Page 34 of Bloody Bargain
Its face was still there, maniacal, behind my eyelids. I heard its gleeful chuckles as claws dragged through my skin. This one had cooed in just the same way as the one in the station.
A wave of anger drove me back to my feet, and I clawed my way up the glistening, bloody sheets. I stabbed the corner store clerk again, again, again. I punched the knife into her rib cage until my palm was too slick to keep traction. Then I left it there like a sword at the head of a burial mound, watching her mangled body for movement.
Not a twitch.
“Tessa…”
I turned to the door. D'abel stood just inside, eyes wide. He took a step forward, looking me up and down, then thought better of it. I turned my eyes to the circular vanity mirror. I’d been tarred and feathered in blood, guts, and sticky goose down from the pillow. Clumps of my hair were matted with the stuff, one eye completely doused in red as it swelled shut. Whether the blood was mine or hers, I couldn’t say.
With the cleanest part of my left forearm, I smeared the rivulets off my face.
“Lock the door,” I said in a calm, cold tone. “Open the window and shut the curtains.”
When D’abel didn’t move immediately, I slashed my hand at him with urgency.
“Now,D’abel.”
He strode across the room and did as I asked without question. We were lucky. There was no blood spatter on the window dressings or the wall opposite the door, but she had been loud. It was a matter of time before someone came. Police, landlady, didn’t matter. It would be another eight to twelve hours before everything disintegrated into dirt and sand. Unless…
“Can you suck her dry?” I asked. “Like the one in the fields.”
“Theaufis already gone from its vessel. I cannot.”
Damn.
“How loud was it?” I asked with a sniff, pushing my sticky hair aside. D'abel examined me, judging my calm.
“Loud,” he said plainly.
I nodded, pacing, thinking. “Did anyone see you come up?”
“No.”
“Good. Wrap this around your waist.” He took the dark blue towel from my outstretched, bloody hand without hesitation. I rushed to the bathroom and dipped a washcloth in hot water.
There was a sharp knock at the door. D'abel and I swiveled around. I swallowed hard, staring at the doorknob separating us from jail bars. The landlady cleared her throat.
“Excuse me, love. Everything alright?” she called in her sweetest stern voice.
I ran back out and grabbed D'abel’s arm. He turned his attention to me with confusion.
“You are going to answer that door,” I instructed in a rushed whisper, dragging my nails down his bare chest. Little red streaks blossomed on his pale skin and his scales rippled beneath my touch. “Just a crack. And apologize for the noise. Look happy,” I added, pinching his neck and collarbone, “and out of breath.”
“Hello? Now, if you don’t open the door, love, I shall have to call the police, yes?” Owena’s voice cracked frantically. “Hello?”
D'abel nodded to me once while I dabbed his chest with the washcloth in an attempt to make him look shiny with sweat.
“As you will it.”
I ducked out of the door’s line of sight, toweling the blood off my face as fast as I could, pink droplets of water splattering the tiles underfoot.
Owena knocked again with crescendoing panic, and D'abel opened the door, mid-beat. The poor woman gasped.
“Oh! Oh my. I-I’m, I–”
I watched the b’adruokh through the crack in the bathroom door, peering through the hinges as I wrapped up my bloody hair in another towel and piled it on my head.
He leaned his shoulder against the door frame, grinning widely. His performance was flawless, holding the towel hastily over his hips, displaying the marks I’d put on his chest and neck.
