Shadowglass - The Shadowfae Chronicles Part 6

"Shiny Indy-score. Could be from anywhere." Blaze's eyes shone, his lips wet. Excited despite himself. Shiny rated highly with him, too. Another reason I liked him.

"The stinky caverns of h.e.l.l," suggested Azure happily.

"Or under dung piles in a goblin's hideout."

"Or deep in the slime vaults of some demon's dungeon."

"Or the bottom of a manky cistern at Joey DiLuca's place."

"Or-"

"Okay, you two," I interrupted crossly. "I get it. I'm an idiot, all right? I screwed up. But we've gotta get rid of it somehow."

Az wrinkled her nose. "Can't you just drop it in the bin? Or dump it by the side of the road or something?"

"Leave it for some little kid to find? Don't think so."

"Break it?"

"No way! It might leap out at me, or get really angry or something."

"Back to Kane's?" Blaze fluttered his brows, like he knew what I'd say.

"Lick a spriggan's fingers. Are you crazy? I'm not going back in there. He'll bottle me and flush me down the toilet, or turn me into a glob of snot or something." Or touch me again. I shivered.

"Back to Indigo, then," Azure suggested, untangling her hair with a puff of air.

My spine tingled, longing and fear warring to see who could make me squirm the most. The erotic Indigo-flavored dreams I'd enjoyed so much this morning still scorched fresh in my mind, and the memory of Blaze's hot body on mine wasn't calming me down. In my current mood, I'd probably describe to Indigo every thrust and gasp and ask if he wanted to join me.

The idea flushed me violet. "Umm . . . Good idea. I'm kinda busy this afternoon, though, I just remembered, so if you guys could . . ."

Azure gave Blaze a crafty blue wink, and Blaze stifled a giggle.

Water boiled under my skin for the umpteenth time today, and I scowled, relief spreading. "Oh, fine. Make fun of my broken heart. Real nice friends you are."

"He's a stuck-up jacka.s.s," said Blaze, still giggling. "Dunno why you wreck yourself over him, Icy. Find yourself a real fairy."

"What, like you?" I spoke without thinking again, and hid a wince, my teeth aching lest Azure say something.

But Blaze just shrugged, his usually confident gaze slipping. "Like anyone who don't treat you like a f.u.c.king c.o.c.kroach. You're worth better than that."

My nose fizzed, and I swallowed an embryonic tear. Blaze is selfish and vain and thinks with his d.i.c.k most of the time, but he loves me, and I knew in my head he was right. Indigo sure gave me the insect treatment last night.

Bad luck for me I'm besotted with him.

"He's not a jacka.s.s," I protested, denial like sweet champagne in my heart. "He's just real busy a lot of the time, what with his profession and everything. He's a real focused dude, like nothing else ever bothers him, how cool is that? And he's gotta be careful who he hangs out with, because he could put them in danger, because he steals from demon lairs and goblin dungeons and Joey DiLuca's f.u.c.king cistern, okay?"

Blaze rolled his eyes. Azure poked her tongue out and mimed sticking her finger down her throat, and even I had to giggle at the excuses I made. "And, yeah, so he's got gorgeous silver wings, and that s.e.xy metal hair, and he smells so good, I nearly pa.s.s out, and I want him want him want him and he's a total a.s.shole about it every single time I ask him out." I sighed. "Yeah. Not a jacka.s.s at all. Thanks for clearing that up, Blaze. Really."

"He does have a pretty a.s.s, though," Azure said brightly. "Blaze is right about that. All perky and tight and yummy."

Naked dream images ran fresh in my memory, not dissimilar to Azure's description. I glared. "Can we not talk about Indigo's a.s.s? Please? If that's okay with you?"

"Just throwing bananas from the train. You know, trying to help-"

"We're going to Quang's this afternoon, right?" I cut in firmly. Quang was our fence, a smelly red spriggan with groping fingers and a potty mouth. "We'll sell him the squidgy along with everything else."

Blaze chewed his succulent lip. "But what if it's dangerous?"

Our gazes met, and I knew what he was thinking. One little look into that thing and we'd nearly made the horridest of mistakes. I chewed my thumbclaw, avoiding his eyes. "We're selling him stolen jewels, aren't we? He's used to a little danger."

"But still . . ."

My guts warmed. Blaze was right again. But desperation gnawed at me to get rid of it, to get things back the way they had been. I flicked my wings, insouciant. "We'll warn him not to look. Not our fault if he can't help himself. Right?"

6.

Water splashes, and Indigo comes to with a start.

His forehead smacks against steam-coated gla.s.s, dizzying him. Black tangles sc.r.a.pe the mist, and he glimpses his own bedraggled reflection in the sepia-lit vanity mirror. For some reason, relief crackles his spine.

He sighs and rolls his neck under the spray, letting water flow over his aching limbs, through his hair, into his bitter-stained mouth. His dark skin stings, rust-sc.r.a.ped and raw, silvery scratches smarting.

Rough night.

Blackout. Dreams again, maybe. His wings hurt, inside to his bones, like he's flown too far. He doesn't remember getting home. Doesn't even recall taking a shower, and with weary distaste, he hopes there's no one in his bedroom.

He drenches his face. Dark water swirls down the drain, trailing grit on the tiles.

The rusted h.e.l.lmirror. He remembers that. Evil thing, whispering at him like murder's ghost, sliding guilt-tainted needles into his veins.

He spits a coppery mouthful. Nasty thing. Kane's welcome to it.

And then Ice, the scrunchy yellow girl who teases his blood to quicksilver and his senses to golden warning. Scrambling off his lap like he'd cut her, the smell of her dusky wings crawling under his skin, so he slammed up his ice-walled att.i.tude and pushed her away.

Hot regret splashes over his wings. Hasn't he done enough pushing away? She's nice, isn't she? An ordinary girl. Not dangerous. She wouldn't get weird with him. Wouldn't wheedle out his affection to use it against him. Would she?

p.r.i.c.kles on a pineapple. d.a.m.n right, she would. A petty scam artist like her? She's doing too good a besotted-fangirl impression not to be playing him. No doubt she's working for some thief-plagued master who owes Indigo a kick in the a.s.s. Maybe even for Kane.

A tricksier girl than Ice once messed with his mind like that, and look where it got her.

Indigo snaps his teeth on bitter memories of auburn locks, a warm rich laugh, smooth red lips he'd kissed like her breath was air itself, now curving with delicious betrayal. An audacious theft twisted horribly wrong when she turned on him, tricked him, betrayed him once he'd led her to the loot. But then a demon's rotten snarl of triumph, sharp bra.s.s shackles searing Indigo's wrists, easily broken but too late, the ground quaking with the demon's indiscriminate rage. She flees with him, his false-hearted girl, broken and bleeding, scrambling up cracked stone tunnels toward the light, but he's too swift and she can't fly. She's not strong enough, he spits curses and shoves her away, but she falls. An accident. Not an accident. He isn't sure. But remorse rips his heart like poison fangs, and his claws tear her skin as he scrabbles to catch her, to hold her, fighting gravity's inescapable pull down a black spike-slashed h.e.l.lpit. He can't. She falls, wide blue eyes rimmed with blood, her last spit-choked words a curse.

The rage and crushing sorrow are faded after so long, and all that's left is guilt, bitter regret, and the certainty he can never go there again. His heart's not for the taking. He won't fall for such pretty lies a second time.

But the image of Ice's awestruck gaze stirs his desire again, and he coughs and resists the need to touch himself. Kane's not welcome to her. Just because Indigo won't have her doesn't mean anyone else should be allowed.

Indigo's skin heats with honey-sweet memories he doesn't want, vague steamy images like he's watched through gla.s.s. Devoured the sight. Couldn't tear his eyes away. Kane claiming her, kissing those taut golden lips, sniffing her puckered b.r.e.a.s.t.s, spreading her pretty thighs on his filthy demon lap like she belonged to him, and in the shower Indigo slices his lip with sharp iron fangs, silvery blood washing onto his chest. The sting distracts him from his swelling hard-on, but it enhances it, too, and he gasps and indulges, stroking himself with light copper claws in the hot spray as he thinks of her.

Just a girl. An awkward, funny, s.e.xy girl with fascinating flaws that tempt him and secret beauties that calm his raging blood. Normal. Ordinary. Imagine that. Ask her out, buy her dinner, take her to the f.u.c.king theater or whatever normal people do. Kiss her lips in the warm midnight breeze, take her somewhere fresh and clean and pleasure her, slide his body on hers and his tongue in her salty moisture and his c.o.c.k deep into her willing body and let that be enough.

But he doesn't trust her. He doesn't trust himself, not anymore.

Current crackles across his wet skin like spiderweb. His c.o.c.k strains in his hand, his b.a.l.l.s tight, and he crunches aching teeth together and lets go. Guilt. Penance. Whatever. Just not her.

He twists the shower off and shakes himself, spraying rusty droplets on the gla.s.s. He rubs a towel in his hair and walks naked through the bedroom-empty, thankfully, bed still made-and his spa.r.s.e blue lounge to the balcony, where the afternoon sun cooks the concrete and a light hot breeze cleans his skin in a sunbright view of shining apartment blocks and cerulean sky. A perfect day for views, for leaning off the dizzy-high roof with summer breeze lifting his wings, inhaling air washed clean of city filth. He likes it up there. But not today, not in this mood.

His shadow paints the floor, lean, wings carving like blades. He leans over to see the street six floors below, and his calves hurt, like he's climbed too many stairs. Images flash, obscure. Sprinting down a dark deserted street, his blood afire, laughing. Always laughing, this shadow self. Indigo doesn't remember the last time he laughed.

He turns his back to the breeze and stretches silvery wings. Water evaporates, cooling his blood, and the hot breeze lifts him, filling his membranes with the urge to fly.

Time he left this town. His soul is safe for now. His trade with Kane ensured that. Nothing here except bad memories and danger and a succulent yellow girl he can't have. Maybe Sydney, the north sh.o.r.e where the weather's cool, anonymity and salty sea breeze to comfort him. Maybe even across the sea, Jakarta or Colombo with their muddy monsoon gutters and warm typhoid rain, where the crumpled change in his pocket is a fortune and demons are poor and starving like everyone else, too busy gnawing at each other's throats in the dirt to hire a thief.

Yes, leaving. It's time.

He tosses the towel aside. Inside, he pulls on fresh jeans and b.u.t.tons a sleeveless black shirt cut to fit around his wings. Cash, bank-cards, slim silvery phone from the marble bench. That's it. His life. Portable, easy. No complications.

He glances around as he pulls the door shut. Dim, blue, cool. Empty. He won't miss this place, and no one will care he's gone. He'll just stop paying the rent and the bills, and the estate agent will lease it to someone else. Neat. Uncomplicated.

Cryptic images and the memory of roses suggest he has another place, darker and more sensual, that needs care. But the memory slips from his grasp, and he can't recall where or why. Doesn't matter. Maybe he dreamed it.

The cool white corridor lies deserted, and he glides into the bitter chromed elevator and presses L L for lobby. There's an expectant finality about an elevator door. One world vanishes, crumbled to dust or scorched to h.e.l.l, for all he knows. Another opens, fresh and ripe for pillage. Closure. Death. Rebirth. for lobby. There's an expectant finality about an elevator door. One world vanishes, crumbled to dust or scorched to h.e.l.l, for all he knows. Another opens, fresh and ripe for pillage. Closure. Death. Rebirth.

But the doors clunk, inches short of closing. Jammed, on curled brown fingers with violet claws that rupture the metal like paper.

The stink of ash and roses sc.r.a.pes his tongue raw.

His startled wings jerk into flight. Too late. Nowhere to go. Trapped.

Claws rake his hair, wrenching his head back, a rusty spike of agony in his spine. His knees slam into the steel floor, metal grating on metal, and smoky breath scorches his eyes, a burnt glimpse of wine-dark tresses and h.e.l.l-green eyes swirling with s.a.d.i.s.tic delight.

Delilah, demon wh.o.r.e, brat princess of h.e.l.l and p.i.s.sed-off ex-mirror-owner.

f.u.c.k.

She snakes her chocolate-skinned body closer, her torso encased in a black nylon sheath. She blinks dark lashes, and demonic compulsion slams into his guts, boiling his blood with false l.u.s.t. "Indigo, you cheeky little s.h.i.t."

Her husky voice caresses straight to his b.a.l.l.s, and a rush of molten quicksilver hardens him instantly. Hatred twitches his skin. He's on his knees before her and he wants to drag her down with him, pull her plump brown mouth onto his c.o.c.k and come down her throat.

Disgusting witch. His voice cuts his throat, salty like razors. "f.u.c.k you."

He struggles to rise, wings gripping against steamy air, but Delilah's claws slash at his scalp and she holds him down effortlessly. The doors cruise shut, and the lifts sinks. She stabs the red emergency stop b.u.t.ton, jerking the chrome cage to a halt. "In your dreams, you rusty little worm. Where's my mirror?"

Indigo bares hungry teeth, fighting an alien longing to bite her, chew her jutting nipples, sink his tongue into her weeping flesh. "f.u.c.k. You. h.e.l.ls.l.u.t."

Her emerald eyes flash scarlet, and she grabs his thrashing wing and crushes.

Agony crunches, metal teeth ripping down his shoulder. He throttles a screech and his vision blots black.

Delilah grins around needle teeth and squeezes harder. Sleek merlot curls quiver in glee on her shoulders. "No one steals from me. Least of all a sloppy blue iron-stinking maggot with a hard-on for blood like you. Where's my f.u.c.king mirror?"

Her voice filters through a ragged haze of memory, and shame and confusion scorch his heart. She's talking s.h.i.t, but his blood sparks like shattered gla.s.s with deep delight, and he wants to scream, No, you're a liar, I'm not like that, I didn't mean to let her fall. No, you're a liar, I'm not like that, I didn't mean to let her fall. "Gone," he gasps, his shoulder blades bending under excruciating pressure. Pain savages his twisting spine, and nausea crawls up his throat, choking. "Gave it away." "Gone," he gasps, his shoulder blades bending under excruciating pressure. Pain savages his twisting spine, and nausea crawls up his throat, choking. "Gave it away."

She laughs, black smoke curling from her nostrils. "Shoulda known. What did Kane pay you in, amnesty? h.e.l.l's in your blood now. Think you'll escape that easy?"

Indigo spits, and defiant silver-soaked saliva splatters her cheek.

Delilah howls. Electric rage crackles like green lightning along her arms. She lets his wing go and forces his jaw upward. Her claws slice his skin and choke off his breath. "Guess what, you thieving maggot? You just got yourself a new contract. Get me my mirror by week's end-in one piece, s.h.i.thead-and I'll pay you by not nailing you to the wall in a screaming steel cell for a thousand years before I sc.r.a.pe your rotten blue skin off and eat it on toast. Get it?"

His wings curl with impotent rage, and his b.a.l.l.s crunch tighter. Threats, pain, eternal torment. Same f.u.c.king s.h.i.t as everyone else. Only she means it. His teeth judder, his mouth sweating inside, yearning to chew her apart, suck her, eat her. It's just a mirror. Not worth living that long for.

She smirks. "Yeah, I can see that's making a dent. Pity you're too f.u.c.king arrogant to have any friends or I'd nail them up next to you." She punches the red b.u.t.ton again and leans in as the elevator drops, her lips a quiver from his, her damp breath smearing seductive ash on his tongue. "My mirror, or die screaming in your own s.h.i.t. Your choice. You know where I live."

Her tongue flickers, hard and slick over his lips, a horrid, dominant kiss. Heat stabs into his guts, withering his resolve in an instant. He hisses and dives for her, but the doors whisper open and she's gone in a sweep of chocolate limbs and grape-dark hair, leaving only the stink of ash and bubbling red need.

Hatred seethes in his stomach, frustrated l.u.s.t spiking into his b.a.l.l.s like teeth. He screams and doubles in agony, and his copper claws rake deep scratches in the floor.

7.

No way, luv. I'm not taking it." Quang folded leathery red arms across his scrawny chest and eyed the squidgy with beady black suspicion. His pointy ears twitched, crusted with dirt and dead skin, and his potbelly poked at his stretched black T-shirt, which read MY ANGER MANAGEMENT CLa.s.s p.i.s.sES ME OFF MY ANGER MANAGEMENT CLa.s.s p.i.s.sES ME OFF.

Dusty sunlight dribbled in from a wire-covered skylight. My pretty diamonds glinted on black velvet, beside pink pearl strings and a sky-blue opal choker. The squidgy jiggled next to them, littering rust flecks on the velvet. A scaly whisper slithered in my ears, threatening.-Don't get rid of me. You'll be sorry.- I recalled the calming bell-chime voice it used when it liked me, and I shuddered. Just leave me alone, okay? Just leave me alone, okay?

The squidgy muttered darkly.-Nice friend you are. Fine. You're on your own. See how you like it.- And like a raindrop on the wind, the voice was gone.

My heart lightened, cautious. Good riddance. But unease jabbed my spine. I still wanted it out of my sight. I leaned on the dusty gla.s.s counter, offering Quang a nice view of my b.o.o.bs swelling against my halter dress. "Five, then. Not a cent less."

Quang grinned and scratched coa.r.s.e orange hair, a goaty stink wafting from his armpit. "It ain't the price. It's the smell. It's yucky. I'm not taking it."

I wrinkled my nose. He can talk. Quang's p.a.w.nshop is crammed in above a Vietnamese restaurant in downtown Brunswick, a dark den festering with dust and stuffed with moldy carpet rolls and crates of junk, and it stinks of stale cooking oil and spriggan sweat.

In the corner, Blaze rummaged through cardboard cartons, pulling out rusted bike chains, pistol parts, desiccated specimens in jars. Humming. Amusing himself. Ignoring us.

Could use your help here, dude. I scowled at him, but he didn't see me. I scowled at him, but he didn't see me.

Azure smiled her prettiest smile, playing with her dress hem to innocently show off her thighs. "But the diamonds are nice. You like diamonds, Quang. And pearls. And the shimmery blue stuff."