The Dark Ones (19 page)

People like Kurt.

She parked and shut the car off, frowning as she thought of her deceased son.

He’s dead
, she thought.
Really, truly dead
.

She hadn’t thought about Kurt’s death much lately, mostly due to her preoccupation with Andras. For days now her whole world had revolved around an ecstatic sensory overload pumped into her mind and body by the demon. There had simply been no room for anything else. But now . . .

She sniffled. “I miss you, sweetheart.”

She got out of the car and walked into the convenience store, swiping at her eyes. The door opened ahead of her and two young men came swaggering out. They looked to be in their early twenties, blue-collar laborers of some sort with the muscular builds of athletes. Each was carrying a case of cheap beer.

One of them grinned wolfishly at her while the other held the door open. Ella thanked the one holding the door and shot a lustful look back at the one leering at her. She welcomed the resurgence of her libido as it dampened the sadness caused by the sudden flare of grief. The boy was wearing tight jeans and a T-shirt that looked molded to his muscular upper body. Her nipples stiffened as she continued into the store and stared back at him over her shoulder. As she watched, he spread a finger on either side of his mouth and waggled his tongue between them. Ella couldn’t remember the last time someone so young had ogled her so openly. It felt good. Really,
really
good. Part of it was her newly youthful appearance, but some of it was the way she was dressed. Her outfit consisted solely of a flimsy black dress with a very short hem and some sexy, strappy heels.

Ella asked the clerk at the counter for a pack of Marlboro Lights. She paid for the cigarettes and went back outside. The young men were waiting for her. Ella wasn’t surprised. She peeled the cellophane off the pack and dropped it on the sidewalk. She tapped a cigarette out of the pack and accepted a light from the man in the tight T-shirt.

She blew a puff of smoke in his face and looked at them each in turn. “So how would you boys feel about double-teaming me in the back of my Bentley?”

The men gaped at her, glanced at each other, then guffawed.

“No? Okay.”

She turned away from them and began to strut back toward the Bentley, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she walked.

“Hey, wait!”

They hurried after her, one of them grabbing her by a wrist as her hand reached toward the driver’s-side door. She glanced down at the big, muscled hand encircling her thin wrist. She smiled. “Let go.”

The man in the tight T-shirt let go of her and moved back a step, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry . . . we just . . . well . . .”

His friend coughed. “We didn’t think you were serious.”

Ella unlocked the car, opened the door, and slid in behind the wheel. She smiled up at them. “Get in the back, boys.”

One of them frowned. “Uh . . . what about my truck?”

“We’ll come back for it.”

Ella held back a laugh.

Or not
.

They got in and within moments Ella was guiding the Bentley toward the back roads again. The men ripped into their beer cartons and popped the tops on aluminum cans. Ella accepted one of their beers when it was passed up to her. It was cheap swill, but she could use a drink.

She was about to fulfill her promise to Andras. She supposed there had never been any real danger that she’d do anything other than what she’d sworn she would do. The indecision had been nothing more than first-time jitters caused by reflexive, ingrained moral qualms. It was good to know she was truly beyond that now.

She parked on the shoulder of one of the quiet little roads and turned in her seat to stare at the boys over the headrest. “Either of you feel kinky?”

Tight T-shirt guy shrugged. “Depends what you have in mind.”

Ella grinned. “I adore making love in the great outdoors, don’t you?” She nodded at the overgrown field on the other side of a low-slung barbed-wire fence. “Over there should do. What do you say?”

Another exchange of glances in the back, followed by another pair of shrugs.

“Then it’s decided. I’ll grab a blanket.”

Ella pulled the trunk latch and got out of the car.

The guys followed her out of the car with beers in hand, watching with mildly curious expressions as Ella opened the trunk and leaned inside to search for something. For the blanket, ostensibly. She didn’t flinch when one of them lifted the hem of her dress and pressed his crotch against her exposed ass. They laughed and one of them popped the tab on another can of beer. Ella lifted the blanket she’d used to cover the implement Andras had given her for this expedition. She paused for a moment with her hand wrapped around its handle and wiggled her butt against the boy’s swelling crotch.

“You like that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

The other one said, “I gotta get me some of that.”

Ella giggled. “Well, I wonder how much you’ll like this.”

She bumped the boy away with a thrust of her ass and whirled suddenly around, raising the meat cleaver high above her head, her face contorting with a wild, manic glee as she brought it around in a wide, vicious arc.

I want you to go out today and kill someone for me
, he’d said.

Anyone at all. It doesn’t matter who
.

It’s time to spill some blood
.

The cleaver’s blade slammed into his throat, severing his carotid and nearly decapitating him with the one blow. She yanked the blade out and a gout of blood splashed her face and the front of her dress. He was already dying but raised a shaky hand to ward her off. She whipped the blade around and cleaved off three of his fingers. The other one screamed and dropped his beer, stumbling backward and falling into the ditch. Ella cackled and pounced on him immediately. She buried the blade in his belly and tore it open, dragging out a length of intestine as she yanked the blade back out. He screamed and clutched at his stomach, sitting bolt upright and pushing her away with the last of his strength. She came right back at him and silenced his scream with a chop to his throat. He gurgled a blood froth from his mouth. Ella pushed him to the ground and lapped at the blood, drinking it up like sweet nectar. When he was finally dead, she chopped off his head and put it in the Bentley’s trunk.

Make your kill and bring back a piece of your prey
.

Make me proud by showing me what you’ve done
.

Ella stared at the head and smiled.

That should do
.

I love you, Andras. Now you’ll see how much
.

She slammed the trunk shut, rolled the other body into the ditch, and drove as fast as she dared back to her demon lover.

T
WENTY-SEVEN

He felt like some kind of shady character hunched down and lurking behind the bushes along the side of the Wagner residence. A thief scoping the place out or, worse, a rapist waiting to pounce on prey. He had to keep fighting the impulse to just give it up and dash.

The thing was, he didn’t have a choice. He
had
to see Natasha. Not being able to talk to her or just be in her presence was killing him. He’d never felt so desperately alone, and her seeming total indifference to his mental anguish was only making the pain worse. She still wasn’t answering his e-mails or texts, and every time he dialed her number his call was routed straight to her voice mail, indicating she’d added his number to her auto reject list. So he was reduced to this, lurking and waiting. But he was getting impatient. She usually came straight home from school. Ransom wasn’t a big town, so she should be here any minute. Hell, she should be here already. He pulled out his phone to check the time again.

3:31.

Shit
.

More than half an hour since final bell. What the hell? He felt more conspicuous with each passing minute. These bushes were large and sported an impressive profusion of brittle green leaves in spite of the advancing fall season, which reduced the chances of being spotted by a passing motorist. On the other hand, he would be immediately visible to anyone who might come traipsing through from the adjoining Weaver property. He glanced at the Weavers’ unfenced backyard and was relieved to see there was still no one there, but he knew he needed to be ready to run like hell at any second. The last thing he wanted was to wind up in the back of a police car. Things were already weird and tense enough at home without adding an extra element of drama to the mix.

More minutes passed.

The narrow residential road the Wagner home faced was devoid of traffic.
Damn
. But just as he was about to finally give up, a car appeared at the far end of the street. His heart raced as he recognized the outline of Natasha’s silver PT Cruiser. He checked his phone again. 3:51. Nearly an hour after final bell. He couldn’t imagine what had kept her so long, but it didn’t matter now. He was about to talk to the girl he loved for the first time in weeks. He was excited and anxious. He knew she wouldn’t be happy about him sneaking up on her like this, but it was a chance he had to take.

The PT Cruiser slowed and turned in at the driveway. Mark shifted on his haunches, rising slightly and holding his breath as he prepared to come out of his hiding place. He wanted to step out smoothly rather than jump out and startle her. He began to stand as the car reached the top of the driveway and came to a stop.

He held back a moment longer, waiting for her to come out of the car. He cursed the car’s tinted windows, wishing he could see her already. He frowned when doors on both sides opened and two people emerged from the vehicle. Mark felt a tightness in his throat and in his chest. His heart felt like a cold, strong fist had closed around it. He saw Natasha come around the front of the car. She was as breathtaking as ever, attired in a plain black T-shirt and tight jeans that emphasized the lovely shape of her legs. She had dyed her hair again. It was the darkest shade she’d ever used, black as the heart of midnight. Her lips were painted a shade of red that looked like freshly spilled blood, a stunning contrast to her pale features.

The other person said something to Natasha, making her laugh. A helpless fury ignited inside Mark and he came bursting out of the bushes just as they were starting toward the house.

Natasha yelped and splayed a hand across her chest.

Mark jabbed a finger at the vaguely familiar-looking boy standing next to her. “Who the
fuck
is this? What the fuck, Natasha? You’re already hooking up with some other fucking guy?”

Her expression shifted quickly from startled and frightened to the stony, emotionless mask she’d shown him every time he’d tried to get her attention at school. Her eyes looked hard and focused. Her body language was stiff and guarded. She was not at all happy to see him. He’d expected it, but the reality of it hit him hard and silenced the next barrage of accusations before he could utter them. He experienced a moment of intense vertigo, as if the world had turned upside down or he was falling through a hole in the fabric of existence. She had been so into him a very short while ago. Had wanted to be with him and talk to him all the time. She had made him feel like he mattered. Didn’t she understand how cruel it was to yank something like that away from a person so suddenly?

The boy edged a little closer to her in a sort of half-assed protective gesture. He was toothpick thin and he was trying hard not to show how terrified he was of Mark. His legs were shaking, but he puffed out his chest and put himself between Natasha and a perceived threat. Knowing he could snap the little prick in two only made Mark feel worse.

The guy looked right at him and said, “You stay away from her. Show some respect.”

Mark snorted. He couldn’t help it. “
Respect?
Are you fucking serious?”

The boy started to say something else, but Natasha touched his arm and said, “Enough. Chris, go on inside. I’ll be in in a minute.”

Chris frowned and kept staring at Mark. “I’m not sure I should leave you alone with him.”

Natasha allowed a small smile to slip through the rigid mask of her features. “It’s okay. I can take care of myself.” She gave him a gentle nudge toward the house. “Go on.”

Chris started toward the house with obvious reluctance. “Okay.” His eyes locked on Mark. “Don’t you upset her or threaten her. I’ll be watching.”

He turned away from them then and entered the house through the garage.

Threaten her? Had it really come to this? Jesus
.

Mark sighed. “Natasha—”

She held up a hand. “Shut up.”

“But—”

“Shut the hell up!”

She snapped the words at him. And the way she was glaring at him made his heart feel like it was being squeezed again. A single tear rolled down one of his cheeks. Seeing it seemed to briefly soften something inside her and for a second her face lost that hard, unyielding look. But then it was gone and the mask was back in place.

“You need to leave, Mark.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“You know why.”

“But . . .” He sniffled and cursed his weakness as his eyes filled with more tears. “I thought you cared about me. I know what we went through was horrible, especially for you and Fiona, but that wasn’t us, not really. You’ve gotta see that.”

She stared at him in silence for many long, uncomfortable moments. Then she sighed. “I’m only going to say this once. This is about more than that night in the basement. It’s—”

“Jesus, I almost forgot, I have to talk to you about that. I’m sorry, but Clayton—”

She made a loud sound of exasperation and clapped her hands to the sides of her head.

Mark shut his mouth. Her obvious annoyance and lack of patience with him pierced his heart again. He thought of how they used to talk for endless hours about everything under the sun. Deep things. Silly, meaningless things. And everything in between. But now, apparently, she couldn’t even stand to hear his voice.