Page 353 of Evil Hearts

In the Company of Monsters

R E Johnson

Chapter One

Akirako

“Well, happy fuckingbirthday to me.”

The burn of whiskey ran down my throat as I finished the small glass I’d ordered. I sighed. Stood-up and alone wasn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my special day. I couldn’t do anything about it, though, so I waved down the waiter and got the check.

The scotch wasn’t cheap, but since itwasmy birthday, I’d decided to go all out. I was sorely regretting that now.

It was the second date in a row that had decided to leave me hanging, too. Was my luck just turning sour, or had I managed to piss off some ancient kami?

“Ha,” I laughed to myself. “If only dear old mom could see me now.”

Stepping out of the restaurant, I pulled my coat closer. The rain came down in sheets, and I prayed a cab would be available. Walking to the subway didnotsound like fun, umbrella or not.

An SUV’s brights raked across my face as it turned the corner, and I squinted against the intense light.

“Dude!” It was pointless to shout, being a pedestrian and all, but what could I say? I felt like picking a fight—sort of.

That’s when I saw the eyes across the street glow against the dark shadows of the alley.

At least, that’s what I thought I saw.

When I blinked, the red dots of light vanished, likely light trails from the blinding I had just received. I knew a thing or two about the physics of light, after all, being a research scientist specializing in vision impairment and correction. I was also probably drunker than I thought. It was just light trails from the stupid SUV.

Just like every other bogus claim about the supernatural.

And speaking of that fucking car, it had managed to splash street water on my legs, and I was now soaked from the knees down.Perfect, because this day wasn’t shitty enough.

As I walked toward the subway stop, there wasn’t a cab in sight, and my umbrella, despite its large size, was not keeping me dry enough. I was freezing, depressed, and getting “hangry.” Tonight was shaping up to be such fun. At this rate, an ex-boyfriend was going to show up with his new wife and baby. Or maybe that girl I had a crush on from the bodega would wander up and comment on how I looked like a drowned rat.

“Good fucking times. Ugh,” I sighed, keeping moving in some vain attempt to stay warm.

When I reached the subway’s subterranean dumpster of a platform, I closed my umbrella and waited for my train. The station was quiet, which was a bit weird, considering it was a Friday night. Where was everyone?

“Off on dates, duh. You’re the only one who got stood up,” I grumbled to myself.

Yes, I was in full pity party mode. Thankfully, I had a fridge full of beer, a plethora of snacks, and bad TV waiting for me at home. It was just a 20-minute subway ride until it was bra-off o’clock, and I could relax.

The wind whistled through the stairwell down to the platform, and I shivered, clutching my jacket closer. Minutes seemed to drag into hours as I stood alone beneath the city, waiting for myride. A creeping sensation crawled up my spine, and I quickly scanned the space around me. I couldn’t see anything, but it felt like someone was watching me, that odd tingling you got when someone was too close to your personal space.

But there was nothing.

“Ha, ha, ha! Bitch, no!”

I turned toward the stairs. A loud group of inebriated jocks stumbled down the steps, distracting me from my ridiculous search for an invisible person who definitely didn’t exist—or worse, so dumb monster that my dead mother would be up my ass to avoid if I wanted to stay safe from being eaten.

Quickly facing the platform and not wanting to make eye contact with any of the guys—because that would just draw attention to myself—I chewed on my lip. If I could just stay silent and still, maybe they would completely ignore me, like the myth about dinosaurs with motion-activated vision.

Unfortunately, one of them ran into me, knocking me to my knees and causing my purse to spill open onto the ground. My keys scattered across the concrete in a loud jangle, garnering the eyes of the entire group. I was pretty sure they were college frat boys. I’d left that nonsense behind years ago, and I was not looking to strike up a conversation with my least favorite type of dude.

“Well, well, well. Hey, girlie. Whatcha doing?” one of them slurred.

I turned away, cleaning up my purse and content to ignore them.Girlie? I’m thirty-five.

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