Lost Girl: Hidden Book One (13 page)

I nodded.

He stood up, and walked toward the water. Raked his fingers through his hair.

“We had a deal. You would at least try to end me if I became a monster. This pretty much defines ‘monster,’ doesn’t it?”

“We’ll keep working on control.”

I got up and stalked over to where he stood. “Did you see what I did tonight?” I asked, well aware that I was shouting. “I killed him, and I liked it. I killed his team, and I liked that. I didn’t want to stop!”

He turned to me. “Yeah. I saw it. It was magnificent.”

“I….what?”

“Keep working, Molly. You’re too tough to let it win.”

“But you just said it’s only going to get worse.”

“Yeah. But you just proved something for me.”

“What?”

“You can feed pretty well from me. Hell knows we’re a mess together. When aren’t we pissed off at each other? Training, working with the team, you’ll be around me enough to take the edge off, I think.”

“You think? I don’t want to….feed from you,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

“It will work. I’m a demon. I’m full of rage. You want rage. You’ll want more of it. Match made in hell.” Then he snorted. “It’s not like I’m asking you to bite my neck or anything.”

I blushed. And he laughed, and I sensed hunger from him, need. “Unless you want to.”

“Oh, Christ,” I said, stalking back to the truck.

He laughed behind me, and I gave him the finger without looking over my shoulder.

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset that he hadn’t killed me.

After my little demonstration with the pyro, and the subsequent talk with Nain, things between the team and I were just awkward. No matter what Nain said about my ability to control it, I knew now what I was. And now that I knew, it explained some things.

Being at work, or out in crowded places, had always set me on edge in a way that went beyond annoying. While some people joked or fantasized about causing serious damage to their co-workers, I could actually do it. It was temptation at its finest. The fact that my co-workers were complete morons just made it all the more tempting.

It was maddening. Work and social situations always had been, but I just thought it was because I was an antisocial bitch. Of course it was that, but so much more. It was slow torture.

It was like going a whole day with a freshly baked, fragrant apple pie sitting right there in front of you, and not being allowed to have a bite. It was like staring at a tall glass of ice water after running a marathon through hell.

I was starving.

Nain had been right. Now that I’d had a taste of power, now that I’d been fully and completely fed, it was almost impossible to focus on anything other than having more. There were emotions to feed on: annoyance, irritation. The daily dramas of the Normals I worked with barely took the edge off. Worthless.

And I was, of course, avoiding everyone I knew who was
not
a Normal.

I’d been ignoring calls from Nain and the rest of his team for over a week. I was still ashamed about what they’d seen me do, despite their kind words and the effort they’d made not to seem terrified of me. And then there was their leader. The idea of “feeding” from Nain in any way was so screwed up I didn’t want to examine it too closely.  I knew logically why and how it worked. It didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Starving.

I sat in my cubicle staring at the clock at the bottom of my monitor and willing it to speed up. I had finished all of my work by ten o’clock, just like every other day. My co-workers were all chatting each other up. They tended to avoid me, for the most part.

I can’t imagine why.

I heard the outer office door open, sensed Brennan before he said a word.

“Hey. Is Molly around?” he asked our receptionist. I rolled my eyes at the thoughts that went through her mind as she looked him over. Idiot.

I took a deep breath and walked out to the reception area. “Hey.”

Brennan stood there, leaning on the front counter. Dressed, as always, in a pair of well-worn jeans and a white t-shirt. I’d asked him once why white, and he’d said it was easy to bleach the blood out of it.

How practical.

He smiled when he saw me, a real smile accompanied by a genuine sense of happiness to see me. Concern, but happiness.

“Hey, beautiful. You about done here?”

I felt heat rise to my face as the receptionist and another coworker watched me with renewed interest. And more than a little jealousy. I smiled back.

“Ten more minutes. Want to hang out while I finish up here?”

He nodded and followed me back to my cubicle.

I sat down in my chair, and he sat in the only other chair, after removing a pile of files from it.

“So. Why are you here?” I asked quietly, knowing there would be ears straining to hear what the creepy data entry clerk had to say to the male model who’d come to visit.

“You weren’t answering any of my phone calls or texts,” he said, just as quietly.

“I haven’t been answering anyone’s calls or texts.”

“Yeah, I know. You owe me for keeping Nain off your ass, by the way.”

I laughed. “I bet. Thanks.”

He just nodded.

“So, what? Is there a work thing I’m needed for?” I turned my monitor off and set my phone to voicemail.

“There’s always asskicking that needs to be done. You know that. But it can wait for tomorrow. You feel like grabbing something to eat?”

I almost choked.

“I think that’s probably a really stupid idea. No offense,” I added quickly.

He laughed. “None taken. Shockingly enough, I’m not afraid of the big bad mindflayer.”

I glanced up, met his eyes. Blue. What was it with blue-eyed men in my life all of a sudden? Not Nain’s sapphire blue. A slatey, blue gray that made me think of a lake during a storm. “Maybe you should be,” I muttered.

“Am I tempting you?” he asked, cocky smile firmly in place.

I glared at him, stood up and grabbed my messenger bag. He followed me out of the office as I made a point of not telling my coworkers to have a nice weekend.

“Come on, Molly. You choose. I’ll even pay.”

I rolled my eyes. We walked through campus. “Are you trying to kill me?” I asked. My chest, my body, burned with hunger.

“Nope. Trying to prove a point,” he said.

I glanced at him.

“You can do this.” He said it, and he was so confident I almost believed.

“And if I can’t? If I end up taking all of your lovely shapechanger powers from you and leave you an empty husk, or, even worse, dead? What then?”

He reached out, took my hand, dragged me closer to him. “I trust you.”

I pulled my hand back and moved away. “You’re an idiot.”

He grinned. I felt warmth from him, straight down to my toes. The crazy son of a bitch genuinely liked and trusted me. Me! I shook my head.

“Are you gonna make me beg?” he asked, still smiling.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Just…stay away. Not so close.” He took a deliberate step away from me and grinned again. This was a phenomenally stupid idea.

♦ ♦ ♦

We ended up at Supino’s in Eastern Market. We sat side by side scarfing slices of the perfectly crisp, gooey pizza as we looked out the window at the market. I devoured my pizza, hoping it would keep me distracted from Brennan and his power. Every time my mind strayed to the power I could feel radiating from him, I forced it back to the pizza, or what was happening outside. Anything but how tempting it was to take a trip into his mind and take what I wanted.

His knee was pressed against mine under the counter. Not his fault — the restaurant was packed and everyone was smashed together. I turned to look at him. “I need to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“That night with the pyro,” I said, dropping my voice. He nodded, leaned in. “There were demons there.”

He nodded again.

“Real demons. They actually looked like demons.” I remembered them: built like very squat, muscular men. Skin the color of dried blood, some with skin the gray of clayey soil, absorbing all of the light around them. Orange glowing eyes, terrifying faces, sharp horns and teeth. Claws.

He nodded again.

“What’s the deal with Nain? Why doesn’t he look like that?”

Brennan winced. “Oooh. That’s a sore spot.”

“Tell me,” I said, taking another bite of pizza.

Brennan sighed. “You can’t tell him I told you.” I nodded my assent, impatient. “He used to look like that, when he wanted to. He wore his human skin most of the time, but when he needed to kick some ass, he dropped the enchantment.  I remember him looking like that when I was little. Scared the shit out of me, to be honest.”

I watched him. “I didn’t know you’ve known Nain that long.”

“My parents were part of Nain’s crew. They died when I was nine. Nain raised me,” he said quietly.

My jaw dropped. Brennan looked at me and laughed.

“I’m sorry. About your parents, I mean.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. They died with honor, doing the right thing. And, though you probably won’t believe me, I had a good childhood.”

I raised my eyebrow and he laughed. “Really. I did.”

“If you say so. I want to hear more about Daddy Warbucks later. Back to the demons.”

He smiled. “Something happened. He never really told me what, but he lost his demonic form. I don’t know if it was a fight or a deal, or witchcraft, or what…but he lost it. And when he lost it, he lost a good portion of his power.” He met my eyes. “He’s powerful now. He was a freaking nightmare when he had access to his natural form.”

“So, whatever happened to him, it stuck him in a mortal body,” I said.

He nodded. “Weaker. He could do all kinds of crazy shit in his demonic form. He hates it that it’s gone. He had to learn how to be a badass in a skin.”

“He pulls it off,” I muttered.

“Yeah.”

We were quiet for a minute. I plucked a few stray mushrooms off of my plate and popped them into my mouth. “I never had one to begin with,” I said.

“Yeah. You’re not all demon, though.”

I stopped. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not. You and Nain feel similar, but not the same. You didn’t know?”

I shrugged. “I just assumed. I had no idea I was even a demon until Nain told me.  Besides, what non-demon would mate with a demon?”

“Sometimes there’s no choice,” he said carefully. My stomach turned. “And sometimes, there is, and beings want one another in spite of what they are.” His gaze met mine. “Whatever you are, Molly, you’re not just a demon or mindflayer. There’s something else there, and it’s noble, and fearless. That’s why I’m not afraid of you. I believe in you.”

“I don’t,” I said, looking out the window.

“You should,” he said. We were quiet for a few minutes. Then: “I answered a question. Now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t agree to answering anything,” I said, still looking out the window.

“It’s only fair.”

“Fine.”

“How’d you get started finding lost girls?”

I took a breath. “I never knew my parents. I spent my childhood getting moved from foster home to foster home. More frequently the older I got.” I looked at him. “I was a pretty creepy kid, I guess. I didn’t know to hide what I could see. It freaked several of my foster families out.”

“I bet.”

“But I made it through, and I figured out that I wasn’t crazy, just telepathic. That saved me from a few messed up situations, actually.” I paused, drank some of my Coke. ” My junior year in high school, my foster parents were real creepers. I’d asked to be moved, but the agency was dragging its feet, and I was tired of the game. I was working at a little diner, and the manager was nice to me. Helped me out, listened to me. I trusted him.”

“I ran away from home, and the manager told me he had a spare room and I could stay with him until I got on my feet. I was stupid enough to take him up on it.”

Brennan took my hand, held it in his lap. I continued. “He was nice at first. And then one day, I woke up in the basement, duct taped to a chair.”

I felt, more than heard, the growl emanating from Brennan’s chest.

“He never touched me,” I said.  ”It was all mind games. He spent every second when he was at home threatening me, telling me how weak I was, how worthless I was, that I’d never become anything, that I’d never be free. It doesn’t sound as bad as what he could have done. And it probably wasn’t. But months on end of hearing it, over and over again, the constant threat that he just might decide to do more, and feeling helpless to fight either way….it seriously messed with my head. And add to that that I could hear every thought he was having, feel every emotion he felt…” I shook my head. “There were days, during and after, when I was sure I was losing my mind. When I was scared of every shadow, every sound.”

Brennan seemed to be holding his breath. “No one came for you?”

I shrugged. “No one cared enough to look. My foster parents never reported me missing. The state is overburdened as it is. They lost track of me. No one knew I was gone.”

I looked down at our hands clasped together. Foreign, this being connected, in any way, to another person. I frowned.

“How did you get out?”

“That was when I really realized what I could do. When I started being able to force my will on others. He was there, doing his normal shit. And I just kept thinking “stop, shut up, just stop it” over and over again. And suddenly he did. And I thought he was messing with me, more mind games. So I told him to release me. And he did.”

“And you ran?”

I didn’t answer.

“Molly?’

I closed my eyes. “Remember when you asked me if I’d ever killed before? And I said ‘not this way?’”

Dread from Brennan. “Yeah.”

“I told him to get gasoline. Told him where to pour it. Told him to sit, stay. And told him to light himself on fire. And I walked away as it all burned.”

We sat, and his thumb stroked the back of my hand. “A lost girl,” he said softly.

I nodded. “After I was free for a while, I started getting my head straight. And I decided that there were too many of us out there, girls no one would bother to find, girls failed by everyone around them. I could help them. So I started.”