Sin Eater (18 page)

He was feeling how she hated him and wanted him at the same time. That she knew he was using her, but that she was also using him, so that cancelled out any wrongdoing. And she wanted him to take off that shirt because it smelled like some other bitch he’d been with and she couldn’t stand it.

He undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt and took it off. She rubbed her legs together as she eased them to one side, pointedly trying to ignore him and doing a horrible job. She took another drink, rolling her eyes as far away from him as she could.

He put a hand on her leg, pushing it between her knees and leaving it right there. He leaned forward to kiss her neck. She tried to pull back but that was also a lame showing.

“Portia,” he whispered, sliding his other hand to the back of her neck. “Why did you wait here for me?”

“So I could rip your balls off with my bare hands.”

The scent of her arousal proved that to be a total lie. He pushed his hand further up her thigh, and she closed her eyes, clenching her jaw tight.

“I think you’re lying.”

“I … I just wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“To talk.”

“Another lie. I think you wanted me to make you feel better.” He grabbed her by one knee and roughly turned her to face him, forcing her legs apart and pushing his way between them. She made a sound of slight protest, but she was already breathing heavily. “I’m sorry,” he kept going. “You’re right. I should have been here. Right when and where you wanted me to be. Doing what you tell me to.”

She nodded, dropping her empty glass to the heavy carpet. “Yeah, you should have.”

“Punish me however you like.”

“I’m not going to punish you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you want me to. And I’m not in the mood to give you what you want.”

He smiled. “Fair enough.”

She kissed him forcefully and he leaned back, pulling her off the chair on to his lap. She may have been drunk but it was completely clear what she wanted. And of course, since she was emitting the scent of chocolate his body was prepared and willing to give her that very thing.

She backed off, grabbing his hair tightly and pulling him back. “What was her name?”

He shook his head. “Why would I tell you that?”

“Tell me.”

“Her name is Claudia.”

“You mean, her name
was
Claudia.”

“It still is.”

“No, she’s as good as dead to you. You’re not seeing her again.”

“And why’s that,” he asked as he kissed his way down her neck, pushing as far against the buttons of her shirt as he could, trying to latch on to a nipple without the aid of his hands.

“Because you spent the night there. And
we
don’t spend the night together. Ever.”

“You don’t even want me at your house, remember? You tell me that if I’m
in town, you want me staying here. And then you always leave right after I’ve fucked you.”

She hated that he used that word to describe what they did. The smell of cayenne pepper flared up again, but he ripped a button from its thread and got a lock on her breast, which made her forget how angry she was.

He carried her to the bed, dropping her in roughly and stripping while she undressed herself. This part of the suite was mostly dark, but that didn’t matter. He’d seen Portia climax many times already; he knew very well what it looked like. She was a sad person, he knew that, and he knew he was just making it worse. But he was what he was, just like Popeye, and at the moment he was just a walking fuck toy.

He let his weight fall on her, and she allowed him between her legs without any more foreplay. He thrust in, maybe a bit before she was completely ready, but she moaned against his mouth anyway, repositioning her hips so he could dip deeper.

Her level of intoxication made his experience with her orgasm pretty trippy. He was feeling high as she climaxed once, twice, then on the third one it was like he had absolutely no control and he was screaming along with her. When he let go of her mind the room was spinning.

Portia got up to go to the washroom, and as she passed the hallway next to the door she cried out, and he saw the blood rise on her skin through her eyes as she looked down at the bottom of her foot. She’d cut herself on the glass she’d thrown at him.

“That’ll teach you,” he said smugly before she even said a word.

That chrome-domed scary fucker
led the way down the hallway at the police department, and as he followed Essum he was feeling incredibly nervous. Under Essum’s instruction he just kept thinking over and over, “I belong here, I belong here. You don’t even see me. I belong here.”

And so far, no one had said a word. Not even when they passed through a heavy
, metal door that read, “No Admittance Without Permission.” And the next thing he knew, Essum was skipping past jail cells, coming to stop in front of one saying, “Wake up, shithead.”

He tried not to look in the cells. It stunk down here … holy Christ it stunk like rotten eggs and garbage. He avoided eye contact with the sad sacks that were incarcerated, and when he looked up, Essum was eyeing him with curiosity.

“You can smell them, can’t you?” His strange instructor wondered out loud.

He nodded, covering his nose with a hand. “God, what is that?”

Essum just laughed, then jerked his head towards the cell that had got his attention. “Meet Charlie.”

He stepped in front of the zoo cage that held a very small man, who was just sitting up on his bed. At the sight of him, Charlie froze.

“Who – who are you?”

Essum spoke first. Or … he
didn’t
speak. He could hear Essum’s voice in his head, but the guy’s mouth didn’t move. He heard Essum’s voice say,
This is the man that’s going to make us Gods, Charlie.
It was like THX stereo in his head. Was he … was he speaking telepathically?

Essum nodded at him. “Yes, yes I am. See, Charlie can’t actually
see
me like you can.”

“Holy shit,” he muttered, staring at Essum in wonder.

The man in the cell jerked. “Who are you?” He demanded again. “Who are … who are you talking to?”

He realized he’d turned his head to Essum, and apparently Charlie was getting freaked right out that he was talking to someone that wasn’t there.

He’s talking to me, shit head.
Essum rolled his eyes for his benefit. “We need one with a weaker mind,” he said in a confiding manner. “Charlie is really going to come in handy.” Then he turned his attentions back to Charlie.
Now, we’re going to get this cell open and you’re getting out of jail free,
again
. Aren’t you a lucky fucker?

Charlie was nodding and smiling in a completely insane way. “I am grateful, I am so grateful.”

Then get over here and let’s blow this joint.

When Essum
turned his eyes to his student, he gulped. “What?” He asked.

“Try it,” Essum suggested, pointing to the lock.

“What?”

“Just try unlocking it.”

What was this, a joke? “How?”

“With your brain, what I’ve been telling you to use for the last twelve hours. Just
think
the lock open.”

He moved over in front of it, staring at the weird key hole. With his brain, he imagined putting a key in it, turning it, and hearing the tumblers giving way. To his shock, the sound was real, and the door swung towards them slight
ly. He took the door in his hand, as though he couldn’t believe he’d done it.

Essum clapped a few times, slow and sarcastic. “Good job. You’re renewing my faith in your purpose.”

Charlie came forward with a hang-dog look on his face, and he embraced him. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Poor Charlie,” Essum said, looking at the small man forlornly. “He really is lost.”

“What’s …” he felt bad saying it in front of the guy. “What’s
wrong
with him?”

“Nothing,” Charlie said to him, pulling back and widening his eyes. “The Master is divine.”

Essum rolled his eyes again and shut the cell door loudly. It made Charlie wince, but the guy never wondered why doors opened and closed without keys or hands to operate them. “He hears voices. So adding one more to the mix master in Charlie’s gray matter really isn’t going to hurt the guy.”

He nodded, then looked back to Charlie, who had been following his gaze to where Essum stood. But of course … he didn’t see him. He only saw an empty corridor.

“You … you can
see
him?” Charlie whispered with great reverence.

He just nodded, really not liking the crazed devotion he was seeing in those eyes.

“You must be … you must be a God.”

Told you Charlie,
Essum chimed in, in hi-fi stereo.
We will all be Gods when this is done. And
he
is going to be the one to take out Voro for us.

His head snapped up to latch on to Essum’s eyes. “Who’s Voro?”

Essum smile again, coldly. “The man whose body and purpose I am going to steal. Charlie will help us, because he and Charlie have already had a couple of disagreements. But more to the point,
Voro
is … Voro’s the man I need you to kill.”

“This was delicious,” Vinnie said, wiping his mouth with his napkin then setting it on his empty plate. “Thank you so much.”

Iola shrugged, taking the plate and stacking it on hers. “I’m glad you liked it. There are only so many things I know how to make.” She took the dishes to the sink as he poured them both another glass of the Penfolds Chardonnay he’d brought
. The bottle was only half gone; they were both prudently limiting their alcohol intake.  Him because he was on call, her because she didn’t want to do anything stupid.

She sat down across from him again, and he reached a hand out across the tabletop to her. She took it, and he smiled at her comfortably. “It is so …
easy
, being with you.”

“I h
ope you mean you’re comfortable,” she guessed.

“I am. That’s exactly what it is.”

“Good,” his thumb was tracing circles on the back of her hand, but his eyes were solely on hers. She met his gaze, not feeling over-scrutinized in the least. Actually, she liked how his eyes felt on her. It made her feel … pretty.

He stood, keeping hold of her hand, came towards her, then pulled her to her feet in front of him. Only waiting long enough to take
a breath, he pulled her in close and kissed her nice and slow, his lips soft but demanding.

She sighed against them, then put her arms around the back of his neck. His hands on her hips were warm, and they made her feel small and dainty.

He pulled back slightly to rest his forehead on hers, smiling down at her. She returned the smile, her hands getting a grip on the front of his shirt. “Wine tastes really good on your lips,” he said softly, which made her laugh.

“Well, thanks - ” he cut her off with another kiss, deeper this time, lifting her off her feet so she was completely mashed against him and at his mercy.

Just as his tongue was making her quiver in his grasp, there was an odd, alien sound that sounded like the whistle a camp counselor or kindergarten teacher would give to get the attention of a large group.

He put her down, parting from her mouth with a muttered, “You gotta be kidding me.”

Her heart was racing, and she felt frustration somewhere a lot lower than that as she gave her best guess. “Work?”

“Yeah, that’s the sound for texts from work.” He reached across the table to get his Blackberry, flicking it on and staring down at that damn screen. “Shit. I have to go. Car accident.”

Iola wanted to stomp her foot, but at the same time … he was being summoned to save lives. So how could you fault a guy like that?

She shrugged instead. “I understand,” she said, not without a touch of poutiness in her voice. “It’s not like I won’t see you again … right?”

He smiled at her warmly, stepping against her again and capturing her chin in one hand. “Next time I make
you
supper, and if I get called to work I’m taking your shoes with me so I know you’ll be there when I get back.”

“You’re going to hold me hostage?”

“Yep,” he confirmed before planting a controlled kiss on her lips then turned for the door. She followed, holding the door open as he shrugged on his jacket and stepped into his shoes.

“Well, be careful,” she offered lamely. He stepped back
into her apartment, pulling the door away from her and then pulling her close for another curl-your-toes, melt-your-liquid-foundation kiss.

“I will miss you,” he said after a moment, his voice a bit hoarse.

“I’ll miss
you
,” she said back, then he pulled the door open and was gone.

Iola returned to her kitchen, her shoulder sagging and her libido giving her a hell of a dressing down. Her body was actually annoyed with her.

Well, at least she could do the dishes to calm herself down. And lucky her, there was still an entire half bottle of wine left over from supper …

Something is not right here
… Portia froze in the door way of her home. Her key fob had disarmed her alarm system, but usually she heard the beep as she was opening the interior door of her house.

She didn’t hear it. Or had she, and just not paid any attention? She turned back to the curb beyond the lush, well-manicured lawn, but the cab had already pulled away. So she was on her own.

She pulled out her cell phone anyway, flipping it open so she could easily call for help if needed. She toed the door open, wishing for the first time that she hadn’t been so hell-bent on completely consuming Damien’s supply of cognac. She would have loved to have better control here. The more she tried to focus on sounds and images in the dark of the house, the more overactive her imagination got.

She stepped
into her foyer, hand reaching out instinctively for the light switch. She turned it on, but nothing happened. Illogically, she flicked it up and down a few more times, but still nothing happened. The power was out, that’s why the alarm didn’t beep when she came in.

Then she looked back outside. The exterior lights on the front of the house were blazing, as were the street lights up and down her block. What the –

There wasn’t time to finish the thought. She was grasped from behind, and as she watched the front door of her home was closed before she could even shout for help.

She landed on her stomach, her keys and cell phone flying out of her hands and sliding across the hardwood from her. She tried to get up on all fours and crawl towards them, her eyes cutting through the dark to see what else she could defend herself with, when impossibly strong hands flipped her on to her back. She did shriek then, her nails clawing outwards, catching the softness
of someone’s skin on their flight path. There was a male scream of pain, and she brought one knee up between the legs that were spread over her. The male voice then stopped yelping and moaned. She got out from under him and got to her feet, flying though the entry into her living room. She grabbed a fire poker from the set next to the fireplace, and she held it at the ready while her other hand reached for the cordless phone. She turned it on without looking at it, and brought it to her ear.

There was no sound. Because the power was out and cordless phones don’t work without electricity.

Shit. Fuck. Shit-fuck
.

There was a laugh, and she wheeled wildly to her right, a man coming
into the glow coming through the front picture windows. He was medium-skinned with impossibly pale eyes. She didn’t recognize him but as soon as she saw him she was frightened.

Portia didn’t know how eyes could
inspire that kind of terror. Because his handsome face was smiling at her, non-threatening, yet she knew he meant to hurt her.

“Who are you? What do you want?” She knew it was all standard horror-movie dialogue, but what else could she say? She had to fight her own terror just to get enough air
into her lungs.

“Portia Torregrossa. Funny, I thought you’d be taller. Or at least bigger.”

She shook the poker. “Who are you?”

“Don’t you get it? Your last name means ‘Big Tower
.’ Surely you know the translation of your last name?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

Another form came through the doorway, a small man that was nursing his groin with one hand and holding a knife in the other. He looked understandably pissed off, and his look was no friendlier than this other fucker. But for some reason she was still more scared of the talker.

“This is my friend, Charlie.” The talker held a hand out to Charlie, who was just standing there, staring at her. And … rubbing himself. What the –

Again, thought cut off. The man didn’t move, didn’t say anything, but she was back looking at steel-eyes without him even telling her to. He took another step towards her. “It’s time for you to serve a greater purpose. And if you behave, you might even like it.”

“Fuck you.”

The man laughed, and it pained her heart to the very core to hear it. It also scared the shit out of her. Even Charlie looked agitated, and he’d been staring at her so intently he was basically ignoring the other man.