Page 4 of Darkest Valley
He sighs. “I’m good.”
Raising my head, I catch the tail end of Luca’s eyes shiftingback from unfamiliar reptilian yellow slits to the warm, whiskey-tinted hazel I’m used to. “At the risk of sounding ungrateful, what are we supposed to do with this monolith you made?” I thump my fist against the demon’s frozen face. He looks better this way. I wish I could let him know that his final form is a definite improvement. “I bet it weighs a ton.”
“I have a really strong friend,” Luca says with a shrug.
I groan. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” I slump against the statue and examine the knife clutched in its stone fingers. “Go get the push broom and watch for stragglers.”
Luca nods, his jaw clenched as he disappears around the corner. While there’s no one else around right now, that could change at any moment. Even though it’s three o’clock in the morning, this city isn’t known for its regular sleep schedule. Privacy of any kind is at a premium.
I’ll have to act fast. After I check in all directions, I hoist the stone demon off the pavement and hurl it at the alley wall with all my strength. It hits with a deafening crack, the force doing exactly what I intended and breaking the statue into enough pieces that it isn’t immediately recognizable. Quickly, I stomp on the rest, imagining the chunks as foot-sized bubble wrap.
As I pulverize the evidence, the first trickle of worry hits me.
We’re a fringe community, which means we typically make and enforce our own code of conduct. An unspoken social agreement between supernaturals from half a dozen realms to do exactly two things: never alert the humans to our presence on Earth and keep the ruling enclave the fuck out of Las Vegas.
That usually isn’t hard to do. Headquartered hundreds of miles away in Colorado, our regional enclave rarely makes an appearance here. The only time I’ve heard of it happening is when someone important dies. If the demon was trying to intimidate me, we’re in the clear. If not . . .Fuck,I should have tested him.
Luca sprints around the corner. With a broom in one hand, a dustpan in the other, and an industrial-sized trash bag clenched between his teeth, he looks crazed. He spits the trash bag out, and it flutters to the ground at my feet. “What the fuck, Celine? That sounded like a bomb going off.”
“I’m strong, not stealthy,” I snap, gathering up the knife, clothes, and wallet that fell from the demon’s pocket when I broke him apart, then pointing at the remaining chunks. “Stop bitching about my methods and sweep him up before someone comes to find out what made the noise.”
Thankfully, Luca doesn’t argue, cleaning up the powdery remains with the efficiency of a skilled bartender who’s been handling unusual spills for years. Within sixty seconds, only a few fragments are left. They blend in with the assorted dirt, cigarette butts, and broken glass littering the ground.
I squat and hold the dustpan level so Luca can get the remaining bits, wheezing as his brisk work with the broom sends a cloud of dust directly into my face.
“Gross.” I cough, shooting him a dirty look. “You got him in my hair.”
Luca’s lips curl into a boyish smile. He swings the full garbage bag over his shoulder, casting a lumpy shadow on the wall—a demented version of the humans’ Santa Claus legend. “Nothing a shower won’t fix,” he says, eyes glittering with mischief.
He killed someone for me.I cross my arms to hide my shiver.
“Goodnight, Luca.”
“You’re welcome, Celine.”
Pivoting, I toss a wave over my shoulder and hurry to my bike, frustration replacing the odd flash of desire for Luca.
He’s got a lot of nerve—telling me to be more careful in the dressing room, then turning around and using his rarest ability in the middle of the fucking road. A lot of people would love to hear that the Fang’s sexy bartender is a near-mythical shifter. He riskedexposing his basilisk in a situation I had completely under control.
I stuff the wallet, clothes, and knife in my top case, then straddle my bike, sliding my helmet over my hair before pushing the kickstand back with my heel. The roar of the engine and the familiar vibration against my thighs settle the worst of my worry.
My shoulder blades are itching like crazy.
I’ll get rid of the rest of the evidence, but Luca and I aren’t done talking about this.
I navigate the tight alley slowly until I’m out on a main road, then open my bike up as much as possible. Living among the humans means I have to keep my wings hidden most of the time. The closest I get to flying around here is on the back of my bike.
Since my place is only five minutes away, I’m usually bummed that its proximity to the Fang doesn’t give me a chance to let loose. Tonight though, with anxiety turning me inside out, I just want to get home and let my wings down.
TWO
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #9:
Be good at keeping secrets.
CELINE
Since tossing the demon’s body—Roscoe, if the ID I found in his wallet isn’t a fake—everything has settled back to normal around the club... except my friendship with Luca. We’ve been orbiting each other awkwardly all afternoon, and the more we avoid creating conflict, the more it happens.