13. Sisi
13
SISI
V lad parks the car, coming around to open the door for me. Placing my hand in his, I let him lead me down the dimly lit streets, the loud sounds of the city contributing to a boisterous atmosphere.
Even now, at night, people are walking around, enjoying the freedom of being lost in the crowd.
"Wow," I breathe out when I see the flashing lights.
"I assume this is past your regular curfew," he jokes as we continue down the street, simply enjoying the night air.
"Oh yes," I readily agree, "but I never minded it before. When you're working from dawn to sunset, all you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep."
He frowns, turning slightly toward me.
"I didn't realize nuns worked so hard," he says, taking my hand and lacing it through his elbow.
"One in particular did," I mutter under my breath, since I'm fairly sure I was the only one who had to work almost double the hours.
He raises an eyebrow, but I just shrug.
"I don't think Sacre Coeur is known for its fair working conditions," I add briefly, before commenting, "I'm surprised you have no guards with you," all in an attempt to switch the focus from me.
The last thing I need is for someone to pity me for everything that happened there. It's already happened and it's not like I can change the past. And certainly, I would never want to be seen as a victim.
"Why would I need any guards?"
"My brother requires Lina to have at least five guards with her at all times. I assumed that with you guys," I look around before leaning in to whisper, "being in this mob business it wouldn't be safe to just wander around unattended."
"And yet here you are," he smiles, "walking around with me unattended."
"It's different," I say before I can think it through.
"Different how?" He tilts his head to the side, awaiting my answer.
You make me feel safe.
But I don't say that.
"You said you're a cold-blooded killer," I reply with half a smile, "I'm willing to bet that people rarely cross you?" I look up to find him watching me amused, the corner of his mouth curling up.
"You would be correct. People would be fools to attack me," he agrees. "But, unlike the rest of the," he emulates my actions, leaning to whisper in my ear, "mob," before straightening his back again, "I have a certain reputation that keeps people away from me."
"Is that so?" I ask, although what I actually mean is tell me more.
"I have a guard I use sometimes to keep up appearances, although if you are in the know." He smirks, unbuttoning the sleeve of his shirt to show me his wrist, and the design that's etched in his skin.
Surprised, I lean closer, my fingers tracing the ink. In the middle is a human skull impaled on a cross. There's only one eye in the socket, wide open and staring at me. A scale of justice is balanced on either side of the cross, one side white, the other black.
His muscles tense as the tips of my fingers move slowly over the surface, and I look up to find him studying me too, a frown on his face.
"What does it mean?"
"Retribution," he says curtly, "an eye for an eye."
"How does that work?" I ask, curious .
"Action and reaction." He covers my hand with his. "In this world, no good deed goes unpunished."
"And people recognize the tattoo?" He nods, tugging my hand into the crook of his elbow once more.
"People spread tales. It's easy to distort the truth when your name is on everyone's lips. Certainly, I've earned my reputation. But there are some things that even I find distasteful." He scrunches up his face in disgust.
"Really? Like what?" My voice comes out a little breathy, and I'm unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
Vlad comes across as this larger-than-life person, and his enigmatic personality is only making me want to know more about him.
A smile plays on his lips. "There's one rumor that I collect my victims' organs, and that I have a collection of them hidden in my basement."
"Let me guess, not true?"
"Not exactly. I'd need a hell of a lot of formol. I may have kept some, on occasion, but only for scientific purposes," he says, looking as if he's reminiscing about a fond memory.
"What else?"
"Hmm," he glances up pensively, "there's one rumor that I only eat human flesh."
"You do?" I squeak, the answer unexpected.
"I'm not particular to it, no. But I can't say I haven't tried it before."
"Wow," I breathe out, stunned. "So you're saying that no matter how crazy the rumors are, there's still some truth to them."
"Isn't that the nature of rumors? There's always some truth, but you never know just how much."
"I see." I nod thoughtfully.
"Scared yet?" His breath fans my face as he whispers in my ear.
"No." I turn to him, so close I can almost touch him, "But all this talk of human flesh made me hungry. Now, unless you plan on catching me dinner, I'd suggest you take me somewhere to eat," I say softly, watching his pupils dilate, his lips tugging upward.
"Now, we can't have you hungry, can we?" he drawls, amused, leading me down a lively boulevard .
"Any preference?" he asks when restaurants appear on both sides of the street.
Since I'm not too familiar with restaurant food, I let him decide for me. He settles on a burger place, telling me it's something I must try. We go inside, and because everything sounds good to me, I let him order for me, too.
"Oh my," I say, my mouth full, when I finally dive in. This burger thing is positively divine. "Great choice," I add, closing my eyes and enjoying the taste.
There's so much meat and the flavor is bursting on my tongue. I don't even realize when a moan escapes me.
My eyes widen, and I quickly look around, embarrassed.
"No one heard." Vlad's hand comes up to my mouth, wiping some sauce off, "But me that is," he says, giving me a mischievous grin.
"It's too good," I counter, swiping his hand aside.
"I agree." He brings his finger to his mouth, his tongue sneaking out and tasting the sauce. His gaze on mine, I feel hypnotized by the gesture.
So lost am I in his black eyes that I'm startled by my throat contracting in a hiccup.
My hand flies to my mouth, my embarrassment mounting. Seeing as my hiccups won't stop, Vlad pushes a glass of water in front of me. Grabbing it, I gulp it down in one go.
"Easy," he drawls, a languid smile on his face.
His eyes are sharp as his gaze swings from me to the rest of the restaurant, and for the first time, I note that he'd seated us in the back, in full view of the entrance.
His smile doesn't falter as he half-turns to me, his voice low and grave.
"At my signal, you get behind the table."
I stare at him, curious, but I nod.
A man walks toward the back, and Vlad slowly orients himself to the right, stretching his long legs down the aisle to block the man's path.
Everything happens in slow motion, but as I see a hint of steel glinting from the man's trousers, Vlad taps me, swiftly pushing the table down. I realize this is my signal, so I stoop down, hiding behind the table.
From the corner of my eye, I see Vlad kick at the man's leg, promptly tripping him. The man tries to struggle, but Vlad is too fast as his hand grips the gun, taking it out of the man's pants and throwing it to me.
"Just in case." He winks at me, using the back of his palm to kick at the man's jaw until he's writhing in pain on the ground.
More noise from the front of the store, and as I turn to see what's going on, the other customers are running out of the restaurant, all but four men. They rise from their seats, all aiming their guns at Vlad.
"Petrovic," one man speaks. "We know you have him, and we'll need him back." His words are stilted, his accent foreign.
"Well, come and get him," Vlad says, opening his arms in invitation.
I turn to him, stupefied that he'd do something like this, especially since he's in an open field with men aiming their guns at him—directly.
Suddenly afraid for his life, I close my hand over the gun, feeling the cold silver under my palm. A shudder of excitement goes through me as I examine it.
"The safety's off." Vlad's voice rings in my ear. "Just press the trigger. But not at me, please." He has the gall to joke, even now as the men are coming toward him.
My mouth opens on a warning as I see movement, one aiming for Vlad with his gun. But he's not in the least concerned.
Instead, swiping a silver platter from a nearby table, he holds it up, the bullet connecting with the metal and denting it in its attempt to break the material.
What?
More bullets fly, and I watch in awe as Vlad uses the platter as a shield, thwarting all of their shots.
A brief pause, and I see them try to reload their weapons. It's enough for Vlad to ditch the shield, using it as a throwing disk to aim it at one man's throat. He moves faster than anyone I've ever seen, as he kicks at a table, breaking the legs, and sending them flying toward the men .
It's a cacophony of sounds as they keep firing more shots, and Vlad defends himself with nothing but his bare hands and whatever he finds around.
Tightening my grip on the gun, I lift my head slightly, watching for the closest man. Raising the barrel, I pray that my aim isn't off, and I squeeze the trigger. My shot hits him in his gut, his hand going to his stomach and clutching at the open wound.
While my endeavor to help proves to be successful, now the others fix their gazes at me, switching focus from Vlad to my hiding place.
Vlad makes a tsk sound, sounding almost bored, before grabbing my hand and effortlessly tugging me to my feet and into his arms.
"Bloodthirsty." He smiles. "I like it," he comments before whirling me around, his front fitted to my back, his arm embracing mine, as he caresses the hand holding the gun, firmly placing his finger on top of my own.
One twirl, and he squeezes the trigger, hitting the target square in the face. Another twirl and he avoids an incoming bullet, leaning back to shoot another man.
Three down, two more to go.
The others, seeing as their guns are useless, ditch them in favor of their fists.
"Hold on tight," he whispers into my ear as one man tackles us. Placing his hand under my butt, he swoops me up, aiming my spread out legs at the man in front of us.
"Kick," he says, and I can only oblige, pushing my feet into the man's face until he staggers backwards. One more push and he's out, his head colliding with the edge of a table.
Vlad spins me around, one hand around my waist, the other grabbing a knife from a nearby table. Effortlessly, he swings it forward and it gets embedded into the last man's eye.
As the man writhes in pain, his hand going to his injured eye, blood starts pooling down his face. Letting go of me, Vlad takes another knife, plunging it into the man's neck, cutting open the flesh and watching as more blood flows freely from his body.
Vlad's upper lip twitches, and his pupils dilate as his eyes hone in on the blood. He's in a trance as he brings his hand to the man's throat, coating his palm in red and staring at it reverently.
Sensing the change in him and remembering the incident at Sacre Coeur, I move fast. Grabbing his arm, I turn him around, my hands framing his face so that he looks me in the eye.
I note the paleness of his pallor and the way his black gaze resembles a tar pit. He blinks twice, staring at me with no hint of recognition.
Am I too late?
I'm not even afraid as I continue to plead with him with my eyes. Even knowing what he's capable of, I have no desire to run or hide.
"Come back," I whisper, "come back to me."
He tilts his head to the side, studying me like a predator, his ears pricking at the sound of my words. Still, he doesn't seem to understand me or realize what's happening around him.
Unable to shake him off, I do the only thing I can think of.
I lift myself on the tips of my toes and at the same time I bring his face closer to mine. Still holding on to his cheeks, I pucker my lips and press them to his.
He doesn't react.
Undeterred, I apply more pressure, pushing into him until my lips are flush against his. His mouth is soft, a contrast to the hardness of him, especially now that he seems to be heading into murderous rage territory.
Holding my breath, I keep my lips on his for as long as I can before I realize I'm out of oxygen. Gasping as I fill my lungs with air, my mouth opens slightly on top of his, and for the first time I get a reaction.
His upper lip trembles faintly, but he responds to my kiss, brushing his mouth ever so slightly over mine.
It's surreal as I open my eyes and note the changes in his demeanor. Life flows back into his face, color infusing his cheeks as they immediately turn red.
Out of nowhere, his hands grab my shoulders, pushing me off of him, his eyebrows pinched together in a frown.
"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice rough .
"Trying to help you?" I give him a sheepish smile that he returns, even in his shocked state.
"Ahh, the kiss of life," he purrs, suddenly back to his old self. "As much as I'd love more of that, we should make our exit before the cops get here," he notes just as we hear the sirens in the distance.
"You did well, Hell Girl," he praises once we get into the car. "You did very well indeed."
I preen at his words, hiding a satisfied smile.
"You said people wouldn't attack you," I add, unusually composed considering we've just been shot at and Vlad probably killed some of the men.
"They were fools," he chuckles, "but I can't say I didn't enjoy the exercise." He stretches in his seat, and my eyes fall to his biceps.
From the first time I saw him, Vlad's only been dressed in a black business suit. Now that his blazer is off, I get a better view of his bulging muscles, and I remind myself how easily he'd dispatched those men. Even with me by his side, he'd effortlessly waltzed around, everything more of a game than what it actually was—a life and death situation.
Not for the first time, I tell myself that I should feel differently about this... about him. There's just so much violence and brutality under his polished facade, all of it waiting to be unleashed. Yet, I can't help myself.
Like a moth to a flame, that volatility of his is only drawing me in, making me want to know everything about him.
If before my place in Hell had been secured, with Vlad by my side, it will be personalized into a true inferno.
"What would have happened if... if you'd lost your manners?" I ask, using the euphemism he'd suggested.
He purses his lips, his eyes on the road as he speeds into the night.
"I would have ripped everyone apart," he states bluntly.
I'm silent for a moment.
"Including me?"
He spares me a glance, his expression closed off, yet there's a hint of curiosity as he regards me .
"I don't know," he admits. "No one's ever escaped with their lives intact when I've... ahm, lost my manners," he says half-amused.
"I did. Twice," I note.
"You did," he narrows his eyes at me, "and I'm looking forward to finding out why. "
"Maybe it was my magical kiss," I joke, chuckling.
"Then maybe you should do it again." He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I elbow him in the arm.
"Is that how you thank me for helping you? By taking advantage of my kindness?"
"Is that what it was back there?" he asks, his deep voice making me tremble. "Just kindness?"
Put on the spot, I turn my gaze to the road, unable to think of an appropriate reply.
Because it hadn't been just kindness. It had been so much more.