Page 99 of Terror at the Gates

Until that moment, I’d assumed it was his father.

Though I whined, I appreciated Samuel’s gatekeeping. Very few people here should have weapons, though that didn’t stop them from trying to buy them elsewhere or making their own. I didn’t know how many times I’d heard reports of stabbings on the street with some kind of sharpened piece of plastic or metal. It was a problem, but not the kind it might turn into if anyone could get a gun…or a fucking flamethrower.

I sat in the corner of the room at a round table. I’d been here for two hours, and I’d had four strawberry daiquiris and only half my mozzarella sticks. After my third drink, they’d started to taste like rum and sugar, which was fine. I didn’t really have an appetite.

After Felix had dropped me off, I slept all day. When I woke up, Coco made soup, and I drank the broth. It wasn’t that I felt nauseous exactly. I just didn’t feel hungry.

I didn’t feel much right now aside from a need to find out what happened to Esther in that apartment.

A waitress dropped by my table carrying a tray of empty glasses and pitchers. Her name was Shelley. She had fluffy, blond hair and coal-black liner smudged around her eyes. She smelled like cigarettes and talked like her lungs were on fire. She’d served me since I arrived in Nineveh. Sometimes, she’d slip me an extra order of mozzarella sticksfor the road, she’d say.

“You want another drink, darlin’?” she asked.

I looked at my empty glass, trying to weigh just how buzzed was too buzzed to fight a demon.

That was what I’d started calling the blob creature I’d found in Liam’s bedroom. It seemed like the most fitting name, considering I was pretty certain it had possessed Koval, Burke, and now Esther.

My eyes watered at the thought, which was how I knew I wasn’t buzzed enough.

“One more,” I said, handing her the empty glass. “Thank you, Shelley.”

“You got it, darlin’,” she said, heading off into the crowd.

I hadn’t come here to drink. I hadn’t even come here for mozzarella sticks, but Shelley delivered them shortly after I sat down.

“Jack started makin’ them the moment you walked in the door,” she said.

I had to swallow the lump in my throat, unprepared for how the smell would make my stomach churn, but I didn’t want anyone to ask me what was wrong. If they didn’t know yet, they would soon. I suspected the only reason news of Esther’s death hadn’t reached the streets was because the funeral hadn’t been announced.

I was dreading that day.

I let my magic unwind, opening myself up to a barrage of lust around me, but the feeling was fuel. It overpowered my despair, and I used it to tease.

“Tell Jack I owe him one,” I said.

“Oh, honey,” said Shelley. “You don’t wanna owe that man nothin’. I’ll just tell him you said thank you.”

I grinned, but as soon as she turned her back, I dropped my smile and the charade.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the small table, and picked up one of the mozzarella sticks. I dipped it into the marinara sauce, twisting it one way and then the other. I had nointention of eating it. I just needed to keep my hands busy. It was a habit my mother abhorred and when she’d catch me, she’d kick me under the table if we were in public or slap my arm if we were at home. It got to the point where I’d flinch whenever she lifted her hand, even if it was to pick up her silverware.

That just made her more angry.

And my father wondered why I didn’t miss her.

“Hey, firecracker,” said a voice.

It was familiar, so I didn’t even look up, but I stopped playing with my food, returning the mozzarella stick to its basket.

“I’m not in the mood, Abel,” I said.

“You’re never in the mood,” he said.

I looked up, glaring at the older man who was also Sam’s brother. He wasn’t creepy like others who frequented Sons of Adam, but he liked to give me a hard time, and I usually gave it right back. I just didn’t feel up to a verbal sparring match tonight.

He took a seat.

“You wanna talk about it, firecracker?” he asked.