Nightingale Girl (17 page)

Other things were in there with them, monsters feeding on the freshly dead. They’d be just as strong as the Hellions, if not stronger, depending on how much they ate. Creatures struck out, scratching at them. A few of the Hellions, including Sparrow, had to fight off droves of people, dead and demonized.

“Nice job, Meg,” Jim said as they cleared the back corner of the building.

Meg.
Jim had said her name, and it was all Sparrow could think of. She looked terrified, huddled in the corner, her weapon bloody from battle. Pride struck Sparrow; she was strong, fighting strong. He’d always known this, something in his gut told him. But now she was bleeding, and her face was twisted in pain.

Sparrow reached for Meg. He clasped his large hands around her narrow arms, lifted her off her feet, and tossed her over his shoulder. Meg’s body went limp against his back. Sparrow’d knocked her out with the swift movement. This was for the best: she didn’t need to see what he had to walk through. Sparrow knew she wasn’t all innocent, but even he didn’t want to see the carnage of the Hell party they were wading through.

The crowd parted, mostly. The remaining Hellions fought the horde that pushed against their retreat, leaving a trail of blood and ichor. Jim waltzed behind the row of Hellions, never lifting a finger to fight. Beastly things had eaten here—funneled the newly dead in and fed from them before they knew where they were. Noah slipped in the gore spread across the floor.

Sparrow reached out and pulled Noah up by the collar of his shirt.

They left the rave. The Demon bouncers at the door simply watched the team of Hellions as they walked away with Meg and Noah in tow.

They strode through the streets of the city for what seemed like an hour, at least, before arriving at the caravan of black Jeep Wranglers. The streets were nearly empty now. Creatures called to them from the shadows and below the sewer grates.

“I can take her back from here.” Noah held his arms out.

“You will not touch her.” Sparrow’s hand gripped the back of Meg’s thigh possessively, as she hung limp over his shoulder.

“Clea will—”

“She’s safe now.” Sparrow pushed at the ghost man, his hand meeting solid flesh.

Noah stumbled and glared.

“You’ve hurt her enough already. You’re nothing like the man I first met down here.” Noah glared at Sparrow. “Give her to me.” Noah held his hands out again, demanding.

“No.” Sparrow could feel the pulse of her femoral artery through her jeans. His hunger reared its ugly head. Fighting his way into the Hell party had taken a toll; his body was bruised and scratched. Sparrow’s own blood leaked down his arms, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Ride with us if you don’t trust me.”

Noah had astral magic; Lucifer himself had infused him with it when he bound Noah and Meg together. The ghost could tear Meg out of Sparrow’s arms in an instant, but he didn’t. It was as though Noah knew that Sparrow had to keep her close while the other Hellions, and Jim, were on the loose.

With his free hand, Sparrow opened the door of the Jeep and waited for Noah to get in.

Noah moved, crawled across the rear bench, and sat behind the Hellion driver. Sparrow got in next to Noah and settled Meg across his lap. She was still unconscious, her breathing shallow. Blood dripped down her arm.

The Hellion in the driver’s seat turned, his eyes narrowing on the wound.

“Drive,” Sparrow ordered.

The Jeep kicked into gear and pulled out onto the street behind the others.

Sparrow nestled Meg’s head against his chest.

Meg.
It was a name he’d recognized the second Jim said it. Sparrow couldn’t remember it before—hadn’t heard anyone call her by it until now.

“Put pressure on that,” Noah said.

Sparrow turned to look at him.

“Her arm.” Noah pointed to the puncture mark that was draining in a thick trickle of blood.

“Make it stop,” the Hellion driving said.

Sparrow pressed his fingers over the wound. Meg made a soft noise against his chest. Sparrow was tempted.

“Don’t,” Noah warned. “She can’t feed you now.”

That wasn’t his intention, but Sparrow could barely control himself around her normally; with her blood leaking out it was nearly impossible. He bent his head and licked the wound, sealing it.

The Hellion driver sighed as if in appreciation.

The drive back to the burning caves was long, the fleet no longer driving at an emergent pace. Noah watched Sparrow, ready to intervene.

Sparrow wasn’t going to hurt her. His hand gripped her hip and pulled her closer.
Meg.
She smelled like Noah and the Devil’s liquor. The thought of Noah touching her ignited a rage deep inside Sparrow.

She was his; Sparrow knew this with every speck of his being, even if he couldn’t remember the details—even if Jim was slowly working at tearing them apart. After this realization, for a few minutes, Sparrow could barely breathe, and he knew it was Jim validating his hold on Sparrow.

. . .

Meg

I don’t wake to find my faithful manservant, Noah, waiting patiently for me. Instead there is a fuming Hellion named Sparrow. He stands over me. His clothes are ripped. There are scratches on his arms, with blood and black gunk dried to his skin. His hair is matted.

“Should I thank you?” I ask.

He growls. Plainly growls like an animal.

“Thank you.” The words come flying out in a rushed whisper, and I look away from him. My cheeks turn crimson. Not much embarrasses me, but last night, that was some serious shit. I can’t believe we got into that mess. I’m covered in dried blood and dirt, but my wounds have healed.

Sparrow stares me down.

“What?” I ask sheepishly.

“You will rest.” He points a finger at me. “Quickly. I am absolutely starving.” Sparrow gives me a dark look before leaving my room.

That was a threat if I’ve ever heard one. I’m afraid Sparrow might bleed me dry for what I put him through last night.

Noah enters the room immediately after Sparrow walks out the door.

“Oh good, I thought he was going to suck you dry.”

“He’s coming back later.” I swallow hard.

Noah pales. “Uh-oh.”

“Right.”

“I wouldn’t want to be you.”

“I don’t want to be me, either.”

Noah looks surprisingly put together for what we went through last night. “You should probably clean yourself up,” he suggests.

I push myself to sit. My muscles are sore, and my stomach hurts from where I got kicked.

Noah hands me a soda.

“So, Clea tells me that you chose the rowdiest Hell party in all the land to attend.” He pulls a sandwich out of a brown paper bag. “Congratulations. We’re now under house arrest.”

“Goddamn it.” I open the soda and take a long drink.

Noah hands me the sandwich; I devour it, then wash it down with the rest of the soda.

“I’m going to shower.” I stand and limp to the bathroom door, locking myself inside.

After washing the blood off, I find the only indication of the bloodbath at the rave is a few pink scars. Clea probably healed them, or maybe Sparrow licked them. Remembering his hot tongue on my flesh makes my skin flush.

I wrap myself in a towel, brush my teeth, and head for the closet. Noah’s gone. Exhaustion hits me, a tsunami of fatigue. Too tired to decide on much, I grab an oversize T-shirt and a pair of underwear off the shelf. I drop the towel, dress, and then crawl back into bed.

He’s your monster now.
Nightingale’s words echo in my dreams. She’s roller-skating around the flower garden fountain in Remiel’s Kingdom.
“They’re going to turn him into a bad, bad man. He needs it to rule, to know darkness and light. They’re going to turn him into a monster.”
Nightingale circles on her skates faster and faster before she halts in front of me. She whistles a short trill before shouting,
“You should have taken me with you!”

I jerk awake.

There is a shadow outside my window. I stand to investigate. The breeze chills my bare legs. I reach for the curtain, pull it back, and let my eyes adjust to the moonlight.

An owl is perched on the railing of the balcony. It’s brown and white and tiny—could fit in the palm of my hand. I recognize it from Sparrow’s bird book: an elf owl. I don’t think it belongs in this habitat. The owl turns; its amber gaze is striking. It hoots once before fluttering off into the night.

I go back to bed and lie there for a few moments, realizing that Sparrow never came back to feed, like he threatened.

I fall back asleep only to be annoyed by more of Nightingale’s dreams.

. . .

In the wee hours of the morning I wake to footsteps in my room. My eyes flash open. Sparrow is standing near the window. He looks exhausted, his cheeks are hollow, and there are circles under his eyes. I don’t know what Jim is using him for, but the guy looks like he just ran ten marathons.

“Now,” he whispers from the shadows.

I am still tired and annoyed. I don’t move.

“Now,” Sparrow demands, louder this time.

Payback’s a bitch. “I’m not getting up.” I stretch my arm across the bed.

“Get up.”

“No. I’m tired.” I throw a pillow over my face.

The bed gives. I pull the pillow up and find Sparrow crawling gingerly toward me. I press the pillow back over my face and feel the mattress give as Sparrow lies across the bed on his stomach. He licks my arm.

I shiver. “Just do it,” I mutter from under the pillow.

I feel his hot mouth on me, his firm lips sealing on my skin, his teeth pinching. There is a tugging sensation as he sucks. Heat floods my body. I press the pillow down to conceal the moan that escapes my lips. I am incredibly turned on.

Sparrow pauses, swallowing before sucking again.

And I thought Teari forbidding us from having premarital sex in Heaven was torture. This is worse. I want to rip his clothes off, and mine, too. But at the same time, I want to choke him a little for being an asshole.

Sparrow feeds until my head feels fuzzy. He stops, licks my arm, but never moves away. I lift the pillow again. He’s staring at my hand. His finger touches the ring he gave me.

I press the pillow down on my face again, unable to deal with the man I knew and what he’s turned into.

The door to my bedroom opens. “Meg?” It’s Noah’s voice.

“Leave,” Sparrow growls at my manservant.

The door slams closed.

I hold my breath.

Sparrow lays his head down next to my arm. He doesn’t move for a long time. When I finally work up the courage, I lift the pillow and find him passed out next to me. His face is peaceful in sleep, his muscles lax. Even the leather wings on his back lie flat.

I reach out and touch his hair. It’s soft, like I remember. I want to sink my fingers into it and rub his scalp.

He doesn’t move.

I roll away from him, slide off the bed, and head toward the closet. I open the drawer where I’ve stashed all my feathers. After selecting a light-blue one, I return to the bed and crawl next to him. I tuck the feather in his pocket, then scoot closer and close my eyes.

“I wish you’d remember me,” I whisper, as I drift off to sleep.

. . .

Sparrow

“Faster.” Jim commanded.

Sparrow was in the pit, digging alone. He slammed the shovel into the fresh dirt, tossing it to the ground above him. The other Hellions were above, moving dirt out of the cabin to a place in the woods.

Memories of the past night came forth. The sight of Meg lying on the floor, bleeding and pale—he couldn’t scratch it from his brain. Anger overwhelmed him. The fact that she’d put herself in danger and that Noah let her go—

A rock hit Sparrow in the shoulder.

“I said faster, Birdman!” Jim was standing over him. “Got a deadline to get this shit done before—”

The Hellion with the scars walked up next to Jim, interrupting. Both of them turned away, Jim never finishing his insults.

Sparrow chopped at the dirt with his shovel and lifted heavy loads of soil above him as fast as he could. His muscles ached; sweat dripped from his body in steady streams. He’d been there since dawn, and the sun was nearly setting now. Sparrow wondered if he’d have the strength to fly back to the burning caves when he was done. The others didn’t have to—they were staying out here—but Sparrow’s refusal to drink from the Bloodwhores meant he had to go back for Meg. It annoyed Jim, and he held nothing back when it came to punishing Sparrow. That’s why he was in the pit, and he had the uneasy feeling that he’d be doing plenty more, and worse, to pay for it.

Sparrow shoveled until dark. One of the other Hellions lit a single candle to allow some light in the space. Sparrow threw a load of dirt to the floor above him. He heard it hit someone, and before he knew it, a Hellion was in the ditch with him, yelling and shoving.

“You’ll pay. Stupid fairy.” The Hellion punched Sparrow.

Sparrow stumbled backward. Loose soil fell around his shoulders in a cascade.

“Hey!” Jim shouted from above. “Let birdboy out.”

The Hellion glared before jumping out of the pit. Sparrow followed, partially dragging himself. His arms were caked in soil. His clothing, too.

“Go.” Jim waved toward the door. “Return at dawn.”

As Sparrow left the cabin, Jim turned to the remaining Hellions and began a whispered conversation.

Sparrow took to the air, pleased for the rain that rinsed the dirt off him. By the time he neared the burning caves, his clothing was dried from the speed at which he flew through the warm air of Hell. He could still smell himself, sweat and body odor. Digging in the pit had exhausted him. He went to the lair first to clean up, then went to the back room with the beds and took to the showers. He scrubbed the last bits of dirt off himself, changed his clothes, and went to find Meg.

When Sparrow last left her, he voiced a warning, one that she’d have done good to remember. Memories were edging in, on the precipice; he could sense that he needed her more than she needed him. He couldn’t have her going out and getting injured again. Sparrow was thankful for the warning from Clea, but he worried what else Meg would do if given the chance.