Daimon - DANIELLE BOLGER (best fiction novels TXT) 📗

flowers that flanked the heavenly scene and the angels that painted it with gold. Then as I fixed my sight on the white being, I whispered, “Rose.”

“Zach!” I pleaded desperately. “You need to tell me where this is!”

“It's...” He frowned. “It's Mount Air. It was at a botanical garden there.”

I shook my head. “No, there’s no gardens there.”

“No public ones,” he corrected. “Remember, I said it was a recently developed private property. I was as surprised as you are that someone would develop a garden there. It's ridiculously impractical; the land's not flat enough, and it wouldn't receive enough sunlight to allow for proper flourishing, but it exists, or, at least, it did then.”

I gripped onto his shirt passionately with both hands. “Tell me, Zach. Tell me how to get there. I have to find him!”

He placed his hands on top of mine gently. “No.”

The fabric condensed under my grasp. “What?”

His green eyes remained soft. “You're too upset. If I tell you, you'll almost certainly start racing off there.”

“I don't want your protection, Zach,” I growled.

He sighed. “Don't do this to yourself, Jane. They weren't the ones that killed your parents. It was another gang's hit—the Silver Blades—not the Foxes that shot into the restaurant nine years ago.”

“It doesn't matter. I still need vengeance.”

“Jane, just think about this; you go skulking around gang property, again, looking for your damned evidence, and what do you think will happen to you a second time? They will kill you. You already said they tried it once. Why give them another shot, literally?”

“Zach, please. They're my enemy. They have always been, they always will be. I just need to be free of them.”

He pulled me into an embrace so comforting and warm that oil leaked from my eyes.

“Jane...I'm not saying don't go, just not yet. Not when you're still so shaken up by your confrontation. How 'bout we just give it a few days. Wait for the weekend, hey? Then we can go there together and take a look around.” I could hear him smirk. “With any luck the place will be completely empty. If not, well, at least then I can be there with you.”

“Damn it, Zach,” I sniveled. “Quit protecting me. I'm not worth it.”

Then he pulled me back in front of him and I could see green life in his eyes. He smiled and rubbed at my tears. “Idiot, your mascara’s running.”

“Fine,” I uttered weakly, too emotionally confused to resist anymore. “The weekend. Just...” My head fell onto his shoulder and stained his shirt with black drops. “Don't hate me before then.”

His warm hand brushed my head. “Not even if you turned into a monster, Jane, would I stop caring for you.”

Chapter Seventeen

Frank had not spoken to me all day, though it didn't stop him flashing venomous glances as he passed near my desk. What, is he sulking because I didn't stay back yesterday to 'fix' my story? At least his silence meant that he was not firing me, though I was beginning to wish he would. I fancied just quitting, not caring for the dribble that was appearing on my desk. With my parents' inheritance, it was not like I needed the extra cash, but I forced myself to go through the tedious monotony for now. It would give me better cover for my murderous personality change, but I was wondering whether cover was even necessary, with the Foxes cleaning up my messes. However, I supposed that the more out of character I acted, the more my friends would pry to find out what was going on.

God this sedentary life is dry. How can anyone handle sitting at a desk all day, typing bullshit onto a computer screen and actually be proud of themselves at the end of it? It's all crap, this life, all a waste of time, a waste of potential. All this effort: the escalated heartbeats of my fellow workers, just struggling to put out garbage that would have next to no one reading further than the first paragraph. These lives—these essences—deserve more than what they were tasked with. They deserve to become part of something greater and join a greater force; enable a greater power.

They smelled sweeter that day, and so very palatable. I could have them all, why not? Sure it would get messy, but I had the Foxes cleaning up after me, didn't I?

I breathed in deeply. I had gone only two whole days without a feed and already I was ravenous, my thoughts more diabolical. I had to eat or I was sure that I would lose control of the beast that was my appetite. It was Thursday, and I still had until Saturday to slate my hunger with Fox blood. So, how would I control myself? Would I have to find a new target today? Would the Foxes give me another assignment that eased my life-taking dilemma?

I looked across the room to Zach's empty chair and his twin computer screens. I, surprisingly, missed the intrusive man's presence. He had been ordered to shoot some pictures out in the business district. Something to do with a council dispute or, at least, that was what my co-worker, Susan, informed me of when I arrived. With my entrance to work being 10:30 a.m., I guessed that I had missed him by a bit. I wondered if I had seen him that morning, whether he would have still been smiling at my leaky black eyes.

I turned back to the daunting task that lay on my desk: writing obituaries. Like I could care about the three cats old Mary Applebee was leaving behind, or how Harry Gilbert turned his life around losing twenty kilos just years before suffering a fatal diabetic episode. They were wasted lives, the lot of them, with organs that were already half decayed before they were even sent to the morgue. Worst of all, it was a waste of my time, when I could so easily be hunting my next meal.

“Great idea, Frank,” I mumbled blandly. “Writing about death is just the thing to help me deal with my emotional shock in the woods last week.”

“I'm so-ho-ho bored!” Sandra whined as she dropped onto the edge of my desk. “Can you believe Frank's got me writing politics? I mean me. Like I care who the figurehead is of this city. They're all just as corrupt as the other.”

I looked up, surprised. “You're talking to me now?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I'm still not happy about you taking my focus, but Kevin called to thank us for the story. He said that you really pulled them out of a sticky situation.” She smiled. “He thought we came up with it together.”

My mouth made an O.

“Of course, it wasn't him you did it for, was it? Certainly yourself, but also for a certain detective. So...since you were doing it for love,” she rolled her eyes, “I can forgive it. With my own submission in the print today, I guess I really don't have too much to complain about anymore.” She beamed.

“I see. So, copycat stories are on the loose now.”

“Uh-huh,” She exclaimed full of zeal. “Amazingly, it's still another first for the Coastal Horizon.”

“Well...” I sighed. “At least there was a good few days there before the media frenzy.”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “Um, if you see Ryan or Kevin, can you tell them that I'm sorry about the story? You know that it's nothing personal.”

I nodded, wondering when the time came for her to blast my involvement with this killer whether she would again say that it was nothing personal.

“So, what's the deal with you and Zach lately?”

“Huh?” I frowned as I turned to retrieve my beeping phone.

“You two keep acting all chummy. I can see how he flirts with you, even way over from my desk. It makes me sick.” She pretended to vomit.

“We're friends, Sandy, he knows that.”

I opened the text message and my face froze. I could have pulled off placid, if one didn’t look too close at my widened eyes.

“You act closer than friends, you know, but you won't admit that because you're still so in love with Ryan. Have you seen him again, since your exclusive one-on-one interview?” Her eyes twinkled with excitement.

“Sandra, I have got to go.”

“What? Go? It's only three o'clock. We don't finish 'til six,” she reminded.

“Yeah, I'm finishing early today.” I grasped my bag and threw my phone inside.

“What...but you can't have finished your article yet.”

After rising from my chair, I quickly turned to click send on my obituaries. “This'll do. Besides, Frank always edits the crap out of my work, so it's no longer mine.”

“He's got you writing obituaries?” Her jaw dropped as she turned to the opened document. “This is A through G. Jane, you can't leave it at that!”

“So he'll fire me; there are worse things.”

“Seriously? Wait, where are you going?”

Grasping my bag, I shone her my best selfie-smile. “To play with fire, wish me luck.”

“Fire?” she whispered. “Jane, wait! What is that supposed to mean?”

I didn’t answer, and in less than a minute I had vacated the office completely and was on my way to fulfill my promise.

It was all for show, that pretense of being one of the boring masses. Besides, I was sure if I stayed there any longer the masses would turn to a massacre—I was becoming very hungry. Just under seventy-two hours, that's how long it was since my last feed, and it appeared that was all my will was capable of. All those heartbeats of the office were making it very difficult to concentrate. Writing about death all day kept making me imagine new ways to kill my co-workers.

It was a good excuse to leave—Alex's text—and by the content, it did not look like I had any choice in the matter.

Heard the kids weren't getting along so well. Come to the Sands. Freddie has extended a piece offering for you - A

****

I walked up to the casino bouncer and dipped my hand into my handbag just when he directed, “This way.”

No waiting around like a lost puppy this time. Instead, I was led through the main foyer and into an elevator. He did not push a button, but instead pulled out a key, plugged it into the panel and the elevator doors shut closed.

I watched the digital display flutter by. After several long moments, and the passing of a bewildering number of levels, the elevator dinged at its stop. The final stop, the sixty-sixth floor.

Really? I thought sardonically. They’re really that cliché?

When the doors opened, the man simply gestured for me to walk inside. I did, and when I turned, I viewed the doors close and the bouncer decline through the height of the casino.

I stepped quietly through the penthouse, careful not to let any noise come from my shoes on the large, shiny tiles. As I did, I preened my ears and heard a heartbeat from just around the corner, and an object being placed down on a glass table.

“Kirra, you don't need to be quiet, I already know you're here. The elevator, darling.” There was a hint of amusement to Alex's voice.

The elevator. Why was I so naive not to consider that? Then I felt a pang from my stomach and the waft of Alex's perfume hit me with acute comfort. Rounding the corner, I could not help staring at her plush red lips; I imagined her heart would look just as delicious.

She motioned for the single seated lounge chair opposite hers. “Won't you take a seat and join me for a drink?”

Her pulse was moving quite rapidly, despite her composure. Her skin was vibrant, with ample collagen and fat stored in her cheeks to prohibit the appearance of wrinkles. It was strictly the good type she acquired—the healthy fats—and scarce enough of those that it did not remove her from her slender figure. I licked my lips.

She rolled her eyes. “Bloody animals you lot are; only caring about the next meal. Come sit. I have that arranged for you.”

Steeling control of myself, I did as she bid and glanced down at the sparkling wine set before me, and the small pink box between our two glasses. On top of this box was an ebony rose, plucked at the head.

“I've heard that you haven't been following orders. This has been very disappointing.”

“Sorry if I'm not living up to expectations,” I replied hostilely.

“You killed the target, that was pleasing, but you did not do it within the time frame; this lead to an alteration in the girl's involvement. She was meant to witness the body, not become