Part 12 (2/2)

Like a wild cat, I curled my bloodied lips at him, and snarled. He spun on his heels, almost falling, and reeled away from the scene in front of him.

I heard Mitch's confused tone. ”What's going on?”

”Just get out of here!”

”What? What about Jordy?”

”Forget Jordy! Just go!”

Car doors opened and slammed, and the engine roared to life. The wheels screeched against the asphalt, and the sound of the vehicle faded into the distance.

I considered going after them, but my blood l.u.s.t had been sated, and I wasn't sure what I'd do with them even if I caught them. I had a body to deal with, and absolutely no idea what to do with it.

Would they go back and tell everyone what I did?

I lifted my hand and wiped my mouth. Red streaked my pale skin. Abruptly, I turned to one side and vomited, the blood projecting from my mouth as though a faucet had been switched on. I coughed and spluttered, my eyes streaming. I barked a sob. What the h.e.l.l was I supposed to do now? I was a killer.

Blood was everywhere, seeping down my chest and soaking into the ground. I hadn't made two neat, little puncture holes in the man's neck. Instead, a huge chunk of his flesh was missing, leaving a bloodied, raw, gaping wound from which his life force still continued to ebb.

I wasn't just a freak. I was a monster.

Memories came pouring back to me. I'd tasted blood as a child, too. I remembered.

Sinking to the ground, I cried until my throat hurt. I was waiting for the carny guys to come back and bring the cops with them. I would spend the rest of my life in jail.

I didn't know how much time pa.s.sed, the body of my victim rapidly cooling beside me. The moon crossed the sky overhead, the occasional voices or footsteps pa.s.sing by me on the other side of the wall, before fading away. Until eventually, the hour grew so late-or perhaps so early-that the rest of the world slept.

The grumble of an engine lured me out of my grief-stricken haze. The sound grew louder as it approached, and then slowed and stopped on the other side of the wall. I steeled myself. This was it. They were coming to get me. I wasn't even sure I wanted to fight any more.

I looked up to see who had come for me-Bulldog Mackenzie, or even the cops-but instead Riley stood before me in his leather jacket, his jaw-length hair hanging in his face, his dark blue eyes darting in horror between me and the bloodied mess of a body I had left.

”Jesus, Icy. What the h.e.l.l happened?”

I stared back at him and then glanced at the body at my side. Jordy's face was white in the moonlight, drained of blood, his eyes still open and staring. The gaping hole in his throat appeared black.

”He ... He attacked me,” I managed, before the tears took hold again. Before I knew what was happening, Riley was at my side, crouched to my level. He gathered me up in his arms, pressing my face to his chest, so I inhaled the musty scent of his leather jacket.

”Shh,” he said, the palm of his hand pressed against my hair. ”It's all right. It's all going to be all right.”

Why was he doing this, holding me? He should be running right now, and screaming like h.e.l.l, letting everyone know about the monster in their midst.

”It's not okay,” I sniffed. I wanted to move away from him, but at the same time, I didn't ever want to let go. ”I killed a man.”

Riley leaned to one side to get a look at Jordy again. ”And a d.a.m.n thorough job you did of it too. How did you do that, Icy? It looks like you ripped his throat out.”

That's cause I did ...

I forced myself to move away from him, though my soul cried out at the feeling of s.p.a.ce between us again. ”I can't get you involved.”

”Don't be crazy. I already am involved.”

”You should be furious at me. Why haven't you called the police already?”

”It was self-defense, wasn't it? Anyway, carny people don't get the cops involved, ever. We handle our own business.”

I sniffed again. ”But I'm not a carny.”

”No, I am. And you're my business now.”

”Why?”

He scowled at me. ”Stop giving me an argument every time I open my mouth. Now do you want help or not?”

”I want help,” I admitted, my voice tiny.

”Good. I know somewhere we can go to get rid of the body. Just wait here one minute.”

I didn't want to be left alone again with Jordy's corpse, but I forced myself to keep my mouth shut, not wanting to give Riley a quarrel, and so proving him right about my argumentative skills.

Within a minute, Riley was back, dragging his bike with him. ”This is going to be awkward, and a bit gross, but I can't think of any other way. We'll haul him onto the front of the bike. I'll sit behind the body, and you sit behind me, okay? You'll have to hold on tight, cause you're not going to have any seat s.p.a.ce, and we're going to be off-roading. Got it?”

”Got it.”

I didn't want Riley to mess up his bike with Jordy's blood, though most of it was no longer in him. But I knew trying to convince him to do something else wouldn't work, so I said nothing.

”How strong are you feeling?” he asked.

”Strong.” He had no idea how strong.

Together, we lifted Jordy and positioned his body over the handlebars, his torso slumping forward, arms hanging down, his fat a.s.s positioned on the seat. Riley sat astride, having to effectively wrap his arms around Jordy's body in order to reach the handlebars.

He kicked the bike into life, and I climbed on behind him. My stomach roiled with nerves.

Riley headed away from the wall and the road, crossing the scrubland and a field to head deeper into the forest. We b.u.mped and jolted across the rough terrain, the body occasionally slipping so we had to stop and readjust it. Riley handled the bike with impressive skill, leaning when needed, slowing down or speeding up at other times, like a horse rider who understood his animal on an instinctive level.

I had to force myself not to take pleasure in my close proximity to Riley, knowing there was a dead man right in front of us, and that his blood still coated my clothes. It was hard work trying to have the reactions and thought processes of a normal girl, when every part of me knew I wasn't.

Chapter.

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