you for the reminder.”
I’ve been taken off guard by this conversation, and I catch the sound of heavy footsteps too late. Kope’s eyes widen as he peers over my shoulder, and I spin, whipping out my switchblade with a zing and holding it in front of me where Duke Belial stands mere feet away, looking lethal as a bomb.
He smiles down at my knife, water dripping from his face.
“Put it away, boy. Sorry to break up the testosterone party.”
With a shaking hand, I slide the blade back in and slip it into my pocket. Anna comes racing down the stairs barefooted and stops herself just short of us.
She looks up at Belial and yells, “Dad!” Her hands cover her mouth as she looks between us. When Belial faces her full on, her hands fall to her side and her face goes slack.
“It was you,” she whispers. “You sent them.”
My head snaps to Belial to see his jaw set. Everything suddenly makes itself clear, and I nearly sag where I stand. He sent the whisperers to haunt her. Anna is not under suspicion, and her father does not want to hurt her. He’s trying to smarten her up. He’s forced her to acknowledge and see the demons. It’s admirable and heinous all at once.
Belial turns on me and Kopano, stepping closer, and we both stand taller under his intense scrutiny. This is obviously a man who wants to protect his daughter, and right now he’s staring us down like we’re threats. Shame burns me as I realize what fools we were, standing out here arguing when larger issues are at stake.
“This little thing,” Belial says, pointing between Kope, Anna, and me, “isn’t gonna fly. Don’t worry yourselves about Anna anymore. You hear?”
I nod, but there’s no way in hell I can stop worrying about Anna. I’m in too deep.
“Then get on out of here,” he says in that low voice. “And keep your heads in the game.”
Anna is watching the ground where the rain falls next to us. I don’t look at anyone as I turn to leave, climbing into my vehicle, driving straight into the storm, head on.
“Love Letter” by Kaidan Rowe
Staring at this paper
Tryin’ to write a “love letter.”
This is not my thing,
Yeah, it’s just not me.
My mind turns instead
To a wicked beat in my head,
And I bang out the lyrics to a song.
Yeah, I bang out the lyrics to a song.
You’re soft to my hard,
You’re sweet to my salt.
If we both end up naked
It’ll all be my fault.
Yeah, I’ll take the blame,
That’s it, say my name.
You’re gorgeous, you’re stunning,
Let me win at this game.
CHORUS:
Gimme, gimme, gimme,
I’m Greed when you’re near.
I want more, I need more,
Ignore all of my fear.
Heat me, scald me, burn me,
I’m Lust for your touch.
You kill with a smile
And I refuse to be rushed.
How’s this for a love note?
Do my words rock your boat?
If not, I’ll try harder
Take things a bit farther.
You bet your ass I’ll do that,
Raise the bar, sexy cat.
So step closer to me, turn up the AC.
You’ll be singin’ the chorus in 1, 2, 3 . . .
CHORUS
Roses are red and violets are blue,
That played-out shit isn’t for you.
I got your love letter right here in my eyes.
If you look deep enough, you’ll see through the lies.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Good Witch, Bad Ape
“Baby, you’re beautiful, and there’s nothing wrong with you.
It’s me, I’m a freak.”
—“Whataya Want from Me?” by Adam Lambert
I’ve always lived life like a game, moving my piece along the board, taking pleasure where I can, but feeling otherwise numb. Until a surprise came along and fucked it right up. Life is still a game now, only the rules have changed. Each move I make lands me on a mystery space, and I’m forever unsteady.
Over and over I imagine her as she was that night, sitting on the bed in the hotel room, like a still shot captured in my brain—her fluorescent pink aura, shockingly beautiful, surrounding her skin as she held a pillow to her nearly naked chest.
That image. It does me in every time. It slices me to pieces.
She’s safe now, in her father’s care—or as safe as a Nephilim can be. I resist the urge to drive over and check on her each time Father leaves for New York. I remind myself the whisperers could see us, and I’ve already tempted fate enough by spending far too much time with her in the past. It’s made me careless.
I only work the days Father is in Atlanta. I know it’s