Cape Storm Page 0,67

tempted, not so much because of her - Cherise really wasn't on the radar anymore - but because the simmering, furious violence in Kevin was addictively delicious. All I had to do was hurt her, and I could drink my fill.

Not yet,I told myself. Don't enjoy yourself too much.

"Please," Cherise repeated.

"Jeez, okay, don't beg," I said. "Just you, though. Not him." Kevin held up his hands in surrender, a sour look on his face. "Dude, like I want to spend time coddling your self-involved evil-turning ass." His glance at Cherise said something different, though. "Be careful."

" I'mgoing to hurt her? I'm not the one with the body count, Kevin," I said. He flinched, just a little. "Why don't you loiter out here looking menacing while you wait? Maybe you can beat up cabin stewards, just to keep in practice."

He flipped me off, but that wasn't original for him. I took Cherise's arm, and we headed back to the cabin.

She locked the door behind us. I raised my eyebrows as I settled on my unmade bed.

"Oooh," I said. "Is this going to be hot girl-on-girl action, or what?"

"Shut up." Cherise hugged herself and stayed where she was, between me and the door.

"Something's really wrong with you."

"Oh yeah? You think?" I leaned back against the hard cabin wall and crossed my arms.

"You've been drinking Lewis's Kool-Aid about how bad I am, boo-hoo. But I understand why you'd go that way. He's still got an open position for girlfriend-slash-wife, so hold out for the brass ring, kid." She gave me an uncomprehending stare. "Wouldn't be the first man you've screwed for fun and profit."

"Would you shut up ? God, you can be such a bitch! Since - since your back thing happened, you've been changing. Slowly at first, but then it got worse, and now you're - " Cherise made a helpless gesture that encompassed everything about me, from head to toe. "Look at you." I looked down. "What?" Granted, the clothes might be a bit sluttier than my usual, but I liked them, and besides, it was a cruise ship. South Beach rules of conduct and dress.

"It's not the outfit, Jo. It's you . It's the look in your eyes, the kind of smile you give people. The way you think about them." Cherise swallowed and ducked her chin to avoid eye contact. "When you think they're not looking, it's like you're examining pieces of meat - like they're not people at all. You never did that before." I deliberately relaxed again."Yeah? You're sure about that? Maybe you just never caught me at it before."

"No. I know you, and this - this isn't you. Looks like you, feels like you, sounds like you. It's in your skin, but it's not the Joanne Baldwin I'm friends with." I didn't know why this should wake a feeling of anxiety in me. Pale and faint, yes, but still .

. . I wanted to make her feel better. "People change," I offered.

"Not this much. Not this fast. You let something inside you." I tried to explain - again, I wasn't sure why I bothered, except that the genuine warm concern in Cherise's eyes actually reached something in me, something I'd thought long drowned in darkness. "It's just giving me access to power. Like having a Djinn at my command, only - better. Faster. You're going to have to get used to the fact that I can't be Miss Congeniality anymore. This is war."

"Jo, the war's over. You lost. You're a casualty."

I came up from the bed in one sinuous motion and took a step into her space. "You know what's really over? This conversation. I'm leaving."

"You have to go through me first."

"Can do."

"What? You're going to hurt me?" Cherise - tiny little Cherise, with her perfect tan and perfect teeth and glistening hair. Funny and sexy and quirky. "Go ahead." Frustration erupted inside me. It burned from the torch on my back under my skin, traveling lines and ladders of nerves, and I felt fire tingle at the ends of my fingers.

"Move."

"Make me, bitch."

I wanted to, oh God, I did. Instead, I bared my teeth. "You know what you are?" I asked, low in my throat.

"You're nothing. Even among human beings, you're a worthless failure. Model? A model is just some girl who strips for cash - a body for hire. A walking mannequin with a shelf life of about five minutes. Take away your looks and you've got nothing to sell. Who's going to love