In the struggle between life and death, there was a moment where the giant’s face was caught by what little light resisted the night’s reign. It revealed his identity with a piece of cut white plastic across half of his contorted face.
The mask.
It washim.
John slumped to the ground. He lay perfectly still. Didn’t even twitch.
Run. RUN!
I scrambled into the street. There was never much traffic this way, since the old train depot was around the bend. Industry hadn’t come to revitalize this area. My plan was simple. I was going to stay out from under the few working streetlights on the other side of the road, then duck up Water Drive before cutting back around to the intersection that led to the residential zone.
Five steps. That was all I managed before a bar of iron wrapped around my middle, and I was lifted into the air.
I screamed, but a wet, gloved hand clapped over my mouth. The tang of copper spread over my tongue before I choked and shut my mouth tight.
Hot air brushed against my skin. “You shouldn’t have run.”
There was a heavy pause. My life flashed before my eyes. Such a short, tragic existence, full of mistakes and pain.
“You picked the wrong night to be curious,” the masked devil rumbled. His thumb brushed against my cheek. “But now that you’re here…I suppose I’ll have to deal with you.”
I shuddered.
Why did I think that voice was beautiful? Death wasn’t pretty! It was a nightmare wrapped in a promise of relief from the burden of life.
And dammit, I wanted to live.
I kicked and thrashed. Heels collided with living stone. Fists slammed into a wall of muscle. I bit on the leather, which only made the bastard grunt.
“Watch it, cailín,” he snapped, words clipped and short by my ear. “I don’t like to hurt women.”
“Fuck you!” I screamed into his palm. Not even the revulsion of John’s blood could stop me cursing the means to my demise.
A rough, broken laugh broke against my hair, and his grip tightened around my middle. He turned, pressing his face into my hair. There was an audible inhale.
Was he…was hesmellingme?
“Unfortunately, that’s not in the cards for us.” He lowered me to the ground but didn’t loosen his hold.
Spinning me around, he lowered his touch from my mouth, put that gloved hand around my throat, and with a squeeze, forced my head to the side. A shaft of streetlight played over my face.
The moment was charged with a frenzied pulse of energy. The devil considered me, looking over my face. Did he recognize me? We’d shared a moment earlier. Granted, it had been across the restaurant, and he spent more time looking at the blonde bombshell of a lawyer with whom I’d been sharing a glass of wine. I was mousy and dour compared to her perfectly manicured, put-together visage. Me, the poor Deluca girl, who didn’t paint my face, didn’t wear bright, colorful clothing, and didn’t cause trouble for my father. Well…didn’t cause much trouble. And the only sin I ever committed blackened me forever where my sire was concerned.
“I’ll make you a deal.” The devil gave me a shake. My teeth clacked with the force of it. “Keep your mouth shut and don’t try to be a hero. Got it?”
His fingers shifted over my jaw. The touch was hard and lacked mercy. It tightened around my throat. For the briefest of moments, he squeezed.
“This doesn’t have to be your last night on earth,” he tempted.
Panic surged through me.
But then his fingers loosened.
I tripped backward, suddenly free of his hold. I brought my hands to my neck, rubbing at the bruised skin. A strangled gulp of air filled my lungs. From the deep shadows, his features were hidden. But even though I couldn’t see him, I knew the mask was there. I rememberedwhyit was there. This man had been badly burned. He wore the white cut of plastic over half his face to conceal the damage. It was the only part of him that was vaguely visible against his shadowed mass.
“Run, cailín,” he warned. “Run and forget.”
Easier said than done.
