GLITTER & GORE Chapter 3
Spider in the Wall
I'd always thought public speaking was the bane of my existence, but nope, it was walking through town in a pink spider-patterned bra, holding hands with a vampire.
Because yes, Mr. Mosquito had decided we would look more normal if we held hands, even though anyone who knew me probably gawked more at that than my attire. The vampires' huge red umbrellas really helped us blend in too. Middle aged joggers totally didn't slow down to do double takes. Little old ladies totally didn't trip over their walkers.
"You know Nova and I aren't sisters," Amy said as if that were the most important thing right now. I sighed at her absolute lack of tact. Surely we could have used that information in our favor somehow. If we were alone later, I would have to verse her in the art of subterfuge.
"Shit," Hay Head said, kicking a pile of snow lining the sidewalk. "Now we have to find the other family."
"Sick," Mr. Mosquito said, exaggeratedly swinging our hands between us. "Now we can do the orgy without it getting incesty."
Hay Head gave me a disgusted side eye. "You want to include that thing? I don't even know why we're bothering to bring it. We can easily find a better candidate."
I nodded in ardent agreement. "You really could."
Peeking around her captor, Amy glared at me murderously, displeased with my escape attempts.
If she really wanted to sacrifice herself to the vampires, I didn't understand why she couldn't brave it alone. I would charge toward my own desires even if the whole world stood against me. Amy needed other people, though. I knew this about her, and I couldn't begrudge the different ways our brains worked, likely through biological means out of our control.
"How did you even find us?" I asked. If we did manage to flee, I needed to know if they'd be able to track us down again.
"Scrying bowl," Mr. Mosquito replied, dragging me into the road even as cars zoomed from both directions. I flinched into him as tires screeched on pavement, resenting my instinctive display of fear. He strode on with complete confidence, as did Hay Head even when Amy tried jumping into his arms.
I wanted to make a jibe about the vampires' ignorance of human traffic customs, but my mind was too distracted with the concept of scrying bowls—actual magic.
"We found her through the scrying bowl," Hay Head corrected, shaking Amy's arm. Instead of holding her hand, he’d opted for a punishing grip on her forearm, only one step up from hauling her around by her overall chains. "We wouldn't have wasted our time if it was just you."
"Thank fuck we found you, though, amiright?" Mr. Mosquito squeezed my injured hand, shooting pain through my nerves, and gave a falsely sweet smile. He'd donned the caricature of a doting boyfriend specifically to piss me off. Asshole. The gash from his cheek across his lips reflected the true nature of our relationship.
Though my palm laceration oozed blood between our hands, his cut had congealed in a fibrin clot, healing only a smidge faster than mine. If I hadn’t witnessed Hay Head hypnotize my parents, I would’ve questioned if these two were legit vampires or just part of some creepy cult.
"Why aren't you supernaturally healing?" I asked.
He flashed white teeth no longer tainted with blood. "Why would I?"
"You're a vampire. Don't you have powers? What's the appeal if you don't have powers?"
Mr. Mosquito nudged his friend with his umbrella arm. "Sounds like we have a Twilight fan here, Bal."
"What—no, I'm not," I said a tad too defensively. Twelve-year-old Nova had devoured the books in two days, but no one needed to know that.
"She's a huuuge Twilight girlie," Amy lied, wiggling her eyebrows at me. No doubt that was revenge for me trying to leave her with the vamps.
I didn't bother scowling, instead asking the vital question, "Do you two sparkle in the sun, or is it something…worse?"
Mr. Mosquito definitely noticed my scheming looks at the umbrella handle, but he didn't move it out of my range, overly confident in his dominance.
"Yes and yes," he answered as we turned into a narrow alley. Our shoulders pressed together, and the giant umbrella scraped against the bricks.
"It was an either-or question. It can't be both."
Even in the shadows cast by the umbrella and the buildings, his eyes shone with mischief. "No? You have an under-active imagination."
That observation contradicted all the ways I was imagining stealing his umbrella and poking it through his orifices. But, better to let him think I was a brainless fool who he could lower his guard around.
As we stepped into a wider street, I couldn't suppress a shiver at the sudden gust of wind dredging goosebumps from my flesh. Amy had snagged her coat before we left my house, but I was condemned to endure the frigid weather with almost nothing protecting my torso. The vampires didn't flinch even though they wore t-shirts, Mr. Mosquito's riddled with more than a few holes. Did their blood run cold instead of warm, or were they hollow vessels completely unable to feel?
My internal curiosity didn't run rampant much longer before we reached our apparent destination: Club Cannibal.
From what I'd heard, the place lived up to its name. People practically ate each other's faces in shameless makeout sessions on the dance floor, the booths, and even the toilet. Amy had snuck in a few times with her other friends, but I had no interest in dancing or popular music or other human beings, thus didn't see the point.
Humid air assaulted us the moment we walked in, fused with too many perfumes for me to distinguish one scent. Spooky electronic tunes boomed through the speakers, but nobody danced in the brightly lit space. One lonely worker mopped the floors, and a few patrons sat at the glowing red bar, all staring glumly into the distance while nursing drinks.
Thank Thoth, this place was dead. The great father of alchemy had spared me from dealing with sweaty low-lives trying to devour my face. Still, the mindless partiers could have served as useful cover when I snuck away. Or as human shields when Mr. Mosquito inevitably attacked me again.
As the vampires closed their umbrellas, I scanned the space for exits, finding only one door beyond the bar and absolutely no windows. I didn’t know what the vampires planned to do with us here, but as I eyed the selection of bottles on the shelves, I regretted dismissing the alcohol sections of my alchemy texts.
“Damn, this place is lame during the day,” Amy complained, kicking a used condom from the floor. It flew farther than she probably expected, sticking to the mopping worker’s arm.
My friend hid behind Hay Head while the woman screamed and struggled to shake the thing off. Mr. Mosquito snickered to himself, and I ignored it all as I dragged him across the sticky dance floor.
“Oh, you wanna dance?” He yanked me toward him, gracefully clutching my shoulder before my whole chest could slam into his. When his hand trailed down my arm, no doubt aiming for my hip, I hastily sidestepped away, ripping our hands apart.
“I would rather swallow acid,” I told him curtly.
Obviously, that didn’t deter him, his tongue in his cheek as he slid closer again. “If you’re looking for some zest—”
“I need to pee,” I announced loudly enough that Hay Head sneered at me from afar like I’d actually just pissed on the floor.
“Well, you’re in luck.” Mr. Mosquito snared my hair again and, as I’d hoped, led me to the restrooms in the far corner of the club. Then he foiled my plan by joining me in the tiny single-user room, Hay Head and Amy cramming in behind us.
With arched eyebrows, Mr. Mosquito glanced expectantly between me and the toilet, amusement etched into his falsely stern expression.
“I’m not peeing with everyone in here,” I said flatly.
“Then it must not be that urgent.”
Hay Head pinched his crooked nose and sighed deeply. “We’ll wait right outside the door.”
“So chivalrous, Bal,” Mr. Mosquito play-scolded, but he didn’t seriously contradict his friend, releasing me and following the other two from the room.
The last thing I saw before the door slammed shut was Amy’s warning glare. Which didn’t dissuade me in the slightest.
The room didn’t offer much in terms of an alchemical solution. Even though water and silver were powerful ingredients, they wouldn’t accomplish anything on their own. Plus, I doubted the faucet was authentic silver, and I’d never successfully transmuted a base metal to a noble metal. My options were limited to normal methods of retaliation, far outside my expertise.
I could break the dirty mirror and stab the vampires with glass? The bacteria alone might give them an instantly lethal infection. If vampires could develop infections. They couldn’t heal fast, based on Mr. Mosquito’s persisting wound, but they also enjoyed being stabbed by humans, based on Mr. Mosquito’s irrational glee. Maybe pain felt good to them. Maybe they couldn’t die.
God, I hated operating under these unfamiliar conditions, working with variables out of my control.
My eyes caught onto the vent near the ceiling, just big enough for me to squeeze through. I could navigate through the air ducts, grab alcohol and a lighter from the bar, throw it at the vampires, save Amy, and run. Probably it would go to shit the moment I tried using a lighter, but I had to try.
Standing on the toilet, I pried the grate off the wall and hoisted myself into the opening. The warm metal crowded against my bare skin, but I had enough room to shimmy through…until I reached my hips.
“For the love of gold, my hips aren’t even that wide!” I whisper-shouted into the dark.
I closed my eyes to add another layer of blackness, smothering my burning frustration. This was the worst time to lose sight of the possibilities and cave to my emotions, but I didn’t know what to do. Breaking the mirror was my best option, but the thought of pressing another shard to my injured palm made me want to vomit.
For some reason—likely best explained by a mental deficiency—Mr. Mosquito had shown interest in me, and perhaps I could use that to my advantage. Flirting wasn’t exactly a skill of mine, but I’d watched Amy woo enough guys to know the basics. Being half dressed would probably work in my favor.
Sticking my ass out from the vent helped too, apparently, because the frazzling sensation of fingertips started crawling up the backs of my legs, grazing my skin through the distressed holes of my jeans.
Fucking Mosquito Man couldn’t keep his hands to himself for two seconds.
“I will say,” his muffled voice sounded from outside the ducts, “this is a nice view. But…” His hands clamped on the backs of my thighs, dragging me from the wall. Before I could regain my footing, he pushed my back to the toilet seat, threatening to dunk my head into the bowl. “I like this better. That little glint of fear in your eyes, the aroma of it…”
His hair curtained my face as he leaned down to inhale me, his nose a millimeter from my throat. I never really enjoyed being this close to anyone. I avoided hugs from my family, and Amy only forced them on me when she absolutely could not contain her emotions. Expressing love for someone in a physical way felt too vulnerable, too pathetic.
I didn’t love Mr. Mosquito, though. I didn’t even like him. His touches meant nothing to me—well, except that he could overpower me. The embarrassment of that inadequacy heated my cheeks, my core.
“Once my supernatural powers are evoked, I won’t be able to resist.” His fangs brushed my neck before he withdrew, and though my body involuntarily shivered in response, my mind latched onto what he’d said—that he didn’t yet have special abilities. How could he obtain them, and how could I stop him from obtaining them? The prospect that I might be able to ruin his life almost made me want to temporarily forfeit my freedom.
Almost being the key word. I didn’t know how many more times I would be able to stomach him looming over me like this, playing his stupid power games. His smile was practically begging to be smashed with a metal goblet.
“Instant gratification is an indicator of immaturity, you know,” I said.
“Ah, but that’s why I’m biding my time. When I finally give in to my desires, you’ll be shaking with need.”
I rolled my eyes. “Pleasure isn’t a necessity, and if it becomes one, then it’s a weakness.”
The door slammed open before he could reply, and I desperately fought my body’s instinct to jolt in surprise. I refused to give Mr. Mosquito any reason to believe I enjoyed being pinned beneath him. Because I didn’t.
“Oh, dude,” Hay Head groaned, covering his eyes with his free hand, “don’t tell me fucking someone on a public toilet is on your sex bucket list.”
“Wasn’t until now,” Mr. Mosquito said over his shoulder before winking at me.
Knowing he craved a reaction, I maintained a mask of neutrality, even when he hauled me upright like a flimsy doll.
Amy blinked at us in shock until she registered the grate on the floor, the open air duct, and the merciless way my vampire captor’s fingers twisted through my hair. Then she hissed, “Did you try to escape without me?”
“I had a plan,” I grumbled.
“Not a very good one,” Mr. Mosquito crooned.
My agitation finally won out, and I elbowed him hard in the ribs, effectively removing his hand from my head. He didn’t grunt or hold his bruised side, instead watching me curiously as I crossed my arms, some kind of realization flashing in his eyes.
I waited for him to seize me again, for another obnoxious little quip, but he stepped around me toward the full length mirror instead. After shooting me a smirk through the glass, he ruffled his hair and checked out his own jawline.
Of course we couldn’t have been kidnapped by horror movie monster vampires. It had to be narcissistic douchebag vampires.
My attention strayed toward the closed door, and Amy mouthed, “Don’t” before I even thought about how I might sneak past Hay Head. I considered ignoring her stupidity, but this time she didn’t seem angry or blinded by delusional vampire fantasies. Her concerned eyes flickered between my bloody hand and disheveled hair.
I couldn’t reassure her that Mr. Mosquito wouldn’t seriously hurt me, not just because he was in the room, but because I had no idea what he was capable of. The vampires needed us alive for our blood, but according to Hay Head, I was replaceable. If I crossed a line with Mr. Mosquito, he might snap my neck before I could weasel my way out of it.
“I thought vampires couldn’t see their own reflection,” I said as he admired his fangs.
“Magic mirror,” he replied right before the glass caved into a churning vortex.
Amy’s jaw dropped, and I couldn’t help but stare in awe at real magic. This swirl of gray and red led to an entirely different realm, the kind of fantasy I’d always dreamed of. Even though I dreaded becoming the vampires’ blood slave, most of me longed to submerge in the extraordinary, no matter what struggles accompanied it.
“Ladies first?” Mr. Mosquito offered, the hint of a challenge in his tone.
I let the barest smile curve my lips as I stalked forward and plunged into the abyss.
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