Darksoul (24 page)

H
e looked down at them. They blinked up at him, giggled, went back to their nuzzling. Some came over and twirled around my waist, across my hips and up again. Io—who I’d lost track of for a moment—returned to me. I knew it was her because she tugged on the tip of my ear. Then she fluttered down and curled up in the crook of my collarbone, giving a soft purr.

Hunter turned on his heel and
spared me one last sidelong glance. “I want at least two feet between us.”

Heart falling,
I stared after him as he walked away.

“You think Hunter
hates you?” Ash burst out laughing and didn’t stop for a good while. He ducked his head to light a cigarette and laughed and took a drag and laughed and almost tumbled off the roof in his damn laughter—not that Panther would allow it, even sleeping as she was. She was coiled around him, eyes closed and silver strobes unnaturally still.

“Shut up!
Just shut up.” I paced along the flat ridge of the roof, Io on my shoulder and my hair tucked under a baseball cap. Ever since I’d learned how to jump off buildings and trees like a madman pro, I’d had a thing for heights, and the top of my house had become my favorite hangout place. It was the middle of the night, of course, and no one could see us where we stood. “Now. Are you going to sit there and laugh your ass off or are you going to help me?”

“Hold on. Let me see if I don’t find it funny anymore.” He
made a pitiful attempt to straighten his expression, but then he burst out laughing again, even swiping at something in his eye.

Incensed by his flippant treatment of my very,
very
dire situation, I turned back, lashed out and tried to kick him on the shoulder—the closest I could get to his face. But in one swift, practiced movement, he avoided the blow and caught my boot in his hand, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Let go,” I said
. I was balancing myself on one leg and it’d be a matter of time before I fell.

As if he were more than relaxed
, he brought the cigarette to his lips and took a long, amused drag. “Nice flexibility,” he said through a puff of smoke. “I’m sure Hunter will find it quite useful when he destroys you in bed. Destroys you in the most pleasurable way possible, of course—”

I yanked my f
oot free and lunged forward to punch him in the jaw. He caught my fist, too, letting it slam against his palm before curling his fingers around it. The coolness of his three rings chilled my skin. When I fought against his grip, his eyes softened with laughter.

“What I don’t understand is why
you’re treating this as a joke,” I said. Once again, I tried to pull my clenched hand out of his. “And what the hell? Are you saying you want me and Hunter together again?”

“I never stopped.”

“Well, the other day—”

Something flickered behind Ash’s eyes.
“Forget the other day. It never happened. Understand?”

“But—”

“I’m going to ignore you until we get back on topic.”

Fine. “Okay, well, Hunter’
s been avoiding me for a good five days. He hasn’t even gone to school. That’s serious as fuck, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I agree that it’s serious. But let me tell you what it means.” When he was sure
that I wouldn’t punch his face, he lowered my fist and uncurled my fingers for me, brushing his thumb over the last ring Hunter had given me—the one with the black stone and the thin band of chrome. “He needs time to get himself together. Trust me. He’s not avoiding you—he’s just establishing some distance until he can get himself under control again.”

“You’re talking as if he’s not in control all the time.”

“Oh, he is. He’s a fucking master at that. But…” Ash trailed off, cocked his head to the side. Just a little.

“
But?” I prodded.

He nodded a
t my shoulder, where Io sat. She shied away from his stare. “You know what he calls those?”

I’d been s
tarting to wonder. I’d named this one, but I didn’t know the name of the entire race, or species, or whatever they were.

“Z
okyies
,” said Ash, reaching out to touch her. She quivered in place, but when she realized he wasn’t going to hurt her, she hesitantly reached out and pressed a trembling mitt against his fingertip. “‘Tattletales’ in Old Haelvian.”

I held my breath as he leaned down, flyaway tufts of his hair
caressing the side of my face, tickling my jawline. Gently, he brushed the back of his forefinger against her cheek. She recoiled and gave a fearful purr.

“Hi,” he said, and his eyes smiled.

She froze at the sound of his voice. Then she squealed and darted under my sweater, wriggling across my chest and tucking herself inside the cup of my bra.

I
met Ash’s gaze. “Why is she so scared of you?”

“She’s inclined to think I’m her enemy
, since Hunter and I are. Only biologically, of course.” He straightened to his full height and brought the cigarette to his lips, his voice lowering to a murmur. “And I don’t exactly have a history of being kind to little creatures.”

“What?”

But he only gestured at the place where Io hid. “
Zokyies
,” he said. “‘Tattletales.’ They adore their master. Absolutely love him. So they do things that they think will benefit him, help him, etcetera. With me so far?”

“I guess? I still don’t understand the name.”

“I’ll explain later.” He grabbed my left hand and brushed his thumb over the third ring again. “Now, since they’re his creations, they’re connected to him in ways neither you nor I could understand. But from watching the way they interact, I can tell you one thing—they feel the same things he does. Even if he doesn’t show it.”

I watched th
e way the band on his thumb caught the light. Snowy whiteness played along its edges, winkling across the lighter inner streak. Looking up at him from under the rim of my cap, I said, “I don’t follow.”

Ash let out one soft laugh. “Jesus, Zel, do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Um, yeah?” Like, hello. Did I not look confused enough?

“Just do me
a favor. If you see his horde of
zokyies
, watch them. Don’t watch him.”

“What—”

“Don’t watch him,” Ash repeated.

I pulled my hand out of his and re
ached up, clamping him on the shoulders. “That,” I said, staring straight into his hazel-gray eyes, “is the most unhelpful thing you’ve ever said to me. See, here’s what I want. You’re pretty much his twin. You act like him, look like him, screw a bunch of girls like him—shit, you’re basically the same person with a different face. So I thought, hey, Asshole Number Two could totally get Asshole Number One to come to his senses and get the hell over one stupid kiss. Hmm? Brilliant, yes?”

“Well, I’m not going to help you.” When I started to prote
st, he reached over and gave my chin a gentle squeeze, as if I were three years old. “I’ve already intervened enough. It’s your turn now.”

“What—”

He merely smiled. A myriad of shadows enveloped him and then he was gone.

The following afternoon
I found myself creeping up the stairs in Hunter’s mansion, trying to make as little noise as possible. I didn’t know what I was planning. What I would say to him once I saw him. But this madness had gone on long enough, and I had to do something about it. It was February, for crying out loud. The month of The Terrible Thing That Must Not Be Named. Not only between couples, but between friends too. So I needed to fix this. Now.

I reached the closed dou
ble-doors of his artsy room and, taking a deep breath, eased them open.

“Hu
nter?” I called.

There was no response.

Sighing, I stepped in. The usual things were in place: ashtrays on the glass table, art history books strewn everywhere, beer bottles, black bra and three glimmering things that looked like broken condom wrappers.

And then I stopped on my tracks.

Broken wood. Splattered paint. Io gave a worried purr and flashed over to Hunter’s things. Her bottom lip trembled and I couldn’t say I didn’t feel the same.

Ruined. Everything was ruined.

Numb, I neared his artsy corner. None of his canvases had survived. His paintings had been ripped to tatters. His table—which had held mugs of charcoal sticks and boxes full of pastels—was complete chaos, with broken paint tubes strewn everywhere and shattered paintbrushes lying askew. His sketchbooks, ruined. His easels, ruined. Nothing remained intact.

And Hunter was nowhere to be seen.

Io had curled up on the splattered floor and was clutching a piece of canvas in trembling mitts. Heart breaking, I leaned down to scoop her up.

“
Shh, shh, it’s okay,” I said softly, trying to keep my hand steady as I deposited her on my shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

I
turned and made my way out of the room, brushing my wrists together one deadly time. The feathers uncurled out of their holds, flipped down, settled over my palms. Cup, slide, and the swords unsheathed themselves, their hilts settling snuggly into the curves of my hands, where calluses had thickened the skin.

“Hunter,” I called once I was in the hallway. “Hunter!”

Just like earlier, there was no response. Worry gnawed at my stomach, but I clenched my teeth and continued on. “Come out from wherever you are, you filthy bastard! You owe me an explanation and about thirty training sessions!”

Silence.
Io whimpered.

And then I froze
. What had Ash said?
Zokyies
. They’re connected to him. They act according to his emotions. They feel what he feels…

If she was whimpering, did it mean he was—in pain?

“I-Io?” I said. She fluttered off my shoulder, meeting my gaze with watery eyes. “Do you know where he is? Can you tell me where he is?”

Instead of responding,
she grew still. She shied away from something behind me, and that was when I felt it. The ever-familiar sensation of ice prickling across the back of my neck.

Slowly,
I turned around.

The demon
barged forward and I put my weapons up just in time to block the blow.

A hundred claws pierced the
ground beside my face, splintering the hardwood floor and caging me in. I tried not to scream. The demon’s body was that of a wolf’s, with the yellow eyes of a cat and a protruding snout. Three rows of teeth glared at me from the undersides of its snarling lips. Claws rippled down its body, making it more centipede than dog. I held it off with my crossed swords. It roared in my face, its rancid breath filling the air. I coughed.

But why wasn’t it killing me?

I was clearly at a disadvantage, but the demon only curled back a lip and continued growling. Not moving to slaughter me. Not yet. Its claws lifted and slammed down around me, nipping my ears. Warmth trickled across my lobes. I struggled against it. The beast was too strong, too heavy, and I could barely hold it off. Maybe I could bend a knee and try to shove it away. But my whole body was pinned under it, and no matter how hard I tried—
S
omewhere down the hall, a tinkling laugh sounded. “My, my, Husq, let the girl be,” a feminine voice said kindly. “She’s lovely. It’d be a shame if you ruined her face.”

The wolf-centipede
huffed. I tried to tilt my head to get a glimpse of my savior.

“
Husq.” The voice was soft and pleasant, like shards of frozen sugar. “Get off her. Now.”

The demon snarled one last time before slinking off me.
I scrambled back and, breathing hard, got to my feet.

And
then I froze.

Never had I seen beauty before this. Never had I known…

The first thing I noticed was her hair. Whereas Hunter’s pale blond had a naturalness to it, hers was such a translucent white that it melted into the dim lights of the hallway. It fell to the floor and pooled in elaborate whorls around her dark blue robe. Her face was fine and delicate, with high cheekbones and perfectly arched brows. Enchanting. Strangely kind.

Her demon pet
prowled in a circle before settling near her feet, propping his head on top of folded claws. He snarled at me again.

The woman
laughed, a soft, delicate thing. “Quiet, quiet. I know. I want to kill her, too.”

What?

Not sure what else I could do, I took an uncertain step back, struggling to keep my hands steady as I put my swords up. Io tucked herself under my ponytail, trembling.

The woman didn’t look the least threatened by my
weapons. With a flair, she lifted the sheet of canvas she’d been holding. It was tattered at the edges, as if it’d been ripped out of its wood frame.

“So this is her,”
the woman murmured, looking from the painting to me and back. Sighing, she tore it in half and threw it to the ground. My heart pounded. Husq caught a piece between his teeth and chewed on it, shook it around, gnawed and gnawed until it was nothing more than slips of dried paint. “You’re quite lovely, you know, and I can certainly see what Nikolai finds appealing. However, love, he should be doing his job, not wasting his time drawing a girl that has only made him insufferably weak.”

“W-What…” My voice barely
scraped through my tight throat. Who was Nikolai? “I don’t know what this…I don’t—”

She moved so fast that I didn’t have time to catch my breath. Suddenly she was in front o
f me, grasping my chin with warm fingers, her hair cascading around us. “What should I do with you, little heartbreaker?” she said gently. Her face was—why was it so…kind? “Hmm? Should I kill you?”