Page 6 of The Mermaid's Bubble Lounge
My fingertips tingled. I wanted my claws, wanted to rake them across this creep’s throat.
A moment later, I felt Clive in my mind with me. Darling, why are you so angry?
Glaring at the back of the creep’s balding head, I tried to use my words. I know killing is wrong, but I’m having a hard time convincing myself of that right now.
I felt him pushing himself to be more alert. What’s happening?
I explained about Meri’s stalker and the bruise. I knew he knew it wasn’t only about that. I had a lot of pent-up rage about what had been done to me when I was a teenager. It wasn’t the same. I knew that. It didn’t stop me from wanting to punish this bastard, though.
If I could, I’d kill him for you so you wouldn’t feel the weight of it. We both know, though, that you’d carry the guilt of taking his life.
I’d be saving Meri and who knows who else.
True.
I huffed out a breath. Fine. I won’t kill him.
Darling, you don’t have to kill him to put the fear of Sam in him. Go scare him. It’ll make you feel better.
The creep took a gulp of water while he looked up and down the streets, not wanting to miss Meri. The thighs of his baggy jeans had a sheen, like he regularly wiped his greasy fingers on his pants. His faded black camp shirt smelled like it needed a good wash.
The jeans hung off his flat ass, but there was a bulge in the back pocket. Perfect. I moved up behind him and snatched his wallet. He spun around, face dark with anger. One look at my yellow eyes and sneer, though, and he was taking a step back.
“H-hey,” he stammered. “What are you doing?”
I flipped open his wallet. “Vincent Lloyd. Balboa Street.” When I lifted my gaze from his license, I enjoyed the fear I saw in his eyes. His scent turned sour. “Vincent Lloyd.” I glanced down again. “A fifty-four-year-old man who likes to stalk and terrorize a teenage girl. That’s you, right?”
His eyes jittered in their sockets. “What? Of course not.” He shook his head, reaching for his wallet. “You’re crazy.”
I held his wallet just out of reach. Allowing one claw to poke out, I tapped his chest in time with my words. “I. Don’t. Believe. You.”
He flinched, his eyes getting rounder, as drops of blood dribbled under his shirt.
“You’re a sad little man who spends his days fantasizing about a girl almost forty years younger, a girl who has no interest in you, one who has made it clear you scare her but still you stare and follow.”
He shook his head, sweat beading on his oily brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to snatch the wallet out of my hand, but I growled, low and mean. His eyes began dancing again.
“And today, you put your sweaty hand on her.” I reveled in watching him begin to tremble.
“No. That’s not true. Whatever that little bitc?—”
I didn’t think. I heard the word being formed and my hand moved, slapping the shit out of him. He hit the ground, my handprint on his face.
Crouching down beside him, I was pleased to hear a whimper. “I need you to understand, Vincent Lloyd who lives on Balboa Street, that if you so much as look at her from behind your living room curtains, I will come back and tear your face off.” I held up one finger with a razor-sharp claw at the end. “Do you understand?”
And there it was. The smell of piss.
His head bounced up and down.
I leaned in closer, letting my teeth elongate. “Later, you’re going to second-guess yourself. You’re going to think you remembered this wrong. You were taken by surprise. I couldn’t have been this scary.” I smiled, letting him see my teeth and then I picked up his two-hundred-pound body off the ground with ease, placing him back on his feet.
“When you begin to doubt what happened here and question whether anyone would really notice if you started following her again, think of me and remind yourself that there are things in this world you know nothing about, things that can end you in the most painful ways without breaking a sweat. Yes?”
He gave another jerky nod.
I tossed the wallet at his chest and he squealed in fear. I might have enjoyed that sound too much. I sprinted across the street and up the steep hill, out of sight. I needed him to understand that I wasn’t human, that my threat was real.
When I turned the corner, I slowed down, trying to get my rage in check. I didn’t want to scare Meri or the wicches in the bar.
