Page 41 of Lethal Kiss

Man, what a fucking feast.

I clean myself the best I can in the mirror of Arjun’s car, wiping at the speckling of his blood on my face. I use a little of it on my lips like rouge, though I don’t need it. For the first time since I left Seattle behind, I’m sated. My belly is pleasantly full, heavy with blood, my body singing with stolen energy even as my insides quiet. My fingertips find his pockets, his key chain, but there’s no old brass key that would match the lock in Dean Shea’s office.

Damn, damn, damn. Oh well.

Tossing my glossy hair over my shoulders, I thrust my shoulders back and turn my attention to the car. I don’t have a heart to clench inside me, but I know on some level that was a stupid thing to do. Now they’ll know for sure there’s another undead in their midst. I might have an issue on my hands. Arjun was his golden boy, after all.

I take a measured look inside of the car. It’s slicked with blood and brain matter, riddled with bits of broken bone. I was not very neat this time, but despite myself, I smile.

Well, it’s been worse than this. I didn’t survive this long without making a few errors, unfortunately. The issue is this: I need to get to the party, and although that took longer than a few minutes, blowing up the car or driving it to whatever dump is nearby will make me unfashionably late. I need to give them something else to focus on, a reason to whisper that isn’t Arjun’s absence.

What to do, what to do.

Oh.

The phone is already ringing as I put it to my ear.

“Hello?” Lacie’s voice is tentative, a soft waver.

“Lacie, so good to hear your voice after a day of absolute silence,” I say, my voice dripping with derision. Careful, I counsel myself. No enemies anymore, not on this phone call. “Listen, would you be a dear and meet me at the dean’s house? Arjun never showed, and I don’t love being all alone among people I don’t know right now. You understand.”

There’s a pause where all I can hear is Lacie’s breathing. Then, “How did you get there, then? If Arjun didn’t pick you up.”

Damn, she’s sharp. “I took an Uber. Why?” I infuse my voice with haughtiness. “I wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to gather information for us, so—”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Um … give me twenty minutes. I just—” There’s a crackle of static, the sound of things falling over. “—need to get dressed. Okay?”

“See you soon.” I end the call and stare at Arjun’s withered body, his disgusting car. I’ll blow it up after the party. I’ll just have to hope no one sees it until then.

To that end, I push his drained husk into the back seat, careful not to get more blood on my dress than necessary, then drive it to a shadowed corner another block away. The good news is that the streetlamps here are still sodium, so they’re darkish, probably enough to hide myriad ills.

I’m in front of the dean’s house when Lacie’s Uber pulls up. She damn near trips out, and I extend a hand to steady her.

Goddess, but I am feeling so good, so clearheaded. Everything’s shifting hard into focus, blade-edged and sharp. Lacie spritzed her creamy skin with lavender perfume, her heart double-timing. I’m not hungry anymore, but that frantic energy? That’s always a delicious dessert.

No, I tell it. No, we promised, didn’t we?

Lacie tugs her demure black lace dress so it hangs longer over her legs. She must be freezing; she doesn’t have a coat.

“Well, you look lovely, Lacie.”

“I do not,” she spits. “My under-eye bags have bags.”

I hum. “Could have fooled me.” That’s not true, but she does look lovely. I put my arm out. “Come, shall I walk you? Have you ever been here?”

“Only at orientation.” She hesitates, then takes my arm, tucking her chilly hands around my elbow crease. For once, I am warm to the touch, and she softens, her fingertips stroking unconsciously. “Wait. Do you smell that?” Her nose wrinkles.

“Smell what?”

She tips her head toward me. “Blood? Do I smell—”

I laugh, waving my hand. Inside, I am a torment. There are few things worse than being found to be a monster by someone you enjoy being around … and I realize with a jolt that I do. I do enjoy being around her. Her sardonic wit, her deadpan humor. Her love of Bellatrix. Even her quailing grief, deep and nuanced and awful. She’s still looking at me, and I offer her a smile, unsteady, somehow. “I’m sure it’s just … the road. Or a wild animal. Perhaps roadkill?”

Lacie studies me, her glasses flashing as we pass under a streetlight, but she says nothing.

“And anyway, I bet you’re just hungry for dinner. You said you enjoy steak?”

“Did I?”