always been your problem,’ he says as he unlocks the driver’s door. ‘The old man is the same.’
I open the van door. As I do, something flickers at the edge of my peripheral vision. I glance up and freeze. Not doubled over laughing then. X is leaving his shiny building with the swagger of someone who knows he’s at the top of the food chain. I hiss and his head snaps towards me. He stops moving abruptly.
‘Get in the van, Devlin,’ I say quietly.
‘Believe me, that’s what I’m…’ his voice falters. ‘Oh.’
X lifts one hand and crooks his little finger, beckoning me to join him. The urge to leap into the van with O’Shea gunning the engine is almost overwhelming. For what seems like an eternity but is probably less than a few seconds, my feet are rooted to the spot.
O’Shea urges me inside. ‘Bo!’
I tilt my chin. X is getting what he wants: I’m going to leave my damn city for him. I fold my arms and glare. He smiles lazily in return and drops his glamour. At once his dark tattoos are visible, writhing across his skin in perpetual motion. He beckons me forward once more.
‘Bo, we can still get away,’ O’Shea says.
I shake my head. ‘No. He could run us down if he wanted.’ As I watch, X’s smile broadens. ‘He’s not going to do anything here.’
‘You don’t know that!’
‘Yeah,’ I say softly, ‘I do. It wouldn’t be … gentlemanly.’
In response, X sweeps a perfectly executed bow. Ignoring the tension in my spine, I mutter, ‘Keep the engine running.’ Then, as if I don’t have a care in the world, I stroll across to meet the creature who destroyed my life.
‘Bo,’ X drawls, once I’m close enough. ‘How utterly wonderful to see you again. Although I have to say, you’re looking a little worse for wear.’ He frowns. ‘You should get more sleep.’
‘Say what you have to say, X,’ I tell him. ‘You know we’re leaving.’ An image of his lady friend flashes into my mind. So I’m intimidated. That’s what they both wanted.
X takes the smallest step backward. His tattoos, which are starting to make me feel nauseous with all their twisting and turning, vanish into his skin as his face melds back into a human façade. ‘You should leave,’ he agrees, his mellifluous voice flowing over me like a caress. A caress from a genocidal dictator, that is. ‘The city of London is no longer the place for one of your kind.’
Despite my fear, my anger sparks to the surface. ‘One of my kind?’ I spit. ‘Whose fault is it that I have to my leave my bloody home? You prick. You vicious, soul-sucking cock. You…’
He holds up a palm. ‘I get the message,’ he says calmly. He raises an eyebrow. That must be the signature move of every damn Kakos daemon. ‘You’re very angry, Bo.’
He has got to be kidding me.
‘You should be happy,’ he continues. ‘I saved the love of your life. I wouldn’t have done that for just anyone, you know.’ He reaches out and draws the tip of his index finger down my cheek. I can’t stop myself from recoiling. ‘You’re special.’
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps. I conjure up my daydream from earlier – the one where I’m holding a bazooka to his head while he begs me for forgiveness that we both know will never come. ‘Read my mind, X,’ I snarl. ‘If there is ever a chance, even the slightest chance, that I can destroy you, then I will do it.’
‘Vendettas aren’t helpful but you vampires do seem to like them.’ He examines me with vague detachment, as if he’s a scientist peering through a microscope. ‘That’s why you’re so easy to manipulate.’ He laughs although there’s no humour in his eyes. ‘Don’t feel bad about it. It wasn’t your fault. And,’ he adds, ‘it wasn’t mine. We all have to dance to our own pipers.’ He shrugs as if it’s nothing to get worked up about.
I can’t help myself. I know it’s stupid and I know it’s suicidal but I no longer care. I fling myself
I open the van door. As I do, something flickers at the edge of my peripheral vision. I glance up and freeze. Not doubled over laughing then. X is leaving his shiny building with the swagger of someone who knows he’s at the top of the food chain. I hiss and his head snaps towards me. He stops moving abruptly.
‘Get in the van, Devlin,’ I say quietly.
‘Believe me, that’s what I’m…’ his voice falters. ‘Oh.’
X lifts one hand and crooks his little finger, beckoning me to join him. The urge to leap into the van with O’Shea gunning the engine is almost overwhelming. For what seems like an eternity but is probably less than a few seconds, my feet are rooted to the spot.
O’Shea urges me inside. ‘Bo!’
I tilt my chin. X is getting what he wants: I’m going to leave my damn city for him. I fold my arms and glare. He smiles lazily in return and drops his glamour. At once his dark tattoos are visible, writhing across his skin in perpetual motion. He beckons me forward once more.
‘Bo, we can still get away,’ O’Shea says.
I shake my head. ‘No. He could run us down if he wanted.’ As I watch, X’s smile broadens. ‘He’s not going to do anything here.’
‘You don’t know that!’
‘Yeah,’ I say softly, ‘I do. It wouldn’t be … gentlemanly.’
In response, X sweeps a perfectly executed bow. Ignoring the tension in my spine, I mutter, ‘Keep the engine running.’ Then, as if I don’t have a care in the world, I stroll across to meet the creature who destroyed my life.
‘Bo,’ X drawls, once I’m close enough. ‘How utterly wonderful to see you again. Although I have to say, you’re looking a little worse for wear.’ He frowns. ‘You should get more sleep.’
‘Say what you have to say, X,’ I tell him. ‘You know we’re leaving.’ An image of his lady friend flashes into my mind. So I’m intimidated. That’s what they both wanted.
X takes the smallest step backward. His tattoos, which are starting to make me feel nauseous with all their twisting and turning, vanish into his skin as his face melds back into a human façade. ‘You should leave,’ he agrees, his mellifluous voice flowing over me like a caress. A caress from a genocidal dictator, that is. ‘The city of London is no longer the place for one of your kind.’
Despite my fear, my anger sparks to the surface. ‘One of my kind?’ I spit. ‘Whose fault is it that I have to my leave my bloody home? You prick. You vicious, soul-sucking cock. You…’
He holds up a palm. ‘I get the message,’ he says calmly. He raises an eyebrow. That must be the signature move of every damn Kakos daemon. ‘You’re very angry, Bo.’
He has got to be kidding me.
‘You should be happy,’ he continues. ‘I saved the love of your life. I wouldn’t have done that for just anyone, you know.’ He reaches out and draws the tip of his index finger down my cheek. I can’t stop myself from recoiling. ‘You’re special.’
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps. I conjure up my daydream from earlier – the one where I’m holding a bazooka to his head while he begs me for forgiveness that we both know will never come. ‘Read my mind, X,’ I snarl. ‘If there is ever a chance, even the slightest chance, that I can destroy you, then I will do it.’
‘Vendettas aren’t helpful but you vampires do seem to like them.’ He examines me with vague detachment, as if he’s a scientist peering through a microscope. ‘That’s why you’re so easy to manipulate.’ He laughs although there’s no humour in his eyes. ‘Don’t feel bad about it. It wasn’t your fault. And,’ he adds, ‘it wasn’t mine. We all have to dance to our own pipers.’ He shrugs as if it’s nothing to get worked up about.
I can’t help myself. I know it’s stupid and I know it’s suicidal but I no longer care. I fling myself
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