Page 16 of Evil Hearts

“How long have you been living down here, anyway?” I ask as I continue to follow her. By now, I’ve given up on doing the crab walk and try my best to not stray too close to the edges. At least the alcohol is mostly out of my system, but I’m a little lightheaded and definitely in need of some nosh. “Your clothing looks ancient, so probably a while, yeah? And you speak French? You know this is an English-speaking island, right?”

Juliette stops so abruptly I collide with her back and let out a small “oomph.” Then she whirls around and glares at me. Her ruby red eyes are so dark, so vicious, I actually lose the ability to speak for a few moments. They sharpen on me like a pair of twin daggers, and she points a bony finger—which is more like a claw, honestly—an inch from my chest.

“Disrespectful punk,” she spits out. Then she stabs me in the chest with that claw, and I wince. “I am Nosferatu, you stupid little boy, and I live where I please!”

Stupid little boy? Huh. Well, that’s a new one. Even if she did manage to break the skin with her claw, it wouldn’t injure me. Not when vampires have such fast healing. Unless we’re decapitated, immolated, or staked, of course. Those we can’t come back from.

Nosferatu are a myth, though. A legend. Stories made up to frighten children and religious nutters out of their minds. They’re not … they’re not real. They’re not like regular vampires, who can still pass off human enough. They’re literal monsterswith the fangs, claws, and abilities to match. Here in Sugardove City, everyone grows up with the tales about the deadly Nosferatu, so despicable and depraved that they were more monster than the men they barely resembled. They devoured everything in their path until a group of paladins took them out with cleansing holy fire, rendering them extinct.

Theyshouldbe extinct, if they ever existed at all.

I stare down at her. Man, she’s tiny. I could probably lift her with one arm and toss her into the water if I wanted to. I’m not going to, but I could. She’s certainly hideous enough to be a Nosferatu, that’s for sure, but…

“They’re not real,” I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Stories.”

“Non,” she hisses. “We are real.” Her hand balls into a fist, and she brings it to her sternum. “I am Nosferatu, even if you do not believe me.”

I raise my hands in defeat. “Okay, fine. You’re whatever you say you are. I believeyoubelieve you’re Nosferatu.”

Juliette finally spins back around and leads me down the sewer grates until we reach a series of stairs leading down to more gross, greenish brown water. She lifts her skirts above the water and wades through like it’s nothing.

I cough into my fist and linger behind on the last step.“Yeah, no. I’m not going in that again.”

Juliette wades to the other side and up the stairs. She turns around and waits for me, but I don’t follow. I can’t. Not again.

“Come,” she says, beckoning to me like I’m a dog. “Come on, Scotty.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s disgusting. Lass, are you daft? Like, actually daft? You live in the sewer and look like the poster child for—”

Juliette disappears into a cloud of smoke.

It billows over the water in a rush, and I stagger backward, nearly tripping over my own feet as I try to get away from whatever the hell this black smog is. I punch it with my hands, but it’s no use. It envelopes my entire body until I can’t see anything but darkness. It’s a good thing I don’t need to breathe to live, because it’s suffocating.

When the darkness finally dissipates, I realize I’m on the other side of the sewer and Juliette is standing next to me, leaning over her bony knees.

I peer down at her, blinking. “H-Hey. Are you okay? What just happened?”

Some vampires, depending on their age, have special powers. Some of us can fly, for example. But that’s only the reyt old ones. And most vampires don’t live long enough to develop those kinds of powers because we end up staked. Or killed by a rival vamp. You know, vampire normal things.

But Juliette must be old. Like, positively ancient, to be able to turn into smoke and float around like that. And judging from the way she crumpled up like a little ball on the ground, it probably took a lot out of her to do it, too.

Shit. Now I feel bad. Wincing, I tap her gently on the shoulder. Tap tap. Tap tap.

“There, there. I’m, uh, sorry for being so difficult,” I mutter.

Juliette glares up at me with those fiery red eyes again. Yeah. She’s pissed. I would be, too, if I just exerted all of my energy for some chucklefuck who didn’t want to wade through piss water like a little bitch.

I flash her one of my panty-dropping smiles. She doesn’t return it, of course, but a guy’s gotta try. “I’ll be a good boy from now on. Promise.”

A good boy. Yeah, I’m not exactly submissive. The last chick who tried to tie me to her bed got a fun surprise when I broke out the chains and floggers. She hadn’t been expecting that. Atall. In the end, we had a good time, but something about Juliette tells me she wouldn’t be into chains, whips, or teeth in her neck. Not even playfully. No, Juliette looks like she hasn’t smiled in decades, possibly longer.

Wonder why that is?

She nods and holds up a finger.One second, she mimes.

Fine. It’s not like I have an appointment I need to rush off to. And the Helsings are probably still up there doing their sweeps. It wouldn’t do me any good to rush to my true death when I can just lie low, right? My mom was wrong. I do have a few brain cells kicking around up there.

I lean against the wall and wait for her to collect herself. While she’s distracted, I take the opportunity to examine her. Really look at her. The odd curve of her neck, the way her ears look like an elf’s fromThe Lord of the Rings.The antique lace skirts she seems to care about despite their age and how torn they are.

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