“I am Henri Cherusci,” I bellowed like the demigod I was. “Son of the bloodborn tribe. This is my territory, and Orlando Bell ismine.”
“Okay,” the boy sniveled. “Okay, man, I get it. Don’t mess with him. I won’t. I swear to God. Please, just let me go.”
Maybe Derek was telling the truth. Maybe I had sufficiently scared the snot out of him. But you never could tell with these street punks. I didn’t want to have to worry about leaving you unattended, and as far as I was concerned, Derek owed me something in return. He brought out the monster in me, and the monster must have its sacrifice.
Tyrell had a switchblade in his pocket, which wasn’t surprising but was extremely convenient for my purposes. It meant I wouldn’t have to use my teeth. I slammed Derek’s wrist against the cinderblock he’d intended to maim you with and flicked open the blade. The glinting metal caught the light of the setting sun as it cut between the high-rises and reflected off their glass windowpanes. The people of Miami were far too busy making their rush-hour commute to interfere on Derek’s behalf.
“Please, man, don’t do this,” Derek begged while trying to twist his arm out of my iron grip. He used his free arm to pound his fist against my back, but I hardly felt it. There was a reason Derek had a muscle man in his pack. I even felt a little bad for Tyrell, having to do Derek’s dirty work, though it was his choice in the company he kept.
“I can get you money,” Derek was promising. “Or drugs. You like cocaine? Speed? Whatever you want, man, I got it.”
“Do you like to see people in pain?” I asked while staring longingly at the blue branching veins in Derek’s wrist. His pulse throbbed with hot, rushing blood. Rivers of it. I could just have a taste. Lap at it like cool water from a creek. But he’d probably bleed out in the street and I’d be banished from this territory, leaving me unable to fulfill my duties as your guardian angel.
I was willing to make sacrifices, too.
“I swear I wasn’t going to hurt him,” the boy said. Fright made his voice quake, like prey, and it sent a shiver of arousal through me. “I was just messing around.”
“Don’t lie to me, Derek.”
I strengthened my hold on his wrist. He needed a reminder. Whenever he felt like victimizing sensitive souls such as you, I wanted him to remember this moment when justice was served. To always be looking over his shoulder, the way that you were, in fear that I might be lurking nearby.
I pressed the blade to Derek’s pinky finger, just beneath his cheap skull ring and a knuckle tattoo of a “T.” Unfortunately for Derek, the blade was dull. I didn’t want his screams to attract the attention of any nearby passersby, so I seduced him into silence and sawed off his pinky in a few brutal strokes. With a twist and a pop, the finger was freed from the joint. I released Derek’s wrist, and the boy collapsed into a fetal position, cradling his hand to his chest while the blood bloomed like a field of poppies against the white fabric of his t-shirt.
I held up his finger like a trophy.
“Next time, Derek, I’ll take your head.”
I licked the blood from the blade and retracted it, placing it safely back in Tyrell’s pocket. Derek’s already pale skin was ashen. His thirst for violence sufficiently quenched, he scrambled to his feet and ran like the devil was chasing him. Only a small pool of blood on the cinderblock and the blade’s white saw marks remained as evidence. That and Derek’s finger. I sucked the blood out of the end of it like marrow from a chicken bone and relished the flavor.
I heard a wheezing gasp behind me, glanced over, and was dismayed to find you alert and watching me with horror. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen my true nature reflected in the eyes of a terror-stricken human, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
As a spirit, I could be your angel. But a body made a demon out of me.
6
Orlando
Imust have passed out. I don’t know for how long. But when I came to, Tyrell was sucking on a human finger like it was as Slim Jim. Only it wasn’t Tyrell anymore, was it?
“Henri?”
“Yes, Orlando.”
Your voice was so quiet. Dangerous. A shiver raced through me.
“Did you… is that… Derek’s finger?” It was a dumb question. Derek was the only white kid in their stupid gang, and that finger was definitely white.
“Yes, it is. And yes, I did.”
I was nauseous and dizzy. It felt like there was something stuck in my throat that I couldn’t swallow down. I massaged my neck, still sore from Derek’s chokehold, leaned my head against the pavement, and stared up at the blindingly blue sky.
“Am I imagining this?” I’d begun to doubt my reality lately. I’d seen some crazy shit in my life, but this topped them all.
“No.”
My mind ran through the possibilities:
I was insane.
