After glancing toward the closed door of the den, Eavan emptied her glass.
If Chastity survived, she’d be slipping into withdrawal soon; if she didn’t survive, she’d still be better off than with Daniel. Girls like Chastity went to bidders with sadistic habits that Eavan couldn’t bear pondering…not when so many Chastitys had been sold already. They had no control over their sexuality. Drugged to the point of being zombies, they were reduced to nothing more than sex toys to be used until they were destroyed. The beauty of sexuality was something she cherished—and couldn’t have; to have it sold for base coin was beyond intolerable.
Or Muriel’s right and I just have a fucking savior complex. Several more ounces of whiskey splashed into the glass. Or a death wish.
Eavan hated that there wasn’t a better answer to the problem, but if not for Muriel, she wouldn’t have much of a solution at all. Muriel drank enough of the girls’ blood to pull the poisons out. If they survived, Muriel had ways to get them wherever they needed to go next. Alive and out of reach: those were the goals. Beyond that, there were no constants.
It depended on who Chastity really was. If she had a home and resources, Muriel would have one of her coven use those funds to set the girl up in a new city. If not, Muriel would see her to a shelter or halfway house under some pretext. Or she’ll put her into the ground. There were far too many that ended up dead despite Eavan’s efforts. That was how Muriel got involved in the first place: the vampire had a system for dealing with corpses. Eavan had needed that system one night, and the only other resource she’d had for disposal of bodies was her grandmother, and asking Nyx for such a favor had too high a price.
Muriel’s willingness to remove the toxins was an added bonus—one that gave Eavan the ability to try to rescue girls who were much further gone on Daniel’s drugs. If not for Muriel, Eavan would’ve been at a crisis months earlier. Even with Muriel’s help, the situation was akin to attempting to hold back a wave with a single hand: it was impossible. Eavan couldn’t stop Daniel from destroying people; she couldn’t stop herself from hunting him; and she couldn’t see any way to avert the disaster that would follow if something didn’t change.
Eavan poured a drink for Muriel as the petite vampire came into the kitchen. “Well?”
“She’s alive.” Muriel took the glass and emptied it. She swished the whiskey around her mouth and spit it into the sink before adding, “You’re going to have to ante up something clean if you’re going to keep asking me to drink all these toxins, or”—she gave a coquettish grin—“you could give me a taste.”
Eavan blushed and looked away. “No.”
“You can’t really kill me, and maybe it doesn’t count as sex if it’s—”
Eavan shook her head. “Sex with women is real sex, and we’re not crossing that line. Casual sex wouldn’t be my thing even if—”
“You’re a glaistig, darling; of course it would.” Muriel lowered one hand, sliding it over the blue silk covering her hip.
Transfixed, Eavan watched—and then scowled. “No, it wouldn’t. I don’t want casual, and you don’t do commitments. Discussion closed.”
“Really?” Muriel stepped closer, much as Daniel had earlier, and whispered, “Your heart is racing awfully fast for someone who doesn’t do casual.”
“Interest doesn’t mean consent.” Eavan forced herself to look at Muriel’s face. “I can say no. I’ve been saying no for years. No sex. No death.”
“If I tried you tonight, truly pushed you, could you still say no?” Muriel was gentle, but she knew that the answer was liable to be different than it had been before the Daniel obsession. The more Eavan hunted Daniel, the harder it was control either appetite.
Being mortal means keeping control. Over centuries a few glaistigs had tried to stay human, to not kill, to not fuck. Eavan knew about them from journals and letters Nyx had hidden away. They’d all failed or were simply killed by their matriarchs. “Culling the weak, Eavan.” Nyx had stalked her as she lectured and punched her when Eavan admitted to seeing the forbidden texts. “Is that what I need to do with you?” Eavan forced away the memory of Nyx’s fists and said, “I want to be mortal, Muriel.”
“That doesn’t mean refusing both sex and blood, Ev,” Muriel said. “Just have one to take the edge off. Too many rules and hang-ups will be your downfall…sooner than later if you keep stalking him.”
“If I can’t live by my own rules…”
“Friendship is like a commitment.” Muriel tilted her head and gave Eavan her best disarming look.
Eavan laughed at her best friend’s faux innocence. “It is, but it’s not enough for me.”
They’d been having the same discussion for several years. Muriel had a host of partners. To her, it was like shoe shopping: there were many choices for many moods. It wasn’t an emotional thing or a cruelty thing. It did mean, though, that their occasional boundary pushing stopped short of sex.
Teasing set aside then, Muriel took the bottle of Middleton from the counter. “The junk Brennan’s peddling ruins even virgin blood.”
“Virgin?”
“As pure as you.” Muriel took two clean glasses, added a couple cubes, and poured the whiskey.
Eavan shuddered. The idea of an innocent—especially one who had her will stolen by Daniel’s zombie mix—being sold to a sadist was more revolting than normal. “He’s a sick bastard.”
“So kill him,” Muriel said. A drink in each hand, she hopped up on the counter. Neither drink spilled. She kicked her feet in the air like a child on a swing and held out a glass. It was hard to remember that Muriel was a monster; she looked like a hand-crafted doll, one of those delicate pieces of art that belonged safely on a shelf.
Eavan took the whiskey. “No. I’m not going to sacrifice myself over him.”
Muriel snorted. Now that the flirting was out of the way, she could relax into her less charming habits. “Some sacrifice…It’s not like you’d be throwing yourself on a sword, Evvie.”
“No, I’d just be throwing away my humanity.”
“Humanity’s overrated.” Muriel warmed to the old argument. She’d been Other for more than a century now and saw nothing wrong with it. “Humanity means dying.”
Humanity meant a lot of things. It meant ethics, joy in the brevity of life, compassion…and yes, dying. Dying didn’t seem as oppressive as the alternative. At least for me. Muriel wouldn’t understand though: vampires didn’t grow cloven hooves when they stopped being human. They didn’t have tendrils of hair that writhed like serpents or need to sate not one but two depraved appetites.
“No. Humanity is wonderful,” Eavan insisted. “It’s what I am. Daniel isn’t going to steal mine.”
“So maybe you should stop trying to save the girls he gives the zombie powder to?” Muriel’s voice grew cold. “Something’s going to break, Ev. You keep pushing and he’ll push back, or your family will find out what you’re doing…You’re walking a foolish path taunting Brennan.”
“I’m handling it.”
“You think Nyx would agree?” Muriel put a hand on Eavan’s wrist. “Your grandmother finds out you’re taking risks without any safety nets, and she’ll be livid. You need to kill him or back off.”
“Just a little bit longer, Muriel? I need to find a way to get him to stop. I can’t just let him sell those girls…I can’t…” Eavan leaned her head back on the cabinet behind her, putting a bit of artificial distance between her and Muriel.
“If Nyx comes calling, you know I can’t cover for you.” Muriel’s expression was gentle, but the words were anything but reassuring. “I won’t.”
“I know.” Eavan closed her eyes. Thinking about her matriarch’s reaction was the last thing she wanted to do, but it was sobering. “But until then?”