Hell Bent

Chapter 4

“What?” I stopped, twisted on my heel so I could face the guy. I was still on the floor and he was up on the slightly raised stage. “You’re firing me?”

“I am ending your position and will be reassigning a new Head of the Authority to speak for the magic users in Portland.”

My brain was running a beat behind my mouth. “Don’t bother. It should be Terric. He should be the Head of the Authority,” I said. “Just because I fuck up doesn’t mean he has to take the fall.”

“Mr. Flynn.” He somehow made my name sound like a venereal disease. “I have made my decision. You are both relieved of your duties as of today. I expect each of you to turn over your files and offices, clean out your desks, and assist in the transfer of duties to the new Head of the Authority.”

I was almost at the stage now. My brain had finally caught up with my mouth and run into anger on the way.

“Who’s that unlucky bastard?”

“If you shut your mouth,” he snapped, “I will announce his name.”

Bet if he could use magic like the old days I would have just earned myself a three-month crotch rash.

“Shame.” Terric waved his hand and pointed for me to come stand beside him.

Oh, God no. If Terric had his wits back, then I was not needed up there. I hated smiling and making nice. Especially in front of a crowd.

The Overseer stowed his sneer beneath his mustache and addressed the room. “It is my great pleasure to announce to you the new Head of the Authority in Portland: Clyde Turner. Mr. Turner, please come up to the microphone.”

Now I didn’t have to make nice. I happened to like Clyde, poor sod.

Clyde was a regular kind of guy who looked like he belonged in a beer commercial. Didn’t get in anyone’s business and made it clear that people could stay out of his. He was currently the Voice, or representative, of Blood magic here in town—a position my mum had abandoned after the world almost ended.

The crowd got it right this time and clapped while he walked from the side of the room to the stage. He was wearing the same combination that he always wore: baseball cap on backward, flannel shirt over a team jersey—Giants. He shook hands with the Overseer, then stuck his fingers in his jean pockets while he leaned forward toward the microphone.

“Thank you for your applause. But I’d like us all to take a moment to show some appreciation for Terric Conley and all the hard work he’s done for this city over the last three years.”

Terric smiled and did the hand wave thing again to get me up on the stage. I really didn’t think he’d want me up there stealing his sunshine, but hey, who am I to argue?

I walked up the stairs nearest Terric. The applause faltered as I crossed the stage, and was completely silent when I stood next to him.

But now that I was this near, I could see the tension bleed out of him just a fraction. Yeah, the tie between us worked that way for him too. Some things were easier for him when I was around. Still, the majority of things, important things like living, were harder.

He was really wound up over this firing thing. Probably worried it would look bad on his résumé.

“...and Shamus Flynn did his part too,” Clyde finished.

Faint praise, and true. But he didn’t mean it to sound derogatory, and I didn’t take it that way. When Clyde had a problem with me, he let me know. No bullshit from that guy.

“I will do everything in my power to listen to the concerns of the magical community here in Portland and make sure magic is running smoothly and working efficiently with the nonmagical businesses and communities in the Northwest.

“Now”—he glanced over his shoulder at the Overseer—“is there more that needs to be discussed on the stage, or should we open this up to a full conversation?”

Mr. Moretti strolled over to the microphone. “There is just one last thing. Please, each of you who are a Soul Complement, ask me any questions you have. I will need to know by tomorrow morning what your decisions are: to stay, to retreat. Remember we have places in all the world where you can hide.

“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 every 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?