Chapter 3
(Alex)
I hated the smell of these places. Everyone smelled like they d just rolled out of a gutter, and then dug around in a garbage can.
You seem down, sweetie,
the woman with long skinny legs said. Her blonde hair was way too thin for her round face. Her teeth were cracked and stained a yellowish-brown. She stuck her hand out, her sharp, yellow-stained nails sliding up my chest.
Maybe I can help you with that.
I pushed her back, not gently, giving her a bored expression
I m looking for a man named Draven. Ever heard of him?
She had, but she wasn t planning on telling me at least she thought she wasn t. She pressed her thin lips together.
Never heard of such a man.
She touched my shoulder.
Why don t you forget about this Draven?
She leaned in, putting her lips next to my ear.
I can make you forget about him. I can make you forget about everything.
I smiled maliciously and leaned toward her.
As nice as that sounds, I know what you are, so you might as well cut the crap and take me to Draven.
She moved back, still smiling. Banshees were the worst kind of faeries. Their ragged state was just an armor. Really, they were quite beautiful and alluring, except on people like me, who knew what they really were a sign, appearing to those who were going to die soon.
If you know what I am,
she said slyly.
Then you know you re future is coming to an end.
I m not asking you about my life,
I replied, unbothered.
I m asking you to take me to Draven.
A purr vibrated from her chest and she traced her pinky nail under my chin.
What makes you think I know him?
I clutched her wrist, squeezing tight.
My patience is wearing thin. Either you take me to him or I make you take me to him.
She winced, but kept grinning.
How much is it worth to you?
She paused.
Perhaps your life?
My life already belongs to someone else,
I said, calm and controlled, trying to push the quick thought of her out of my mind.
Then let me be the one to collect you when you die. Let me take your soul.
Her grin widened, her lips disappearing into her teeth.
When you die, make the vow that I can be the one to carry your soul to the Afterlife.
I considered this, but not for very long.
Whatever. Just take me to him.
She was pleased, ignorant of the fact that she couldn t take my soul when I died. Because it already belonged to someone else, just like I told her. And a Blood Promise was much stronger than a promise made by word of mouth.
She turned for the alley, the click of her high heels echoing up the steel buildings. As we moved, she transformed, her blonde hair thickening and curling up at the ends, her rough skin smoothing over and her teeth whitening to a shade so bright it reflected against the luminosity of the full moon.
This way,
she said and ducked behind a large dumpster where a door was hidden. She slipped a chain from her neck holding a large silver key. The key scratched inside the lock and then she creaked the door open. She disappeared inside and I followed.
The air was murky and stank of pond scum. I had a hard time following her because her silhouette kept blending in and out of focus. At the end of the tunnel, lanterns lit up a room. The walls were as red as blood and an oval table extended down the center, eight chairs encircling it. In the corner, there was a cage where a Black Angel was sleeping, her wings curled against her back. They really were sad creatures, trapped until someone freed them from their cage and wings. I remembered the time when Gemma almost let one go. Thankfully, I d gotten to her in time.
Have a seat,
the Banshee said and exited the room through a wooden door on the left. I sat down, preparing my speech in my head, knowing if I was wrong then I d wasted a lot of time. But part of me didn t want to be right. Part of me didn t want her to be one of them.
When the door clicked open again, the blonde Banshee returned. But she wasn t alone. A man, with dark hair, black eyes, and pale skin stood beside her. Someone who was inexperienced would probably mistake him for a vampire. But I knew better. He was more dangerous than a vampire. That s why I had my knife tucked in my jacket, within arm s reach. I was surprised the Banshee didn t pat me down back in the alley. But she probably wasn t too worried. She thought I was a normal human, sticking my nose into a world where it didn t belong.
He took a seat across from me and the space between us didn t give me much option for a surprise execution. He tapped a cigarette on the table, and then stuck it in his mouth. The Banshee woman lit it for him. After he exhaled, his eyes narrowed on me.
So you want to talk to me about something,
he said, eyes refusing to leave me.
I held his gaze, not afraid, but prepared, just like I was taught.
I need to know the location of a particular woman.
He stayed silent for a while, tapping his fingers on the table.
The Lord of the Afterlife doesn t associate with mortal women.
I don t think she s mortal,
I explained, my hand resting steady in front of me, showing him I wasn t afraid.
I think she might be one of them.
I nodded my head at the blonde Banshee.
Does she have a name?
He asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.
This woman that you seek?
Alana,
I said, the sound of her name strangling me.
Draven motioned his hand in front of him impatiently.
Alana &
I felt the same lump rise in my throat when I d read it on the pages of the journal. Swallowing hard, I shoved the lump back down, burying my feelings inside.
Her name s Alana Avery.