Page 55 of Saint of the Shadows

With one of Vincent’s computer pads, she coordinated a ride two miles up the road from his estate. It would be a spot far enough away to not betray the estate’s perceived abandonment. She’d have to leave soon to meet her ride to allow enough time to reach the mile marker.

Before she left, she ripped a commlink off the wrist of one of his suits. If the Bloodsucker happened to sniff around her apartment, she’d make sure Vincent was a click away—for self-defense and nothing more. Maybe when life calmed down, the commlink would end up in a Lost and Found box next to an ex’s sweatshirt.

She took off, swinging her garbage bag of things by her side. She caught her reflection in the gleam of a window. Wearing her hood up in oversized clothes, she resembled a teenage version of Caz. She had to come up with a good story to keep her driver from speeding off and leaving her on the side of the road. But when the driver picked her up, he asked, “What is a kid doing out here at night?”

She replied, “Got a little lost. I had to find my own way back home.”

Interlude

YOU cAN’T sTOP bLEEDING aFTER sOMEONE aLREADY bLED oUT. i wATCH yOU hOLD sOMEONE’S nECK aFTER THE fUN i hAD. i bEt tHAT sTUPID mASK AND cRAZY oUTFIT mAKES yOU tHINK yOU cOULD rEVERSE bIOLOGY. BUT bLOOD cAN’T gO bACK IN oNCE sOMEONE’S dEAD. dON’T lOOK sO sHOCKED. THE wHOLE pILE OF tHEM wERE tWO-bIT gANGSTERS—bORIS bADANOV wANNABES. iF THE rOOM DoESN’T StINk OF bLOOD AND vISCERA, IT wOULD hAVE rEEKED OF bORSCHT AND vODKA. tHEY don’t wANT TO wORK FOR mE, sO i mADE sURE tHEY nO lONGER wORKED. cONSIDER mE dOING yOU A fAVOR. tHERE’S A wHOLE lOT fEWER tHUGS TO cAUSE THE cITY tROUBLE bECAUSE i rIPPED tHEM FROM lIMB TO lIMB. im tEMPTED TO sEE wHAT yOUR iNSIDES lOOK lIKE, tOO, BUT i sEe THE fLASH OF bLUE AND rED. i wOULDN’T wANT TO cAUSE aNOTHER sCENE, wOULD i? i’LL sEE yOU aGAIN, mASKED mAN. AND wHEN i dO? mAKE IT A cHALLENGE. pUT UP A fIGHT. kEEP IT eXCITING. wOULDN’T wANT TO sAY THE sPLENDOR iS gONE aLREADY, eSPECIALLY wHEN i hAVEN’T eVEN sTARTED yET.

19

Alternative Lifestyle

Back in her apartment, Marisol returned to normal life, which meant a straightforward shower and putting on her own damn clothes. Normal life also meant a charged phone. A charged phone after a few days of no service meant incessant beeping and rattling from messages, mostly Marisol’s mom, dad, and sister, Nicole.

A detective came by, Maria Soledad. He said you're at a safe house. Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros.Uh-oh, Mom used Marisol’s full name and called on the Mother of God and none of the members of the Trinity. She must be freaking out.

A notion confirmed by Dad’s curt,Return your ma’s call, Mare.

Nicole left,A guy claiming he was a cop called and asked if I knew where you were. All cops are bastards, so I told him nothing, but Mom and Dad said you got into something bad. Please be okay.

Marisol was due for a day-long session of telling her family vague stories about a safe house and an attack. That included a heap ofI’m sorryandIt’s not that badwhile leaving out the most thrilling details of murder and mayhem. In doing so, she couldn’t mention the 500-year-old super-powered billionaire caretaker who worked the third shift as a masked vigilante.

She made it to the last few messages. The phone asked to delete the voicemails left untouched for a few days in her storage cloud. She clicked them.

Hey, it’s Tobias. She internally screamed every expletive in existence. She had forgotten about Tobias. The message continued,Back home now. I’m toying with the bad idea of showing my badge to your landlord in the morning to make sure you’re okay. I assumed after that kiss you’d be the type to admit you’ve got cold feet and changed your mind. Or was this your idea of a crazy kink? Invite a man over and ghost? Anyway, best of luck to you. No hard feelings. Sure, he said no hard feelings that night. If he knew she invited him over in the middle of the night and sucked face with Vincent before the Bloodsucker shoved her down an elevator shaft, he’d label her the coldest, craziest bitch in the city.

And that label stung with the next message.Hey, it’s Tobias. I just want to talk to you. No funny stuff.

And the next message.Hey, it’s Tobias. I hope you’re not waiting chained up with a whip because a neighbor came down with her dog, took one look at me in uniform, and made sure the security entrance was locked. She probably thinks I’m a stripper. Or some cop gave her a ticket for not picking her dog shit off the sidewalk. Anyway, let me in.

And the ever hopeful.Hey, it’s me. Buzz me in.

She debated deleting the last voicemail to never relive the cringe of that night until…

“Marisol.”

A short stream of air cooled her parted lips. The voice was Annie’s.I’m having a night of it. I’m in the dark, the electricity’s been weird, and that mouse is acting strange. The serum did something to it. It has increased strength and muscle mass. I’d call 911, but I’m not even sure what to say. Do I say it broke out of its cage and attacked the other mice? Because they’re dead. Something in the serum made it unhinged. I should’ve killed it when I stomped on it, but it came right back up. It’s my fault. Dr. Varian buried the research for a reason. I don’t know what to do. I thought... Hold on, I hear someone.

If only she had checked her stupid messages before charging into the lab, she could’ve sent Vincent in to clobber them. What was she thinking? She didn’t need–never needed–that sociopath. She could’ve easily sicced Tobias and the rest of the SPD to stop them.

And that wasn’t the only part barbing into her. Annie’s mouse had increased strength and advanced healing like Vincent. Those serum results that she alluded to at the ball may have led the Bloodsucker to seek Annie out. Yet the mouse became unhinged, as if a higher power punished them for harnessing magic with science. If Marisol studied the mouse, she could understand magic and whatever happened to the Bloodsucker.

And whatever happened to Vincent. Vincent and his kind eyes, playful quirks, and odd ideas of gifts. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Vincent and his curse that murdered Annie. She dashed out of her apartment on a mission.

First, she needed a mousetrap strong enough to withstand the strength of ten mice. The fool who owned one bought it to catch a rat under the back steps many years ago. A decision that had forced the family to go to food pantries for the rest of the month. She called him “Dad.”

She hopped on the bus to her parents’ home. The morning bus to the Westside was practically empty. She took a spot near the front across from the one other rider, a woman who wore compression hose and buried her face in the newspaper. The bus hit a pothole. The impact jostled Marisol forward, and she bristled against the newspaper. She noticed the headline:

SOUTHSIDE BLOODBATH

She projected her voice over the roar of the accelerating bus. “Ma’am?”

The woman inspected Marisol from behind her set of tinted eyeglasses. A chain draped from her glasses to her neck and swung whenever the bus hit a bump. She squeezed her handbag to her body with her elbow, probably expecting Marisol to snatch her purse.

“Can I borrow your paper for a minute?”

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