Page 71 of Smokescreen (Knight & Daywalker)
So I continued. “No really, I mean it. If the whole world is so terrible, why try to survive?”
“Because that’s the point of life,” he said, but he didn’t seem as certain anymore.
I shook my head. “What are you, some kind of non-sentient animal? A sea cucumber? A worm? Survival is all that matters? No. Survival without joy is a waste. It’s pointless.” I had to work not to cringe at my own words, because of course survivalmattered, but I didn’t know how he could comprehend that part without also knowing that there was good in the world. There was happiness. There was hope. Survival mattered because itwashope. Because tomorrow might be better than today, and if you didn’t keep trying you’d never know.
Survival was a search for joy.
There was a shout outside, followed by screaming, and then gunshots.
Fuck me. Time was up.
“Dammit,” Sexton hissed, then he shook his head and stepped in so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. He was shorter than me, and part of me took a weird sort of pleasure from that. “You won’t distract me. I will live. And your power will help me do it.”
He pressed so close that our chests brushed together, grabbing me by the side of the neck, and once again I could feel his disgusting mental touch. This time it wasn’t subtle or tentative. It was violent, and it felt like he was trying to shove his hand right inside my brain.
I gagged at the sensation, but my mental defenses pushed back without thought. When that wasn’t entirely enough to repel him, I consciously pushed. He pushed back, but almost immediately, I could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Instinctively, I knew that whatever this fight was, he couldn’t beat me.
“Not possible,” he muttered. “You’re half human. You have no training. You can’t.”
I met his eye, grinning wide, and I imagined in that moment I looked utterly unhinged. “Maybe that’s the difference between you and me, Sexton. My vampire mother taught me that I can do whatever the fuck I set my mind to. I just have to show up and do the work. And here I am. This is me, doing the work.”
His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Humans are weak. Breakable. Pathe—” He broke off and grabbed his belly like I’d punched him in the gut.
I grinned. “Pathetic, huh? Well, one of us seems pretty pathetic. Not sure it’s me, though.”
He reached down into a pocket on his heavy wool coat—and how was he wearing a coat that heavy in Southern California in the middle of April? That distraction fled when he pulled a heavy jeweled dagger out of the pocket.
“Let’s see how well you can fight me off when you’re busy bleeding to death.” He held the dagger up, yanking the sheath off and putting a wicked two-edged blade on display.
The fire in my throat bubbled up again, and I was afraid I was going to vomit all over him. Or...maybe it was okay if I did that.
Fuck this guy, right?
Instead of bile, though, what pushed its way out of my throat was thick black smoke. Burning hot smoke.
There was a clatter as something metal hit concrete, and a shriek of pain, then running footsteps, but I couldn’t see anything.
I couldn’t see anything, because the smoke belching forth from my burning throat was filling the whole fucking room.
CHAPTER 30
Ibreathed the smoke, out and out and out, until it ended on a raspy cough, and I had to suck in a fresh breath of air.
Well, a smoky one. The smoke didn’t seem to irritate my lungs though, because I didn’t cough again. Also, the burning pain that had been pushing its way up my throat all morning stopped, and that was a fucking relief.
No giving up hot sauce for me, because there was no way hot sauce had caused that.
“Fuck,” someone shouted, someone decidedly not Sexton. “Is the place on fire?”
“Open the door,” someone else yelled.
It took a few minutes for the smoke to begin to clear, humans coughing all around me, looking for a fire that didn’t exist.
Well, unless it was inside of me.
Suddenly, there was shrieking outside, followed by incoherent yelling.
A moment later, a pale, concerned-looking Detective Cain came striding into the warehouse. “Why the hell isn’t someone untying him?” He demanded, and though his voice was a bit raspy, he sounded no less authoritative for it. “Just becauseleaving witnesses tied up is you assholes’s kink doesn’t mean Knight is into that. Cut him down, now.”
