Chapter 4 – Empusa
EMPUSA
During the space of a few weeks, I continue my new quest of killing people with dark souls.
I kill just two, but it’s enough. What’s strange about this is that all I wanted since getting free from the Underworld was to no longer be forced to wait at crossroads for bad men, but now I’m actively seeking them out.
It’s as if I have no idea what to do with true freedom.
Actually, that’s exactly what it is.
I’m in another shithole small town. I have the money from the wallets of the two assholes I’d killed in my pocket, and I’m still driving the truck I’d taken from the last guy.
I always try to get rid of the stolen vehicles as soon as I can.
I’m not a good driver, so I figure I’ll eventually get caught…
with no ID and no clear connection to the cars.
I also don’t like the auras of anything related to the dark souls I killed.
They feel tainted and slimy. Every time I step out of the damn truck, I feel like I have to shake off the gross feeling that moves across my skin.
I have no doubt it has to do with my demon side.
But the thing is, it doesn’t matter. Maybe demons have to be able to sense these things to be able to find their “people,” but there’s enough of my mother in me that I might be drawn to the darkness. I don’t want to dance in it.
“Another round?”
I glance up from my booth and spot the waitress, a young thing with thinning hair. “Nah, I’ll wait for my meal.”
She gives me a strained smile and moves away.
It kind of hurts. I feel like I’m working on my people skills, but I still scare everyone normal away. It’s not like I’m flashing my claws and spitting blood, so what am I doing wrong?
A man enters the bar, and I’m so hyper-aware of him that it shocks me.
My gaze jerks to the door, and I’m damned sure he was one of the gargoyles that night.
It’s like someone has punched through my skin and into my gut and is slowly turning their fist. I want to get up to leave, and yet, I want to stay.
His dark gaze moves over the room, then freezes as it lands on me. I see shock on his face, and some of my anxiety eases. If he didn’t expect to see me here, he’s probably not hunting me. Maybe he was even drawn to this town when he heard about all the missing children, just like I had been.
He starts to walk across the room and the noisy bar grows quieter.
I sense every eye on him as the huge man makes his way toward me.
In a strange way, it’s like watching a lion moving.
Every other animal senses that they’re in the presence of something dangerous, and yet, all the lion is doing is walking.
When he stops in front of my booth, he seems uncertain. “Can I join you?”
What the hell? A monster and a gargoyle sharing a drink? That’s kind of weird. And yet, I say, “Yes.”
His hulking body folds into the booth across from me, and his dark eyes cling to me.
I’m a little startled by how handsome he is.
Most big men seem like the type who have trouble turning their necks, and their faces lose…
I don’t know, something. Grant it, the only “big” men I’ve seen up until the gargoyles were demons and prisoners in the Underworld, so maybe that had something to do with it.
But this man isn’t like that at all. His face is smooth with a hard jaw, and his eyes are intelligent. He looks nimble and like a well-made sculpture rather than a bodybuilder. It’s almost unsettling how proportional and handsome he is.
“I’m Rokad,” he says.
“I go by Em,” I tell him.
“Em.” My name rolls off his tongue in a way that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.
The waitress is back, dropping my plate in front of me. “Oh, does your friend want something?”
“It’s on me,” I offer. Well, technically, it’s on the guy who liked to beat women, a man who was now a dead body in the woods far from here.
The gargoyle frowns and looks at my burger and fries. “Okay. Food sounds good.”
But I’m familiar with the confusion on his face. I remember not understanding this new world when I got here. “He’ll have the same thing, plus a beer, any kind,” I say.
The waitress nods and heads out.
I push my plate between us. “Have some fries?”
Yup, now I’m buying my potential enemy dinner and sharing my fries. That’s normal.
My mom would be screaming at me to run right now if she knew how reckless I was being. But then, her first rule had always been to just survive, no matter the cost. She wouldn’t understand that my curiosity is worth exploring, even if it might lead me into danger.
The gargoyle reaches across the table, but his hand hovers over my food.
I pick up a fry and hand it to him.
He frowns at it.
“Trust me, it’s good,” I say.
He flicks an unconvinced look my way, then brings the fry to his mouth.
I’m mesmerized as he takes a bite out of it. His lips look soft. And once I realize how soft they look, I have trouble being aware of anything else. I feel the strangest need coming to life inside of me that I’ve never felt before. It’s a hunger that frightens me.
Jerking my gaze away, I reach for my fries and start eating too.
“You were right. These are good!” His voice rolls over me, like a deep rumble, and that tension inside of me builds.
I keep eating until the fries are gone, and then I cut the burger in half and offer him one side.
He takes it eagerly and digs in.
I eat my half, but I’m more interested in him.
Is that what I looked like the first time I had a burger?
His eyes are wide, and he rolls the food around in his mouth for a bit before swallowing.
His half is gone before he knows it, so I have to focus on my own and actually eat.
When I’m done, an empty plate sits between us.
The waitress brings him his beer, and he sips that, wrinkling his nose.
I take my scotch and sip it, liking the way it soothes my nerves a bit.
“So,” he drags out the word. “I’m surprised to find you here too.”
I study him. “Why? I suspect we’re after the same thing.”
“Same thing?” His gaze is guarded.
I nod. “Whatever is taking the children.”
He takes too long to answer, which makes my nerves jump again. “How long have you been in this town?”
Ah, he thinks I could be the killer. “Just today. Sorry, that means I can’t be your culprit.”
“I didn’t say you were,” he says, but I can see the truth in his eyes.
“How long have you been here?”
He smirks. “A gargoyle would never hurt a child. There’s nothing in the world we consider more precious than a child.”
“Really?” I say, and my tone is unconvinced.
He nods his head sharply. “Gargoyle babies are rare. So rare that any baby is a miracle to us. We’d give our right hands if it meant saving a child.”
“So that means you wouldn’t hurt normal human children? How do I know you’re not the one taking them to give to the other gargoyles?”
His expression is thunderous. “That would hurt a child. We don’t hurt children.”
Okay, maybe it isn’t the time to push this, especially when I’m pretty sure he isn’t the monster in this town. “So, you’re hunting it too?”
He hesitates, then nods. “We are.”
We?
“You and the phoenix?” Or you, the phoenix, and the other gargoyles?
He avoids my gaze. When the waitress drops another plate in front of us, he immediately pushes it into the middle of the table and cuts the burger in half. And, man, I like the gesture. It’s sweet and thoughtful in a way I would’ve never expected.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
“You’re buying,” he says with a small smile. “Plus, you shared with me. It’s the least I could do.”
We dive into the food, but again, I find myself more interested in watching him than eating myself. I keep feeling like the bar is getting hotter, and his lips look sexier. The fact that he seems kind? How the hell is that turning on a half-demon when demons are supposed to like “bad” men?
“I’m good at taking care of monsters,” I say.
“So are we.”
Again, we. I bet this guy has his whole crew just outside. Maybe I’ll have a paper bag over my head before I can even look for the monster. Maybe they don’t even care about the creature taking kids, they’re here for me.
But if they are, there’s not much I can do about it.
“If you guys want to take off,” I continue, “I can handle the kid stealer.”
He smiles, and his smile makes my heart race. “If we weren’t hunting monsters, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves.”
“Same,” I say, surprising myself.
“So this is a regular thing for you?”
I take another sip of my scotch. “Since I got free, it’s all I do.” My words come out strangely sad.
“Free?” His expression is hard to read.
“I was kept prisoner for a time.”
And then his eyes narrow. “Why? What did you do?”
My entire body tenses. I had no idea this was a nerve until he hit it.
I’m scooting out of the booth and throwing money down before I can think. “I’m the product of my mother being raped in a cell by a twisted man. So since you claim to love children so much, maybe you can figure out what a baby did to deserve being stuck in a prison?”
I don’t hear anything. I don’t see anything. I just head for the door, feeling a blinding rage.
The cool night air hits me, and then I don’t know what I’m doing with myself.
I freeze for a moment, trying to decide between heading for the woods or the truck that makes me uneasy, then head for the truck.
I hit the button to unlock it, keys shaking in my hand, and climb inside.
My hands grip the steering wheel, but I’m not ready to drive.
Instead, I hit my head against the steering wheel, upset at myself.
For someone who has literally been to hell and back, I’m not as tough as I thought I was.