Chapter 22 | The Devil of Siren City

Adrian

Fuck.

I feel nothing, at first. Then, a wave of heat spreads from the wound; the knife still deep in my side.

The bastard smirks. He thinks he’s won.

But I’m just angry.

I head butt him. Hard.

He stumbles backward, red dripping from his broken nose, keeping a firm grip on the knife handle as he falls. It pulls out of me, the sharp blade slicing along my broken skin. I wince in pain, my hand instinctively coming to cradle the wound. Crimson blood soaks through my sweater. That’s not good.

But I’m still alive. I’m still breathing. 

Ignoring the pain now throbbing through my entire torso, I lunge at him. Clearly, he didn’t expect me to just shake off such a wound. His eyes grow wide as I tackle him to the ground. I hear the knife clatter along with us, briefly sliding about five feet away toward the truck.

He attempts to push me off. In full control, I tilt us toward the knife and he takes the bait. He rolls us closer, briefly pinning me on my back, but I force us to keep rolling until I’m within grabbing distance of my knife. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots it, too. He throws out his arm, but he accidentally knocks it just out of reach with his fingertips. Not out of my reach, though.

Too bad.

I pick it up. I jam it deep, thrusting hard at an upward angle. Just between the ribs. Right in the heart. Then, I twist it. I pull it out. I stab him again and again.

He won’t survive.

He coughs up blood. His limbs go limp. He fights for as long as he can, but it’s not long.

I leave him whining and gasping for air and walk over to the leader, still wheezing and clenching his side on the ground. The one I know from before. The one who hurt Skylar.

My clothing sticks to my skin, but I ignore the blood loss in favor of the blood lust throbbing deep within. I’ll get to my nurse soon enough.

First, this bastard is going to pay for what he did.

“Wait—” He notices me bounding toward him. He raises a hand, then cringes and puts it back on his shattered rib cage. “I can help you.”

I grab him by the throat. I drag him toward the closest building and shove him hard against the brick wall.

“Please!” His shriek echoes. “Stop!”

“Who am I?” I ask, towering over him.

He glares up, his eyes shaking in fear and hatred. “You’re Hades,” he says, stubborn in the face of the Devil.

“That’s not my name,” I say, repeating it for the last time. “Who am I?”

Blood trickles from his lips as he breathes in quick, painful bursts. For a moment, I think he’ll die a stubborn idiot, but then his brow softens and his shoulders sink. “I can’t,” he says. “You’re anathema.”

I show no sympathy. No pity.

He sighs. “Adrian Price.” He looks at me again, his eyes locked on a ghost. “Your name is Adrian Price.”

“Good,” I say. “That’s right.”

“Are you going to let me go?” he asks, begging. “I’ll tell everyone, make sure they know. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

“No.” I flex my fingers. “I just want to make sure you have your story straight for your boatman.”

I bash him against the wall.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Until I’m tired and out of breath. Until blood and bone and brain matter stain the old brick.

Once it’s over, I step back. I look up at the rooftops, instantly finding the archer still standing in the same place they were before. They tilt their head in amusement with one boot propped on the ledge. From this far, it’s impossible to make out any details other than the bow attached to their back and the light blue scarf wrapped around their neck, the end whipping in the wind.

They give me a salute, then rush off.

Well, that’s not good.

Thunder rolls in the distance. A storm is coming.

Trucks, too.

As much as I’d like to find out who the fuck that is, there’s no time. They’re coming. And I’m bleeding out.

I run back the way I came, turning into a different alleyway, still heading north toward Scarlet Street. Clenching my side, I try to stop the bleeding as I go, but the pain is reaching unbearable levels. I stumble. I keep my free hand ready to grab the wall in case I fall.

I have to get away. I have to get out of sight.

I have to stay alive long enough to get back home.

Back to Skylar.

Skylar.

Skylar...

“Over here.”

I look up and I realize where I am. It’s an old street on the south end of Scarlet, one doused in history. It’s a place I know well. While the residences here have upgraded insides, the outsides still have character and charm of an older world lost in time. Wooden signs. Multicolored window shutters. Cobblestone streets.

I have memories here. So many memories of me and Dom in our youths chasing down—

“Hey!”

Another harsh whisper brings my focus back. A young woman stands outside a bright red door ten feet away, her wavy black hair whipping around her face in the wind.

“Inside,” she says, waving me in. “Hurry. Now!”

Unable to think of an alternative, and damn close to passing out, I rush through her door.

Inside is a sitting room with dark grey walls and stylish black seating. Art lines the walls; stunning and suggestive tableaus meant to titillate as one waits. The air smells of incense. A beaded curtain hangs before a hallway, but it’s too dark to see much else.

“In here,” the woman says, pushing past me through the beaded curtain. I follow and she points through the first door on the left. “They won’t search here.” 

I obey, going inside. She closes the door behind me, cloaking the room in darkness. I lean against the wall, taking the chance to catch my breath, and put extra pressure on my wound. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I make out several large objects around the room, including the obvious X-shaped limbs of a padded Saint Andrew’s cross.

I nearly smirk.

Scarlet girls.

Through the door, I hear the woman again; her panicked screams echoing throughout the old street. I feel the rumble of trucks on cobblestone, followed by the hollering of a man with authority.

My chest clenches.

“Help! Help me! Please!”

I’ve made a grave mistake.

Before I can move, I hear her again.

“He went that way!” she shouts. “Headed west!”

More voices. More boots on the ground.

I wait.

“There!” she shrieks. “Down that alley! I saw him! There he goes!”

Trucks shake the earth as they pick up speed. I listen closely, tracking their routes through the wall. They’re going west, just like she said. They believe her. 

Should I believe her, too?

I wait for her to return.

The door opens again a few minutes later. Light pools into the space around me as she pokes her head inside.

“Are you all right?” she asks, completely calm. I’m not sure why I’m surprised to see that. Scarlet girls have, usually, seen far more fucked up shit than this.

“I’ll survive,” I answer.

She nods. “You need medical attention,” she says, moving into action. “I know someone.”

“No, I need to get back to...” Back to Skylar. “Across the bridge.”

“You’ll never make it.”

“There’s a way.” I allow myself a deep breath, and it hurts. “I can get there, so long as they’re gone.”

“They’re gone,” she says, her unblinking eyes staying on mine. She wants me to believe her. To trust her.

I want to, too.

But I’m not that sure.

“Do you know who I am?” I ask her.

She doesn’t flinch. “Yes.”

“Then you know why they’re looking for me?”

“Yes.”

“Why help me?” I ask, curious.

“Because fuck them, that’s why.” Her jaw flexes with anger, highlighting pristine cheekbones beneath lightning blue eyes. “Centurian bastards blow through here once a week. They take what they want, and they don’t pay.”

I nod. That’s good enough for me, for the moment.

Carefully, I reach into the pocket of my jeans and withdraw a coin. My coin. “I won’t forget this,” I say, handing it over.

She holds it in her palm, her eyes growing wide with awe as the pad of her thumb dances across the sigil.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispers respectfully.

I leave, creeping slowly back into the alleyways, blending in with the shadows while keeping an ear on the streets and an eye on the rooftops. Each step brings a deeper pain, both in body and in mind. My bodyguard, my closest confidant other than my brother, betrayed me. I trusted him.

I trust Skylar, too.

But can I? Should I?

What other choice do I have?

As I reach the sewer entrance, I wonder many things while I whisper her name under my breath.

Skylar…

Skylar…

Skylar.