JENNIE
Lisa's last words—A mere taste of control—were still ringing in my ears by the time she finally returned. "For now, the sheet will do," she said from the doorway. "Come."
Reluctantly, I crept after her, wrapped tight within my sheet and increasingly aware of just how little space separated us.
Only a few lamps were lit throughout the rest of her lair, casting small pools of orange light. As we passed the entryway, a glance out of the windows revealed that the sky was still an inky shade of black. It could have been late at night or just very early in the morning. Lisa turned down another hallway before I had the chance to ask. When she eventually came to a stop before an open doorway, I peeked inside and felt my heart sink to my toes.
"What … What is this?"
The room beyond was large with marble floors and gleaming fixtures: a bathroom. I vaguely recognized it as the same one where Jisoo had helped me dress for the masquerade ball. But now—with words like 'control' and 'corruption' floating around—the huge, claw-foot bathtub seemed to take on a more sinister purpose.
I shivered at a sudden image of Lisa using it as a giant goblet while she 'exacted' as much blood from me as I had taken from her as 'payment.'
"Don't be so dramatic," she scoffed as if reading my mind. "You are covered in blood. Stale, dried blood …"
Oh. From the way she sniffed, I figured the smell was about as appealing to her as rotting food was to me.
Obediently, I shuffled toward the sink and caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. Sure enough, streaks of scarlet painted my cheeks. My hands …
On top of it all was a strange taste in my mouth that I hadn't noticed until then: salty, metallic, rich.
Trembling, I turned the faucet on full blast and viciously scrubbed at my hands. A burst of cold air tickled my flesh, and I glanced up to find Lisa standing at my shoulder, as silent as a shadow. In one hand she held a white cloth, which she quietly damped beneath the faucet.
Our gazes met in the mirror for a second—long enough to send a chill lancing through my body. Then, without asking for an invitation, she dragged the damp cloth along what little of my throat wasn't shrouded by my blanket. Nerves prickled to life as cool water sank through the sheet, gluing it to my skin. When she tried to move lower, my traitorous body reacted, tightening …heating ...
"Let go," she said, eyes on the way my fingers clutched at the sheet.
When I didn't budge, she snagged a corner and tugged—but I held on even tighter. I knew that resisting her was like giving a dog a bone, but I couldn't fight the instinctive urge that had me digging my nails in regardless. This was different. This time, there was no bed or chains or threat of fangs. Just silence, and running water, and her hands separated from my body by a thin piece of cloth.
"Let go, Jennie."
Something in her tone made my fingers finally loosen their grip. Silently, the sheet drifted down to the floor, and the wet cloth continued to travel unhindered, guided by ice-cold fingers …down around my shoulders, my arms. When finished, she stood back without granting me permission to cover myself, and I could practically feel those silver eyes raking over my body from head to toe.
The scrutiny was more unbearable than any physical touch. Seconds passed. The water was still running and the sound of my racing heartbeat had grown into a deafening hum.
Then …
"You can leave."
"What?" I turned to face her, too shocked to care that my thin little covering was still pooled at my feet.
"I'll even have my car brought around so that you don't have to risk killing yourself behind the wheel of that Rolls Royce," Lisa added. "Something tells me that driving lessons weren't a main priority at that boarding school of yours."
I shrugged, too ashamed to even take offense. It was a wonder I hadn't killed myself by crashing into a telephone pole.
"At least I got here in one piece—"
"You parked in a fire zone," she countered.
"Well, it was an emergency after all." I smirked, oddly proud of my joke, but rather than respond with more cutting banter, Lisa's expression hardened.
"Do you ever think through the consequences of your actions?"
I flinched at her tone. It was lethally soft, dangerous. "I …"
"Or better yet," she continued, cutting over me, "do you have any idea that coming to me was the worst mistake that you could have made?"
The cold, menacing edge to her voice made me shudder. she wasn't joking, or teasing, or trying to scare me just for the hell of it.
She was serious.
"Why?"
"There are rules," she said tightly, nothing else.
"Should I have gone to the hospital?" I managed to choke out.
Some dark emotion raced through those silver eyes, disappearing before I could name it.
"No." Without elaborating on why, she crossed over to me and picked up my sheet from the floor. I stood still as she draped the fabric over my shoulders, drawing it closed over my front. Then she turned and headed for the doorway, once again leaving me to catch up.
This time, she simply headed into the next room; a plain one adorned with only a black leather chaise and a large, imposing window that overlooked the back of the church where the moon hovered in the sky, lonely and pale.
"Sit," Lisa told me as she moved to stand before the window.
As still as a statue, she stared out into the night. When she turned back to face me, she looked the same—but something wasn't right.
For the first time I noticed the little nuances in her posture that I had missed before. How her shoulders were set in a firm, stony line, the way her jaw had been clenched, the faint, ominous tilt to her mouth. All of it added up to one startling conclusion; she was angry—perhaps angrier than I had ever seen her.
Only I had no idea why.
"There is a reason why I've never had you drink from the vein," she began, "did you assume that the injections were merely out of convenience?"
To be honest, I had never questioned it. Only now did I realize that, up until two nights ago, I had never actually tasted her blood. Never before had I noticed the liquid in those vials.
"Why not?" I rasped, though I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know the answer.
"The substance running through your veins merely sustains life. My blood is life." As she spoke, her eyes bore into my own, daring me to look away, flinch. "Plenty of mortals would kill for the chance to consume even a drop."
"So I keep hearing …"
"So you keep hearing," Lisa repeated In the blink of an eye she was closer. I had to crane my neck just to maintain eye contact. "And yet, you still don't seem to understand. If you had any idea of what I've given you—"
She broke off, but I got the sense that I had witnessed another tiny crack in her façade; she had said too much.
"How long do you think that we've been doing this, Jennie?" she asked, abruptly changing the topic. "My kind, dolling out blood to humans desperate to stay alive for even a second longer?"
I swallowed. Not for the first time I wondered just how many contracts she really owned. Hundreds? Thousands?
"I don't know—"
"Take a guess."
"A hundred years?" It sounded like a decent amount of time to me, but Lisa merely laughed.
"Longer than your country has existed," she declared, fangs flashing. "Longer, even, than your ancestors have lived on this land. Try again."
"Three hundred—"
"Five hundred. I've been gathering contracts for nearly five hundred years." she almost sounded monotone. "I couldn't tell you how many souls pledged their lives away for a single drop of the substance that you, yourself, seemed to so thoroughly enjoy."
I hated myself for the fact that my mouth watered at the mere mention of her blood. The taste of her was like some hazy fantasy too fantastical to have been real. Before I could help it, a single thought raced through my mind. I want more …
"This country was built on the blood of my kind," she added, snapping me from the longing. "Don't tell me that you really believed an army of farmers and aristocrats alone could have beaten what once was the most powerful empire in the world?"
"I don't remember the history books mentioning anything about George Washington consuming vampire blood in between battles," I replied, but my mind was reeling. Colonial vampires? Ancient contracts?
"They wouldn't, would they?" she took a step closer and I could feel her chill in my bones. "Old George wouldn't want anyone to know the real price for his 'independence.' Though, he wasn't one of my contracts specifically." She sounded so casual. It was as if we were merely discussing what she'd eaten for lunch rather than the fate of one of the most important men in American history. "He was given the same choice that you were—that every unfortunate soul to cross our path is given."
"B-But he died," I said. "If your cure is so wonderful, why didn't it last?"
Lisa didn't speak for the longest time. It felt as though the temperature in the room had descended into negative temperatures by the time she finally gave me an answer.
"Because mortals have the luxury of changing their minds …" She spoke so softly that I barely heard her. "When he realized the true price of immortality, even someone as grandiose as George Washington understood that more time wasn't worth the stain on your soul."
I remembered reading something about his death years ago in school. "He died after catching a cold."
But, no …
On second thought there was more to it. In a trembling whisper I forced myself to say it. "He died from being bled by his physicians." Considering that a vampire stood before me, that morbid little fact seemed too chilling to be mere coincidence. "But bloodletting was a common practice of the time," I stammered, trying to rationalize it, regardless. "Normal."
"Oh?" Lisa merely raised an eyebrow. "Old George stopped drinking the blood—but even that alone does not negate its effects entirely. So he tried to drain the 'tainted' blood from his body. The preceding illness was merely an invented detail to pacify historians. Really, Jennie. How common do you think it was to live to the age of sixty seven in the eighteenth century?"
George Washington had consumed vampire blood. A part of me wanted to accuse him of lying, but …
I couldn't help but wonder, with a frown, just how many of our admired historical figures might have tried to cheat death by signing a contract. Even more chilling; what exactly had they done in order to fulfill them?
"What was George Washington's price?"
I expected for Lisa to cross her arms and refuse to tell me, citing some mysterious vampire code. In fact, a part of me almost wished that she would.
Instead, she surprised me with a direct answer.
"For him, merely to continue forging ahead with his rebellion."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "The old world with its entrenched religion and filth had grown …unappealing. We wished for somewhere new to roam."
Apparently when vampires got bored, they decided to form new countries. Good to know.
"Why did he change his mind?" I found myself asking, incredulously. "You gave him everything. He was the father of an entire nation. What made him—"
"The price," Lisa snapped. "You mortals, so compliant in your history, never thinking through the lasting implications of the decisions you make until it's too late. Use that brain of yours, Jennie. Why would a vampire take interest in a new country? An untamed land teeming with virtually ungoverned mortals ripe for …"
All at once, the answer hit me like a physical blow. "Feeding." Just saying the word out loud made me sick—but I knew even before I saw Lisa's grim expression that it was the truth. Without even trying, I had hit the nail right on its proverbial head. "George Washington allowed you to feed on colonists."
She nodded again.
"But wouldn't people …notice?" I could barely get the words out. This was a version of history not mentioned in any history book I could recall.
"There is a reason that slavery was implemented into the foundation of this country," Lisa said, arousing all kinds of dark suspicions that I could never bring myself to consider on my own. "The founding fathers believed that it would serve as an enticing buffer to protect the 'higher' members of society."
Suddenly not even my flimsy sheet seemed like a good enough buffer against the cold, hard truth, though I wrapped it tighter around myself regardless.
"Eventually Washington decided that he couldn't live with his choice," Lisa added.
I wasn't sure if I could either. I wished more than anything that the smiling figure on the dollar bill could have remained as such. Some things just weren't worth knowing.
"That's a rather grim outlook," I said haltingly. "I guess I should be relieved that all you seemed to have wanted from me was the use of my name—"
"No." That simple word shattered everything like a piano note played out of tune. "Things have changed, Jennie. Should I tell you what it is that I desire from you now?"
My breath caught on that dangerous word. Desire.
"N-Nothing?"
"Perhaps 'desire' isn't the right word," she continued as if I'd never spoken. "Crave. Should I tell you what it is that I crave from you, Jennie Kim?"
Suddenly she was in front of me. Icy fingers brushed my shoulder before skimming the cropped length of my hair, where she seized a curl and twisted it around her thumb.
"Fear," she said simply before I had the chance to respond. "I want to know what terrifies you, and when I win our wager, you will tell me."
"W-Wager?"
"Do try to keep up, Jennie," she scolded with a firm tug on my hair. "You owe me. Remember?"
"But it's obvious." I gulped. "You terrify me."
"No." her voice was flat, annoyed. "No, I do not. You may tell yourself that, but deep down … I merely amuse you." Her words echoed in my ears, even as she let me go and turned away.
She amused me? It was the same accusation she had made that night at the ball. A part of me flinched from the memory and I grasped for a change of subject.
"What do you mean by wager?" I wasn't sure that I truly wanted to know the answer; a sinister voice inside my head was whispering tons of possible suggestions.
"What do you think?" Deliberately—as if making sure that I couldn't help but notice—she reached into her pocket and withdrew something slender and black, like string.
A solid minute passed before I realized what it was; a length of black ribbon, only in her hand it might as well have been a metal chain.
"You claimed to be corrupted, but do you even know what true corruption is?" she wound the ribbon slowly between her fingers. "It's total submission. No questions. No resistance. You relinquish everything in exchange for nothing more than …an escape."
"But I've already given you everything—"
"No you haven't." Every word was as cold and hard as her expression. "Not everything."
I didn't know what was more confusing, the thought that I hadn't already given her my body, blood, and soul? Or that she still wanted more?
"What else is there?"
"It is simple." Her breath ghosted my shoulder. I hadn't even seen her move, but now she stood behind me. The moon taunted me through the window glass as she reached over my shoulder and threaded an end of the ribbon over the delicate bones of my wrist, as innocently as a makeshift bracelet.
Or a shackle.
Or a shackle.
"Control, Jennie," she said finally, lips brushing my earlobe. "I want you …to lose control."
My mind was spinning. Every molecule of air in my chest congealed as I watched ebony silk rasp over my skin. Once. Twice. Again.
"Deny me nothing."
She seized my other hand and looped a length of ribbon around it. Then she pulled, ensnaring both wrists together as effectively as those handcuffs had all those days ago.
"Give in to me."
A considerable length of spare ribbon had pooled in my lap. Another hand reached down to trap it between a pale thumb and forefinger. she yanked and the ribbon was torn in two, with the second half dangling between her fingertips.
"Surrender yourself completely; all of you …"
She released my bound hands, and held the second ribbon taut before my eyes—perhaps so that I could guess what she was going to do next. I could only stare, oddly entranced as, in the space of a heartbeat, my eyes were covered, icy fingers brushing my ears as she tied the ends of the ribbon tight.
"Then," she breathed, "you will have given me everything."
And just like that I was at her mercy.
"Can you hear me, Jennie?"
I nodded.
I could hear her all right, though I almost preferred to have heard my mother instead. Jennie Kim, you get out of there this instant! She's dangerous.
The only sound above the frantic hammering of my pulse was her voice.
Nothing else.
"Good."
I jumped as a tendril of ice brushed the nape of my neck. Her thumb? she traced the line of my shoulder before drifting down to graze my spine with a frigid nail.
"Stand up."
I lurched obediently to my feet. It was disorienting trying to maintain my balance while blind and bound. I swayed, fearful that I might trip over my own two feet.
"Why did you cover my eyes?"
Bad Jennie! I knew that I was breaking her little rules by not playing along. To my shock, she sounded eerily calm when she spoke again.
"Maybe I simply like seeing you this way."
Hog tied and helpless? Strangely, I wouldn't have been surprised if that were the case.
"Why?"
"I think I should have covered your mouth as well as your eyes." Her tone remained level, but a stern warning laced every word. Do not question, Jennie. Just obey. Be a good damsel now and allow me to play my devious little mind games unchallenged.
"Do you think that darkness scares me?"
"Does it?" she sounded even closer. I could imagine her standing over my shoulder, relishing my unease.
"I thought we already established that you scare me."
A burst of cool air was my only warning before two cold hands caught my waist, yanking me backwards. Gone was the detached, clinical care she'd used to clean me up. This was different.
Her nails grazed my flesh, scraped.
"Do I really?"
"Yes …"
"Then you, Jennie Kim, have never been truly afraid. True terror," she added, cold breath fanning against my shoulder, "is nothing like the games we play."
My heart sputtered as she let me go. There was a horrible second of anticipation before I finally felt her fingers encircle my throat, leaving just enough space to allow me to breathe.
"Your heart is racing," she acknowledged. "But is your pulse surging so violently that you can almost taste your own blood, right there on the tip of your tongue?"
I wanted to run, just shove away from her, turn on my heel and bolt from the room. I could have. My hands were bound, but not so tightly that one good yank wouldn't be enough to break free. In fact …
I had a sinking suspicion that was exactly what she wanted me to do.
"I'm not hearing an answer, Jennie," she taunted when I didn't respond.
"If being asked a million questions is what it means to be corrupted then I'd rather not, thank you."
I'd barely finished speaking before she leaned closer. The only warning was a creeping, icy sensation over my flesh—but I could almost hear the slide of her fangs descending from beneath her upper lip, ready to pierce, to tear.
"Corruption is pain," she explained while cresting my hip with the tip of a nail. "It's relishing in it, savoring the violence. It is feeling your own defenses shatter and knowing that you are helpless against the onslaught. Even worse, while deep down you know that you should run from the pain, fear it even, instead …you crave it."
I could only tremble, hands held out awkwardly as her heavy footsteps circled where I stood. My teeth chattered—but why did I feel a suffocating wave of heat that only intensified the lower her finger drifted? After tracing a path down to my navel she pulled away.
"Shall I continue your education on corruption and fear? Let's start with a simple question to gauge how well you've been paying attention: Why do you seem to throw yourself into danger at every single turn?"
I frowned. "I don't—"
"Careful now, Jennie ..."
The pad of her finger slowly crept back up my torso, skirting the globe of one breast, before tracing the curve of my rib cage. I hated myself for the heat that flared to life despite her glacial chill—only her tone kept me from just giving in to the urge to arch into her hand and damn shame to hell.
"Do not lie," she warned. "Even when mortally wounded, you came to me. Me." She made it sound synonymous with 'gouged out your own eyes.' "Why?"
"There … There was no one else."
"You could have gone anywhere," she countered.
I supposed I could have. Just like I could have stood on a street corner and loudly proclaimed the fact that I was dying and consorted with vampires.
"You and your silly rules made it so that I could only come to you," I explained once I found my voice again. "After all, do you know anyone else with magic blood?"
"Is that the only reason you came to me?" her tone had me frowning before I could help it. Gone was the mocking bravado of the Devil I knew.
Left behind was a cold, eerie curiosity that made me shiver.
I had a horrible suspicion that George Washington's secrets wouldn't be the only thing exposed tonight. A storm was brewing and I felt trapped in the midst of the oncoming destruction.
"Why else would I come to you?" I wondered, just as confused as she seemed to be.
She didn't answer. I could sense her there, lurking just beyond reach as if waiting for me to put the pieces of some puzzle together on my own.
Tick, tock Jennie. Time's running out.
"It's not as if I come over regularly for titillating conversation," I added, only the words fell flat.
These past few days I had spent more time around her than I had anyone else. Two weeks of near constant contact surpassed the scattered handfuls of time I'd spent with my parents over a lifetime.
How utterly pathetic did that make me?
"I don't …enjoy being around you," I insisted stubbornly, mainly for my own benefit.
What sane woman would go out of her way to spend time with someone who brutalized and teased her and had an unhealthy propensity for drinking her blood?
But when have you ever been 'sane,' Jennie Kim? A part of me whispered.
"I don't …"
"I gave you every chance to walk away." Her tone was scathing. "And yet here you are, ready for more. I think a change of course in this discussion is in order. I know. Let's start with Somi."
My entire body stiffened at the mention of her as I wondered if she had told her of our little wager.
"Tell me, Jennie, what do you think is the reason behind her contract?"
I blinked. "I don't. I …"
"What do you think a woman such as Somi would desire? Eternal youth or beauty? Power?" her tone had changed. No longer was it teasing, but as sharp as a freshly honed blade. Cutting. "Come now, Jennie. I'm sure you've had your suspicions."
"I don't know."
Somi might have been cruel, but I doubted that even she would have sold her soul for such superficial reasons. As if to echo that suspicion, her words chose that minute to creep beneath my skin. 'Nothing is sacred to them. There is no part of your life they wouldn't hesitate to destroy if only to meet their end goal. You would do best to remember that. To her, you are a pawn, nothing more.'
"Love," Lisa said suddenly. "There is no limit to what a person would do for love. Would you like to hear the tale of how I used her emotions against her, Jennie?"
Her voice took on a sadistic edge that churned my stomach, and I imagined that her eyes were a cold, distant shade of silver. I felt like a child on the playground, having a bully stick a worm in her face, just to hear her scream.
"No," I croaked.
She forged ahead as if I'd never spoken. "Being a succubus, Somi would have proven an invaluable asset. They are rare to come by, you know…Raphael suspected that her 'talents' would be useful to us, and I was sent to secure her services with little more fanfare than when we obtained George Washington's soul—but she was different back then, Somi. She claimed to be a good, 'God-fearing' woman despite selling her body for money on the filth-ridden streets of London. She knew of my kind, and yet she refused to forsake her soul ...not for any price. Unfortunately for her, I am not one to take 'no' for an answer."
Her tone dripped derision and scorn but it was almost too much; an actor playing the role of the villain in an over-the-top play.
"You have declared me to be a monster on several occasions and yet here you are, at my mercy. To you, I must seem no more menacing than someone like Mikhail, but if you only knew the real monster that dwells deep within ...What Mikhail does with his toys now is nothing compared to what I oversaw when I controlled the Den. Somi would know better than most just what I am capable of …"
I didn't want to hear anymore. The picture she painted was of someone recklessly desperate to tell the world I am the Devil bound for hell, hear me roar, just like that unscrambled message in her name proclaimed.
I wanted to beg her to stop now—surrender for once—but I couldn't deny the part of me that needed to know.
"W-What did you do?"
She allowed the question to linger for merely a second.
"I made her an offer she couldn't refuse. I knew a man who, with the prompting of a few coins, sought her out under the guise of purchasing her usual 'wares.' Unbeknownst to her, he also possessed an illness which, in that time, was all but a death sentence."
My heart sped up with every word. I had a horrible, sinking suspicion that whatever she was about to say was something that I would never be able to erase from my mind.
"This man went to Somi, but she turned him away. However, he decided to slake his lust with someone else—it was a whore house after all. How was he supposed to have known they wouldn't all be willing …"
She trailed off, and somehow the chilling anticipation of where this tale would lead was even worse than the story itself.
"What happened?" I rasped. Every bone in my body was tense with dread. I couldn't escape the mental image of a pre-contract Somi, desperately trying to keep her soul from the Devil's clutches.
Lisa seemed to hesitate, and for the first time her words came slowly, labored, reluctant. I could almost picture her wincing with every uttered syllable.
"Somi had a child that she kept hidden away in her chambers ... The girl was fifteen."
Horror washed over me like a bucket of ice-water being dumped over my head. I couldn't breathe. Think. she couldn't be implying that …
"In the end, I still received my contract, and that is all that mattered to me, Jennie. It's all that still matters—"
"You're lying."
I had no idea where the protest came from, but my heart was pounding with a sense of disgust I had never felt.
"Oh really?" Lisa countered. "Do tell; did I forget to include enough details to frighten even you? I'm sure she screamed—"
"Stop it!"
I felt sick to my stomach, but I couldn't decide if it was her actual words that sparked such a reaction or just the way she said them; cold, callous. As if that girl, or me or nothing mattered, but once again, she seemed too careless, too harsh.
"This is who I am, Jennie," she insisted with all the intensity of a lion's roar. "I am the Devil, remember?"
"The Devil doesn't brag," I retorted. "He doesn't feel the need to run around stating 'I am the Devil' over and over again. Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself …"
Even my slap didn't earn the same reaction from her. The world went dead silent. With my vision obscured by the ribbon it was almost too easy to imagine for a moment that I was dead: Lisa Manoban had killed me quicker than it took for me to blink.
Then …
"I wouldn't have to repeat it," she began in a voice quieter than a whisper, "If only you would see it."
"What do you mean?"
I could sense her standing in front of me now, mere feet away.
"I walk into a room of vampires and it doesn't take much to have even their cold, undead hearts pumping with fear. A glance. A word. Such is the power of a fearsome reputation, Jennie." I briefly recalled the reactions of the vampires at that ball, and had no doubt she wasn't exaggerating. "But you … I look at you the same way and I can almost sense you yawning, un-amused, unimpressed. I can chain you, bite you, slice into your skin and yet you only come back for more."
"Well, aren't you the one who claimed that I like pain?"
The accusation was out before I could help it, and I wanted so badly to take it back. Fighting with her was like sticking my finger in an electrical socket just for kicks—I'd always wind up burned.
"I did." her tone warned me to shut up. Be a good little captive and cower—better yet, run away—but I couldn't. All of a sudden, I had an irrational urge to knock her off balance as badly as she seemed determined to unnerve me.
"Perhaps you're the one who likes being in pain?" I spat in her general direction. "Or maybe just feeling irritated? Why else would you keep me around?"
"Yes," she agreed. "Why else?"
The breath caught in my chest. If a voice alone could kill …
I would have been six feet under, in the family crypt, by now. Every instinct in my body warned me to pull back. Let her take control again.
The walls she'd crafted between us were falling, shattering into pieces and the carnage would swallow me whole.
Shut up, Jennie. Shut up—
"Because," I went on stupidly, "despite all of your bravado you can't control me."
It was such a silly thing to say—especially considering that I was pretty much at her mercy now—but when she didn't laugh or scoff in response my stomach dropped right through the soles of my feet.
"Do continue," she said instead. I swore that I could hear the swish of her fangs, piercing the air as she spoke. "This is quite enlightening."
"You want to, but …"
"But what?"
Suddenly, she was too close. her body jarred mine, knocking me off balance until I was forced to take a step backwards or fall.
"Go on," she goaded.
"I don't know—"
"I could kill you, Jennie Kim." she might as well have casually stated what day it was. "It would be easy. Don't think I haven't considered it before."
But I had. Countless times, and that was the terrifying part.
"Then do it." I barely recognized the sound of my own voice. "Kill me. Hurt me. After all, agony is what I crave, right? If you truly are the devil you claim, then it should be as easy as taking candy from a—"
"Shut up."
My jaw snapped closed. Her tone was too soft; I had pushed her too far.
"So now you want pain, Jennie?" she questioned. "That can be arranged."
There was a sharp hiss, almost like the sound of metal scraping metal. A second later, the icy touch was back. Only it was a second before I realized that the point grazing my skin was way too sharp to have been a fingernail.
"Shall we forge a new wager?"
The point gently scraped along my flesh, teasing. I could picture the culprit; a weapon with a black hilt dominated by a roaring dragon, probably held expertly between two fingers—the same knife she'd used to draw her own blood. Unease crept down my spine as the blade tickled a path along the exposed skin of my hip.
Pull back, Jennie, a voice in my head urged. You've gone too far, way too far …
As if echoing the thought, Lisa wondered out loud, "How far will the innocent mortal push the vampire?"
She waited and the seconds ticked by like eons. Fear surged through my veins. Logic warned me to give in, that the creature standing before me was dangerous. I didn't recognize this Lisa. And yet, a part of me was more afraid to walk away.
"It seems that you aren't so foolish after all," Lisa remarked after nearly five minutes had passed. Before I had the chance to respond, she applied just enough pressure on the blade to sting, making me lurch on the balls of my feet. "Now display an ounce of common sense for once and beg me to stop."
I could only grit my teeth as the knife returned, cutting deep to form a short line and then another, nearly parallel to the first.
"When will you learn?" Lisa wondered coldly. "Not everything is a game."
Only she was wrong. This was a game, one of hers, and I knew that the moment I pulled away—cried out—would be automatic surrender …and I refused to let her win, no matter the detriment to my own soul.
Another fierce jab sent agony shooting down my spine, and I couldn't smother the groan that broke free. Warm, wet drops of liquid dribbled down my thigh, chased by her next words. "You claim to fear me? Well I can give you plenty to fear ..."
She sliced two more lines in quick succession, nearly superficial but deep enough to sting, bleed. I struggled to keep breathing, gulping at air.
"Tell me to stop, Jennie. I need you to say it."
My silence earned me three more nicks, one right after the other.
God, it hurt. Involuntary tears sprang from my eyes, sinking into the black silk before they could fall.
It was nearly a full minute before the sharp tip of the knife returned, quivering against another strip of untouched skin—and it was only then that I realized every single mark had been deliberate. S was carving something into my skin. Letters.
My mind worked to assemble every aching slash as if it was some bizarre, twisted word scramble. The first four had been close together, connected. An M?
The second had been a single, solid upright line. An L? Or maybe an I?
The last four were trickier. Three of them felt connected, but the last line was farther away. An N.
I struggled to piece the letters together as Lisa's voice entered my ear, hitching over three, final words. "Tell me to stop."
Before I could even speak, she sliced three more lines, completing four letters that felt as though they had been carved into my soul rather than my skin.
Mine.
Seconds passed in near silence as my own blood steadily dripped. The only other sound was a sharp, metallic clink of something falling to the floor. Whatever it was, it brushed my toe as it slid past and I shied back, feeling my heart pulse in my throat.
Run. The urge was too strong to ignore this time.
"Untie me." Trembling, I jerked my bound hands in her direction. "Now!"
She caught my wrists. One sharp tug and the ribbon came undone. Fingers shaking, I reached up and tore off the blindfold myself.
I didn't want to look at her—I wouldn't—but with a traitorous impulse my eyes drifted over in her direction anyway.
She stood barely three feet away, as perfect and impeccable as always—except, there was something in her eyes that had never been so clear before now. Fear.
Blood dripped from her fingers and they twitched as if it took every ounce of control she had just to keep from bringing her hand to her mouth.
"Jennie—"
"Let me go." She hadn't even tried to touch me, but as if my words were her cue she reached for my arm.
My entire side throbbed with the pain of twelve little cuts as I jerked back out of reach. Mine. Mine. MINE! They screamed possession with each torturous ache, and I scanned the shadows, desperate for a way out.
"Jennie—"
Her hand cinched my forearm before I'd even taken a step towards the doorway. I tore away from her, lunging for the opposite side of the room. My heel caught a warm, wet patch of blood and the next second I was barreling toward the window. In terrifying slow motion I approached the sheet of glass and I knew with a horrible sense of certainty that I would hit it, and go through.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting to feel the pain of a million shards of glass skewering my skin. Instead …
I only felt ice as something cinched my waist, yanking me backwards into a solid surface.
Fear held me immobile as everything slowly lurched back into motion. My heart started to beat again. I could breathe. Finally, I gathered the nerve to open my eyes—but the sight of a pale arm wrapped tight around me was more frightening than the prospect of plunging twelve stories.
"Are you hurt?"
I couldn't speak.
No … Yes …
A million conflicting answers to her question darted around my mind.
"I don't know," I said finally, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. "But you should be thrilled, you've won your wager. Then again, the Devil never really loses, does he?" I added before she could pull away. Lose control, she'd told me. An impossible request, considering that I had never had it. "Should I give you my answer now?"
She moved slowly, withdrawing just enough for me to crane my neck back and see her face. Her eyes were dark, guarded, but I could easily see through the tiny cracks in the mask she had tried so desperately to hide behind.
Perhaps I had been as well.
Something was draining from me almost as quickly as my blood was—the truth. Those dangerous emotions I supposed I'd been trying to suppress ever since the first day she strolled into my bedroom and disrupted my neat, perfect life with blood and contracts.
I was so used to having people leave me once they had taken what they wanted—but she was always there and I still had no clue what she sought to gain.
"You scare me," I admitted, nearly choking on the words, "but not because you're the Devil. If you really want the truth… I just don't know how I should feel around you."
No matter how hard I tried—no matter how every bone in my body warned me to—I couldn't be afraid of her, even with my blood on her hands. Her nearness made me feel dizzy, and off balance, and insane, because I felt no awkward need to pretend the same way I had to around anyone else.
And that was the pathetic part; I felt more comfortable within my own skin around a person inclined to carve into it, than I ever had.
"I know I should be afraid of you … Deep down, I probably am. But …"
"What?" her voice sounded deeper than ever before.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I just can't make myself believe I should be afraid ..."
It was such an insane concept that I wanted more than anything for her to push me away—through the window maybe? Or laugh. Scoff.
Anything.
She just stood there for the longest time, face unreadable, eyes so dark they nearly touched on black. For once there was no harsh taunt designed to throw my own flaws back in my face. As crazy as it seemed, I had caught her off guard.
No, Jennie! Stop! My mother's voice screamed through my head. But it wasn't enough to overtake the compulsion that darted down my spine. I was sick of being controlled, sick of pretending.
'I want the real Jennie Kim,' she had told me once. Well, here she was in all of her insane, complicated glory.
It seemed to take years before I gathered the nerve to reach up, trailing my fingertips along her jaw. She felt cool to the touch and hard like stone—but when my thumb accidentally brushed the corner of her mouth she jerked.
I expected her to push me away. Not …lean closer, icy breath ghosting my cheek. Her eyes were a glazed, confused shade of silver, so bright that I could almost see my reflection in them: enormous green eyes and frizzy brown hair.
I shifted against her, rising up on the tip of my toes as her hands slid down to the small of my back in response. Her grip was stiff. It felt like being in the embrace of a statue, and yet …
I was on fire.
The heat surged through my body, racing from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Pulsing ...urging me on, daring me to let go.
Go Back, Jennie, this is insanity, a frantic voice inside of me whispered as my hands firmly cupped her jaw. Only, I knew that there would be no going back, not if I followed through with the impulse that had me lurching forward on the balls of my feet, because I had no doubt in my mind that Lisa Manoban would throw me from this window.
Regardless, I couldn't bring myself to stop until my lips finally met hers.