Hell Bent

  “I will hold a second meeting with the Voices tomorrow afternoon, and tomorrow evening we will have a plan in place to accommodate the needs and safety of Soul Complements. Please make your decisions swiftly and carefully.”

  Decent of him. Didn’t think it was going to help much. Unless the Authority had a hell of a lot more guns and technology than I knew about—which I didn’t imagine they did seeing as how they’d spent hundreds of years relying on magic to take care of their problems—then it was just a matter of time before the government outpowered whatever the common magic users were doing to try to help the Soul Comps.

  Cue the conversation. The rise of voices stroked across my senses and rattled my hunger loose. Sure, Terric’s magic had helped push the need to feed away a bit, but this many people in one place, especially all worked up with heartbeats elevated, triggered my need to drink them down. The whole rich, alive stew of them.

  But if I started feeding, I’d wipe out the room, then wipe out every living thing in the building and probably a block radius.

  I stuck my right hand in my jacket and ran my thumb over the Void stone rings, rubbing them together when what I really wanted was to tear something, anything, apart. Breaking things kept my mind off the need to feed.

  Terric’s hand landed on my shoulder and I shivered at the rush that shot down my spine and clenched my gut. Life magic right there inside him, easy for the picking.

  Jesus.

  He leaned in close enough he didn’t have to raise his voice over the sound of the crowd. “Be nice, shake hands, make it quick. We’re going to the office to take care of things.”

  “Why would I want to go to the office?”

  His hand squeezed until my neck hurt. “Because. I. Need. You. To.”

  Then he released my shoulder and walked away, calm and smiling, and in control. The bastard.

  I strode across the room, making eye contact with anyone who looked at me. They all looked away. Terric played his part. Shook hands, made conversation, appeared concerned for people.

  But I was doing them the highest favor of all: getting the hell away from them.

  Eleanor drifted along beside me, arms crossed, and frowning.

  I stopped halfway down the hall and fumbled for a cigarette. Pulled out the pack and tapped out two. Lit one, which burned to ash in my shaking hand almost too quickly for me to use it to light the other cigarette.

  I inhaled, savoring chemicals and tobacco, and more so, savoring the burning, destructive death of plant matter and paper. Got about halfway through it before I noticed Eleanor was pointing at a NO SMOKING sign.

  “Sorry, love,” I said. “I’m immune to rules. Followed too many when I was young.” I exhaled smoke. “Built up a tolerance.”

  I leaned on the wall next to the sign, finished off the cigarette, and lit another one. Even at this distance and through the Mute spell, I could feel their heartbeats, could feel the pulse of their lives filling that room like warm, thick water I wanted to drown myself in.

  Terric was in there. I could sense him like a clear beam of light in the dark shit hole of my life. Sure, I could consume all those people. Or I could consume him. He’d be better. Far better than the entire population of this city.

  Then he’d be dead.

  “You know what?” I said, pinching out the smoldering end of the cigarette with my fingers. Ouch. Yeah, even pain could feed my need, if necessary. “I’m done waiting. Let’s go.”

  Eleanor pointed at the closed door to the meeting room, then tapped her wrist like she had a watch there. She didn’t, but I got her point.

  I hadn’t waited very long for Terric.

  “I’ll leave him a note, all right?” I was already walking toward the elevator and she, of course, followed along.

  When I’d first killed her, I could hear her. She had been angry, furious. But as time went on, it was harder and harder to hear her. Either that was how it always was for ghosts, or maybe it just took a hell of a lot of emotion to make words carry between the living and dead.

  Charades usually got her point across, and even though it meant I talked out loud to myself like some kind of crazy, it worked.

  Plus, it made people avoid me. So, win-win.

  Didn’t see anyone on the main floor.

  Outside. Still too damn sunny and freezing. October sky was blue, but the air was bitch-cold. I flipped up my collar and strode up the block to Terric’s car.

  Pulled a piece of gum out of my pocket, chewed. Smoothed out the gum wrapper, pulled out a pen. Used the top of his hood to write See U There on the gum wrapper, then spit out the chewed gum and stuck it and the note on his windshield, dead square in the middle of his field of vision.

  “There,” I said to Eleanor. “Note. Let’s get moving.”

  Buses were a bad idea—too many people. Same for the light rail. I had enough money for a cab, but walking was good. The motion, the burning of calories, did a lot to satisfy my need to destroy, consume. But there was no way in hell I was walking clear across town.

  I’d probably catch the MAX—light rail—on the other side of the bridge.

  Forty, twenty-seven, three, sixteen. I counted the people in the shops I passed, could tell by their heartbeat if they were young, old, or really old.

  Hardest to ignore were the young and old, both so close to one side of the grave. Easy pickings.

  I shoved my hands harder down in my coat pockets and dug my nails into the weave of my pockets, tearing at the threads.

  Could this day tick by any damn slower?

  I needed to feed. And if not that, because fuck me if I was going to kill anyone today, I needed a damn drink. Several, actually. Something to take the hard light out of the day, and sand all the edges off the world.

  I was about a block away from the bridge when the slick black Corvette rolled up and stopped just in front of me. I probably should have been paying attention, but survival hadn’t really been my thing lately.

  “Hey, you!”

  I pulled my chin up out of my coat collar, and the world snapped down around me with all its clean, hard edges.

  Situation: two guys in dark coats stepping out of the car. Driver built like a lumberjack, hair skinhead chic with a shaved lightning bolt, or maybe scar showing skin about three inches into his hairline above his right eyebrow. Unibrow, eyes set too close together, old acne scars.

  Other guy was skin over bone. Goat face, long nose, eyes set too wide. Hair shaved up both sides left to fall in a greasy swatch over one eye. Half a hardware store worth of hooks pierced his ears, eyebrows, and down the left side of his neck.

  I didn’t know these jackasses. I kept walking.

  “I’m talking to you,” Driver yelled. Driver also started toward me with a swagger that made it look like he was an inch short in one leg.

  I flipped him off.

  He kept coming, and even though I shouldn’t, I stopped. “What is your problem?” I said.

  “You know a buddy of ours,” Driver said.

  “Doubt it. I don’t hang out with assholes.”

  Driver smiled, showing a lot of gold on those teeth.

  “Sure you do,” he said. “Met him in an alley over on MLK this morning. Called the cops on him.”

  He must be talking about the ox. I wondered if these were the two men Terric had sent running.

  “We don’t like people who inconvenience our friends,” Goat-face said. He had a slight lisp. He also had a baseball bat.

  I held up one finger. “Time out. I didn’t call the cops on that jackhole. I don’t even know what they took him in for. Also, you really want to put that bat down, mate.”

  He did not put the bat down.

  Eleanor was floating a few yards in front of me. She was shaking her head and waving her hands in very clear “no,” “stop” gestures.

  Right, like I was going to stand here and let them beat the crap out of me.

  Driver stepped all up in my space, breathing garlic and beer over ever
y word. “We are going to fuck you up.”

  His heart was thumping up in the heart attack levels. He was excited. Revved up. Alive.

  “One last chance,” I said evenly. “Walk away. I have no quarrel with you. You’ll regret having a quarrel with me.”

  It made him pause. At least he had some sense of self-preservation. I am not joking when I say I look like death. And right now I was doing nothing to hide what I really was. I was trying in no way to look human.

  The magic that had changed me was usually enough for people to know there was something terribly wrong with me.

  Driver saw what I really was.

  I gave him a slow nod. Permission to back away.

  He took a step back.

  But the other guy? Not so much with the smart. He’d come up on my right and swung the bat at my ribs.

  I moved out of the way enough that it just clipped me. Which, yes, hurt like a bitch. Bruises, though I don’t think anything cracked.

  Unfortunately for the guy swinging the bat, I didn’t need weapons in a fight. I am a weapon.

  I rushed him and caught hold of his arm with my left, unringed hand. Stepped in close. “This is not your lucky day.”

  I squeezed his arm, my fingers curled over the veins beneath fabric, beneath skin. Easy to find that pulse, easy to drink that life.

  Counted his heartbeat. Fast. Terrified.

  Fear made it taste better. I hated it, hated that I wanted it. Hated even more that I liked it that way.

  But the man was going beat me with a baseball bat. He had it coming.

  I inhaled. Easy as breathing, I drew on his life.

  He groaned and tried to pull away.

  But I’d only had one little mouthful, barely a taste. I wanted more. Hell, I wanted his life, his buddy’s life, and maybe the lives of all the people on this side of the river.

  I licked my lips and then gave him a smile. “You will never cross my path again—understand me?”

  His eyes went wide and he was sweating hard. He dropped the bat and it clattered against the street. He made a sound that never quite formed a word, but I took it as yes, he understood I’d kill him if he ever bothered me again.

  Just to make sure, I drank down a little more of his days.

  He slumped to his knees. Passed out.

  A slap of ice punched my face. I blinked. I’d gone on my knees next to the guy. Couldn’t seem to let go of his arm. Couldn’t seem to let go of this meal I hadn’t finished.

  Like a goddamn brainless leech.

  Eleanor was next to me, her hand cocked back in a fist. She was ranting off a list of filthy swearwords I could make out even without sound. Angry ghost.

  I owed her for that. For being angry enough she had pulled me back from the brink. Again.

  I rocked up onto my feet. Stood. The guy wasn’t dead. But he’d feel like shit for a few days.

  Okay, probably a few months.

  I was feeling much, much better.

  “What the hell did you do to him?” Driver yelled.

  I bent, picked up the baseball bat. “What you need to know,” I said, “is that I could have killed him, and I didn’t. Just like I could have killed your friend in the alley this morning, and”—I lifted the bat, adjusted my grip on it— “I could kill you too. But I’m not going to. And you know why?”

  I didn’t wait for his answer. “Because I want you to scrape that piece of shit off the sidewalk.” I pointed the bat at his friend. “And I want you to go back to whoever you work for and explain to them that I am not a person with whom to fuck. Understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Now give me your keys.”

  He reached in his coat pocket and tossed them at me.

  Huh. I’d expected him to argue over that one.

  Cool. Free car.

  I caught the keys and stepped over his friend on the way to the Vette. Kept the bat.

  Got in, checked the rearview mirror to make sure Driver hadn’t suffered a sudden case of bravery. Nope. He was crouched next to his friend, making sure he was breathing.

  Me? Doing shit like that did one of two things: threw me into a self-hating bender, or bright-siding it, made me feel pretty damn good about not killing someone.

  I was a man with a monster in my bones. And this time the monster had not won.

  So, yeah, I felt pretty pleased with myself at the moment.

  The car? Damn sweet ride.

  I adjusted mirrors and seat and rolled out into traffic.

  I’d lost my job, but I hated it anyway. I’d lost my grip on my hunger—twice. But I hadn’t killed anyone today yet.

  It was a low bar, but it felt good to hit it.

  Also, now there was a definite chance I was going to beat Terric to the office. What wasn’t to like about that?

  Chapter 5

  Okay, a small detour.

  The Corvette’s navigation system was too tempting to ignore. Since it stored locations where those punks had been lately, I decided to give it a look.

  I pulled down a side road, parked, and scrolled through the list: a couple out-of-state addresses, a few trips to the east and west side of the state. Then an address I knew very well.

  Terric’s house.

  They knew where he lived. Which meant they either knew him or were keeping an eye on him. I didn’t like either idea. A couple other addresses showed up on the list: someplace out in the West Hills, Allie and Zay’s house, and the inn.

  So those dicks who liked to settle arguments with a baseball bat were keeping an eye on all of us Soul Complements. Who were they working for?

  Terric said the ox, Hamilton, might be involved with the girl killed by magic found up in Forest Park. If these guys were his friends, were they magic users? Murderers?

  Probably would have been smart of me to ask Terric a few more details about the whole thing. Maybe then I’d understand why they were stalking members of the Authority.

  What did they, or their boss, want?

  I forwarded the last-visited addresses to my phone, which was back in my room, and did a quick search of the car for anything else that might tell me something about these guys. Nothing in the glove compartment, nothing in the trunk. I did find a black crow feather tucked beneath the visor. Not exactly useful.

  Then I rubbed my fingerprints off the dashboard and everywhere else I’d been snooping. Time to hand this thing over to someone who might get some information out of it.

  In under five minutes, I was strolling into the police department and wishing the cool, clean air from outside reached more than three feet into the stale funk of the place. But it didn’t. It never did.

  Detective Stott’s real office was somewhere downstairs, but I didn’t want to stay that long or get that cozy. Walked up to the first workstation at the end of the hall, knocked on the top of the desk. Waved at the security camera. Didn’t have to wait long for a cop to show up.

  “You still breathing, Flynn?” Cop was a huge dude from Hawaii, name of Mackanie Love. We’d met back in my petty crime days. He’d never cut me slack. But then, I hadn’t deserved any.

  “Once or twice a day, whether I need it or not. I have something for you.” I held out my hand, the car keys hanging from my fingers, the baseball bat in the other.

  He eased his bulk down into the chair and nodded at the keys. “What’s that all about?”

  I placed them on the desk. “Car about halfway down the block. Black Vette. It belongs to some people you might want to keep an eye on.”

  “Did you steal a car?”

  “Please.” I pressed my fingers against my chest. “You think I’d steal a car and just walk in here to turn myself in? I’d make you work for it, mate. You know that.”

  “So what’s that really?” This time he pointed at the keys.

  “Detective Stotts was pretty interested in a guy Terric tipped him off to this morning. Name of Hamilton. And those”—I nodded toward the keys—“belong to two other guys who didn’t lik
e Terric and me getting in the middle of their friend’s business.”

  “Tell me you didn’t steal a car from the Black Crane Syndicate.”

  “Okay.”

  He leaned back just a little, the chair creaking in protest. “You know what Black Crane is, yeah? Blood and drugs. Human trafficking. Dark magic.”

  Black Crane. A crime syndicate we’d kept under control when magic was strong, and that apparently continued to thrive off the magic and drug trade, even though magic didn’t have the kick it used to.

  “Sure, I know Black Crane.” Oh! Crow feather. Suddenly made sense. “But I only borrowed their car. Borrowed. After they stopped me in the street to express their displeasure with me.”

  “Are they dead?”

  “Not stupid enough to come in here if they were.”

  From the look on his face, he didn’t think that was funny.

  “Listen, I don’t care what you do,” I said. “Terric got me involved when he chased down Hamilton this morning. And, I’d like to point out, nobody told him to mind his own business. But when two guys get out of their car and tell me they want to beat me senseless because I’d gotten their friend arrested, I’m not going to stand there and take it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Left them reconsidering their manners beside the road. And brought you their car.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “What part?”

  “Any of it. Don’t you own a phone?”

  “Not on me. Would you rather I had brought them here with me? Citizen’s arrest?”

  “No. I’d rather you stayed out of this, Shamus. From now on.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to say. I am staying out of it. See you around, Detective.”

  I turned and strolled off, baseball bat over my shoulder.

  “Flynn?” he called out. “Go see a doctor. You look like death warmed over.”

  He had no idea.

  I just kept walking.

  Fresh air and more sunlight. It wasn’t far to the office. Fifteen or twenty minutes. If I walked fast enough, Eleanor might not even notice all the fancy shops we were passing by.

  Keep walking. Keep walking. Dodge the man with the dog. Dodge the woman on her phone. Green light. Yellow. Sprint across the intersection. Almost clear of the shops. . . . no luck.