Chapter 20 #2
“You are quite famous here,” Damien explains, throwing a look my way. “Most everyone here is freaked out that you are staying for the foreseeable future.”
“Foreseeable future? I’m staying tonight, and that’s it.”
“Not what I heard,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. “Either way, most demons in there are shitting their pants that you are here at all. It’s not often that the Hollow…”
I raise my hand, stopping him from speaking further. “Two things.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responds.
“One, I didn’t think demons were such pussies,” I bite. “And two, I don’t like people calling me anything other than Mara.”
He tips his head back and laughs. “I appreciate the heads up, and noted. Mara is the only name you will hear come out of my mouth.”
I nod and glance around the small space. The city before us is quiet, unlike the part of town where I live, and the stars shine brighter against the dim lighting.
“Where is Locke?” I ask. “I haven’t seen him.”
The ice clinks in Damien’s cup as he sets it down on the table. “Probably fucking someone.”
I choke on my drink at the boldness. “Got it,” I say with a laugh.
He returns the chuckle. “You asked, and Locke specializes in that. Especially at a party.”
“Would you know?”
Damien huffs into the brim of his glass. “No, not personally. It’s a small Order, and I unfortunately share a room with him.” He pauses. “So actually, it is on a personal level.”
I nod and take another drink, draining the remaining liquid I was thoroughly enjoying.
“Maybe I will take another,” I say.
Damien kills his whiskey and stands up in a flash. “Alright, but you may have to hold my hair back, too.”
“Deal.”
“Deal,” he repeats, taking off his mask. “Let’s get drunk. This party fucking sucks.”
For the first time in what feels like forever, I genuinely laugh, and Damien observes with a smile on his face.
“You should do that more often,” he says, as he fades back into the crowded room. “It suits you.”
The laugh fades from my chest as I settle into my chair, careful not to touch any of the wounds on my back.
The whiskey begins to take effect, and I feel myself relaxing in the cool night air.
I hear footsteps approaching and turn my head with a smile, expecting Damien to be returning with two more drinks for us.
My smile weakens as Crew emerges from the crowd and pauses upon noticing me in the darkness. I whip my head around, ignoring his growing presence. He enters my peripheral vision, clutching a drink in his hand. He takes a long sip and gazes into the night sky.
“Hey,” he rasps.
Crew’s black wings cast another shadow around us, and I notice him expanding them, as if to give us privacy from the gawking eyes in the room.
“Why can’t you stay away from me?” I snap.
He lowers the drink slightly from his lips and looks at me. “I guess because you are so enjoyable to be around.”
“Seriously, Crew.” I roll my eyes. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“How do you suggest we get out of this?” Crew steps closer. “Both accept death? Sorry, but I’m not doing that. Hate me if you want, but we’re fucked. I’m trying to cope with everything, too.”
“Cope with everything?” I turn toward him. “Like me?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Oh, that’s hilarious,” I huff, tilting my chin. “It’s the other way around.”
“Cry me a river, grump ass.”
“I’ll find a way out of this,” I mumble.
“What, you think you can convince my father?” Crew nearly shouts. “He’s being nice because he wants to fuck you, Mara.”
“So?”
“So?” He sarcastically laughs and points. “Alright then, head on inside and get after it.”
“Please,” I rub my temples, “just shut up.”
“Or what? You’ll murder me in my own Order?”
“Right again. Maybe you are smart after all, you dickhead.”
“Oh wow, you’re as feisty as I’ve heard," he says, stepping closer. “I admire your determination to keep up this ‘I’m a horrible person’ facade. Or is it the Hollow Huntress facade that makes you this fucking miserable and mean?”
Without thinking, I almost tip the heavy metal chair backward as I stand. “Watch your goddamn mouth.”
A flash of pain strikes me so hard that I immediately crash to the ground, shattering the glass in my hands. I glance at my hand and see a drop of blood leaking from a cut across my palm. “Damnit.” I curse.
Crew crashes to the ground next to me in a failed attempt to catch me. Blood trickles on the ground like crimson rain, and my back feels as if it’s been split open, exposing my wounds to the world. His face lands inches from mine, and his gaze burns a hole in me.
“Must you constantly hurt yourself to prove a point?” Crew snaps. “This anger isn’t doing anything but drowning out rational thoughts. Believe me, Mara, I struggle with it, too.”
Pain radiates through me, and I remain still as he slips a hand under me, slightly lifting me from the ground.
“Give me three minutes to talk. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll leave you alone. For good.”
Damien steps into the courtyard, carrying two glasses filled with whiskey. His eyes widen at the sight of me on the ground, covered in blood, with Crew leaning over me.
“What just happened?” he questions, placing the drinks on the small metal table.
Crew looks at Damien. “She pushed herself too hard. Again.”
A surge of power flows into my hand, and I watch as the cut begins to close on my palm.
The pain fades as the skin folds back together, erasing the evidence of the wound.
Crew watches, and his jaw drops at how quickly I heal.
He looks toward my back, realizing how serious my burns are, and he steps away, giving me space to stand on my own.
“Well?” Crew pushes. “All I want is to talk to you.”
“This is ridiculous,” I say, exhausted.
“Please.”
“Alright then,” I respond. “Go ahea—”
A commotion of chatter comes from the room, and I realize the number of people who have been watching.
Everything about this evening feels invasive, and all I want to do is crawl into a dark hole and never come out.
The crowd parts as Carver and Lowell step into the courtyard, and I watch as Damien moves to the side in a flash.
Carver notices me rising from the ground, and a spark of concern crosses his expression as he glares at Crew.
“What did you do?” Carver seethes.
“I didn’t do a goddamn thing.” Crew stands, facing his father. “She fell because she is hurt. She fell because Lowell fucking tortured her this morning like an animal. Then dragged her here to humiliate her.”
My face falls at his outburst, and I grind my teeth as I stand, letting the pain blur my vision.
I can’t believe he just said that.
“I’m fine,” I chime in, glancing at Lowell. “I’ll be fine.”
Carver raises a hand in my direction, signaling me to be silent, only making my anger grow.
Crew continues, letting rage pour out of him. “Lowell could have killed her.”
“I said I’m okay,” I hiss in his direction, doing anything I can to get him to be quiet.
“Stop acting so stubborn, Mara,” Crew fumes. “It’s exhausting. I’m trying to help. Can’t you fucking see that?”
Carver lifts his fist and slams it into Crew’s face, knocking him to his knees, and I gasp. The punch jars his teeth, and I watch as Crew spits blood. He slowly shifts his gaze back to his father as Carver shakes his hand from the blow.
“Perfect,” Crew rasps sarcastically, dragging his thumb across his bleeding lip, and he looks in my direction.
I step back instinctively, wanting to create distance from the darkness oozing from Carver. The Elder looks over his shoulder, and the crowd scatters, leaving us with the courtyard to ourselves.
“That’s enough, Crew,” Carver barks. “How dare you speak like that. No wonder she shot you. Your mouth is going to get you killed.”
I watch in silence as Lowell’s gaze rests on me, and for the first time, fear overwhelms all my emotions.
For Crew.
Crew slowly stands, wiping the blood from his mouth, which stains his white teeth.
“You two are going to work together, or what Lowell did to Mara will seem like kindness compared to what I’ll do to you. She deserved that punishment for disobeying her Elder, and if you continue to disrespect yours, Crew, I’ll do worse.”
Carver may be more cruel after all.
Lowell steps forward, smiling at the ongoing exchanges. He looks at his counterpart, and I observe as something blossoms in his evil mind.
“I have an idea,” Lowell says.
Carver shifts his head, pulling his eyes away from his son. “Go ahead."
My heart races, and I glance at Crew. He stands unmoving, and I watch as a slow trickle of blood leaks from his bottom lip.
“Let them get whatever hatred they have for one another out of their system,” Lowell says. “Let them fight it out, and after that, any other foul words between the two of you will be settled by the High Elders.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t hate her,” Crew snaps, spitting on the ground again. “I’m also not hurting Mara. Look at her.”
“And what about me, Crew?” I step forward. “You think I’m weak? Too injured?”
“Too injured,” he replies. “Yes, I do.”
“Then maybe she should prove that herself,” Lowell says, egging me on.
Carver turns silent, letting his thoughts swirl in his mind. He glances between Crew and me, allowing the silence to build like a tidal wave upon us.
“Very well,” Carver says. “Let’s get this over with.”
The French doors slam shut, blocking off the rest of the party, and gray clouds quickly cover the bright stars, casting shadows everywhere we look. Lowell and Carver step back with wide grins on their faces while Damien remains in the corner, too stunned to speak.
“Mara, I’d use that knife strapped to your pretty thigh if I were you,” Lowell winks.
He knew the entire time.
I stand there motionless, as if this is some cruel joke. Crew doesn’t move either.
“I told you, I’m not fighting her,” Crew says, stepping toward the double doors to leave. “This is fucking crazy.”
Carver stops him with a push. “Do it.”