane? As in Kane, the prince of hell who ruled the city? Jasper and Diamond’s ultimate boss, the guy who told even Angelo Valenti what to do? Kane, the demon lord of Melbourne, stalker of souls and master of temptation?

I bit my lips again, quivering.
Jasper, you fucking idiot. What have you done?

Kane just looked at him, sparks crackling between his fingers. “Did you think you could betray your so-called friends to save your own soul? You’re already mine, fairydirt. All five of you. You can’t escape. Did you really imagine you could hide your souls from me with chunks of rock?” Kane gripped the wriggling gemstone and crushed his fist tight.

Jasper howled. Scarlet smoke hissed between Kane’s fingers. The stink of charcoal rose, and he opened his fist and let bloody red chunks fall to the black pavement, mixed with mangled gold.

Kane licked his palm and smiled, blood smearing his scarlet lips. “Oops. Did I break your feeble spell? That was the vampire boy’s, was it? Thanks so much. And now I’ll hunt down the pretty liar and the burning girl and the shadowfairy, and have myself a tasty feast. But first—” He grabbed Jasper’s bloody hair and dragged him close, his nails snapping out an inch and glowing scarlet. Cinders spat from his teeth and smoked on Jasper’s face. “—first I want
yours
.”

Cold sickness swamped me like salt water. Useless anger rippled my wings, urging me to jump, scream, do anything but let this creature eat Jasper. But fear froze my limbs fast, and I couldn’t move.

Jasper laughed, bloodshot eyes swirling crazy, and wet crimson bubbles burst on his lips. “Find it, then, hellboy. Bring it on.”

“Give it to me. Where is it, fairyshit?” Sparks flashed from Kane’s golden lashes, and hellcraft rippled the air black.

Ash stung my nose, and the ring on my finger burned cold.

I looked down, my heart racing. The cursed thing was glowing, not green like the stone but a dirty red gleam like fire.