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Celeste walks past me, squatting down before him. “Remember her?” she asks.
He shakes his head, rapid and panicked, his face showing that he knows exactly who I am.
Celeste reaches down, buries her fist in his hair and lifts him up, straightening up the chair with him. His chest heaves, his eyes trying to follow her every step as she walks behind him. She yanks his head back, exposing his throat.
With a shiver, I notice the way his adam's apple bops as he swallows. I’ve never let myself view another person as a meal before – have gone out of the way to suppress those thoughts – but it’s easier than I thought. My muscles twitch with the urge to attack.
Celeste bends down to him until her lips are level with his ear. “Two on one… that’s not very fair, is it?”
He whimpers, his eyes finding mine, expression pleading. Anger flares in me like a wildfire, to a thousand degree heat in barely a moment. How dare he look at me like this?
“Here’s an idea, to give you a fighting chance…” Celeste reaches into the pocket of her coat and I see the flash of a knife in her hand. Before I realise what she’s doing, she’s cut the rope securing him to the chair. Everything after that happens so fast, it’s over before it’s even started.
He runs. Of course he runs. Slow and cumbersome and heavy-footed, the way all humans run. He even makes it past me and within a step of the door.
Feeling the tug of prey drive like electricity in my muscles, I let myself go, giving in to the urge to chase. In the time it takes him to take the next step, I whip around and lunge after him. My body acts without conscious thought, muscles twitching through pure instinct. My skin prickles with adrenaline. His body folds like a ragdoll beneath me, flinching as my teeth rip into his neck.
He hits the side of the container with an audible crunch, something in his fragile body breaking. He cries and fights, but this time, he’s the helpless one.
The way he struggles as I pin him against the wall and drink in deep swigs reminds me of myself, weak, unable to move. I can still feel his friend's body pressed against mine, every touch running over my skin as if it’s happening right now. Fleeing from the nausea and shame, I bite down harder and feel him jerk in pain. I hate him, I hate both of them, and fucking Casey, everyone who’s ever hurt me. My mind spirals further into this unholy amalgamation of shame and anger, until I feel his muscles go limp beneath me.
I jump back, fingers shaking. Warm blood drips from my lips to my chin. As if time has slowed down, I watch his body crumple and sink to the floor.
My eyes helplessly scan the container until I find Celeste, who is leaning by the door and impassively sucking on a joint. Mel is standing outside and reaches in to take the Ghostshade from Celeste’s hand.
“You said…” I begin.
Celeste smiles gently when she sees my expression. “He’s just unconscious, kitten. They tend to do that when they lose too much blood.”
I look down at him. I don’t feel better – the sense of justice I was hoping for never comes – but I do feel stronger. His blood, though not nearly as good as that of a witch, is starting to go to my head. I’ve never drank this much in one go before.
“What… what do I do with him now?”
Celeste shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. He’s my gift, remember? I’ll clean up later.”
She steadies me as I step outside and I let her lead me to the car.That’s it?I think. Behind me, the doors of the container snap shut.
“We can’t just leave him there… It’s cold and–”
“What do you think, that they would have driven you home after they were done with you?” Celeste flicks the stump of her joint into the dirt.
I flinch at the thought, images flashing through my mind that I would pay to be able to forget.Maybe I should have just killed him.The car’s doorhandle crumples as I grip it, shards of plastic splintering and crumbling to the floor.
“Shit,” I swear, finding Mel’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
She gives the damage a perplexed look, then turns to Celeste. “You’re the one paying for that.”
Celeste’s hand finds my back. “It’s alright, kitten. You work for me now. Everyone in this city knows not to go near you.”
While I try to open the door with the stump of the broken doorhandle, unsure of what to do with my onslaught of emotions, Mel pauses by the driver’s side, rubbing her neck. “I think I’m too high to drive.” Her eyes find Celeste.
“Don’t look at me,” Celeste replies.
Mel shrugs. Before I can say anything, she has thrown the keys and my hands have plucked them out of midair.
I look at them with unease. “I haven’t driven since I got my license years ago.”
“You’ll be fine,” Mel says, already on her way to the back, where my hand is still sitting on the broken handle. “You’ve got that vampire reaction speed, right?”
