Shadowglass

Tarnished silver skulls glinted up at me, ruby eyeballs flashing, threaded on a fat spiked chain.
My stalking biker boy’s necklace. Tangled in the diamonds from Danny’s safe.

I recalled the kid’s weird blue eyes, the way he’d smiled at me when I hit him. Like he expected me. Like he’d been listening. Excitement tightened my throat. “Look at this!”

Andy wrinkled his nose. “Yuck. Bit morbid, isn’t it?”

“It was in my diamonds. I saw a guy wearing it at the Court last night.”

“So?” He dipped up some ice cream and flicked it at me.

Chill stung my cheek. I wiped it off and glared at him. “So, sometime between last night and this morning, he’s swapped it to Danny. How much you reckon it’s worth?”

Water flooded his eyes, and he sniffed, wiping his nose. “Chromium. Stinks like rotten apples. So they’re real rubies. So what? Wanna put all that back in your bag before someone rolls you for it?”

Caution. Boring. Anticipation thinned my pulse, and I bounced up and down in my seat, water droplets spraying. “But what if that guy swapped it for the mirror?”

“Maybe. Coulda swapped it for a couple hundred bucks and a blow job, too. Mosquitoes and chopsticks, Apples. You’re grabbing at anything.”

I scowled, my enthusiasm dented. “Sure, go all superior on me. You got any better ideas?”

Andy glanced at the coffee-chugging trolls and casually pushed the diamonds toward me without looking. “Cactus up your nose, Appolonnia, will you stop attracting attention?”

My wings bristled. “Why’ve you gotta—?”

A thick hand slammed onto my shoulder. “Nice diamonds, fairy girl. I think they’re mine.”

I gulped at those sharp European consonants. My voice shriveled to a husk. “Peter . . . I mean, Mr. London. Hi. I was just looking for y—”

“Good of you to bring ’em by.” Peter loomed over me, his hulking leather-clad shoulders blocking out the sun. Dark, hard-eyed, his mouth thin and stained from too many cigarettes. A bit like his cousin Simon, without the teeth or the old-world manners. With a permanent case of fire ants up his ass because his self-absorbed and glaringly gay cousin Olli had to die raped in some sordid hotel apartment before Simon would give Peter Olli’s place as second in charge.

Jealous as a shithouse dog because Simon still prefers lizard-ass faeborn confidants to him.

And in an eternal bad mood because Simon still won’t give him the other thing he wants, that hellcursed blood infection that makes you last forever.

All of which makesPeter L one big, ugly, bad-tempered dude.

My excitement bubbled forlornly, lost in smothering dismay. I never get to keep them.

I stole my hand out, but Andy wrapped his arm around me to hold me back. His whisper warmed my cheek. “Too late. Leave it.”

The fact that he’d warned me only stung my despair harder. I wriggled, helpless. Why’d I have to flash them around like that? At Valentino’s, of all places?

Peter lifted a fistful of shinies twinkling to the sun, his broad forehead creasing. “Very nice. How much you and your pals owe me again?”

I hate it when they ask questions they already know the answers to. Never bodes well. I swallowed, dry, and firmly pushed Andy’s arm away. “Five thousand.”

“These’ll be nice, then. Good girl.” That condescending smirk I hated.

I managed a weak smile, faint brightness struggling in my heart even though rage lathered my blood at this forced meekness. At least something good might come of this. He’d leave us alone, at least for a while. “So we’re square, then?”

Peter stuffed my lost jewels into his pocket and turned away. “Sorry. I can only accept payment in cash. End of the week, darlin’. As before.”

I gaped at his wide black-clad back, indignant. “But that’s not fair!”

Peter halted.

Andy’s arm tensed on the table, muscles twisting. Sharp unease sliced my nerves. Oops.

Peter turned and pounced on me.

I yelped and jerked backwards, but he was quicker than he looked. He wrapped his fat fingers around my shoulder, his dirty teeth shining an inch from my nose. “Life isn’t fair, fairy girl. Wanna talk about it?”

My shoulder screeched, pain warm and horrid like his coffee-soaked breath. His fingers crushed into my collarbone, and anger flared hotter than the hurt. My rage boiled over, and I swatted at him, claws raking. “Ow! Get off me, you dirty fairy-beating asshole.”

“Umm. Yeah. We were just leaving.” Andy folded his long hand over mine and squeezed, hard, and the twin pressures made me gasp at my foolishness.

But Peter shoved me, and I tumbled, ice cream splashing. I scrabbled for Andy’s hand, but my fingers slipped, and my bony butt bounced on the hard floor, crumpling my wing tips under me.

My palms skidded and ripped on sandpapery tiles. “Ow! That hurt! Stupid prick.”

Peter wiped the hand he’d hurt me with on his pants, and his flat gray eyes gleamed disgusted as he loomed over me. Behind him, the two trolls lumbered up, their suits too tight, big green foreheads shining dully in the sun. They fixed beady little eyes on me and grunted, thudding their scaly fists together.

My skin shrank. I scrambled back a few inches like a frightened crab, banging my head into the latte-swilling spriggan’s chair. Surely they wouldn’t. Not in front of everyone.

But the cream-nose fairy had already crawled away under the tables, and the shop-till-you-drop spriggan sidled from her seat, hairy ears pinned back like a scared dog’s. She scrabbled for her shopping bags and ran out, toeclaws clicking.

Now Valentino’s was empty.

Peter grinned. “Say you’re sorry.”

At the sight of that supercilious smile, rage lit me up like a flash-bulb.

Memories erupted over my skin like lava. All the times some brainless gangster had threatened me, all the times I’d ever dredged up a false smile and fluttered my lashes when I felt like raking my claws down their smug faces. Every guy who tried to force me, every fae-dissing idiot who ever hit me or teased me or threatened me, pushed me against a wall as they passed or pretended I wasn’t there. Even when I was a little girl, all the times I’d stared wide-eyed at humans, their safe families, their careers, their rich carefree lives, and someone said, No, darlin’, you can’t ever have that. You’re different. You’re trash. You’re just a silly fae girl. Get back in the dirt where you belong.

My skin swelled with angry vapor, and mirrorstolen courage ignited my blood like wet phosphorous.

Say I’m sorry?
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I scrambled to my feet and strode closer, my fists squeezing tight. Andy hissed a warning and slid knobbed fingers around my wrist, but I shook him off. Years of bottled-up angry words burned like sunfire on my tongue, demanding release. “Damned if I’m sorry. You’re a lousy prick, Peter, and your ass-licking friends, too. What, too afraid to fight a man? Get a hard-on picking on little girls half your size? Huh? Gonna go home and jerk off?”

Peter’s smile dissolved. Crimson flushed his face. Behind him, the trolls grumbled and rolled threatening shoulders.

Giddy defiance drowned the last fragments of my fear. I laughed, delight sliding like a drug into my blood. “Yeah, I bet you will. Go ahead and hit me if it makes you feel good. Wanna watch me tremble?” I stretched my eyes wide and chewed my claws, knocking my knees together in a pretend shiver of terror.

Peter licked his lips, deliberate, and with a thick flex of biceps, he flipped a pistol from his holster and leveled it at me. “I said, say you’re sorry, you sour little fairy cunt.”

I recoiled, my charade melted. His crude insult stung me, but I barely noticed. For the first time ever, I stared at the scary end of a firearm.

Stinky oiled brass invaded my nostrils and crawled down my throat, only to return, dragging cold fear wriggling like a frog into my mouth. My chest hollowed, and my courage ducked for cover, leaving me with shaking muscles and a sick stomach and nerves that twisted and writhed in every limb.

He’d shoot me. He’d really shoot me, just for calling him names. And Ashley and Charlotte would still owe him five grand.

My skin quailed, bumps stinging like needles.

Tell him you’re sorry, Apples. Simper and grovel and make him believe it, or you’re dead.

But ugly recklessness swamped me like hot quicksand, and I opened my mouth in a shimmering fugue of glory to tell him to get fucked.

“Take that back or I’ll make you a fucking lightning rod.” Andy arced onto all fours between me and Peter, angry scarlet static crackling between his fingers. He flared his wings, silver flashing in the sun. Heat haze shimmered over his taut muscles like an angry aura, and he snarled like a panther, spitting iron sparks.

Girlish admiration sparkled in my veins, but fear watered my guts, too. Peter would shoot him, too, and it’d be my fault. Common sense burned in, lucid like sunlight through snow, and I stumbled forward aghast at what my idiocy had wrought. “Andy, don’t—”

Peter yanked back the slide and released it with a steely click, and swiveled to aim at Andy’s eyeballs.

My brain gibbered, lost, and time slowed.

Peter grinned in slow motion, his voice stretched. “Shut it, maggot—”

Andy dived like a striking wasp, streaking in a heartstopping flash of silver for Peter’s throat.

Long blue fingers wrapped around the pistol barrel. Peter’s finger whitened on the trigger. White voltage blazed like an arcweld, blinding me, and ripe electricity tore the air like thunder.

Peter screamed and jerked, smoke sizzling, and the pistol fired.

Splinters exploded, torn vine leaves scattering. My right ear ripped open inside, burning. Andy tumbled to his feet in a shower of sparks. The pistol clunked to the tiles, still crackling with static. Peter flailed, flapping at blue flames licking his clothes, and the troll twins growled and slapped their fat hands on his burning body.

Andy dragged me off my feet. “Scramble, Apples, for fuck’s sake.” His cracked voice zoomed away, distant and dull like I floated underwater. His glamour zapped, a prickly cocoon shimmering around both of us. I stumbled after him, blood pounding in my torn ear, my wits reeling and my legs floppy like custard. My head throbbed. My throat stung with ozone. The air stank of dusty thunder.

Mad giggles throttled me. I’d never felt so good.

Or so wrong. Andy had saved my ass again. Or, he’d saved himself and dragged me along for the ride. It didn’t matter. We were alive, and together, and it seemed a precious, wonderful thing—and no thanks whatsoever to me.

We staggered out hand in hand into blinding sun, and as traffic slowed and pedestrians teetered back in alarm, I squinted through blue-watering eyes and let him drag me up and away.

Notes

Hold the door....(sobs violently in a corner)
- Grimm :(