“We’ve been driving for an hour,” I said dryly.
“Payment in advance.”
I gave a long put upon sigh. Pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m giving you a chance to turn around and stop whatever it is you've got planned.”
Duane gripped the back of my neck. His other hand fumbled with his zipper. “I’ve got a knife right here. You suck my cock real good, and we’ve got no problems.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve done this before?” My tone was mildly interested as best. Duane answered by forcing my head nearer to his semi-hard penis. A wave of male musk, old cheese, and sweat hit my nostrils and made me gag.
My eyes turned black. My power bubbled to the surface, pushing smoke through my pores and lashing out with terror. My magic speared his mind like a blade, tearing apart the soft outer layers of his personality. Pulling the screaming subconscious to the surface. Nightmares did not have to make sense, they just were.
Blood began to leak from his eyes as I purged his mind, churning the fertile ground with my hooked claws.
A car horn drew my mind back from the frenzy. Duane, the creeper was slumped back against the driver's seat. His own blade plunged into his chest. He must have killed himself to get away from his own darkness.
That wasn’t my fault.
I had given him a chance to stop.
I clicked my neck and rubbed my hands together. Already feeling more comfortable. I hadn’t been thinking clearly, but now that I had fed, my mind was a crystal clear lake that I could see to the bottom.
The sign by the layby stated that the nearest town was two miles away. The glowing lights of a gas station were visible from the concrete stretch of the freeway.
I grabbed Duane's bony shoulders and stood up, neck bent against the roof of the cab, as I maneuvered his corpse to the passenger's seat. I looked down at my hospital gown, splattered in blood. I ripped it off and used the material to clear the pool of blood from the driver's seat.
I found some spare clothes under the seat, wrapped in a grocery store bag.
I'd never driven before. Hell didn’t have roads, and only the insane, rich or the perpetually late, drove in NYC.
I turned the key in the ignition until it clicked, eying the gear stick with resignation.
It was two miles. I could drive two miles. The semi lurched forward, stalling. I swore under my breath and restarted the truck.
The blood on my face had started to dry and flake. The enormous wheels of the truck bounced against the curb when I pulled off the freeway and into the gas station.
If the police came, I was dumping Frankie's body and running. Screw Davenport. Screw Dermot Dirk. Screw Hugo and his damned Soulbond.
The truck was so large that I didn’t even try to park it properly. The vehicle stretched across three lorry spaces, like a lazy cat.
I pulled on Duane's spare clothes, wrinkling my nose in disgust at their strange smell. Cheap detergent and nicotine. The front of the ratty t-shirt bore the message, 'my favorite food is pussy.'
I hopped down from the cab, using the back of my hand to rub the tiny blood spots from my face. All of the pumps were empty. A lone clerk sat by the till, his attention laser-focused on a magazine. He did not look up when I walked in, even though the obnoxious bell alerted him to my arrival.
I’d taken some coins from the ashtray, so I grabbed an energy drink and marched up to the till, counting out the dirty quarters.
“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked the teenager.
He did not look up when he replied. “Customers only.”
I placed the can in front of him, in the center of his national geographic. With a heavy sigh, he turned around and grabbed the bathroom key. There was a paddle of wood attached.
The teenager did not look at me once.
I slapped my open palm with the paddle and held back a snigger as I thought about spanking. Then I felt sad. I closed my eyes tightly and shook my head to try and erase the image of Davenport that floated in front of my eyes.
The bathroom wasn't as bad as I was expecting. It smelt like urine, and the soap dispenser looked empty, but it was better than some of the Bodega bathrooms I had seen.
I gripped the edge of the sink and leaned over, bringing Frankie's face closer to the mirror. I surveyed her pores with scrutiny and the blood splatter from Duane’s untimely demise.
The lights flickered. I eyed the bulb shrewdly. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Gooseflesh peppered my skin. The air changed, it felt charged. Like I was seconds away from a lightning strike.
Plunged into darkness for a few moments, I did nothing. I felt no fear. I had been born of darkness. I feasted on terror. No matter what horror movie had decided to follow me into the bathroom, I would walk away laughing.
When the light came back on, my eyes struggled to adjust. A small child stood in front of me. She couldn’t have been taller than four feet. With waist-length white hair, and the complexion of an albino. Her eyes were entirely white, with no iris and no pupil.
She was not a ghost. Nor a demon or an angel. She was too much. Her magic crackled the air around us; my chest constricted. I was sure that if I were human, I would have lost the ability to breathe. I wanted to bow down and worship at her feet—I also wanted to cower and shield my face. I had only had that reaction to one other person before, and that was the Devil, King of Pride and Lies.
“I don't know what you are.” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully as I surveyed the little girl. “I’m digging the routine, though. Are you going to trap me in the mirror?”
The girl's wide eyes fixed on mine, like a predator surveying it’s prey. Her neck cocked to the side at an unnatural angle.
“Mara.” Her voice was clear. Hundreds of souls layered over one another, chiming in time. I shivered. My brows raised in confusion.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am everything.” The girl said simply. “I am The Balance, as your Hunter friends call me.”
My eyes narrowed. “You look familiar.”
The girl's expression was blank. “I am everyone and no one.”
“Why are you here?” I asked. “Not that I’m not flattered, but I'm not exactly the most interesting of creatures.”
“I disagree.”
There was no room for argument with that statement. “Okay.” I sounded the word out slowly. Popped my lips and slapped my thighs. I pointed to the door.
“I should get going.” I smiled brightly.
“I have come to warn you.”
“Oh?” My hand paused on the door handle.
“You can only run for so long before your destiny finds you.” The little girl said ominously. “I have taken care of the dead body for you.” She added, waving her hand as if she was talking about the weather.
I turned, my lips parted to ask what the Hell she meant, but I was alone again. She had vanished.
“That was so cool.” I danced on the spot and back into the gas station.
The Balance was true to her word. The cab of the semi was clear of corpses and blood. I didn’t know how she did it, but I had long ago learned not to question powerful beings.
I turned the keys in the ignition, but the engine clicked and did not start. I threw a few choice curse words about, before stepping out of the semi and kicking the door on the way out.
I had no phone. No money. A can of Red Bull, and a truck that did not work.