I KNOW I haven't been on since forever! I've been doing some stuff lately,
and it's sucked up every square inch of my time!
...Is time even flat?
I dunno.
But... HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MEG'S NEW BOOKCLUB?!?! www.megcabotbookclub.com!!! OMG, it's AWESOME!!!
Okay. Personally, I hate this chapter. I really do. You agree? Do let me know at the end, won't you? I think, if I really hate it, I'll repost it after thorough editing.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'Who is this?'
Jesse's voice – deep, accented, condemning – punctured through my thoughts, pulling me back down into the reality that faced me.
Who is this?
That is what he said. Jesse knew nothing of what Tad had done. He didn't know that Tad had my blood running through him this very second. That part of me now belonged to Tad Beaumont.
Tad just grinned at me. He thought this was funny. What, that he'd gone from being simply my rebound guy to a creature of the night? It was kind of freaky, you know?
'Um, no one, Jesse,' I said to him. 'Just, uh . . . no one –'
'Ah, so you're the legendary Jesse,' Tad nodded his head, his grin growing wider. 'You're the guy that started all of this.'
. . . Uh, what?
I knit my eyebrows. What the hell?
Jesse was obviously just as confused as I was. He frowned at Tad. 'I do not understand you,' he burred with a quiet resonance. 'Please leave.'
Tad laughed a little. 'Nah, you wouldn't know me. It's not like we've ever met. But me and Susie, we go way back.'
'In your dreams,' I snapped at him, edging closer to Jesse slightly. By saying that, I was vaguely reminded of my own dreams of late, but I shoved them roughly from my mind. Just the memory of it placed a heavy lead-weight of my heart from the guilt I felt.
'She dances very well,' Tad told Jesse, stepping into the room. His apparel had not changed – it was still very uh, queer looking. Hehehe . . . gay apparel. Isn't that from Deck the Halls? The Christmas carol?
Oh, go me.
But . . . oh no he wasn't . . . he was going to – to totally dob me in that I'd gone to him when Jesse was in festive Spain! Oh crap!
Which would lead to marks that could be confused with hickeys.
Great.
'Dances –?' Jesse began, but I cut him off hurriedly.
'Tad, get lost,' I gave him a glare. 'We're busy.'
'Yeah, I can see that,' he remarked, stepping further into the room. I gulped a little and subconsciously stepped back. He was still grinning. It looked odd on him, to be grinning like that. His skin wasn't as nearly as tanned as it had been when I had first met him. I met, yeah, it had that brown shade to it, but there was no redness there. The blood behind his skin wasn't there anymore.
He was undead.
The only thing I hoped that Jesse didn't know was that he was the one who bit me. I mean, I never told Jesse who actually bit me, right? Hell, did I even tell Jesse I got bitten at all? Sheesh . . . damn alcohol . . . my head was all in a fuzzy wuzz.
I pressed my fingers against my temple and winced. 'Tad, I'm serious, I'm totally not in the mood to kick your –'
'How's your neck, Suze?' he interrupted slyly.
I blanched. I probably went paler than him, too. I couldn't really think straight anymore, that stupid, STUPID spiked drink! My head was pounding, and Tad was kind of blurry, you know?
And . . . swirrrrrrrrly . . .
'Tad, shut up –'
'Oh, it got better? I mean, it was looking really nasty last time I looked at it,' he shrugged, taking another step inside the room.
I totally went stiff. Jesse's hands wandered to my back, and I felt a soothing hand touch my spine, but it didn't really calm me down. After, you know, I'd just made up with Jesse, I wasn't going to let some try-hard, fanged New Jersey DICKWIT ruin things again!
But he was totally intent on doing just that. You could tell.
'Last time he –?'
'Jesse, ignore him. He's someone I met at Kelly Prescott's party. He asked me to dance and I didn't want to be rude because Kelly had already yelled at me for turning him down because she kind of has a crush on him and so I had to dance with him but I totally didn't want to and I sure as hell didn't enjoy it –'I paused for a quick breath, '–because no one can slow dance like you but you were in Spain with Querida and telling your sister that I have nice legs and stuff – you do too, by the way – so I just thought that maybe I had better not be mean and so I agreed to dance –' I stopped suddenly, as my mind jerked very harshly, and I staggered sideways into Jesse.
'Susannah?' Jesse asked with an evident note of panic. He held my shoulders with gently firmness, as I seemed to, like, fold up or something into him, 'Susannah, are you all right? Susannah, look at –'
'I . . . I don't feel so good,' I said slowly, my head roaring by then. God, lose the booze much?! 'Jesse, uh . . . I wanna go home –'
'Yes, I will take you home. I will go and get Querida and I will drive you –'
'She's not going anywhere,' Tad interrupted.
My forehead creased as I tucked my elbows into myself, holding my head still. 'Huh? Who died and made you mum?'
Tad ignored me, and turned back to Jesse. His whole mannerism – from when he'd been alive – had changed. His posture was a lot more . . . sly. His eyes were more narrowed and cynical, and he didn't look like such an airhead anymore. He looked like he was out to make trouble. Of the serious variety.
'I thought that you might be interested to know, Jesse, that little Spanish chick you came with? Well . . . it's best not to leave her alone. There's all sorts of leeches around here who'd like nothing better than to . . . ' he spread his hands eloquently, 'Well, you know.'
'What are you saying?' growled Jesse, holding me protectively into him as if he sensed something very wrong also.
Hang on . . . leeches.
CRAP!
'Jesse, go and get her now!' I yelled at him urgently, pushing myself away, 'Bring her here! Get her away from everyone! Don't let one of his – 'I jerked my thumb at Tad '- friends get her alone!'
'Susannah, what is going –'
'Jesse, just do it!' I shrilled.
What? So what if the girl was bacteria to me? I wasn't going to LET her get bitten by one of Tad's lot. I, unlike some, am a good person.
Hence the "GO JESSE GO!" thing.
With a confused look, Jesse breezed past Tad, and ran out. I went to follow, but Tad grabbed me around the waist, and pushed my back into the library. I tried to run out again, but in my not-so-sober state, I kind of . . . ran into a wall.
Ow...
'I told you, you're not going anywhere.'
I stared at him as the scene playing before my eyes gave a menacing jerk. Stupid liquor . . . I am NEVER becoming an alcoholic. Drown in your sorrows my ASS. 'I . . . you're a bad guy, and you're going to die because you're a . . . bad person . . . who . . . oooh, yuck.' I held my head.
'Well, now that he's out of the way,' Tad said, all business-like.
Huh? What – HEY!
'You LIED?' I gasped, like it was the last thing that I expected someone as nice and friendly as TAD to do. God, I really was drunk. 'You LIED to me?!'
He laughed. I don't blame him. I must have looked pretty pathetic, on the floor, my eyes going spastic, and my mouth all droopy. Who . . . I was gonna pound whoever spiked my drink . . . that was NOT a nice thing to do . . . I felt icky now, and icky isn't a nice feeling no. No, no, no, icky is bad and icky and . . .
'Well, this certainly isn't working as fast as he told me it would,' Tad said. I wasn't looking at him anymore. I was looking at his feet. They were a no-name brand. How OFF was that? Someone as rich as him wasn't wearing a brand name. I'm seriously thinking that Tad Beaumont is gay. Smelly fag . . .
Serious. Total poofiness, the lot of him!
'Oh whatever,' Tad's voice said carelessly. That was when I felt a cloth being placed over my nose and mouth. Something smelt funny, or gas-like . . . it made me sleepy –
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'She's only been out for five minutes!'
I blinked lazily. Oooh, swirlies, yuck. Why was my head hurting so bloody much? Ew, not hot.
'It'll be fine, I want her awake . . . '
HEY! WHAT WAS PAUL DOING HERE?!?!
I forced my eyes open about then. Shit! I was lying down on a table, on my side . . . I didn't know where. There were . . . tropical fish . . . Aquarium . . .
Oh yeah.
I was in Mr Beaumont's office.
You're kidding me . . .
But hey, it gets better. What do you know, my hands were tied up. Such a hoot, I'm sure. I didn't even want to contemplate what ghastly state my hair was in. And how did I get up here, anyway? Did . . . OH GOD. DID PAUL CARRY ME?!?!
THIS SUCKS!
Or hell, maybe Tad bit me while I was asleep? I dunno, wouldn't surprise me. Was I dead? Was I a vampire? A ghost? Hell, still alive even?
Mmm . . . I wasn't glowing. Trust me, my skin still looked all fair and stuff, dammit. I didn't crave blood, I could still blink and breathe and stuff . . . Maybe I was alive?
Oh, go me.
I muttered something really stupid about then. Like, I think it was "did anyone manage to remember my Kate Spade bag? That cost me five week's allowance, you know. Yeah, you," or something like that. I know, I suck.
Paul was standing right beside me, while his hand was drawing lazy circles on my neck. I blinked again, and tried to sit up, but not only did Paul push me back down, but I don't think my head would have allowed it. It was totally beating in time with the pop music downstairs.
And those crazy musicians throw some pretty fast pop music these days . . .
'What are you -?' I started, but Paul put a finger on my lips, and began tracing the shape of my mouth. It tingled horribly, but my head was too busy doing the Tarzan roar to protest.
'Hey, Susie . . . ' Paul smirked down at me. I could see his leather overcoat, and as illegal as it is to say . . . it looked pretty hot on him. I know it's horrible and sinful, but . . . leather worked wonders with him.
Should buy Jesse some.
o.O
Um, just ignore that.
'Paul, what do I –'
Oh yeah, Tad was still there, the creep. He gagged me! The ASSHOLE! He gagged –
'Go get him. Tell him I have her ready. She can't fight.'
'Okay, I'll get him.'
'I can too!' I pouted. I wriggled in objection. 'Look, I - oh yeah, I can't... Poo.'
Paul chuckled, sending my heart into these little tizzies. I felt scared, suddenly, and I wasn't sure why. I still felt like a steamroller had squished my head pancake flat. And not so much with the golden syrup or the ice cream.
I had even gone a little shivery, you know? I mean, despite the fact that it was a balmy night, and all. I'd worn my lovely long black suede overcoat, too. I know, the suede and the denim mini, you scorn distastefully. It's like, a classical mixing of genres. It looks totally cute, I'll have you know. And anyway, I hear that multi media is TOTALLY in. Although, yeah . . . I still felt cold. But I had a feeling that was, you know, nothing to do with the weather.
'Get who?' I frowned. Everything was still swimming, and stuff. Like, you know, all those tropical fish in the aquarium. Swimming endless circles . . .
Again, Paul chuckled in a dark softness. He was still outlining my mouth. Now, my lips are totally sensitive, you know? So it still felt completely unpleasant and stuff. But what he said made my brain totally blow up. Without the chunks of brain zooming everywhere, I mean.
'Do you believe in demons, Suze?'
I jerked away from him in alarm. Which resulted in my rolling off the desk, yes. Sideways in Mr Beaumont's swivel chair. Not agile of me, no. So not mock me. It was painful.
. . . STOP MOCKING ME.
'Ow,' I groaned again. Paul was smirking broadly again, with that evil spawn-of-Satan glint in his eyes. 'Oi, DON'T come anywhere near me!' I shouted at him, and totally kicked against his upper thighs from the chair, which sent me propelling back against the wall.
Oh, continue the slapstick, Suze, by all means.
'Suze,' Paul said with amusement, 'Don't be a party pooper. Come on, it's going to be great. This demon guy, the one who is after shifters? Well, you could say that – by means of De Silva – he was the one that made me a ghost.'
'Oooh . . . The demon POSSESSED JESSE!' I said gleefully.
Paul scoffed. 'God no.'
My face fell.
'I'm going to tell you a story, Suze. So shut up and pay attention.'
'It doesn't involve Pinocchio or the Seven Dwarves, by any chance?' I said hopefully. Yuck head . . . STOP SPINNING.
'No, they're not going to make any guest appearances, Suze. Snow White might,' though. And now that you mention it, yeah, possibly one of the seven dwarves,' he added secretively. 'You know, Dopey?'
Huh?
'It was this stupid guy who made me go after shifters. That was why I died. I was saving myself from a fate worse than death. Because, believe me when I say that this guy is no happy sunshine mediator. What he does with the souls that he gathers, well . . . anyway. I escaped that, but got killed in the process. I was a ghost. A powerful one, too, because I'd been one of the most powerful shifters ever. Some of those powers still remain in me.'
Stupid, stupid . . . tied up hands . . . can't even thump him . . .
'But yeah, then my demon friend found me again,' his nose twitched in anger. You could tell that he didn't exactly think the world of this guy – whoever he was. I had yet to find out. But yeah, my heart was totally going thud, thud, THUD.
Ya know? As it does when you're scared, and . . . well . . .
Drunk?
I swallowed hard.
'And this guy isn't one to mess around with. I'm playing in the big leagues now, Suze. I'm playing with the men.'
'Funny,' I said snidely, 'I didn't think they allowed wimps on the men's team.'
I heard Paul make some breathy noise in anger. 'Shut up,' he said coldly, his teeth gritted. He knelt down beside me crossly, right in front of my face, glaring. I stared at his eyes curiously. They were so . . . blue. And cold. And saturated with this loathing. But beyond that, I saw something. Something that was intertwined in each and every cell of his intense blue irises. It was hidden, and shielded, but I could see it.
Fear.
Paul was scared.
I didn't know why. He'd never been scared before. Why was he scared? It was totally weird. It mystified me to even think of the concept – that Paul might actually be susceptible to fear as well. But . . . Paul Slater, bad ass, all powerful ex-shifter, cool, confident, dark ghost...scared? Nah, not in this reality.
What would he be scared about?
'Paul,' I said slowly, 'Look. I don't know what you're going to do, but don't. Don't do anything bad. I . . . I can see something in you, in your eyes. Right now. You're . . . ' Dare I say it?
His eyes hardened, as if a sheet of stone had covered any of the fear I might have seen. Had it been there? 'I'm what, Suze?'
My eyes flickered away, and back to his. 'I don't know why . . . but you're scared.'
A spasm of annoyance rippled across his dark face. Then he laughed a little. I don't know why. There wasn't anything funny to me. He stood up, and walked away from me. Tall, dark, and with bad intentions.
'I'm scared?' he sneered, 'Take a look closer to home, Suze. You're the one who's sitting in a vampire's chair, and is going to be offered to a demon, in exchange for my life.'
. . . WHAT?!
My eyes went horribly wide. 'What?!' I demanded, 'What do you mean? Exchange for your . . . WHAT?!'
A malicious smirk claimed his lips. 'Yeah. Scary thought, isn't it? Come on Suze. Now you have full reason to be scared. Plead. Beg me to let you go. Come on, I'm dying to here you scream again . . . '
WHERE WAS MORE ALCOHOL WHEN YOU NEEDED IT?
Shit!
'Look, Paul you don't want to be doing that,' I snapped. 'Untie my hands . . . I can fight this demon guy, and I can get you out of here. Jeez, I don't know why I give a piss about you, but . . . I dunno. Just untie me, please, I can help –'
'Help me?' he asked with a smile, and a nasty look in his eyes.
I gulped a little, feeling my lips shaking a little. 'Um . . . yeah, you know . . .'
'Suze, I'm past the "getting help" stage. There's no way to beat this guy,' he said spitefully, 'I'm sure in your time you've come up against a couple of cute little ghostie boys with little muscles, and you've got the warm fuzzies when you take them down, but . . . no, Suze. A demon is something a lot scarier than a ghost. Except for perhaps me.'
'You're not scary,' I informed him bitchily, running my tongue over my teeth. 'You're a try-hard. So hey, try-hard?' I narrowed my eyes, and whispered, '. . . try harder.'
Bad move.
He materialized so he was standing right over me, seized me by the shoulders, hoisted me up and slammed me against the wall. He set his jaw, looking all hot and manly – unfortunate as it was – and just glared, adding the description "evil" to that list of adjectives. It hurt – God, it hurt – but he wasn't going to get to me easily. Not when I had touched a nerve like that.
I think I was starting to realize Paul's weakness.
. . . Failing.
Whoa. It was like, something I suddenly knew. I just didn't know why, or how . . .
He was breathing hard. So was I. Our breaths meshed into each other, but it was only mine that counted. Mine was real. His was air's ghost.
He just pinned me there, held me close like that, not saying anything. Just looking. His face was marshaled in such an angry, hateful way. His lip was curled slightly, and his eyes were narrowed. He looked strong, and very, very dangerous.
He was too close . . .
But this moment of silent menace was broken, by the elevator door opening.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Paul pushed away from me like I'd caught fire or something. Yay, go the irresistible sex appeal, Suze. I turned abruptly, and looked at who'd just swept through the door, surrounded by about seven vampires, looking very henchmen and all. Well, I assumed they were vampires. Either that or they seriously needed to invest in some fake-tanning lotion.
Marcus, Mr Beaumont's um . . . secretary or something. I dunno, employee? Whatever. No doubt, second in command of this demon, too? He looked pretty vicious, all six feet of him. He was dressed in a snazzy black Versaci suit, and a black pair of shiny Cole-Haans. Well, at least the guy had style, more than we can say for Mr Beaumont.
'This is her?' he asked in surprise.
I blinked. I couldn't say who looked more confused, him or me. What the hell did Marcus care if I was "her" or not? Where's this demon guy already?
'Um,' I said, but Paul cut me off.
'Yes, this is her,' he bowed his head, and stepped back. Now, you know, my hands were still kind of tied behind me and all. Not so hot. I writhed my wrists, trying to free them from the bonds they were imprisoned in, but no go. Someone had done a pretty thorough job. Three guesses who.
'Remember me, Suze Simon? The girl you were trying to convince that she got attacked with a pen? Not such a neat cover-story, Mr . . . aaah, sorry, who the hell are you anyway?' I said impolitely.
'Suze, shut up!' Paul hissed.
Marcus raised a blond eyebrow lazily. 'Please . . . we go to all this trouble to obtain this young lady, and you don't believe she merits an explanation? Shame, Paul.'
Okay . . . this guy was WAY too cocky for my liking. He had that total nasty I-got-prom-king look about him which really got me miffed. Who did this guy think he was, anyway? Van Helsing?
But then . . . Van Helsing kills vampires, don't he?
Aw, poop. My theories are all shot.
Paul's head was looking at the ground. 'Ignore anything she says,' he muttered. 'She's very –'
'Paul, do shut up,' Marcus drawled, taking a step towards me. He put out a hand mockingly, inviting me to shake it, knowing perfectly well that my hands were, um, engaged. 'Good evening Miss . . . what was it? Oh yes, Simon. I'm Marcus Beaumont.'
Marcus B – WHAAAAAH?!?!
My surprise must have surfaced, because he promptly responded with, 'Yes, Red is my brother. Elder brother, it seems. And young Tad is my nephew.'
From the background, I noticed Tad again, leaning against the elevator door. He was smirking widely, like this was all a joke.
Ha frigging ha.
I turned back to Marcus. 'So, what's going on, then? You look like you possess an iota of intelligence.'
Everyone, at that, kind of breathed in a little more loudly than usual, but you know, didn't exhale? What was WRONG with these people?
A grin broke out on Marcus's face. It looked odd on him, like he had no right to be grinning like that, you know? It didn't belong on a face like that. 'So, what is this explanation then?' I asked huffily.
Marcus laughed. I glanced over at Paul, and I saw him look away from me impetuously, genuflecting.
He couldn't look me in the eye.
Whoa.
'Well, I do suppose that Paul has at least enlightened you that there is a dangerous demon on the loose,' he smiled slightly. It didn't come close to reaching his eyes. In fact, it was downright forced, and fake. Like it took two million muscles to smile like that. It wasn't natural. It was hideous!
Oh, Suze, shut up . . .
'Yeah, so who's this psycho demon then?' I asked.
Marcus closed his eyes, his mirth apparently overcoming him.
So funny, my ribs are just CRACKING with the hilarity.
'Why, me, of course,' he said simply.
. . .
Um . . . yeah . . .
I kind of snorted. '. . . Whoa, dude, you're killing me, come on, tell the truth. I know that sometimes in life we get sick of being so pathetic, and we make up these little stories that we are, oh, I dunno, demons? It happens to loads of people. Like, um, people on Jerry Springer, Michael Jackson – '
Remind me not to get drunk again? Michael Jackson INDEED.
'Suze, shut up!' Paul hissed again at me.
Marcus didn't seem too happy with me. Oooh, I get it now. Paulie wanted me to cork it in case I, I dunno, wrecked his chances at getting his life back? Damn, Paul was gullible. This guy, Marcus, he didn't exactly seem the type to keep his word.
. . . You'd think that I'd be a bit more scared, you know, in the face of a demon and stuff?
Well, um, not really.
Because, let's face it. Marcus Beaumont – as I now knew – wasn't as scary as Paul after you've totally made out with his murderer who saved you from a psychotic chick ghost whom he – Paul – had been sleeping with.
Trust me when I say that that experience was FIRST HAND.
Although, all in all, this wasn't cool. Because although I doubted Marcus looked all that much – in the scary demon way, I mean. In the other way, you know, the physical way, he wasn't lacking all that much. He could easily pick up some middle-aged chick if he dropped into a singles bar some time – I had a feeling that there was a lot more to him than just a corny grin. I mean, Paul Slater does NOT scare easily. But Marcus, well, the dude scares him. So I was in trouble again, wasn't I?
Nothing I couldn't handle. Well, maybe if I was a bit more sober, yeah. And I had Jesse to, you know, spoon-feed me and stuff . . .
Basically? I was screwed, wasn't I?
'Well, aren't we bold?' Marcus said in something between skepticism and approval. His eyes flickered all over me. And I doubt it was because he was marveling at my Jordache skirt, either.
You know, about then, all I could think was, "I drank alcohol. Mum's going to kill me!" Wonder if she'd get the chance, you know?
I gave him my best punk-ass-bitch glare, but it only made him smirk. Paul still couldn't look me in the eye . . .
'Well, this is the best you can do, Paul?' Marcus said in disappointment.
HUH?
'What . . . what do you mean?' Paul asked, a little defensively, throwing a fleeting look at Marcus from his down-on-one-knee position. But he sure as hell wasn't popping any big questions.
YEAH? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? I mean, RUDE much? Best he can do!? Am I not good enough for his demonic needs?!
Etiquette much?!?!
Marcus cocked a flaxen eyebrow cynically. 'Well, Paul, she is not up to your usual standard. You said that you could only bring me one girl, and I was lenient. Usually you bring me swarms of ghosts. But . . . she's not much, is she?'
HEY! OH MY GOD, NOT MUCH?
SPEAK FOR YOURSELF, BUSTER.
'I still don't get . . . uh, don't understand your meaning,' Paul said carefully. 'She is a powerful shifter. Yes, she looks normal, I was mistaken when I first met her too. But she has power. She's . . . she's more than what she seems.'
SCREW YOU PAUL!
I must have been glowering at him scornfully, because my face was hurting. How RUDE were these people? Way to put a girl down, you know? With the best- you-can-do? thing, you know? And – and the "looks normal" thing!
I think that I look better than just NORMAL tonight! I curled my hair and everything! LEAVE-IN CONDITIONER AND EVERYTHING!!!
I think it was fair to say that I was spitting chips about then, serious, I was SO insulted. Paul, although, seemed to be panicking.
'I . . . I can get another one,' he said quickly, 'another shifter. I can bring him here –'
'Paul,' Marcus said wearily, turning away from me, and looking down at him in a chiding manner, 'I don't fancy waiting for another week for you to make your move. Why you took so long to secure Miss Simon here, well, it is arcane. So, please see why I'm not too keen on delaying this – '
'No, he – this shifter, he's here! I can get him now, it won't take a second!' he said in hesitation. Oooh, this was interesting. Now, there's your basic D.I.D. You know, Dickhead in Distress.
. . . What?
Hang on . . . shifter, at the party?
Shit! He meant JESSE!
'You stay away from him!' I yelled, going totally spaz in my tied-up state. 'Don't you even think about –'
'Shut her up?' Marcus drawled, casting me a lazy gaze. Two vampires came at me, you know, all clawed-hands and foamy mouthy, but in this total moment of skill, I kicked the both of them at the same time, right back against the wall.
With my hands behind my back.
. . . God, I'm good.
'Suze!' Paul warned in a dangerous whisper. But Marcus, at least, seemed impressed. See? The guy did have taste. It was deep, and buried, and practically non-existent, but it was THERE. I'm so proud.
'Well, I guess you were right, she isn't what she seems,' Marcus said in mind astonishment. His delicate yet strong features scanned me again. 'Although, Paul, this promise of a second shifter is too tempting to neglect. So, you can guarantee to have him up here in, say . . . ' Marcus idly checked his Rolex, ' – fifteen minutes?'
Paul smirked, and stood up at last. Man, his knee must be sore. 'I'll have him up in ten,' he assured him. 'Just leave me alone with Suze – I mean, the shifter here, and he'll be up here in a heartbeat. Not that your friends can relate to that much anymore,' he nodded towards Tad, and some of the other vampires, who kinda growled.
Oooh . . . meow.
But . . . Paul and me, alone? Stupid horoscopes . . . stupid Paul . . .
With a raised eyebrow, Marcus nodded. 'Very well, Paul. You've only failed once. That, as you know well, cost you your life. I don't want you to have to . . . suffer again,' he hinted in amusement. On the whole? Marcus didn't give a shit.
'But Marcus, Paul's got a thing for her,' Tad snapped in annoyance. 'He's just gonna –'
'Shut up, Thaddeus,' Paul said dangerously.
'Yeah, shut up Thaddeus,' I agreed, blowing him a raspberry. Oh, the maturity.
And with that, Marcus glared at everyone in the room, and shepherded them out.
. . . Except for Paul.
This wasn't going to be fun.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The elevator doors closed with a jolt. A chill ran through me at that second. It was ephemeral, but God, was it there. I felt it in every nerve of my body. In my fingertips, down my arms, up my neck . . .
Paul was facing the elevator doors. His arms were crossed, and he looked so . . . definite. Like he had every reason in the world to be standing there. As if there was no other place for him, anywhere, at this very second in time. This was his moment. Of what, I hadn't the foggiest.
I kind of backed away while he wasn't looking. Sheesh, was there anyway to get out of this room? I mean, I doubted that the elevator would be useful. Marcus – the DEMON can you believe that? He TOTALLY isn't demon material, no? – sorry . . . yeah, Marcus and his cronies would be guarding it or whatever, to prevent the lovely little lasses who endeavoured to flee the premises. Go me . . . Oh, this was totally going to end in lots of donuts, right? Yay.
I felt my throat kind of go dry again. Like, I really needed a glass of chilled water to moisten my vocal chords that had suddenly gone Sahara dry. The air that I breathed in was cold and sharp, and it stung my lungs. It didn't make sense . . . it wasn't cold in this room. In fact, it was quite temperate. So why did I suddenly feel freezing?
And then, he turned.
It was a slow, seductive, dark movement.
His eyes glared at me from a wicked angle, and he had a ghost of a smile on his face. Only a trace. Like, something long ago had made him laugh and the humour was still wearing off. But this humour was nothing to laugh at. It was scary, and threatening, and deadly. I could feel it, in the chill that had engulfed me. I could smell this threat in the air that scythed my throat. Again, I tried swallowing, but it was kinda hard.
'So, what's it going to be?' Paul asked me.
I stiffened. What did he mean by that?
'Huh?'
He blinked and looked down, that gentle grin still garnishing his lips. Now I know it was NOT the time, and it was wrong, wrong, WRONG to be thinking such impure thoughts at such a desperate time, but my God . . . he looked so sexy right there in that dark leather jacket, with the gelled brown hair and the slow, enticing smile and the dark, yet incredibly light eyes . . .
Oh God have mercy.
I inwardly slapped myself. Bad Suze. BAD. Paul is BAD. Stay away from hot bad ass –
STOP THINKING.
I still didn't understand him. 'What do you mean?' I kind of threw out randomly, in a voice that didn't sound at all like my own. It was higher, and quieter.
His gaze was riveted on my face again. A clenching tremor passed through me, seizing all of my muscles together relentlessly. He had no idea that he had this effect on me . . . No idea at all . . .
'Suze,' he said, coming closer to me. A dark, dangerous aura draped him heavily. His eyes seemed to glow with blackness. I looked away. 'What?'
He walked to me. His hand lifted, and rested on my shoulder. He then proceeded around me, and he untied my hands. My eyes widened vaguely in surprise. What . . . what was he doing?
Once I could, you know, feel circulation in my hands again, he came to stand right over me, so his lips were millimeters away from my forehead. Every second or two, we would make contact, which would trigger something very electrical on my part. Oh so traditionally, my breathing quickened. It hurt a lot now.
'Suze, look . . . if there's a chance, the smallest chance ever, that we could be together, tell me. I need to know. I need to hear it,' he whispered onto my forehead.
Well, that stunned the hell out of me.
What was he . . . WHAAAHH?!
I stepped back a little. 'Paul . . . you know already. You can't just do all those things to me, and expect me to just accept the flaws about you. You're too . . . dodgy. You scare me to be around. Everything you do, and say . . . you're not . . .'
'Not what?'
Sane? Safe?
'. . . You're not Jesse.'
I felt him go very hard. I could feel something exuding from him. Oh, shouldn't have said that . . .
REALLY SHOULDN'T have said that!
Paul's hand shot to my upper arm, and held it in like a vice-grip. I gasped, and weakly tried to tug my arm away, but my heart wasn't in the struggle. I knew, somehow, that this was something I had to hear, to make myself believe it as well . . .
'Suze, God! You ruin everything! Why can't you make up your mind?!' he yelled in my face.
I blinked impassively. 'What? Decide whether I want to go for the nice, sane guy who loves me, or the psycho, abusive one who wants to sacrifice me to some demon freak? Well, whoa, you haven't given me many OPTIONS, Paul. I wonder,' I snapped back at him in blunt sarcasm.
His nose wrinkled in anger, and he yanked me to the side, and – not again . . . – tried to kiss me. I turned away as sharply as I could, but his lips roamed my bare neck, and beneath my ear. Oh, God . . .A heat so strong scorched my head. I gasped, as half of me wanted to just fall into him and kiss back, letting go of everything I prized myself on – self-control, poise, virtue, dignity, my love for Jesse, my status . . .
The other half of me wouldn't let me drown in the moment.
He wanted to get Jesse up here. Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to call him. He wasn't going to try and make me call for him. Scream for him.
But I wouldn't.
He couldn't make me . . .
With a moan, I shoved his head away from mine, and glared into those pools of ice –
. . . And there it was again!
That FEAR in his eyes! I hadn't imagined it! It was clear, and real, and there.
Why was he scared?! What was the deal? This was PAUL SLATER.
I frowned heavily, and closed my eyes for a second. That was when something extremely alarming happened. I . . .I couldn't explain it, but it just . . .happened.
. . . I can't do this . . . I can't let her die. Not at his hands. I love her, why am I DOING this? This isn't me. Why am I such a monster? What happened to me? Is this how I show love? By running away like a pathetic loser, and letting other people take the blame? Hell, letting SUZE die because I'm too scared to? I'm already dead . . . why should it be so bad? Anything has to be better than this, existing only to know that I'm second best to that freakin' . . .
I opened my eyes in panic. CRAP! What the HELL just happened?! I shoved myself away from Paul, against the desk in this stupid, prison of an office. What was that? What were those words that I'd just heard playing so loud and clearly in my mind, conflicting with my own thoughts? Was that . . . Paul?
Could I hear what he was thinking?
Oh my God . . .
My mouth was hanging open. I didn't WANT to hear what he was thinking! This was just not cricket! Not the modus operandi, ya know? Not COOL.
. . . to know that I'm second best . . .
Oh God. This was how Paul had failed. He'd failed, and Jesse had won. Jesse had won everything that Paul had ever wanted. I don't know how I knew, but I did. I felt like I was a spectator of this whole scandal between two teenage men that were growing ever further, one being pulled into the light, and the other being thrust into the darkness . . .
. . . I can't let Suze die. If she goes, then I'll go. There won't be any point staying around. I can't be here without her. Without the prospect of her, accepting me for the devil that I am. But she never will. It's always De Mented, isn't it? It always will be. She'll always see me as a shadow of a man. She'll never love me like I love her. Hell . . . I'm addicted to her . . .
No, no, no, NO.
. . . So beautiful. Her hair, it's beautiful, and her lips are so soft, and her eyes . . . I've never seen such eyes. Deep, mysterious, oceanic emeralds. Glittering . . . I've wanted her for so long . . .
I crawled away from this figure that was looming over me. I didn't want to know any of this! This was for Paul's brain only! Why could I hear these things, these terrible, ominous words? Paul DIDN'T love me. Love generally tends to involve, you know, not throwing the object of your affections at a murderous demon and all?! AM I RIGHT?
Addicted.
He's addicted.
. . . I'm addicted . . .
Addicted . . . addicted . . . addicted, addicted, addicted, addicted, ADDICTED -
'STOP IT!' I screamed thunderously, as the roar of voices reached a chaotic harmony in my head. It stopped like the vocal chords had been cut with a knife. I was panting on the floor. Oh my God . . . what was this? This power? What did Paul do to me?!
'What's the matter with – ' he began roughly, but I jerked away, wincing. 'Don't!' I shrilled, 'Don't touch me! Just get away! Stop saying these things! They're not TRUE!'
'I'm not saying anything, you idiot,' he snapped.
. . . Addicted . . .
I clutched at my head, trying not to scream. Oh my GOD, my brain was going to have a nuclear meltdown! I felt like I was having an epileptic fit or something. I was shaking, and trying not to listen –
. . . I'm addicted to Suze . . .
'JESSE!' I shrieked stridently, piercing the voice that was echoing in my ears mercilessly.
And with a terrified shimmer, Jesse materialized behind Paul.
That's when hell broke loose.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
How bad was it? Very bad? Mildly bad? Excruciating?
Let me know –
Love,
A very tired Lolly.
...Is time even flat?
I dunno.
But... HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MEG'S NEW BOOKCLUB?!?! www.megcabotbookclub.com!!! OMG, it's AWESOME!!!
Okay. Personally, I hate this chapter. I really do. You agree? Do let me know at the end, won't you? I think, if I really hate it, I'll repost it after thorough editing.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'Who is this?'
Jesse's voice – deep, accented, condemning – punctured through my thoughts, pulling me back down into the reality that faced me.
Who is this?
That is what he said. Jesse knew nothing of what Tad had done. He didn't know that Tad had my blood running through him this very second. That part of me now belonged to Tad Beaumont.
Tad just grinned at me. He thought this was funny. What, that he'd gone from being simply my rebound guy to a creature of the night? It was kind of freaky, you know?
'Um, no one, Jesse,' I said to him. 'Just, uh . . . no one –'
'Ah, so you're the legendary Jesse,' Tad nodded his head, his grin growing wider. 'You're the guy that started all of this.'
. . . Uh, what?
I knit my eyebrows. What the hell?
Jesse was obviously just as confused as I was. He frowned at Tad. 'I do not understand you,' he burred with a quiet resonance. 'Please leave.'
Tad laughed a little. 'Nah, you wouldn't know me. It's not like we've ever met. But me and Susie, we go way back.'
'In your dreams,' I snapped at him, edging closer to Jesse slightly. By saying that, I was vaguely reminded of my own dreams of late, but I shoved them roughly from my mind. Just the memory of it placed a heavy lead-weight of my heart from the guilt I felt.
'She dances very well,' Tad told Jesse, stepping into the room. His apparel had not changed – it was still very uh, queer looking. Hehehe . . . gay apparel. Isn't that from Deck the Halls? The Christmas carol?
Oh, go me.
But . . . oh no he wasn't . . . he was going to – to totally dob me in that I'd gone to him when Jesse was in festive Spain! Oh crap!
Which would lead to marks that could be confused with hickeys.
Great.
'Dances –?' Jesse began, but I cut him off hurriedly.
'Tad, get lost,' I gave him a glare. 'We're busy.'
'Yeah, I can see that,' he remarked, stepping further into the room. I gulped a little and subconsciously stepped back. He was still grinning. It looked odd on him, to be grinning like that. His skin wasn't as nearly as tanned as it had been when I had first met him. I met, yeah, it had that brown shade to it, but there was no redness there. The blood behind his skin wasn't there anymore.
He was undead.
The only thing I hoped that Jesse didn't know was that he was the one who bit me. I mean, I never told Jesse who actually bit me, right? Hell, did I even tell Jesse I got bitten at all? Sheesh . . . damn alcohol . . . my head was all in a fuzzy wuzz.
I pressed my fingers against my temple and winced. 'Tad, I'm serious, I'm totally not in the mood to kick your –'
'How's your neck, Suze?' he interrupted slyly.
I blanched. I probably went paler than him, too. I couldn't really think straight anymore, that stupid, STUPID spiked drink! My head was pounding, and Tad was kind of blurry, you know?
And . . . swirrrrrrrrly . . .
'Tad, shut up –'
'Oh, it got better? I mean, it was looking really nasty last time I looked at it,' he shrugged, taking another step inside the room.
I totally went stiff. Jesse's hands wandered to my back, and I felt a soothing hand touch my spine, but it didn't really calm me down. After, you know, I'd just made up with Jesse, I wasn't going to let some try-hard, fanged New Jersey DICKWIT ruin things again!
But he was totally intent on doing just that. You could tell.
'Last time he –?'
'Jesse, ignore him. He's someone I met at Kelly Prescott's party. He asked me to dance and I didn't want to be rude because Kelly had already yelled at me for turning him down because she kind of has a crush on him and so I had to dance with him but I totally didn't want to and I sure as hell didn't enjoy it –'I paused for a quick breath, '–because no one can slow dance like you but you were in Spain with Querida and telling your sister that I have nice legs and stuff – you do too, by the way – so I just thought that maybe I had better not be mean and so I agreed to dance –' I stopped suddenly, as my mind jerked very harshly, and I staggered sideways into Jesse.
'Susannah?' Jesse asked with an evident note of panic. He held my shoulders with gently firmness, as I seemed to, like, fold up or something into him, 'Susannah, are you all right? Susannah, look at –'
'I . . . I don't feel so good,' I said slowly, my head roaring by then. God, lose the booze much?! 'Jesse, uh . . . I wanna go home –'
'Yes, I will take you home. I will go and get Querida and I will drive you –'
'She's not going anywhere,' Tad interrupted.
My forehead creased as I tucked my elbows into myself, holding my head still. 'Huh? Who died and made you mum?'
Tad ignored me, and turned back to Jesse. His whole mannerism – from when he'd been alive – had changed. His posture was a lot more . . . sly. His eyes were more narrowed and cynical, and he didn't look like such an airhead anymore. He looked like he was out to make trouble. Of the serious variety.
'I thought that you might be interested to know, Jesse, that little Spanish chick you came with? Well . . . it's best not to leave her alone. There's all sorts of leeches around here who'd like nothing better than to . . . ' he spread his hands eloquently, 'Well, you know.'
'What are you saying?' growled Jesse, holding me protectively into him as if he sensed something very wrong also.
Hang on . . . leeches.
CRAP!
'Jesse, go and get her now!' I yelled at him urgently, pushing myself away, 'Bring her here! Get her away from everyone! Don't let one of his – 'I jerked my thumb at Tad '- friends get her alone!'
'Susannah, what is going –'
'Jesse, just do it!' I shrilled.
What? So what if the girl was bacteria to me? I wasn't going to LET her get bitten by one of Tad's lot. I, unlike some, am a good person.
Hence the "GO JESSE GO!" thing.
With a confused look, Jesse breezed past Tad, and ran out. I went to follow, but Tad grabbed me around the waist, and pushed my back into the library. I tried to run out again, but in my not-so-sober state, I kind of . . . ran into a wall.
Ow...
'I told you, you're not going anywhere.'
I stared at him as the scene playing before my eyes gave a menacing jerk. Stupid liquor . . . I am NEVER becoming an alcoholic. Drown in your sorrows my ASS. 'I . . . you're a bad guy, and you're going to die because you're a . . . bad person . . . who . . . oooh, yuck.' I held my head.
'Well, now that he's out of the way,' Tad said, all business-like.
Huh? What – HEY!
'You LIED?' I gasped, like it was the last thing that I expected someone as nice and friendly as TAD to do. God, I really was drunk. 'You LIED to me?!'
He laughed. I don't blame him. I must have looked pretty pathetic, on the floor, my eyes going spastic, and my mouth all droopy. Who . . . I was gonna pound whoever spiked my drink . . . that was NOT a nice thing to do . . . I felt icky now, and icky isn't a nice feeling no. No, no, no, icky is bad and icky and . . .
'Well, this certainly isn't working as fast as he told me it would,' Tad said. I wasn't looking at him anymore. I was looking at his feet. They were a no-name brand. How OFF was that? Someone as rich as him wasn't wearing a brand name. I'm seriously thinking that Tad Beaumont is gay. Smelly fag . . .
Serious. Total poofiness, the lot of him!
'Oh whatever,' Tad's voice said carelessly. That was when I felt a cloth being placed over my nose and mouth. Something smelt funny, or gas-like . . . it made me sleepy –
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'She's only been out for five minutes!'
I blinked lazily. Oooh, swirlies, yuck. Why was my head hurting so bloody much? Ew, not hot.
'It'll be fine, I want her awake . . . '
HEY! WHAT WAS PAUL DOING HERE?!?!
I forced my eyes open about then. Shit! I was lying down on a table, on my side . . . I didn't know where. There were . . . tropical fish . . . Aquarium . . .
Oh yeah.
I was in Mr Beaumont's office.
You're kidding me . . .
But hey, it gets better. What do you know, my hands were tied up. Such a hoot, I'm sure. I didn't even want to contemplate what ghastly state my hair was in. And how did I get up here, anyway? Did . . . OH GOD. DID PAUL CARRY ME?!?!
THIS SUCKS!
Or hell, maybe Tad bit me while I was asleep? I dunno, wouldn't surprise me. Was I dead? Was I a vampire? A ghost? Hell, still alive even?
Mmm . . . I wasn't glowing. Trust me, my skin still looked all fair and stuff, dammit. I didn't crave blood, I could still blink and breathe and stuff . . . Maybe I was alive?
Oh, go me.
I muttered something really stupid about then. Like, I think it was "did anyone manage to remember my Kate Spade bag? That cost me five week's allowance, you know. Yeah, you," or something like that. I know, I suck.
Paul was standing right beside me, while his hand was drawing lazy circles on my neck. I blinked again, and tried to sit up, but not only did Paul push me back down, but I don't think my head would have allowed it. It was totally beating in time with the pop music downstairs.
And those crazy musicians throw some pretty fast pop music these days . . .
'What are you -?' I started, but Paul put a finger on my lips, and began tracing the shape of my mouth. It tingled horribly, but my head was too busy doing the Tarzan roar to protest.
'Hey, Susie . . . ' Paul smirked down at me. I could see his leather overcoat, and as illegal as it is to say . . . it looked pretty hot on him. I know it's horrible and sinful, but . . . leather worked wonders with him.
Should buy Jesse some.
o.O
Um, just ignore that.
'Paul, what do I –'
Oh yeah, Tad was still there, the creep. He gagged me! The ASSHOLE! He gagged –
'Go get him. Tell him I have her ready. She can't fight.'
'Okay, I'll get him.'
'I can too!' I pouted. I wriggled in objection. 'Look, I - oh yeah, I can't... Poo.'
Paul chuckled, sending my heart into these little tizzies. I felt scared, suddenly, and I wasn't sure why. I still felt like a steamroller had squished my head pancake flat. And not so much with the golden syrup or the ice cream.
I had even gone a little shivery, you know? I mean, despite the fact that it was a balmy night, and all. I'd worn my lovely long black suede overcoat, too. I know, the suede and the denim mini, you scorn distastefully. It's like, a classical mixing of genres. It looks totally cute, I'll have you know. And anyway, I hear that multi media is TOTALLY in. Although, yeah . . . I still felt cold. But I had a feeling that was, you know, nothing to do with the weather.
'Get who?' I frowned. Everything was still swimming, and stuff. Like, you know, all those tropical fish in the aquarium. Swimming endless circles . . .
Again, Paul chuckled in a dark softness. He was still outlining my mouth. Now, my lips are totally sensitive, you know? So it still felt completely unpleasant and stuff. But what he said made my brain totally blow up. Without the chunks of brain zooming everywhere, I mean.
'Do you believe in demons, Suze?'
I jerked away from him in alarm. Which resulted in my rolling off the desk, yes. Sideways in Mr Beaumont's swivel chair. Not agile of me, no. So not mock me. It was painful.
. . . STOP MOCKING ME.
'Ow,' I groaned again. Paul was smirking broadly again, with that evil spawn-of-Satan glint in his eyes. 'Oi, DON'T come anywhere near me!' I shouted at him, and totally kicked against his upper thighs from the chair, which sent me propelling back against the wall.
Oh, continue the slapstick, Suze, by all means.
'Suze,' Paul said with amusement, 'Don't be a party pooper. Come on, it's going to be great. This demon guy, the one who is after shifters? Well, you could say that – by means of De Silva – he was the one that made me a ghost.'
'Oooh . . . The demon POSSESSED JESSE!' I said gleefully.
Paul scoffed. 'God no.'
My face fell.
'I'm going to tell you a story, Suze. So shut up and pay attention.'
'It doesn't involve Pinocchio or the Seven Dwarves, by any chance?' I said hopefully. Yuck head . . . STOP SPINNING.
'No, they're not going to make any guest appearances, Suze. Snow White might,' though. And now that you mention it, yeah, possibly one of the seven dwarves,' he added secretively. 'You know, Dopey?'
Huh?
'It was this stupid guy who made me go after shifters. That was why I died. I was saving myself from a fate worse than death. Because, believe me when I say that this guy is no happy sunshine mediator. What he does with the souls that he gathers, well . . . anyway. I escaped that, but got killed in the process. I was a ghost. A powerful one, too, because I'd been one of the most powerful shifters ever. Some of those powers still remain in me.'
Stupid, stupid . . . tied up hands . . . can't even thump him . . .
'But yeah, then my demon friend found me again,' his nose twitched in anger. You could tell that he didn't exactly think the world of this guy – whoever he was. I had yet to find out. But yeah, my heart was totally going thud, thud, THUD.
Ya know? As it does when you're scared, and . . . well . . .
Drunk?
I swallowed hard.
'And this guy isn't one to mess around with. I'm playing in the big leagues now, Suze. I'm playing with the men.'
'Funny,' I said snidely, 'I didn't think they allowed wimps on the men's team.'
I heard Paul make some breathy noise in anger. 'Shut up,' he said coldly, his teeth gritted. He knelt down beside me crossly, right in front of my face, glaring. I stared at his eyes curiously. They were so . . . blue. And cold. And saturated with this loathing. But beyond that, I saw something. Something that was intertwined in each and every cell of his intense blue irises. It was hidden, and shielded, but I could see it.
Fear.
Paul was scared.
I didn't know why. He'd never been scared before. Why was he scared? It was totally weird. It mystified me to even think of the concept – that Paul might actually be susceptible to fear as well. But . . . Paul Slater, bad ass, all powerful ex-shifter, cool, confident, dark ghost...scared? Nah, not in this reality.
What would he be scared about?
'Paul,' I said slowly, 'Look. I don't know what you're going to do, but don't. Don't do anything bad. I . . . I can see something in you, in your eyes. Right now. You're . . . ' Dare I say it?
His eyes hardened, as if a sheet of stone had covered any of the fear I might have seen. Had it been there? 'I'm what, Suze?'
My eyes flickered away, and back to his. 'I don't know why . . . but you're scared.'
A spasm of annoyance rippled across his dark face. Then he laughed a little. I don't know why. There wasn't anything funny to me. He stood up, and walked away from me. Tall, dark, and with bad intentions.
'I'm scared?' he sneered, 'Take a look closer to home, Suze. You're the one who's sitting in a vampire's chair, and is going to be offered to a demon, in exchange for my life.'
. . . WHAT?!
My eyes went horribly wide. 'What?!' I demanded, 'What do you mean? Exchange for your . . . WHAT?!'
A malicious smirk claimed his lips. 'Yeah. Scary thought, isn't it? Come on Suze. Now you have full reason to be scared. Plead. Beg me to let you go. Come on, I'm dying to here you scream again . . . '
WHERE WAS MORE ALCOHOL WHEN YOU NEEDED IT?
Shit!
'Look, Paul you don't want to be doing that,' I snapped. 'Untie my hands . . . I can fight this demon guy, and I can get you out of here. Jeez, I don't know why I give a piss about you, but . . . I dunno. Just untie me, please, I can help –'
'Help me?' he asked with a smile, and a nasty look in his eyes.
I gulped a little, feeling my lips shaking a little. 'Um . . . yeah, you know . . .'
'Suze, I'm past the "getting help" stage. There's no way to beat this guy,' he said spitefully, 'I'm sure in your time you've come up against a couple of cute little ghostie boys with little muscles, and you've got the warm fuzzies when you take them down, but . . . no, Suze. A demon is something a lot scarier than a ghost. Except for perhaps me.'
'You're not scary,' I informed him bitchily, running my tongue over my teeth. 'You're a try-hard. So hey, try-hard?' I narrowed my eyes, and whispered, '. . . try harder.'
Bad move.
He materialized so he was standing right over me, seized me by the shoulders, hoisted me up and slammed me against the wall. He set his jaw, looking all hot and manly – unfortunate as it was – and just glared, adding the description "evil" to that list of adjectives. It hurt – God, it hurt – but he wasn't going to get to me easily. Not when I had touched a nerve like that.
I think I was starting to realize Paul's weakness.
. . . Failing.
Whoa. It was like, something I suddenly knew. I just didn't know why, or how . . .
He was breathing hard. So was I. Our breaths meshed into each other, but it was only mine that counted. Mine was real. His was air's ghost.
He just pinned me there, held me close like that, not saying anything. Just looking. His face was marshaled in such an angry, hateful way. His lip was curled slightly, and his eyes were narrowed. He looked strong, and very, very dangerous.
He was too close . . .
But this moment of silent menace was broken, by the elevator door opening.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Paul pushed away from me like I'd caught fire or something. Yay, go the irresistible sex appeal, Suze. I turned abruptly, and looked at who'd just swept through the door, surrounded by about seven vampires, looking very henchmen and all. Well, I assumed they were vampires. Either that or they seriously needed to invest in some fake-tanning lotion.
Marcus, Mr Beaumont's um . . . secretary or something. I dunno, employee? Whatever. No doubt, second in command of this demon, too? He looked pretty vicious, all six feet of him. He was dressed in a snazzy black Versaci suit, and a black pair of shiny Cole-Haans. Well, at least the guy had style, more than we can say for Mr Beaumont.
'This is her?' he asked in surprise.
I blinked. I couldn't say who looked more confused, him or me. What the hell did Marcus care if I was "her" or not? Where's this demon guy already?
'Um,' I said, but Paul cut me off.
'Yes, this is her,' he bowed his head, and stepped back. Now, you know, my hands were still kind of tied behind me and all. Not so hot. I writhed my wrists, trying to free them from the bonds they were imprisoned in, but no go. Someone had done a pretty thorough job. Three guesses who.
'Remember me, Suze Simon? The girl you were trying to convince that she got attacked with a pen? Not such a neat cover-story, Mr . . . aaah, sorry, who the hell are you anyway?' I said impolitely.
'Suze, shut up!' Paul hissed.
Marcus raised a blond eyebrow lazily. 'Please . . . we go to all this trouble to obtain this young lady, and you don't believe she merits an explanation? Shame, Paul.'
Okay . . . this guy was WAY too cocky for my liking. He had that total nasty I-got-prom-king look about him which really got me miffed. Who did this guy think he was, anyway? Van Helsing?
But then . . . Van Helsing kills vampires, don't he?
Aw, poop. My theories are all shot.
Paul's head was looking at the ground. 'Ignore anything she says,' he muttered. 'She's very –'
'Paul, do shut up,' Marcus drawled, taking a step towards me. He put out a hand mockingly, inviting me to shake it, knowing perfectly well that my hands were, um, engaged. 'Good evening Miss . . . what was it? Oh yes, Simon. I'm Marcus Beaumont.'
Marcus B – WHAAAAAH?!?!
My surprise must have surfaced, because he promptly responded with, 'Yes, Red is my brother. Elder brother, it seems. And young Tad is my nephew.'
From the background, I noticed Tad again, leaning against the elevator door. He was smirking widely, like this was all a joke.
Ha frigging ha.
I turned back to Marcus. 'So, what's going on, then? You look like you possess an iota of intelligence.'
Everyone, at that, kind of breathed in a little more loudly than usual, but you know, didn't exhale? What was WRONG with these people?
A grin broke out on Marcus's face. It looked odd on him, like he had no right to be grinning like that, you know? It didn't belong on a face like that. 'So, what is this explanation then?' I asked huffily.
Marcus laughed. I glanced over at Paul, and I saw him look away from me impetuously, genuflecting.
He couldn't look me in the eye.
Whoa.
'Well, I do suppose that Paul has at least enlightened you that there is a dangerous demon on the loose,' he smiled slightly. It didn't come close to reaching his eyes. In fact, it was downright forced, and fake. Like it took two million muscles to smile like that. It wasn't natural. It was hideous!
Oh, Suze, shut up . . .
'Yeah, so who's this psycho demon then?' I asked.
Marcus closed his eyes, his mirth apparently overcoming him.
So funny, my ribs are just CRACKING with the hilarity.
'Why, me, of course,' he said simply.
. . .
Um . . . yeah . . .
I kind of snorted. '. . . Whoa, dude, you're killing me, come on, tell the truth. I know that sometimes in life we get sick of being so pathetic, and we make up these little stories that we are, oh, I dunno, demons? It happens to loads of people. Like, um, people on Jerry Springer, Michael Jackson – '
Remind me not to get drunk again? Michael Jackson INDEED.
'Suze, shut up!' Paul hissed again at me.
Marcus didn't seem too happy with me. Oooh, I get it now. Paulie wanted me to cork it in case I, I dunno, wrecked his chances at getting his life back? Damn, Paul was gullible. This guy, Marcus, he didn't exactly seem the type to keep his word.
. . . You'd think that I'd be a bit more scared, you know, in the face of a demon and stuff?
Well, um, not really.
Because, let's face it. Marcus Beaumont – as I now knew – wasn't as scary as Paul after you've totally made out with his murderer who saved you from a psychotic chick ghost whom he – Paul – had been sleeping with.
Trust me when I say that that experience was FIRST HAND.
Although, all in all, this wasn't cool. Because although I doubted Marcus looked all that much – in the scary demon way, I mean. In the other way, you know, the physical way, he wasn't lacking all that much. He could easily pick up some middle-aged chick if he dropped into a singles bar some time – I had a feeling that there was a lot more to him than just a corny grin. I mean, Paul Slater does NOT scare easily. But Marcus, well, the dude scares him. So I was in trouble again, wasn't I?
Nothing I couldn't handle. Well, maybe if I was a bit more sober, yeah. And I had Jesse to, you know, spoon-feed me and stuff . . .
Basically? I was screwed, wasn't I?
'Well, aren't we bold?' Marcus said in something between skepticism and approval. His eyes flickered all over me. And I doubt it was because he was marveling at my Jordache skirt, either.
You know, about then, all I could think was, "I drank alcohol. Mum's going to kill me!" Wonder if she'd get the chance, you know?
I gave him my best punk-ass-bitch glare, but it only made him smirk. Paul still couldn't look me in the eye . . .
'Well, this is the best you can do, Paul?' Marcus said in disappointment.
HUH?
'What . . . what do you mean?' Paul asked, a little defensively, throwing a fleeting look at Marcus from his down-on-one-knee position. But he sure as hell wasn't popping any big questions.
YEAH? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? I mean, RUDE much? Best he can do!? Am I not good enough for his demonic needs?!
Etiquette much?!?!
Marcus cocked a flaxen eyebrow cynically. 'Well, Paul, she is not up to your usual standard. You said that you could only bring me one girl, and I was lenient. Usually you bring me swarms of ghosts. But . . . she's not much, is she?'
HEY! OH MY GOD, NOT MUCH?
SPEAK FOR YOURSELF, BUSTER.
'I still don't get . . . uh, don't understand your meaning,' Paul said carefully. 'She is a powerful shifter. Yes, she looks normal, I was mistaken when I first met her too. But she has power. She's . . . she's more than what she seems.'
SCREW YOU PAUL!
I must have been glowering at him scornfully, because my face was hurting. How RUDE were these people? Way to put a girl down, you know? With the best- you-can-do? thing, you know? And – and the "looks normal" thing!
I think that I look better than just NORMAL tonight! I curled my hair and everything! LEAVE-IN CONDITIONER AND EVERYTHING!!!
I think it was fair to say that I was spitting chips about then, serious, I was SO insulted. Paul, although, seemed to be panicking.
'I . . . I can get another one,' he said quickly, 'another shifter. I can bring him here –'
'Paul,' Marcus said wearily, turning away from me, and looking down at him in a chiding manner, 'I don't fancy waiting for another week for you to make your move. Why you took so long to secure Miss Simon here, well, it is arcane. So, please see why I'm not too keen on delaying this – '
'No, he – this shifter, he's here! I can get him now, it won't take a second!' he said in hesitation. Oooh, this was interesting. Now, there's your basic D.I.D. You know, Dickhead in Distress.
. . . What?
Hang on . . . shifter, at the party?
Shit! He meant JESSE!
'You stay away from him!' I yelled, going totally spaz in my tied-up state. 'Don't you even think about –'
'Shut her up?' Marcus drawled, casting me a lazy gaze. Two vampires came at me, you know, all clawed-hands and foamy mouthy, but in this total moment of skill, I kicked the both of them at the same time, right back against the wall.
With my hands behind my back.
. . . God, I'm good.
'Suze!' Paul warned in a dangerous whisper. But Marcus, at least, seemed impressed. See? The guy did have taste. It was deep, and buried, and practically non-existent, but it was THERE. I'm so proud.
'Well, I guess you were right, she isn't what she seems,' Marcus said in mind astonishment. His delicate yet strong features scanned me again. 'Although, Paul, this promise of a second shifter is too tempting to neglect. So, you can guarantee to have him up here in, say . . . ' Marcus idly checked his Rolex, ' – fifteen minutes?'
Paul smirked, and stood up at last. Man, his knee must be sore. 'I'll have him up in ten,' he assured him. 'Just leave me alone with Suze – I mean, the shifter here, and he'll be up here in a heartbeat. Not that your friends can relate to that much anymore,' he nodded towards Tad, and some of the other vampires, who kinda growled.
Oooh . . . meow.
But . . . Paul and me, alone? Stupid horoscopes . . . stupid Paul . . .
With a raised eyebrow, Marcus nodded. 'Very well, Paul. You've only failed once. That, as you know well, cost you your life. I don't want you to have to . . . suffer again,' he hinted in amusement. On the whole? Marcus didn't give a shit.
'But Marcus, Paul's got a thing for her,' Tad snapped in annoyance. 'He's just gonna –'
'Shut up, Thaddeus,' Paul said dangerously.
'Yeah, shut up Thaddeus,' I agreed, blowing him a raspberry. Oh, the maturity.
And with that, Marcus glared at everyone in the room, and shepherded them out.
. . . Except for Paul.
This wasn't going to be fun.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The elevator doors closed with a jolt. A chill ran through me at that second. It was ephemeral, but God, was it there. I felt it in every nerve of my body. In my fingertips, down my arms, up my neck . . .
Paul was facing the elevator doors. His arms were crossed, and he looked so . . . definite. Like he had every reason in the world to be standing there. As if there was no other place for him, anywhere, at this very second in time. This was his moment. Of what, I hadn't the foggiest.
I kind of backed away while he wasn't looking. Sheesh, was there anyway to get out of this room? I mean, I doubted that the elevator would be useful. Marcus – the DEMON can you believe that? He TOTALLY isn't demon material, no? – sorry . . . yeah, Marcus and his cronies would be guarding it or whatever, to prevent the lovely little lasses who endeavoured to flee the premises. Go me . . . Oh, this was totally going to end in lots of donuts, right? Yay.
I felt my throat kind of go dry again. Like, I really needed a glass of chilled water to moisten my vocal chords that had suddenly gone Sahara dry. The air that I breathed in was cold and sharp, and it stung my lungs. It didn't make sense . . . it wasn't cold in this room. In fact, it was quite temperate. So why did I suddenly feel freezing?
And then, he turned.
It was a slow, seductive, dark movement.
His eyes glared at me from a wicked angle, and he had a ghost of a smile on his face. Only a trace. Like, something long ago had made him laugh and the humour was still wearing off. But this humour was nothing to laugh at. It was scary, and threatening, and deadly. I could feel it, in the chill that had engulfed me. I could smell this threat in the air that scythed my throat. Again, I tried swallowing, but it was kinda hard.
'So, what's it going to be?' Paul asked me.
I stiffened. What did he mean by that?
'Huh?'
He blinked and looked down, that gentle grin still garnishing his lips. Now I know it was NOT the time, and it was wrong, wrong, WRONG to be thinking such impure thoughts at such a desperate time, but my God . . . he looked so sexy right there in that dark leather jacket, with the gelled brown hair and the slow, enticing smile and the dark, yet incredibly light eyes . . .
Oh God have mercy.
I inwardly slapped myself. Bad Suze. BAD. Paul is BAD. Stay away from hot bad ass –
STOP THINKING.
I still didn't understand him. 'What do you mean?' I kind of threw out randomly, in a voice that didn't sound at all like my own. It was higher, and quieter.
His gaze was riveted on my face again. A clenching tremor passed through me, seizing all of my muscles together relentlessly. He had no idea that he had this effect on me . . . No idea at all . . .
'Suze,' he said, coming closer to me. A dark, dangerous aura draped him heavily. His eyes seemed to glow with blackness. I looked away. 'What?'
He walked to me. His hand lifted, and rested on my shoulder. He then proceeded around me, and he untied my hands. My eyes widened vaguely in surprise. What . . . what was he doing?
Once I could, you know, feel circulation in my hands again, he came to stand right over me, so his lips were millimeters away from my forehead. Every second or two, we would make contact, which would trigger something very electrical on my part. Oh so traditionally, my breathing quickened. It hurt a lot now.
'Suze, look . . . if there's a chance, the smallest chance ever, that we could be together, tell me. I need to know. I need to hear it,' he whispered onto my forehead.
Well, that stunned the hell out of me.
What was he . . . WHAAAHH?!
I stepped back a little. 'Paul . . . you know already. You can't just do all those things to me, and expect me to just accept the flaws about you. You're too . . . dodgy. You scare me to be around. Everything you do, and say . . . you're not . . .'
'Not what?'
Sane? Safe?
'. . . You're not Jesse.'
I felt him go very hard. I could feel something exuding from him. Oh, shouldn't have said that . . .
REALLY SHOULDN'T have said that!
Paul's hand shot to my upper arm, and held it in like a vice-grip. I gasped, and weakly tried to tug my arm away, but my heart wasn't in the struggle. I knew, somehow, that this was something I had to hear, to make myself believe it as well . . .
'Suze, God! You ruin everything! Why can't you make up your mind?!' he yelled in my face.
I blinked impassively. 'What? Decide whether I want to go for the nice, sane guy who loves me, or the psycho, abusive one who wants to sacrifice me to some demon freak? Well, whoa, you haven't given me many OPTIONS, Paul. I wonder,' I snapped back at him in blunt sarcasm.
His nose wrinkled in anger, and he yanked me to the side, and – not again . . . – tried to kiss me. I turned away as sharply as I could, but his lips roamed my bare neck, and beneath my ear. Oh, God . . .A heat so strong scorched my head. I gasped, as half of me wanted to just fall into him and kiss back, letting go of everything I prized myself on – self-control, poise, virtue, dignity, my love for Jesse, my status . . .
The other half of me wouldn't let me drown in the moment.
He wanted to get Jesse up here. Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to call him. He wasn't going to try and make me call for him. Scream for him.
But I wouldn't.
He couldn't make me . . .
With a moan, I shoved his head away from mine, and glared into those pools of ice –
. . . And there it was again!
That FEAR in his eyes! I hadn't imagined it! It was clear, and real, and there.
Why was he scared?! What was the deal? This was PAUL SLATER.
I frowned heavily, and closed my eyes for a second. That was when something extremely alarming happened. I . . .I couldn't explain it, but it just . . .happened.
. . . I can't do this . . . I can't let her die. Not at his hands. I love her, why am I DOING this? This isn't me. Why am I such a monster? What happened to me? Is this how I show love? By running away like a pathetic loser, and letting other people take the blame? Hell, letting SUZE die because I'm too scared to? I'm already dead . . . why should it be so bad? Anything has to be better than this, existing only to know that I'm second best to that freakin' . . .
I opened my eyes in panic. CRAP! What the HELL just happened?! I shoved myself away from Paul, against the desk in this stupid, prison of an office. What was that? What were those words that I'd just heard playing so loud and clearly in my mind, conflicting with my own thoughts? Was that . . . Paul?
Could I hear what he was thinking?
Oh my God . . .
My mouth was hanging open. I didn't WANT to hear what he was thinking! This was just not cricket! Not the modus operandi, ya know? Not COOL.
. . . to know that I'm second best . . .
Oh God. This was how Paul had failed. He'd failed, and Jesse had won. Jesse had won everything that Paul had ever wanted. I don't know how I knew, but I did. I felt like I was a spectator of this whole scandal between two teenage men that were growing ever further, one being pulled into the light, and the other being thrust into the darkness . . .
. . . I can't let Suze die. If she goes, then I'll go. There won't be any point staying around. I can't be here without her. Without the prospect of her, accepting me for the devil that I am. But she never will. It's always De Mented, isn't it? It always will be. She'll always see me as a shadow of a man. She'll never love me like I love her. Hell . . . I'm addicted to her . . .
No, no, no, NO.
. . . So beautiful. Her hair, it's beautiful, and her lips are so soft, and her eyes . . . I've never seen such eyes. Deep, mysterious, oceanic emeralds. Glittering . . . I've wanted her for so long . . .
I crawled away from this figure that was looming over me. I didn't want to know any of this! This was for Paul's brain only! Why could I hear these things, these terrible, ominous words? Paul DIDN'T love me. Love generally tends to involve, you know, not throwing the object of your affections at a murderous demon and all?! AM I RIGHT?
Addicted.
He's addicted.
. . . I'm addicted . . .
Addicted . . . addicted . . . addicted, addicted, addicted, addicted, ADDICTED -
'STOP IT!' I screamed thunderously, as the roar of voices reached a chaotic harmony in my head. It stopped like the vocal chords had been cut with a knife. I was panting on the floor. Oh my God . . . what was this? This power? What did Paul do to me?!
'What's the matter with – ' he began roughly, but I jerked away, wincing. 'Don't!' I shrilled, 'Don't touch me! Just get away! Stop saying these things! They're not TRUE!'
'I'm not saying anything, you idiot,' he snapped.
. . . Addicted . . .
I clutched at my head, trying not to scream. Oh my GOD, my brain was going to have a nuclear meltdown! I felt like I was having an epileptic fit or something. I was shaking, and trying not to listen –
. . . I'm addicted to Suze . . .
'JESSE!' I shrieked stridently, piercing the voice that was echoing in my ears mercilessly.
And with a terrified shimmer, Jesse materialized behind Paul.
That's when hell broke loose.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
How bad was it? Very bad? Mildly bad? Excruciating?
Let me know –
Love,
A very tired Lolly.