Heartless (The Heartless Series) (13 page)

Seeing a demon every night in your sleep—having that demon eat every bit of your organs except your heart because he says you don't have one—is bad. It's horrible and terrible and all other bad words. But I could always say, "It's just a dream. It's just a dream."

With this… I'm not asleep. I know I'm not. The smell of the blood and the painful brain residue nearly killing my eyes are testaments to that. So, if I'm going to find the girl and save her, I have to truly believe. I have to believe in all of it. In Hart. In Lucien. In angels and demons. In the fact that there's something wrong with me beyond just the nightmares. That maybe my brain is screwed up. That maybe I'm screwed up. That I'm the big and bad and scary.

I have to accept that I'm not normal. That something is happening to me either
because
of something else or something I am. That last part makes me stagger back. It is one thing to have something bad happen to you. It's another to have something bad happen
because
of you. If there's something inside me, causing me to go this sort of crazy, then I don't know. Do I really want to open that box? Can't I just live like I had the past five years and ignore everything? People die every day. I can't save them all. Why are these girls so important to me? Why are they dying? Why am I seeing them die? What can I do to stop it?

First, stop whining about it.

Second, stop being a freakin' baby and deal.

I catch a glimpse of something in the mirror, and I freeze. I know who it is before I even turn around.

"What did you do?" My voice shakes when I talk to him. I'm trying so hard not to think of myself as crazy, but it's getting harder and harder not to.

"Aww, are you talking to me now?" Hart smiles and his red eyes lock with mine in the reflection. He's behind me. Not just in the mirror. I can feel his breath on my neck. I can feel his torso against my back. He's close. Too damn close.

"You're not real," I say because I need it to be true. He can't be real. Not really real. The angel. The demon. Why did the world have to collapse on me? "I'm dreaming."

He smirks. "In our dreams, have we ever been in here?" He gestures around the room.

"You're changing it up. You don't like that I've figured out it was a dream." It's a stretch even for me. Hart has never denied that I was just in a dream when he tortures me. In fact, he seems to like it. What else can I say, though? I'm not ready to accept this. I can't accept it.

"What did I tell you about you being in control? You've always been in control. The bad part? You can't go back now, sweetheart. You just can't." He runs his fingers lightly over my hair and places it behind my ear. I shiver. This can't be happening… it can't. I want to wake up now. "You aren't asleep," Hart whispers, making the hairs on my ears take notice. It isn't a horribly bad feeling, but I feel horribly bad for allowing it. "The sooner you accept that, the easier it'll be on you."

"What'll be easier? What are you doing to me?" I can feel my heart beating in my neck. The headache is starting to form behind my eyes. I don't want that. Headaches equal bad.

"Who says I'm doing anything?" Hart leans his chin on my shoulder and sighs. "Angel, something big is coming. Something epic and awesome. Something I'm excited to be a part of."

Big and bad and scary.

"Well, I don't want any part of it. I want you to stop. Please."

"Please what?" Hart leans to the side and nuzzles my hair with his cheek.

"Please, don't hurt the girl. Don't kill her. Please."

He blinks a few times and stands straighter. At full height, I come up to his shoulders. He's tall and scary, and I don't want him there anymore. Funny how I felt more comfortable in my dreams tied down to a table naked. I guess because that was a dream. Anybody can con themselves into believing a dream is just a dream. But not this. This feels too real to be a dream.

My nose hasn't stopped bleeding. The blood's running over my lip, and I have to fight the urge to lick it.

What the actual hell!

Hart smiles. "Interesting."

"What?"

"Nothing, just you. I find you infinitely interesting. You have no idea, do you? No idea what roll you play in the grand scheme of things?"

"Apparently, I'm a big bad." Why deny it? I am talking to a demon after all.

Hart blinks a few times like he can't believe I just up and told him that. "To say the least. And, not to give you a big head or anything, you aren't a big bad. You're
the
big bad."

"I'm not… I don't want to be. And I don't want any part of any grand scheme."

"Don't think you have a choice."

"And I don't want any part of what you are fixing to do to that girl, Hart. I'm serious."

His eyes narrow. A playful grin pulls on his lips. "What am I fixing to do to that girl, Gracen? Tell me."

"You're going to kill her," I say because I guess I have to play his little game to get out of there. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest I don't think it'll ever recover. It's ringing in my ears, and I feel myself getting lightheaded. I can't pass out. I won't pass out.

"Kill who?"

"Stop!" I yell. I'm so sick of him! Sick of his riddles. Sick of it all. "Just stop. I saw you!"

"You saw me? You saw my own hand killing her?"

"Well, no, but…"

Hart gives me a look like he's some sort of innocent little puppy. "Then who, sweetheart? Hmmm… Who did you see kill the girl?"

I don't answer. I can't. I can't even admit it to myself.

He tilts his head to the side, watching me. "Hmmm, you keep getting more and more interesting. I thought seeing the girls in the dreams was just a fluke, but this…"

With everything I have, I try to gain my composure. I want to shut up. I want to stop talking to Hart. I want this all to be over. More than anything, I will the headache playing behind my eyeballs to go away. "Don't try to pretend you're innocent here."

"Oh, I'm far from innocent. But I wonder if you know how guilty you are."

That certainly got my attention. "What are you talking about? I haven't…"

"Sure you haven't." He pats me on the head a few times like an older brother patting the head of their naive, stupid little sister. "You haven't done a thing, have you? Not one little thing. And the visions, well, I see why Lucien has a thing for you. I mean if he can still actually get hard. I hear self-righteousness is a real mood killer."

I turned toward Hart then. Enough of this whole mirror dance. "He told me about you, you know? Lucien. Told me how many times he sent you to Hell."

He opens his mouth and then shuts it just as quick. We stare at each other for what seems like forever when he finally breaks the stalemate I'm sure as heck not going to break.

"I'll give you a little free advice about Lucien. I'd stay away from him if I were you."

I have to laugh. "Stay away? Yeah, I bet you would, since he's an angel and all."

Hart bites his lip, and his nose flares just a bit. "Did he happen to mention what you are besides the Big Bad?"

Of all the ways I thought this would go. Of all the things I thought he'd say. I never thought he'd say that. "Me? I'm nothing. I'm just me…"

"Don't be so modest. You aren't just you. Somewhere deep inside, you know it. There are words for people—for
things—
like you."

Things? Things! I don't want to ask because who wants to ask anything from a demon, but he's there. Who else can I ask? "What are you talking about? What words?"

He tilts his head, studying me. He's so close I can feel his breath on my cheek, feel his body against mine. "I don't envy you, you know. Especially to be what you are. To be on Lucien's, hell all the angels and all of Heaven's, radar. I don't envy you at all."

"Lucien said he's here to protect me." Well, that's what he said in so many words.

Hart gently rubs my cheek with his fingers. I shiver and not from the least bit of excitement. Okay, maybe a little bit of excitement. I hate myself for it. "Protect you? Sweetheart, he's here to protect the world
from
you."

He keeps going like he hasn't sent me back on my heels. "I know you hate me, and you have every reason to. But know that whatever I've done, whatever I will do to you, it's all to prepare you for what's coming. And it's coming, sweetheart. It's coming and it's ugly, and you don't have a lot of time."

I swallow hard, not able to break eye contact. My breath shakes as it comes out. I don't even try to pretend not to be scared. "What's coming? What does Lucien—what do I—have to do with it?" It seems the most logical thing to ask at the moment.

"Let's just say I've known him a long time. A very long time. He says he's the good guy. Hell, he even thinks he is. But he's not. He's not. What he is… what he's done…the people he's pulled the wool over. Even God believes Lucien's crap, and for what? What good does it do anybody?"

"You believe in God?" Because
that
was the most important part of that rant.

"I'm a demon." He feels the need to remind me.

Whatever. "I take it you don't like Lucien. Because he keeps sending you back to Hell?" It would certainly make me not like a person, whether I believed it or not.

He smirks as an answer.

"I'd say the feeling is mutual. He said he was going to kill you."

If it were even possible, I believe I hurt Hart Blackwell's feelings. His head lowers and his jaw flinches. His hand tightens on my shoulder. I don't think he even knows he's doing it. If Hart were a human, I'd say something happened between him and Lucien. Something bad. Something Hart hadn't forgotten about. But he wasn't human. Neither of them were, so this little grudge had to be over something else.

As quickly as he fell apart, Hart is Hart again. He clears his throat and sneers. "I'm not the bad guy here, Gracen. I'm not. You'll see. I'm small potatoes next to you. What you are…"

"And what is that exactly? You both keep saying it, but nobody will give me a straight answer." My voice fades.

Hart leans down and gently places his lips to my cheek.

When I open my eyes, he's gone.

I'm in my room. Door locked. What the… No! There's no way. Had it all been a dream? Seriously? A dream? He'd changed it up! The liar changed it up. He said I had control! I had no control! Not in real life. Not in the dreams!

I'm going to be sick again. Had any of it been real? The girl, Shelley, was she real? Was any of it real? Or was Hart just messing with me like a good little demon would.

I can't lie there anymore. I stumble and run out my door. I get to the bathroom and freeze. I see my reflection in the mirror. Blood running down my nose. Just like it had before.

On the mirror is written one word. Written in red. I'm assuming written with my blood.

ABOMINATION.

Chapter Fourteen

I
DIDN'T SLEEP THAT NIGHT.

I sat in my bed. My legs pulled up to my chest, and my eyes trained straight ahead. I'm not even sure I thought of anything. I just sat there.

Thinking.

Abomination.

What was an abomination?

What did I have to do with angels, demons, murders, and things like that?

Finally, around sunrise, I snap out of it and decide I'm not going down without a fight. So a demon says I'm an abomination. So what? That could be a good thing. An abomination from a demon had to be good. Right? I grab my laptop and pull up the online Bible I read every night. Okay, the one I peruse on occasion. If any source knew anything about angels and demons, it'd have to be the Bible, or so I figure.

I search abomination.

Only three results. Most have nothing to do with me. Then I find one in Revelation and my heart sinks.

And upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery, Babylon the Great, The mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth. Rev. 17:5

I close the laptop and throw it to the side. Nope, not going to find anything useful there because I refuse to believe I'm evil. It doesn't make any sense. There's no way I have something inside me that I can't control. A disease that's poisoning me. Hart is wrong.
He's
the one doing this to me…
he's
the one who is controlling the dreams.

Not me.

I know what I have to do. I might not be able to do anything about Hart or Lucien or angels or whatever, but I can at least try to figure out who Shelley is and stop whatever it is that will happen to her. It's a little after six. I have seventeen hours.

I'm not evil. I'm not an abomination. I'll prove it. I'll save the girl.

I swear somewhere in the back of my mind I hear Hart laugh.

Chapter Fifteen

S
EVENTEEN HOURS…

I have seventeen hours to save the girl.

What do I know about saving the girl?

I'm definitely no hero. Not in the least. The police would be the people to call. They would know what to do. Except they already want to talk to me about Danika's death. I can't tell them about Shelley. They'll think I did it. I didn't.

So, cops are out. It'd be nice to find someone who actually hunts demons or angels or whatever blasted thing is going on around here? Then again, they'd probably hunt me, since I'm the person actually seeing these things. Oh yeah, and I'm an abomination.

I don't want to think of the alternative. That I'm crazy. That, whatever this is, it's just inside my mind. There's nothing real about it. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to even consider it.

My aunt is in an institution. Has been since I was in high school, and it scares me. Fine one day. The next… poof. Staring at walls. Talking all kinds of crazy. It's part of the reason I don't tell my mom how bad it really is. Crazy runs in families, or so I've heard.

Still, I know—or I think I know—that Shelley will die today. By midnight, she'll be dead if I can't stop it. I can't have that on my conscience. I can't. There's enough crazy in my gourd to even think about the guilt that would cause. The other two were bad enough. But to be fair to myself, I didn't know I was having visions. I thought it was Hart messing with me. Turns out, he wasn't. I'm not sure how I feel about that.