Page 81 of Love the Way You Lion
However, the reason that I am here is not as pleasant as those alternatives, and I cannot indulge. I want to be as steely as I can be for this errand, so I can get back to Talia like I promised.
Scratch that—I have to be made of iron and fire to complete this task.
Looking around, my gaze falls on the bookshop at the end of the block. Its position is on a corner, flush against the buildings on either side. I’m not fooled by that choice of location as it gives a vantage point to observe 180 degrees of entry. I’d bet a month of extra training sessions that the back of the building has little to nospace to maneuver and that the subterranean levels connect into tunnels and old London siege escape paths.
I would expect no less from her.
Twirling the stem of the water glass in my fingers, I watch the passers-by come and go as humans do. Some in a hurry, some distracted, some trudging along—I’ve always known that most of them are not conditioned to be the apex predators that their biology suggests. Even before the mutation, I knew that something separated me from the rest of the people I lived, worked, and played with throughout my life.
Now I know: magick.
It’s not the only thing that has redefined my self-image—the beast has her own role—but I know as surely as the sun rises in the East that I have never been one of them. It explains much of my childhood and young adult life. I always felt like a square peg in a round hole—too smart, too wild, too angry, too passionate—to fit in, no matter what the situation was. I took control, not because I was driven to lead as much as to ensure that I did not grow bored.
Though I suppose I can’t claim that control is something I’ve always yearned for. My beast and I have made our peace, particularly since she mated with his demon. We work together rather than against one another most of the time, and for that; I am grateful. My magick is another story—it’s as untamed as the foliage in my sacred space.
Hours tick by as I learn the patterns of traffic on foot and on the street. Patience has never been one of my virtues, but training for the Company has taught me the value of reconnaissance. I know enough of my prey to feel confident, but not of her current base of operations. Without a solid plan, this could go horribly awry.
After all, the last time I saw Heraclea Titania St. James, she was falling from the roof of a skyscraper—that I threw her off.
New York City,a decade ago…
“You haven’t won!”
She looks at me with satisfaction, a silky purr escaping her lips. The jade-green eyes behind the fake librarian glasses dance in amusement, and she tosses her wild mane of coal, silver, and gold over her shoulder. The lights of the city glisten on her ebony skin as she pops her hip out, throws her head back, and fucking laughs.
“Oh, little girl. You are the cutest thing on this side of the Hudson. Haven’t you learned by now that I always win?”
Balling my fists in rage, I dig my nails into my palms; the pain focuses my mind for a moment. This bitch has been plaguing me since middle school, and no matter where I go, she turns up like a bad penny. My life goes to absolute shit every time she shows up.
Trust me, I can fuck up my life well enough on my own without Clea around to give me an assist.
“Fuck you and fuck your stupid-ass riddles. I don’t know why you are always here, but get the hell out of my city and leave me alone!”
Tapping her four-inch heel-clad foot, Clea stands like a goddess out of a comic book. Her style is never the same, not even from day to day. This evening she’s wearing a gold lame mini dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, matching designer hooker heels, and chunky gold jewelry. Without the glasses, she’d look like she was ready to tour with Beyonce.
As if she’s read my mind, she smirks, clicking a long shiny fingernail against the corner of the frames. They immediately turn into designer aviators, and her look is complete. “Is this better, sugar? I can’t have you judging me for something as trivial as the wrapper for my candy.”
I throw up my hands in disgust, growling loudly. “I don’t fucking care if you have magick, Clea. It didn’t impress me as a kid, and it sure as hell doesn’t now. Go home.”
Her laugh is throaty, and she waggles her finger at me. “Uh-uh, little girl. I’m here to stay—as long as you are. If I were you, I’d hide all of my friends and lovers. You know that I have no trouble claiming what is rightfully mine.”
Hate can be a venom to your soul, and mine has always been crawling through my soul like vines wrapping around an ancient temple. I work hard to create space and relegate those parts of me to a compartment that I can manage, but my past with Clea always proves an impossible fire to quench. I can feel it snaking through my veins as I watch her strut and pontificate.
“—and if I remember correctly, the score is Delilah zero, Clea seven.” Her smirk is cruel as I remember all seven of those incidents, and my chest aches with the re-opened wound.
“Jesus, fuck, Clea. What the hell did I ever do to you? Why have you made my misery your life’s mission?”
Shrugging, she studies her nails. “I get bored easily.”
Rage burns inside me as I think of my childhood best friend, Elysia. She defected to Clea’s camp upon her arrival in sixth grade. They made my life hell until I transferred to a different school system for middle school. The first boy I had a crush on, Drew, fell victim to her charms within a week of her arrival in seventh grade. The next girlfriend I had, Rayna, moved toanother state when Clea sicced the popular kids on her the next year.
Every time I found a handhold, she was there to push me down. Each year she found a friend or crush—Jax, Mellie, Shayna, Nikolai—and either claimed them as her own or drove them away for fear of her wrath. I spent my school years alone and fighting an enemy that might as well be invincible.
“Bored?! You get bored?!” I screech, my anger fueling each step as I move closer to her.
She watches me, lips quirked in amusement as if I’m a character in a TV show that she’s grown fond of. “Yes. Bored. You must know what it's like to be moving eighty miles an hour in a fifty mile an hour zone, even if you can’t compete with me.”
Halting, I tilt my head, knowing exactly what she means. “So? That means you can get your jollies by destroying a human being every single chance that you get? What gives you the right?”
