Shadowglass (4 page)

He pinched, and pleasure spiked harder. I arched to press my breast into his hand, searching for more, delight and pride warming my skin along with desire.
Ice, you’ve done okay.
“Honey, if you do it right, you’ll hear all about it.”

T
he mezzanine, green neon smoke glowing. Needle freaks and sparkle sniffers sprawl on the rippled steel floor, lost in chemical contentment or rage. In the corner, a skinny girl sprawls on her back, crooning in pleasure as a pair of vampire boys feed, one at her naked breast, the other between her legs, her skirt scrunched high. Next to her, a drooling black spriggan crouches and slams his misshapen head into the wall, over and over, violet blood smearing. People dance, drink, screw, pass out, and at the pitted steel railing, a razor-nerved fairy named Ebony stretches tense dark arms in the urgent thud of bass.

The sultry air swims on his skin, delicious. The familiar smells wash over him, sweat and fresh lust and the rich iron honey of blood, creamy longing, dusty loneliness, the sharp salt of fury and bitter oblivion. His pale wings spread, twitched by his speeding pulse. What a beautiful night to be alive.

He stretches again, blood rippling warm and alive in his limbs, and leans over the rail to hunt.

Below, where dancers throng and strobe lights crack the air like glass, the yellow fairy girl flirts on a jealous demon lord’s lap, her gasps as he pleasures her inaudible from here but beautiful.

“Ice.” The sibilant tingles Ebony’s tongue, pleasant. Her skin would do the same. The clumsy one, always falling over her own feet and biting her tongue on careless words. Indigo’s girl, if you ask anyone but Indigo. Poor frightened thing, always so serious. More charming when she’s drunk and carefree.

He’s watched her dance with her toxic friends, blush and fidget under Indigo’s glance, pour pink poison down her throat to steel her nerves. He feels for her, this frightened girl. He knows what it’s like to dread the gaze of others, their accusations, their contempt. And now she’s squirming breathless on a demon’s lap with no thought or care. Beautiful, unfettered thing.

The demon lord tucks her hand in his elbow and walks her away, and Ebony giggles, imagining Indigo’s envy. He knows Indigo well, after so many years, and Indigo’s too fucking stubborn and cowardly to admit he wants her. Ebony wouldn’t be so circumspect.

Courage, yellow girl. Stretch for the stars. That rusty blue thief isn’t worth your sweet pity, not yet
. Once Eb’s finished with him, he’ll be a new man and we’ll see who’s clumsy then.

But for now, Ebony’s itchy inside, that nasty squirming hunger that must be fed. Emptiness must be filled. Itches must be scratched. Another thing Indigo doesn’t understand, and Indy’s so fucking itchy, his skin bleeds.

Ebony flutters down the metal steps, lighting on the floor eight feet below with a magnetic snap. A human girl stares, starved bruises ringing her glassy eyes. She stuffs a split hank of black hair in her mouth and chews. “How’d you do that?”

He catalogs her, eager but cautious. Thin, dusty black dress hanging from bony shoulders, cheeks hollow, lips cracked, wristbones prominent under stretched skin where fresh scars crisscross old. His pulse twinkles. Delicately, he inhales. Sickness, twisting like starved tissue. Hatred. Despair. No fear. His blood swells with that familiar desire, and he smiles at her and lets his glamour flicker to dazzle her with what he really looks like. “Easy. I can do magic.”

Pupils dilate in tired blue irises, and she licks dry lips, fixated. “Wish I could do magic. I’d magic myself right the fuck out of here.”

He drifts closer, the updraft heated by longing, and slides a hot knuckle under her chin. So tight and shiny, her skin, so vulnerable. “I’ll magic you away, if you like.”

Her eyes brighten, hope shining dully like reflected starlight. She doesn’t move, doesn’t shrink away. She knows. She wants this. “Yeah? Where to?”

“Wherever you imagine.” He sniffs her lips, the chlorine taste of starvation and vomit. Perfect.

She swallows. “Will it hurt?”

“Only if you want it to.” A lie. He’s in control. This will happen the way
he
wants it to. No, the way he needs it to. Wanting is insignificant. This is a compulsion. A gravity-scale inevitability.

He captures her hand and pulls her with him, and they weave between fights and sweating couples and giggling drug-sharing fae toward the alloy-barred fire exit.

The grimy back alley stinks of garbage and sour meat, the air shimmering with imminent rain. Under a glowing midnight sky, he pulls her into his arms against the garbage skip and traps her there, her damp hair plastering to the metal. Her body feels broken and sore against him, like a worn-out doll. He sniffs her sunken face, brushes his mouth across her pin-pierced earlobe, and his skin sparks with electric anticipation. Soon, they’ll be together. He’ll make sure she never leaves. “Say yes.”

“Yes.” Unerring. Unafraid. Perfect.

“Good girl.” He nibbles at her lips, and when she doesn’t struggle, he cups her head in one hand and opens her for a kiss. Her delicious groan slides over his tongue, and he wriggles his thigh in between her legs, ready.

She misunderstands, fumbling cold fingers into his lap. He’s hard, but it’s not for the reason she thinks. He drifts his hand down the back of her neck, pressing to find the bones, sliding his palm over the ridges. They feel good, knobbly and fragile like china. The base of her skull is cool against his thumb, smooth and round, her ripped hair rough.

He tightens his grip, sharp claws slicing her skin. He jerks his wrist, hard, and simultaneously clips her under the chin with the sharp heel of his other hand.

Snap.

He pulls back to watch, holding her with his thigh. She’s not dead. Panic flowers her rolling pupils and slackens her cheeks, and shock fills her mouth with drool. Her fingers jerk uselessly. Paralyzed.

The knowledge hits her, and she screams, high and breathy like dust, the only cry she can manage. No one will hear.

His pulse stings with pleasure at the hoarse sound, and his erection swells tight and sore. Not long now. “Nearly there, sweet. Don’t cry.” Tenderly, he fingers tears from her lashes and licks them to taste her salty sorrow. He searches with his thumb for the pulse in her throat.

Her eyes widen, bloodshot. She tries to croak out words. “No . . . changed . . . my mind . . . stop it. . . .”

But she can’t move. Can’t escape. Can’t break his heart with lies and cruel laughter. He pierces her with his steely claw, and twists. Blood runs, warm and alive on his hand, down his arm, sparkling thickly all over his skin. It feels good.

She screams again in rage and denial, thrashing her head back and forth, but the blood only squirts harder from the gash in her throat. Such a little thing, moving her hand to close the wound.

Ebony grabs her hair to hold her head still and sniffs, reveling in the rank stink of fright. “Hush. It’ll take a minute or two. Enjoy it. It’s what you wanted.”

Blood spills faster, darker, plopping on the ground like thin ketchup. Her terror-wide pupils glaze over as she realizes she’s dying, and urgency hitches Ebony’s breath. “Come on, sweet. Give in for me.”

Her jaw jerks, quivering her blanched lips. He waits with shaking limbs for the surrender that means she’s his forever. Then her face slackens, and release rips through him. Molten heat, sharp in his guts like an iron spike, dragging stinging liquid from him along with his groan. His heart overflows with fondness and desperate relief. He clutches his lover close, slicking his cheek in her precious blood, but it’s fleeting, this connection they have, after only a brief second it’s gone, and he whines in desolation and scrabbles his claws through her hair, but by the time he’s finished, she’s dead.

4

I
laid my cheek against the damp creamy sheet and let my arm dangle over the edge. My fingerpads trailed over pale carpet, my stolen diamonds glittering in golden downlights. Across the bedroom the window lay open, warm fruity breeze from some dark garden caressing my back. I tried to breathe slowly, but it hurt deep inside. My wings ached from too much water, and I let them drape over my back like limp cloth. My lips stung, abused. I licked them, bitter ash still fresh. A horrid taste, but I liked it.

I giggled, still drunk, weary pleasure echoing deep inside me.
Screwed senseless by a demon lord. Wait till I tell Azure and Blaze. They’ll never believe it. I still don’t believe it.

Kane trailed a gentle finger down my spine, and my sated hormones rippled, still warm. Purr. If I rolled over, he’d kiss me, coax me, make me gasp again. Fatigue didn’t seem to be an issue, at least not for him. “Mmm. Honey, it’s gotta be five in the morning. Don’t you ever need sleep?”

“No.” He followed his finger with his lips, and I shivered as he kissed the small of my back and moved lower.

Okay, stupid question. Just another weird thing about him. The longer I stayed here, the more my skin wriggled underneath like a cold eel.

He’d kept his promise, at least. We’d done it in his car, up against the front door, and over the sofa in the lounge before we’d even made it to his bedroom. I’d lost count of how many times I’d come, and every time it happened, I disliked him a little more.

It wasn’t that he humiliated me, as some guys had. He wasn’t one of those people who beat up on fairies to make himself feel good. I’d asked him to use protection—you just never knew—and he hadn’t minded. But even when he came inside me, he was distant and calculating, like he wasn’t really there. Like he’d studied a book to learn what to do, how to feel.

He nuzzled my thighs apart, and licked. Mmm. Fresh fluid oozed from me, making my glands ache. His burning tongue slipped deeper. Squirmy pleasure glazed my senses, and my claws dug into the carpet.
Sorry, honey, but your mystery girl’s right. Something’s wrong with you.

But what you’re doing sure feels good.
I tucked my limp wings back and rolled over, flexing my tired thigh around his neck. He slid my folds apart with his fingers and delved his tongue inside me, and once again unease pounded my flesh even as my pleasure swelled under his skillful stroking.

Don’t be stupid, Ice. Just enjoy it, so you can feel good about yourself next time Indigo brushes you off.

I closed my eyes to concentrate on the sensation. My flesh stung raw under his tongue, scraped clean with friction, my nerves sparking to life. He sucked me, just hard enough, and I whimpered at the rising cramp of delight in my belly. He did it exactly the same way as last time, like he’d memorized my every sigh, each twitch of my limbs.

Creepy. I grabbed his crisp golden hair, pulling him onto me, trying to make him shift, twist, change his angle, take his time, do it my way instead of the fastest way.

He just sucked my clit into his mouth and bit. Pleasure scraped me raw, each spasm wringing hard, but he didn’t let go. I gasped, my vision blurring. Damn it.

Dimly, I heard his phone ring, a gloomy church organ tone. He barely let me finish before he wriggled off me to pluck the handset from the floor. He glared at the screen, black eyes shining, and sighed as he picked up. “Angelo.”

Downlights gloated over his perfect skin as he leaned on one elbow, golden light teasing his elegant flank. I panted, damp and sore. I wanted to touch him, run my fingers along that smooth thigh, taste the curve of his back. He’d only repeat himself again. It didn’t stop me wanting it.

He rolled onto his back, golden hair tumbling on the sheets. His body shone, sweat glistening on perfectly proportioned muscles. No scars. No blemishes. Eerily beautiful, this demon lord. You could fall for him too easily. Whoever this girl of his was, I hoped for her sake she’d gotten out in time. “Not until I get there, Angelo. Can you contain yourself until then?”

Wow. My very own brush with celebrity. Ange Valenti on the phone, Sonny’s boss, the scariest vampire in Melbourne after Dante DiLuca. I flopped onto the pillow, my limbs weak and watery. Kane didn’t sound pissed off. Not even mildly miffed that we’d been interrupted. Just exasperated that the caller wasn’t someone more interesting.

He truly had no clue. No wonder his girlfriend gave up on him.

Sympathy twinged, and the urge to sit him down and explain tickled my spine. But how do you explain emotion or sentiment to someone who has none?

An evil little grin curled his rosy lips. “Good. I like it when DiLucas bleed. Oh, and call Rajahni Seth, get him to clean up the mess. Tell him I said I’m not sorry.” And he hung up, and dropped the phone to the floor.

I stretched, still uncomfortably pleasured. “Kids not playing nice?”

He rose, tossing his hair into place, and flicked me an empty black glance. “Don’t steal anything.” And he padded across creamy carpet to the bathroom.

Water rushed, flooding the room with steam’s sweet scent. Disappointment washed my skin with cool bumps. I’d hoped he’d at least fuck me again before he left. Briefly I considered creeping into the shower with him, and my nerves tingled. All that hot water gushing over me, running his scent over my skin, splashing my wings and flooding in my hair as I knelt and nibbled his thigh and slid him into my mouth, all charcoal and ashen sweat and smooth hard flesh . . .

My taste buds twinged, and reluctantly I swallowed greedy spit. Best not to push my luck with a guy who can send me to hell with one soft golden blink.

I clambered off the bed, my joints creaking, and flicked my wings open to dry them as I wiped myself clean on the sheet. The soft linen scoured the tender flesh between my legs, and I winced and gave up.

I couldn’t see my skirt and tank top, and I wandered naked into the dawn-lit lounge before I found them, little blue pools on the floor beside his crumpled white shirt. Pink stains still showed, crusty now. I shook the creases out and dragged the clothes back on over damp skin, tugging the straps around my wings and fastening them tight. My underwear wasn’t in evidence. Waste of space anyway.

I glanced around, thieves’ habit. Didn’t take much notice the first time, what with his tongue wrapped on mine and his hand up my skirt and all. Don’t steal anything, he said. Hah. Like I’d want any of this stuff. Big modern town house, expensive white furniture, dull oil paintings, a vase or two. Vast creamy walls that made me long for spray paint. Gleaming wooden floor great for skidding on. Nice big TV for Blaze to smash.

Kane might have a sinister reputation, but his house was dead boring. Wherever he kept his golden demon treasure and screaming minions and rusty hellcursed loot, it wasn’t here.

My bag puddled on the floor, and I slung the strap over my head, checking to make sure my phone hadn’t fallen out. A drunken text from Blaze.
YUFR MIZLE DRIPT! IIEEE!!
I kept it, to taunt him with later. Another from Azure, neat and sober, an address in the city. She always does that, in case she doesn’t come back. And I’m supposed to be the sensible one. I don’t even know what suburb I’m in. The old fear twinged my nerves, and I stamped on it. He hadn’t hurt me yet. I’d find my way home, right? I’d be okay.

Swiftly I retrieved Kane’s silken jacket from the couch, his stormy scent an unpleasantly pleasant memory. I felt the pockets for cash, and my claws scraped rusty metal.

Indigo’s score.

Curiosity spidered over my skin, and with a swift glance over my shoulder, I tugged the sphere out.

Warm velvet steel tingled my palm. It curved seductively, the ridges sharp and tantalizing. I tilted it to the light, and something tumbled inside, like a squidgy and fascinating creature lived in there.

Ooh. A toy. My skin tingled, covetous.

“Hello, squidgy thing.” I rolled it in my palm, delight twitching my wings. The thing inside wriggled again, tickling me, and I swear it giggled as the sphere lurched and spilled from my hand.

My heart tilted. I scrabbled wildly for it, and sharp iron petals scythed open in my palm.

Inside, gripped tight by tiny metal claws, a mirror gleamed. Silvery and perfect. Shiny.

I stared. The metal hummed seductively in my hand. My pulse bubbled, and something hot and slick, reminiscent of Kane’s tongue, stroked between my legs, pleasuring me. Mmm. Did I mention shiny was my weakness?

I wanted to look. I had to look. My nerves squirmed, and I sniffed over my shoulder once more. Ashen steam, the thick smell of sex and wet demon flesh. Kane was still in the shower. No one would ever know.

Stealthy, I craned my neck forward and peeked inside.

My big amber eye stared back at me, magnified. I blinked, and the big eye blinked, too, ash flecks huge and fluffy on my inflated lashes. I tilted the glass, and there was my nose, even huger and sharper and more crooked than in real life.

I giggled. Soft metallic laughter rippled around the room in response, and warm invisible fingers tickled the back of my neck.

“Whoa.” I squinted, suspicious, but the mirror remained silent.

Curiosity and envy scratched inside me like sandpaper. Such a pretty thing. And so peculiar. Ohh, couldn’t I just . . . ?

The thought hung in the air like a seductive scent. Behind me, rushing water ceased. I hesitated, itching.

Stay here, Kane finds me going through his stuff and magicks me into a hellspawned newt. Or swipe the pretty shiny thing and run before he knows it’s gone.

Common sense cleared its stern throat at me.
Ice, are you crazy? Kane paid Indigo to steal this, and Indigo doesn’t work cheap. It’s important, whatever it is. Kane’ll come after you, and he’ll make hellspawned newt seem like chocolate ice cream.

I shivered, and started to put the hideous thing down.

—Take me.—
That seductive whisper again, heady with the smell of iron.

I halted.

—Take me, Ice. I’m only small. He’ll never know. Be my friend?—
The glass winked at me, bright and precious in golden downlights, and irrational longing pierced my heart like a blade.

Just a shiny of no importance.
Kane can get his own. This one’s mine.

My heart warmed. After tonight, I’d earned it.

And what harm ever came from something shiny?

I squeezed, and the iron petals snapped shut, seamless. Already I mourned the lost shimmer of glass. I patted the sphere carefully and stuffed it into my bag. “Bye, squidgy. See you soon.” And I ran, jumped, and skidded on bare feet across the mahogany floor toward the door.

T
he early morning tram to the city already teemed with commuters clutching briefcases and wheeled document cases and bags stuffed with gym clothing. The hot yellow sun climbed rapidly to bake storm-fresh streets, and as usual, the tram’s air-con was cranked up to the max. I shivered and tried to find a seat to myself, but I ended up standing at the back, clutching the little plastic handles that hang from the ceiling.

My glamour is okay, but when you’re flush up against some pasty office worker, it’s hard to hide wings. Some fairies—like Blaze, of course, that gifted little shit can do everything, and no, I’m not jealous at all—some fairies can make humans forget what they see, so it doesn’t matter. Others like Azure dazzle with their beauty. I’m not so lucky. People think it’s easy, being fae, living in a shadow world. They should try a revolving door, or buying clothes that fit, or the dodge I have to do when some glamourblind guy slips his arm around me at the Court.

I also stank, and my glamour couldn’t hide that. I was smeared in sweat and my own arousal before I even saw Kane. Now I was caked in it. Water, spit, vodka, demon come, you name it, adding up to a curious earthy reek that no one would mistake for the latest fragrance. I really needed a shower, and I almost regretted not giving Kane that last blow job.

So I stood and held the plastic handle like I needed it for balance, and tried not to stretch my aching wings too much. In my bag, my new not-mirror rolled and whispered, content. Home, shower, bed. No gypsy scam today. We’d scored big last night, and even though I’d spent most of my share on booze, we still had the loot to sell this afternoon. It wasn’t half what we owed, but it might keep Sonny Valenti and his charming Mafia bloodsuckers off our backs for a while. Happy days.

A human girl bumped into me, tilting on patent leather heels. Damn it. I lurched back, but too late. Her flowery perfume hit my nostrils, and water molecules spread, tingling like a sneeze. My eyesight dimmed, images flooding like stormwater. Glitzy soirees in glossy Yarrabank apartments, luncheon at Flemington racetrack, expensive dinners in glassy rooftop restaurants. Days spent gossiping, flipping through magazines, sunbaking with cocktails by the pool, a glittering diamond ring, a warm and lucky boy who worships her.

She murmured an apology and sidled away, and my ears popped, the tram hovering back into focus. Envy stung my wings. Humans have everything.