21 Shades of Night, page 298
Dahlia pulls herself straight. “Don’t make what happened sound so mundane—why did you interfere?”
“Nephilim kill humans. Nephilim don’t kill demons. So I think it was a fairly bloody logical reaction when I saw Keir kicking the shit out of someone.”
Dahlia approaches me. “I don’t think you know the slightest thing about Nephilim.”
“And you do? Do you know what you’re messed up in?”
“Yes. Do you? You only know one version of who they are. History is only ever told from one point of view and twisted to suit the teller’s propaganda.”
“Oh really, and what do you think you know about them? You’re just a human; you have no idea.” I jab a finger into Dahlia’s chest.
Dahlia steps back and points at my book, resting on the desk. “Who gave you that? Was it Darius?”
At the sound of Darius’s name, I drop my arm. “How do you know who Darius is?”
Dahlia smirks.
“Just who are you anyway?” I demand.
“I’m helping Keir.” Dahlia looks back from the book to me.
“Helping Keir do what?”
“Make fucking cupcakes…” Her voice drips angry sarcasm. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m helping him kill demons.”
“He’s a Nephilim and he’s killing demons. Why?” A thought strikes. “Is he taking the stolen souls back to somebody?”
Dahlia’s expression turns to pure disgust. “No, that’s what you do, readying their army.”
“Army? No, I return lost souls to safety.”
“How do you know where they go when you take them back? Have you ever asked yourself?” spits Dahlia.
We face off in the small room, both ready in case the other attacks. My head thumps with anger that Dahlia holds more answers than I do. The bloody mouse has the upper hand, and her sardonic smile reflects her enjoyment at the role reversal.
“Who are you?” I demand. “Or what the fuck are you?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Surprise me. Shut me up. Whatever.”
“Oh, I’d love to shut you up because as well as being a soul hunter, you’re a bitch. If it was up to me, I’d have killed you the first time you went anywhere near Keir.”
My hackles rise; Dahlia’s on thin ice; one more word and she’ll be on the floor.
“Really? And what makes you so tough? Have you looked at yourself recently?” I flick my fingers at Dahlia’s appearance. “Plain girl following sexy Nephilim around, who is clearly using you. Do you know what they do to humans? Do you want to become a demon?”
Dahlia narrows her brown eyes. Ha. Now who has the upper hand?
“You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Think you know everything when you don’t.” Dahlia turns her back to me and yanks up the bottom of her black top.
Indelibly marked on the skin at the base of her spine is a number. Below rests a round scar, shirt button sized, faded to pink. “Holy shit,” I say before I can stop myself. Dahlia’s soul hunter tracker. Someone cut it out.
The world shifts further off balance.
“You’re a soul hunter?” I ask. “How long have you been this close to him? Why haven’t you taken his soul yet?”
Dahlia smoothes her shirt back down. “I’m not a soul hunter anymore.”
“How? That’s not possible. You can’t stop unless you’re given your Will. Or—”
“Apparently it is. I have.”
I squeeze my temples. Nobody leaves behind soul hunter life. Death is the only other way out.
“Who cut out the tracker? Are you human now?” The questions stumble from my lips.
“Yes, I’m human now and it takes more than than just cutting this out to leave behind soul hunter life.” She touches the scar.
“How… I mean why would you do this? Human?”
“I’m not telling you anything else, Ava.”
My head hurts as I try to catch up. “Why are you helping Keir? He’s Nephilim…”
“I learnt enough about what’s happening around us to know who to help.”
I pace to the window, look out at the campus and the wind blowing the remaining brown leaves from the trees. Seasons passing in a world Dahlia doesn’t belong in. I won’t let her know her secret has fazed me.
“Keir… where’s he gone?” I ask.
“I don’t know, I asked you, remember? And if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you, with you wanting to take his soul and everything…” Dahlia’s lips disappear as she pulls her mouth tighter. “But I can guess he’s looking for that demon you let get away. I bet he was really fucking angry about that…”
I involuntarily rub my bruised back, and Dahlia yelps a laugh. “Serves you right. If I were you, I’d keep watching that back. I don’t need to tell you what happened to the other hunters who came to take his soul.”
“Like you?”
“I never came for Keir’s soul.”
“Why not?”
Dahlia shrugs and I narrow my eyes. “Well, he could’ve killed me, but he didn’t,” I retort, regaining my composure.
Surprise flashes across her face, then back to anger as she moves closer. “I don’t know what power you used to stop Keir killing you, but you won’t stop him. He knows what you are and you’ve already caused a major problem for him. You’re as expendable as the other soul hunters who came here and died.”
I fight the urge to grab Dahlia and choke her. The slight irritation Dahlia caused has morphed to infuriation in the space of minutes. She’s blind-sided me revealing who she is, and taunts me.
“I didn’t use any power on him. It was Keir’s choice. He decided not to and won’t kill me.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. I can’t see anything that makes you different to the others.” Dahlia’s smug smile grows. “Maybe he wants some amusement from you before he does anything. It wouldn’t be the first time he screwed a soul hunter and ended the fun with snapping her neck.”
Dahlia pushes past, slamming heavily into my side, and slams the door behind her.
I throw myself backwards onto the bed, scrunching the sheets until my knuckles turn white. I should go after the stupid cow and finish her. She’s human. Weak. But a soul hunter now human? Gross and impossible.
The fight with Keir spools behind my eyes when I close them. The adrenaline of my encounter with Dahlia floods back the exhilaration of fighting with Keir too. A barrier came up, blocking my need to kill him, replaced with a desperate desire for his touch. Is that what happened to him? This is a huge fucking problem; what if the same thing happens next time and I can’t kill him?
What presses on my mind more is a different question. He could have killed me. But he didn’t. Why?
Chapter 6
I TIE MY newly pink hair into a ponytail as I wait for the lecture to start. At the back of the room, Dahlia leans against the wall, laptop poised but eyes closed. Apparently, I’m not the only one lost without Keir. Does she know where he is? Her scowl deepens daily. I’m laying bets she doesn’t.
The days turn into weeks, and Keir hasn’t returned. Each day I scan every part of the campus for him, but only ever see Dahlia.
Dahlia refuses to come near or speak to me, her eyes narrowing in warning if I approach her. The one time I managed to get close enough to speak to her, I barely said two words before Dahlia turned on her heel and strode away. I’d ignore the silly bitch, but my curiosity about Dahlia’s status as an ex-soul hunter won’t leave.
I’m faced with a half demon killing other demons, a girl who’s left my world behind, and my unease over my exact role in all this consumes me. My simple kill or be killed world of hunting souls, returning to Darius, rinse and repeat, has ended. And in the centre of the maelstrom of confusion lies the biggest question. When and if Keir returns, am I facing death? No, he won’t kill me. I can’t explain why, but the moment I saw my own doubts reflected in his eyes, I knew.
Darius. I’ve failed. How has Darius known in the past when soul hunters fail? When they died? Or when their mission took too long? Does he have people watching? I scrutinise any new face arriving on campus, paranoid Darius might send someone to retrieve me. After weeks, I relax but not fully.
A guy walks through the double doors and crosses to the stairs between the rows of seats. He searches the rows of faces until sapphire blue eyes flecked with violet meet mine.
Keir. At first, he’s unrecognisable, hair shorter and curls no longer falling across his face. The sharper cut defines his jawline, accentuating the strong cheekbones and full mouth. He pauses on the stairs long enough for hope to rise he’ll stop and talk to me, but he veers upstairs to Dahlia.
A surreptitious glance over my shoulder reveals Dahlia’s wide smile and open-mouthed surprise. A heat crosses my face as they embrace each other tightly.
* * *
I SPEND THE next hour shifting in my seat, looking over my shoulder at Dahlia and Keir whilst the blonde-haired girl next to me huffs with irritation. I ignore her, too fixated on my anxiety I’ll miss Keir when he leaves to waste energy on challenging the girl. I need to leave first and decide what the fuck to do. Run? The look Keir threw me was passive; I’ve no idea of his intentions towards me. His new appearance also threw me, as did my heart speeding when he approached. The lecture over, I sit with my bag on my knee and wait for the two friends to pass.
Keir strides ahead of Dahlia, and my stomach flips as I watch him pass. How does he do this? I shake my head. Drawing girls in is a Nephilim thing and nothing to do with the intensity of that moment we pressed together in the alleyway. Get a bloody grip.
Students throng the tiled corridors, rushing from class to class. Groups hang round noticeboards and friends embrace. I clench my jaw, shoving at them. Humans. Always in the bloody way. I slide between two groups of taller guys, bumped in the face by their backpacks. Keir’s taller than average figure can’t hide in the crowd, but he marches through everyone, and I need to weave in and out to keep him in sight. Dahlia glances over her shoulder scanning faces but doesn’t spot me. I duck behind another group as Dahlia and Keir change direction, down a small flight of stone stairs toward the building’s exit. They stop outside the double doorway; I halt, then step backwards before they see me.
Their low voices travel from the other side of the doors, and I flatten myself against the wall, straining to hear.
“You told her?” I hear Keir say.
“Not everything,” replies Dahlia. “Forget that. Why won’t you tell me where you went?”
“Because I can’t. They can’t know you’re helping me.”
The conversation pauses for a few seconds, and I imagine Dahlia’s pissed off face. Now who isn’t getting the answers she wants? Ha.
“So what do we do with the soul hunter?” asks Dahlia.
“I don’t know. Whatever we do, they’ll just send another.”
“You could’ve got rid of her already, like the others; why the hell didn’t you?” Dahlia’s frustration is evident in her tone. “That might still be the best option, Keir.”
“Maybe we should tell Ava the whole truth; you told her half of it. She might back off then.”
My body slackens with relief. No mention from him about killing me. Yet.
“Why are you questioning this? She wants your soul!”
“She has doubts. I’ve seen it in her eyes.”
“Don’t be so bloody stupid, Keir. Ava’s trying to seduce you, like the others. She’ll say whatever it takes to get you in a weak enough position. The soul hunter won’t give up on this, because if she does, she may as well be dead. They won’t have her back if she fails.”
“You didn’t go back,” replies Keir quietly. “You’re alive.”
Ah. More of Dahlia’s secrets. I attempt to listen, but can’t hear anything of the low conversation that follows.
A couple push the double-doors open and a tall boy with his arm slung possessively over a smaller girl’s shoulders wanders past. The adoration in her eyes as she looks up at her boyfriend spikes my regret I can’t spend time becoming close to anybody; a reminder of the loneliness of my life. The boy removes his long scarf and wraps it round the girl’s neck, pulling her to him. The girl giggles and pushes her hands into his hair as they pause for a kiss. Stomach plummeting further, I turn way, pretending to look at the notices pinned to the wall, ignoring the rising conflict: I don’t want to become close to anybody; they’ll die or disappear. The only person who ever managed to touch the edges of my heart was Daniel, and he was out of bounds. Now he’s dead.
Cool air blows into the hallways as the door swings open again. Hairs lift on the back of my neck at the awareness somebody stands behind.
“Ava.”
I turn almost bumping noses with Keir, whose face is centimetres from mine. I’d forgotten the impossible blue of his eyes, whirlpools pulling people into his charm.
Not me.
“You cut your hair,” I say, flicking my fingers toward his head.
“And yours is a different colour.”
Memories of the night in the alley fly into my mind again. Our bodies don’t touch this time, but the strange energy flows between us. Positive there’s a desire flickering across his eyes, I close mine. Make him move away with his tricks. I take a deep breath, inadvertently inhaling his clean scent and more memories scatter across my mind spreading heat low in my belly.
Keir’s mouth turns up at one corner. “I knew you were listening. Dahlia didn’t.”
If he’s expecting me to show surprise and yield, he can forget that. I lift my head and poke my tongue into my cheek. “So what did you decide? I think I missed the crucial part, where you decided if you were going to get rid of me, or however Dahlia so delicately put it.”
“We didn’t decide anything, Ava.” Keir lifts an arm and sets his palm on the wall behind me.
Dizziness creeps in, as he winds his enchantment around and pulls me in. Keir’s lips hover close to mine.
“If you know who I am, why I came, why didn’t you kill me in the alley?” I ask.
“You came to take my soul, correct?” I nod like a stupid kid, the one I haven’t been since before the Caelestia took and trained me. “You haven’t tried yet, why?”
The fog from his proximity clouds, and I struggle for a believable answer; one which could keep me alive. Instead, the truth falls from my mouth.
“Because I want to know what you’re doing. Why you’re killing demons.”
“I don’t believe you. I think it’s because you haven’t had a chance yet.”
“I think you do believe me. You know I heard what you just said to Dahlia. You saw my doubts.”
He touches my hair, the lightness of his fingers sparking across my scalp. “Your hair looks pretty this color.”
I blink at his change of subject. “Yeah.”
He trails fingers toward my cheek and my stomach tightens. Stop. This is my modus operandi. I turn on the seduction, not the demons. Not him. I should be repulsed, but this is the opposite, and I struggle as if his hold were physical.
“Do you know why I didn’t kill you?” he whispers, fingers settling on my lips.
I yank my head away from his touch. “No.”
Keir stops abruptly and steps back with the same look as the last time we were so close. Confusion. Desire. Anger. “Nor do I. Next time you might not be so lucky.” He grips his rucksack, his knuckles whitening. “Stay away from us. Until you decide what to do, and then we can end this.”
As he leaves, Keir pauses, hand on the door handle as he looks back. “This won’t end well for you, Ava.”
I jump as the door slams shut behind him. Spell broken, I turn away and smack my palms against the wall, holding my forehead against the cool bricks. How does he bloody do this? Silence. I dig out the hidden Ava, the vulnerable girl I buried when I left the Fated.
Whenever Keir looks into my eyes, I’m transparent. Keir has the advantage and he knows.
Chapter 7
I BLOW MY fringe out of my eyes and glance at the clock above the tables in the corner. No way. Two hours to go? The queue grows longer as people grab coffees on the way home from work, or meet up after lectures. The working day ended for most but not me: orders backing up, machine working overtime, bored out of my skull. Bad enough my plans to snatch Keir’s soul and get the hell out of the human world is torn apart, now I’m wasting more time working as a barista to pay my way. Soul hunters never receive money to live on, and this is the first time I’ve needed to hang around this godforsaken place. Crap job for a person with even crappier customer service skills, but I’m lucky I talked my way into the job. I agreed to take a lower wage, which pissed me off, but what choice do I have?
The café doesn’t have space or atmosphere. The gaudily painted, small establishment consists of Formica tables with red PVC bench seats, tables squeezed together, and a narrow counter with a menu chalked on a board above. The owner wanted to maximize the amount he could squeeze out of people who are tempted to sit for gourmet sandwiches and cakes; the cafe’s position on the high street and the cheap prices are the big draw card.
“Crap!” I spill frothed milk on my hand for the tenth time in one shift, and blow at the reddening skin. Shaking the pain away, I pull the order ticket from the board to announce the lucky recipient of the drink scalding my skin. “Zach!”
“Thanks. And no use crying over spilt milk.”
A tall guy steps from the side of the group waiting and reaches for the cup. Violet-flecked, ice blue Keir eyes, half hidden behind a long, dark fringe flopping into his face, regard me. I attempt to hide my shock.
He looks at my hand. “Did you burn yourself?”
“No.” His eyes. How could he have eyes like Keir’s? There was nothing in the folder about other Nephilim in the area. Oh, lucky me.
“Good, thanks for the coffee.” He lifts the cup in a toast and wanders to a clean table by the window.
The guy hunches over his coffee, disguising his height, and as he takes a sip, he glances over and his mouth tips into a strange smile. The intensity of his gaze trips an uncomfortable shiver through my soul. Does he know who I am too?
