The Sweetest Kill: A Young Adult Paranormal (14 page)

BOOK: The Sweetest Kill: A Young Adult Paranormal
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I glower at him as I scoop up a piece of egg and stick it in my mouth, while damning him to hell in my head. He seems to hear me loud and clear, since he smirks at me before taking a swig from his flask. I don’t know why, but I start to smile as well. He may be an asshole but I’m stuck with him for seven more weeks. Might as well make the best of it.

After the meal, Tobias pays while I walk out of the diner. I stare up at the clear sky and see a full moon shining brightly against the black velvet of darkness. I can see my own breath fanning out of my mouth, and my ears start to go cold from the chill in the air. I’ve always loved the winter, when everything is so clean and white.

“Ten in the morning, Shoshanna, don’t forget.” Tobias says as he comes outside to stand beside me.

“I won’t forget.”

We’re quiet for a long time, but I know he hasn’t left yet. The whole right side of my body, the side he’s beside, is buzzing with awareness of his proximity. I can feel his eyes on me as well, but I continue to look up at the sky with awe. While most things lost their magic after Charlotte died, the moon never did. It just seemed too far away and pure to ever be bothered with the mess here on earth. Perfection, in its distance.

“Shoshanna, why don’t you like to be touched?” Tobias asks, abruptly.

I turn away from the moon and stare at him blankly. A broken memory flickers across my mind and against my intentions. I feel him trying to chase it in my head. I try my best to block him from it and it works. My head suddenly lacks the pressure I’m beginning to recognize as his influence. Forcing a shaky smile on my face, I take a step away from him and keep my voice quiet.

“Good night, Tobias.”

Turning on a heel, I walk away from him. He doesn’t follow.

Chapter Thirteen

Grindstone

 

 

Just as the hand hits ten o’clock, I exit my apartment building. I come to an abrupt stop though when I see a black car waiting outside. It sticks out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. In fact, if you sold it, I bet you could buy the whole neighborhood. I shove my hands in my jacket pockets and just stare at the car, hesitating to even take another step towards it. What if it’s not here for me?

“Miss Belle?” A voice calls out, making me jump.

I blink rapidly as I see a man standing beside the car, waiting patiently. The man is dressed in all black, sunglasses and leather driving gloves included. He looks to be in his late fifties with a downturned mouth and ruddy complexion. His white hair is thinning a bit on top but is slicked back to hide it. He just stares at me while I take him in. Realizing I’m being incredibly creepy, I try to think of something to say.

“Y-Yes?”

Opening the back door for me he stands up completely straight, “Shall we?”

I swallow thickly and eye the visible interior suspiciously, but take a few hesitant steps forward. My hands are shaking, so I clench them in my jacket pockets, while forcing a smile. I’m not the best at big forced smiles, so I may look crazy for all I know. The man’s expression doesn’t change and he keeps himself facing forward as I stumble into the car.

My hands caress the leather interior as I slide in. It feels rich and I feel uncomfortable immediately. I grew up in an upper middle class family, sure, but we were never affluent. My mom, on the other hand, grew up wealthy in Japan. Her family descends from a long line of war lords and eventually reformed themselves as aristocracy. She would be more comfortable in this setting. I am not, though. This extravagance makes me uneasy.

The car door is shut loudly behind me, and I jump in my seat. I grip the edge of the seat and try to keep the sick feeling in my stomach to a minimum. I hear the man open the driver’s side door and get in. I draw my attention to a lowered partition between our sections of the car. As the car starts to pull away from the curb and into the street, I decide to ask a few questions.

I clear my throat and try to raise my voice a little, “What’s your name?”

I can feel his eyes shift to me, even through his sunglasses in the rearview mirror, “Anthony, ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you.” I tell him softly with a small smile.

Anthony responds with a brief nod. He’s obviously not much of a talker. I chew on my lower lip and look out the tinted windows at the passing scenery. I can’t tell where we’re going and the longer we’re in the car the more my anxiety builds up. Eventually, I’m in a full blown panic and can no longer sit quietly.

“Where are we going, Anthony?”

“573 Rock Road.”

“And where is that exactly?”

“Right up ahead, ma’am.”

I practically press my face against one of the windows and look up to see an impossibly high skyscraper. Okay, we’re definitely not on my side of the city, that’s for sure. As the car comes to a stop, I continue to stare out the window at the people walking by. Some are obviously involved in business, some look to be more like socialites and just look like exotic creatures from another universe.

The door opens and I jump back to see Anthony holding the door wide for me. He even has a hand extended to help me out. I eye his glove covered hand and figure it’s okay, since I also have my mittens on. I place my hand in his and he helps me out but I accidentally step on a patch of ice. He steadies me by my shoulder, as I grip his hand tight enough that I think I could rip it off. Once I’m steady again, he quickly lets go of me and I frown. I didn’t think I was that repulsive.

“I apologize, ma’am.”

My frown only deepens, “Why? You stopped me from falling.”

“Mr. Van Garrett’s order, ma’am. I was to refrain from any touching.”

I blink at him, in shock. Tobias ordered him not to touch me? Oddly enough, my heart speeds up and warms at the information. Here I am, thinking he’s some sadistic puppet master and then he does things like this. Clearing my throat, I try to remember that I’m here on an errand and need to focus. It’s not easy though with the butterflies in my stomach.

“Speaking of Mr. Van Garrett,” I begin lowly, “He said there was a package I had to deliver?”

Anthony’s thick white eyebrows furrow for a second before his expression clears, “Yes, ma’am. There is a parcel, let me get it.”

Anthony opens the passenger door of the front, and reaches in. He emerges a few seconds later with a large manila envelope. Handing it to me, I inspect it but find no address written on it or any signifiers. With a sigh and a shrug, I tuck it under my arm before sticking my mitten clad hands in my jacket pockets again.

“Um, so where do I go now?”

“Sixtieth floor.”

“Okay…” I trail uncertainly, “Um, what office number?”

Anthony frowns a little under his sunglasses, “It’s an apartment, ma’am. Mr. Naidoo owns the entire floor. ”

I frown, where have I heard that name before? Ignoring the anxiety clutching my stomach, I give Anthony a nod and wave before turning to face the massive building. I look up at it in complete awe. Not often I see a place this… fancy. I’m about to head inside when Anthony’s voice calls out to me.

“Ma’am? I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re ready.”

I give him a small thankful smile and another quick nod. Turning back towards the building, I take a deep breath of ice cold air around me. It fills my lungs and soothes my nerves, enough to start walking. I have to push my way through the people walking down the sidewalks, on their cellphones, and disconnected from the world around them. I place my hands on the gold hand bars of the glass doors before me and push.

Warmth caresses my face as I step inside the first set of glass doors, and I fight the urge not to run back. This place is even worse than I thought it would be. I can see it perfectly though the next two sets of glass doors, that this place is pure luxury. Almost in a daze, I continue to push my way through the last doors. The warmth drops significantly and I grip my coat tighter around me.

The lobby is magnificent, that’s my first thought as I enter. A long black marble desk, curved into a slight half circle, is the first thing I notice. Four people stand behind the desk, all dressed in black and impeccably groomed. Two women and two men. All of their eyes watch me with skepticism, as I look around the room. The women and men are all opposite of each other, but all have the same matching gray eyes. It’s unnerving, and I decide not to look any of them in the eye.

In front of them, and across the lobby, is a huge trickling waterfall. The black slab of stone is cut in nonsensical ridges and make the water fall in odd but beautiful angles. There is one long leather bench seated in front of the water structure, and a few people are sitting on them. None of them look like they belong here, among the wealth and glamour. It’s not lost on me that I am one of these people.

“May I help you?” Someone asks from the desk. The woman’s voice echoes in the cast room, making me jump and my wet sneakers to squeak against the hard stone floor.

The woman is a light blonde with her hair slicked back in an elaborate twisty hairdo on the back of her head. She’s dressed in a clingy black turtleneck, making her pale skin look even paler and her gray eyes to seem darker. In her left ear is an earpiece with a microphone, curling around to end just at the edge of her mouth.

Clearing my throat, I slowly approach the desk and pull my red winter hat off my head self-consciously, “Y-Yes, I need to get to the sixtieth floor.”

“Is Mr. Naidoo expecting you?”

“I b-believe so, yes.”

She lifts her eyebrow subtly before her hands start moving behind the counter. For a second I think that there may be an alligator pit button she’s about to push. I chew on my lower lip and find a loose piece of skin. Using my teeth, I rip it off my lower lip and feel blood spring up. I swipe my tongue across it quickly, but I think I hear the air change subtlety.

“Name?” The woman before me asks huskily.

I suck the blood off my lower lip before answering, “Shoshanna Belle.”

The blonde’s eyes linger on my lips for a second, before she seems to collect herself and mumbles lowly into her headset. I look around the room a little and notice the rest of the people behind the desks staring at me. One of the guys is even breathing really hard as he stares at me longingly. I take a step away from him and he quickly averts his slate gray gaze.

“You may go up, Miss Belle. Elevator seven.”

I notice how the blonde isn’t looking at me now either and I take that as a hint to scurry off. I shoot a quick glance at the still waiting people. Some of them glaring at me, while others look dumbfounded that I got past the four gatekeepers. Believe me when I say, I’m pretty shocked myself. Taking the envelope from under my arm, I grip it tightly in my sweaty hands and look for the elevator marked seven. When I do find it, I press the button and wait.

When the doors open, I step inside and wait for the elevator’s doors to close before letting myself breath. My stomach is in knots and since I haven’t eaten anything other than the diner food last night, I’m feeling a bit dizzy. I put the envelope under my arm again and strip off my mittens to shove them in my pockets. I run my clammy hands down my face and try to build up some kind of courage. Maybe this will be an in and out thing. Just give the guy the envelope and then back down the elevator. That’s probably not what’s going to happen, but I can hope, can’t I?

When the elevator doors slide open, I feel my hope drain out of me, as well as any blood from my face. There, standing before me in a charcoal gray suit, is Viktor, the vampire from ‘The Den’. I meet his mercury eyes and feel my stomach drop to my toes when his full lips quirk up into a crooked smile.

“I… I…” I stutter out.

He pulls his lips into a wide, white smile, and gestures for me to walk further into the room, “Please, don’t be afraid, Shoshanna. I’ve been expecting you. Please come into my home.”

I hesitate but I don’t see much else of a choice. If Tobias wanted me to come here, there must be a reason, right? I want him to stop killing women on the streets and I promised I’d do whatever he said if he did that. This could be a test, my mind retorts. Standing up a bit straighter, I trudge forward and leave the elevator as I cross the threshold into Viktor’s home.

“Are you in need of a refreshment?” Viktor asks mildly, but I can see his amusement clearly written in his eyes when I allow myself a quick glance. He’s heading towards the open kitchen where he has a wine glass full of red thick liquid. I swallow thickly, knowing exactly what’s in that glass.

I shake my head before clearing my throat, “I’m just here to give you this.”

Taking the envelope from under my arm, I hold it out towards him. He tilts his head and takes it from me with an arched brow. Opening it, he lifts out a single piece of paper before chuckling. Tucking the piece of paper back in the envelope, he tosses it on the kitchen island before grabbing his wine glass. I watch with poorly hidden disgust as he drinks from the glass, his eyes never leaving my face.

Licking his lips clean of any residual blood, he asks, “Do you find the act of drinking blood repulsive, Shoshanna?”

“I… I can’t say I have a preference for it, Mr. Naidoo.”

He chuckles again and places the glass back down on the island, “I find it very refreshing to hear my surname, it’s not used very often.”

“No?”

“No.” He confirms, his mercury eyes assessing my face, “I’ll even let you in on a little secret, Shoshanna. Viktor is not my real name. I was born with a very different namesake, one that kept within my roots. I adopted Viktor as my moniker when I came to the new world. Few could pronounce my real name and I was sick of hearing it butchered every time I introduced myself.”

“So where are you from?”

“South Africa.” He says simply, before gesturing for me to follow him to the sitting room. I turn my body but don’t follow as he continues talking, “I was changed in the early 1700’s by a white settler, against my will. Then again many things were done to my people, against their will.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “That must have been very difficult.”

“It was, but one of the things people learn when they are given eternal life is that dwelling on the past is never recommended. Come and sit with me, Shoshanna.”

I shake my head and put on a shaky smile, “I s-should go.”

“Do you fear me?” He asks directly, “Or do you fear what I could do to you?”

“B-Both, I think.”

He sighs and sits back on his white upholstered couch, “That’s a problem, but one I can work with. Please sit Shoshanna, I promise with my heart and very soul that I will not harm you.”

“Do you have either of those things?” I ask softly as I shift on my feet.

Viktor smiles, “Why don’t you sit and find out for yourself.”

Again, I hesitate. I remember what it was like when we were at the club. Being caught up in his gaze was a strange experience. I felt like I was being drawn in, lured almost, to him. I don’t trust him and being alone in a room with him, with no chance of escape, seems too much to handle. I can barely handle it with Tobias, let alone sixty floors up with a hungry vampire. That being said, I’m curious.

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