Blood Cursed (7 page)

My giggles subsided. I knew exactly when the moon would be brightest.
Perilune,
it was called, when the moon came closest to earth, and this month perilune and full moon almost coincided. The brightest, fattest, hottest full moon of the year. It was in my blood. I could feel it. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Two nights from now. I had until then to make this right.

But what could I do? Call the cops like a good little human girl? Like they’d care about one more dead drug dealer and his skanky girlfriend. No, I had to handle this myself.

Slowly, I retrieved Kane’s card from the dirt and dusted it off. The thick ivory paper felt nice in my fingers. His phone number in black print on one side—just the number, nothing else—and below it, he’d drawn a heart and two kisses in dusky red ink like blood. For some forgotten girlfriend? Or for me, his latest trick?

I flipped it over. Same ink, same round childish handwriting.
Scarletfire queen
, it said.
Famine in the dark. Bloodpetal girl.

Despair burned my eyes like hot ash. This was supposed to help? Clearly this demon lord—
your demon lord
, that nasty ringfire beast hissed in my head,
he’s your master now
—clearly Kane had a selfish sense of humor.

My heart quailed. Even if I could decipher his cryptic message, I didn’t know anyone in gangland. Sure, I partied with Jasper’s friends, but none of them gave a damn about me. I had no one to call on for help. Jasper always sheltered me from his business. Said he didn’t want me to worry. Always watching his back, glancing over his shoulder.

Well, bad luck, Jaspie old thing. Your paranoia just got us killed.

But as I stared at his mangled body, wringing my hands like it’d make me think better, warm dark inspiration slipped into my blood.

Check his phone, cinder.

My bones burned, a blackcharred whisper from hell.

Or maybe it was Big Em, my inner superhero, with her wild hair and her screw-’em-all attitude, poking my sluggish brown ass in the right direction.

I blinked. Why didn’t I think of that? Even paranoid sparklefreaks like Jasper had a phonebook. How else could he make his deals? Maybe Scarlet Queen and Darkly Famine and Bloodpetal Girl would be on there.

Thanks, Big Em. Or whoever you are.

Swiftly, I knelt and wormed my hand under Jasper’s body. He was still warm underneath, spicy scent still drifting. I swallowed, and dug harder. My claws fumbled past the rolled edge of his jeans pocket, and tapped hard plastic.

I pulled the phone out and slid my finger over the bloodstained screen, scrambling to my feet. A text message flashed, his background a psychedelic smear. I ignored it and flipped to the phone book. Dozens of names. Lots of girls. Some had pictures, painted blue eyes or a curled wingtip or a naughty crimson lips shaped into a kiss. A few were naked.

Humiliation twinged, but I shoved it aside. The cheating weasel was dead. No need to rub it in.

Besides, I was just as pretty as those girls. Wasn’t I?

I squashed the urge to flip back and check, and scrolled down.

Nothing useful. No names or pictures that looked anything like
famine
or
scarlet
or
petal
. My nerves skittered with frustration. The right numbers could be there. I just had no way of identifying them. And even if I could, what could I do? Call them up and say,
Hey, you don’t know me, but d’ya mind if I steal your soul-stone and send you to hell?
That’d go down a treat.

I sighed and flipped back to the main screen. That message chimed at me again, and my finger hovered an inch from the glass, uncertain. Jasper didn’t like me snooping. I’d had bruises to prove it. My eyes darted sideways, to make sure he wasn’t watching.

Body. Broken and bleeding. Duh.

A lump clogged my throat, my eyes burning. But I’d no more time to feel sorry for myself. I dragged my gaze away and opened the message.

Where u @ JJ??

I read the caller ID, and my wings heated. Of course, I knew one person in gangland, if only slightly.

There was one rude, stuck-up glassfae asshole I could call.

I hesitated. Diamond was über-Jasper, stronger, meaner, better connected. He knew things about people. He’d probably recognize in an instant who Kane’s cryptic clues were for. And he was tough enough to make his way in the Valenti gang without getting his wings chewed off. With him on my side, I could have this done and dusted in a few hours and go home for a shower and a cool air-conditioned bed.

But I imagined asking for his help, and my guts coiled cold. He’d sneer at me with those contemptuous rosy lips. Throw a few more whore insults. Toss that shining hair at me and flitter his infuriatingly perky glass ass away.

My chin set tight, and I flicked the phone dark.

No way.

I didn’t need Diamond. I was through asking for help. Relying on men to save me was what got me into this mess. Besides, Kane’s hellspelled hourglass was running out. I didn’t have time to quarrel with Diamond, to flirt and circumscribe and explain what the hell had happened. I had to do this now, tonight, on my own.

But you’re insignificant.
That nasty doubtvoice taunted me.
You’re so weak and stupid, Emmy, how can you get through the night alone? You need someone to protect you. Someone to feed you and dress you and keep you safe.

“Shut up.” I sniffled, uneasy. “I can do it by myself.”

No, you can’t, Emmy. Don’t be stupid. Go find another boy to take care of you. Diamond’s cute, and strong. And he wants to fuck you. They all want to fuck you, Emmy. Didn’t you watch those hot glitter-lashed eyes, licking over your body? All you gotta do is give him a nice hot blowjob in the dark and he’ll give you what you need … .

“Shut up!” My voice grated in the hot silence, and I stuffed Jasper’s phone into my bag with a vicious shove. No way. Coward-beast was right about one thing: In gangland, nothing got you nothing. If Diamond thought I’d lay one finger on his weird pinkglass body, he could bloody well think again.

In any case, the people I hunted were probably Diamond’s friends. Once I explained what I needed, he’d tell me to get lost anyway.

No. I’d find another way.

I clicked my bag open again and poked inside, cataloging my meager resources. My phone. Jasper’s phone. Mirror, dusted with blue glitter. Foil twist, opened, same blue glitter. Lipstick, cherry. Some loose change, a couple of crumpled fifties.

I fingered the bills, and an idea sparked. Money meant power. I might not have any friends, but that didn’t make me helpless.

My stupid skirt rode up over my butt as I squatted. I yanked it down and carefully hooked Jasper’s roll of cash from his front pocket with one finger.

I flipped it open and glanced through the bills. Like any suave purveyor of junk, Jasper was always either swimming in it or flat broke, and luckily for me, tonight was the former. The curled plastic cash slid smooth on my fingers, that lusty moneyscent crisp in my nose, seductive, beckoning. In the moonlight, the pale terracotta twenties shone wetblack with his blood.

My nose wrinkled, but I crammed it all into my bag anyway, inkstain smearing on velvet. Jasper’s money always had blood on it. You just couldn’t see it most of the time.

I stood, tugging my skirt down again. My thoughts fizzed, swirled, coalesced. I needed information, but if I poked my nose in too hard, it might get bitten off.

Can’t imagine Jasper’s hellbound buddies were too eager to be found. So I had to be careful. Subtle. Sneaky, even.

There were others who knew more than I. If I told Jasper’s lick-ass drug-dealing friends he was in trouble, they might cough up. Everything was for sale. Maybe if I flirted a bit and laid down some cash, they’d help me.

I strode to the firedoor and yanked it open. Hot nightclub air drenched me in sweat and sound, the glory of dancing and sighs and wild abandoned grace mixing with heady moonlight until I swayed, drunk.

Screw Kane and his hellfire, Diamond’s scornful looks, Jasper and his hateful lies. I didn’t care. With moonlight racing in my blood and the dark pleasure of midnight sweat on my skin, I loved life. I didn’t want to die.

Jasper’s ring scorched my finger, the demonbound ache in my bones flaring scarlet. I sucked in a breath, trying to calm my pulse.
Easy, Em. Keep it simple.
I’d get Kane his damn stones, save my soul. And then I was leaving town forever.

A new start. No more excitement, no gangs, no drugs, no horny vampires or seedy nightclub demon deals. Thanks to Jasper, I had the price of an airfare and more. I’d go up to Brisbane, maybe, where it was warm and humid, big old rambling houses and no daylight saving and coffee down by the river in the scent of frangipani. Get a job. Keep my head down. Stay away from controlling men, find me a nice clean fairy boy who didn’t know sparkle from sherbet powder. No more gangster boyfriends for me.

I thought of Jasper’s beautiful apartment by the river, luxurious carpet and glass and shining white marble tiles. My pretty clothes, my jewels, all that expensive food and champagne, parties and candlelit cruises, nights spent in glittering casinos and bars. Sniffing luminous blue lines from golden mirrors, dancing slow and sultry wrapped in sugary fairy laughter, the rich drunken delight of sparkle-drenched sex. The hot velvet friction of his wings along mine, floating high on burning summer updrafts, midnight breeze a soft kiss in my hair.

Jasper was an asshole, sure. But he was a charming, cashed-up, fun-loving asshole who knew how to rock a fairy’s world.

I’d miss that.

But not for me anymore the fast life, the money, that heady breathless flavor of danger. I’d get an office job. Wash dishes. Work at Starbucks. Anything but this. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about being abandoned on the street to sell my blood.

Or dropped in a screeching hellpit with a ring on my finger.

I swallowed, tilted my chin high, and walked into the club to look for Jasper’s friends. Just an ordinary, nice, simple, boring life. I’d be poor, but at least I’d be happy.

Right?

7

I shouldered up to the crowded bar in the warm smell of smoke and sweat. Music caressed my wings, a slow pulsing vibration. White neon gleamed under my elbows as I hopped onto a stool, between two kissing fairy girls and a stoned human kid with steel pins in his eyebrows and Inca tattoos on his half-shaven scalp. I ordered a champagne cocktail and craned my neck for a glimpse of Jasper’s friends, my fingers itching to get on with it.

“Hey, baby.” The tattooed kid offered me his joint, his crusty-lashed eyes glued to my cleavage.

I scowled. Smoking’s banned in clubs. Those things’ll kill ya.

Jasper’s ring frosted hot on my finger, and I giggled, mad. Then again, what could go wrong from here? I took the lumpy cigarette and dragged. Clean, pale, a bitter opium twinge. I held it back out to him, the tart smoke croaking my voice. “Thanks.”

He winked and shuffled closer, greasy hair tumbling. “Hey. You, ah, working tonight?”

“Huh?” The smoke made me dreamy, and I didn’t really hear him.

He crept slick fingers up my thigh. “Wanna earn a little cash?”

“Fuck you.” I exhaled into his face and pushed away, glaring. Talk about spoiling my mellow. I didn’t have a choice how my glamour made me appear, but sometimes I wished it wasn’t a big-breasted bimbo.

Grumble, boo hoo, so sad. Okay, it was nice to be pretty, and this slutty outfit wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. But just once, I’d like to sit at the bar without some grubby guy thinking I’ll blow him in the back room for twenty bucks. Was that so much to ask?

I found another stool, keeping my eyes down, and stupid tears crept into my nose. Jasper would’ve torn that guy’s head off.

Yeah.
Big Em, my ghostly better self, snorted at my shoulder, her matter-of-fact tone caustic.
Because it cost Jasper a lot more than twenty bucks to get you to suck him off.

I flushed and wiped my eyes.
You know what, Big Em? Sometimes you can just keep your know-it-all mouth shut.

The blond bar guy brought my champagne, and I drank deep, the alcoholic fizz warm and urgent inside. It didn’t soothe me. Persistent male fingers slid over my shoulder, and I shrugged them off impatiently. Tattoo Boy didn’t know when to give up. “Look, I’m not selling, okay?”

“Pity.” Hot lips drenched my cheek in stale blood-scent, and fingers snapped tight like cruel jaws on the back of my neck. “Guess we’ll just take it for free, then.”

My pulse jiggled cold. Dark husky voice, dusty blue hair snaking over my shoulder. Tinkerfang, my new vampire buddy.

“Get off me, freak.” Metal clattered as I shoved my stool back, trying to break Tinker’s grip.

But I just banged into a hard shoulder. Paris snarled, teeth shining, golden fury glittering her eyes. “You murdered our friend, slutfae.”

My nerves knotted cold. “What? No! I didn’t hurt him, I just—Guh!”

Tinker gripped my throat, sharp nails slashing, and dived in to lick my blood from his knuckles with a lust-drunk hiss. “He’s dead on the floor, bitch. What’d you give him? Huh? Cut your sparkle with drain cleaner?”

I struggled, sharp heels slipping on the metal floor. “No! Get off me. I didn’t do anything!”

But guilt trickled like hot honey over my skin, and with an ugly jolt, I realized I had.

In my mind, that glowing scarlet jewel crushed once more in Kane’s fist. That horrid deathly squelch, soul-blood’s dark shine on his lips.
That was the vampire boy’s, was it?
he’d said.

Jasper gave Kane the gemstone I stole, and now the vampire I’d stolen it from was dead. Kane ate his soul. Because I was too dumb to realize Jasper was playing me, some guy I didn’t even know—some ordinary, horny, blood-drunk kid who never did me any wrong, only took what I was offering—was dead.

Tinker bared his teeth, a hungry dog’s grin. “Oh yes, you did, princess. And I’m gonna chain you up and bleed you till you die. Could take weeks.”

I choked and scrabbled at his hand, scratching his skin bloody. His meaty virus-stink wormed hot and sick in my mouth, but determination burned hotter.

Sure, their friend was a rude, dirty scumbag who bought blood from desperate girls. Didn’t mean he deserved to die.

But neither did I.

I forced my jaw tight and jammed my knee into Tinker’s balls.

He cramped over, gasping, and his grip faltered. I slammed my metal heel into Paris’s shin. Skin ripped, a bloody splatter. She yowled like a wounded cat, and I pulled free and dived headfirst into the undulating crowd.

Fangs slashed at my ankle, but I kicked free and tumbled onto my face. The grimy metal floor smacked into my cheek. My teeth sliced my lips. A knee crushed my ribs. My hair yanked tight under stumbling feet, smearing in the dirt. I didn’t care. I hauled myself up on nerveless wings and ran, shoving shoulders and limbs and trailing wings from my path.

Behind me, Paris and Tinker snarled, and metal furniture clanged. I fought a path through the sweaty crowd, between wailing fairies crazy on sparkle-drenched drinks, a pair of troll boys kissing, a lithe scarlet-haired firefairy on his knees, going down on his girl right there on the dance floor, her skirt wrapped around her hips and his lips shining wet. No one gave a damn about me. No one would help me, not a stupid bloodfae whore.

Sticky hair plastered in my eyes. I dragged it back. At last, I broke clear and hurtled toward the front door.

The skinny green troll girl at the counter speared me on a beady black glare as I stumbled by. I’d checked my jacket, a shiny silver one, my favorite. I didn’t care. I forced out into the street, past a weaving blue water-fairy and a greasy pair of sniggering potbellied sprig-gans, and took a desperate gulp of hot dry midnight air.

Moonlight burned me, dancing sweet desire into my blood. The street was busy, cars cruising by in the shadow of motionless foliage, the plane trees on the median strip untouched by breeze. As usual for a midnight in summer, the queue stretched along the dirty footpath, a swath of dustbright wings, glowing eyes, rainbow limbs damp with fragrant sweat. Magical static sparked along the pavement, red and blue as glamours clashed and fought for space, and the air shimmered with spellcraft and moonlit heat.

But humans, too, excited and glassy-eyed, swaying dizzy on intoxicating glamour. Too many humans. My heart sank. I couldn’t fly away, not in front of them. Too dangerous.

My heels raked my ankles bloody as I stumbled to the gutter and wildly searched the street. No cabs. Typical. Nearest tramstop blocks away.

Behind me, the door crashed open. I whirled, vision blurring, and hot needles stabbed along my nerves. Tinker hunkered and slavered like a chained dog. Paris sniffed, tasting the still heat like a cat, and her sharp gaze speared me to the wall.