Page 20 of Gluttony
He ground his teeth and held his breath.
Need to release.
Come on, come on. Hold it together, Lazarus. Breathe in. Breathe out.You’re an actor, so act normal.
Tony calmed, the blue glow faded, but it was too late. The look on Bailey’s face said she didn’t believe him. Casting a glance over his shoulder revealed they were alone in their observation. The party-goers were too busy ingesting whatever substance was their poison. None had seen his slip up.
Scotch forgotten, Tony turned and headed for the exit. Barging through the crowd, he ignored greetings thrown his way. He had to get out. Had to go home.
His Ducati was still in the parking lot.
The instant he slipped out of the studio warehouse, he broke into a jog, knowing full well that Bailey would come after him, and he couldn’t explain what happened. Not yet. Not without knowing if he could trust her. Even then, what would he say? Oh, that blue glow? It’s nothing. Doesn’t do a thing but look pretty. Typical.
* * *
Tony’s insideswanted out of his body.
He had barely registered Bailey’s shouting as he’d exited the lot and drove from the studio without looking behind. She had come running after him, but he’d not a moment to spare. The napalm in his veins flickered and flashed, casting a blue halo of light on his surroundings. Now speeding through the Cardinal City streets, all Tony could think was to contain the intense pressure under his skin. It was an alien urge in his body, and he didn’t like it.
How did his siblings accept their new powers? Because to him, the foreign sensation felt like a demon under his skin, and every time he envisioned letting his control slip, he saw his body splitting monstrously. He didn’t want it. He wouldn’t have it. He refused to acknowledge whatever was happening to him.
Tony shook his head to dispel the thoughts.
Just get home. Get to Lazarus House.
Everything will make more sense there.
In what seemed a blink, he roared around the street that led to the underground garage. He revved on the throttle while waiting for the garage door to lift, and when it had, wheels spun as he wrested the vehicle into the safety of the darkness. He parked between Parker’s Bugatti and Liza’s Ford sedan, cut the engine and exhaled slowly, only now registering that he’d not even put a helmet on.
But he made it. And his insides were still inside. No more blue glow.
“What happened to your bike?”
Tony jolted at Liza’s voice. Tall, Amazonian, and tough as nails, his sister emerged from near her car. Dressed in her standard detective’s outfit, jeans, brown leather jacket and white shirt, Liza gathered her long brown braid over one shoulder and frowned at him.
“Lying in wait for your next kill?” he joked.
“I just got here, numbnuts. You would have noticed if you hadn’t driven in like a fucktard on steroids.”
“Shut it, Liza. I’m in no mood for your attitude tonight.”
“You know I love you.” She jerked her chin at his bike. “Is that the reason for the carrot up your ass?”
He climbed off and checked the tank. Keyed scratches covered the previously pristine black paint. The words “I know” were repeated all over, just like the dolls. A trickle of fear, of helplessness, creeped in. He bit his lip and screwed up his face as the ghost of energy pulsed again, like distant war drums beating beneath his skin. With this new emotional turmoil, his power—whatever it was—wanted out. It seized on his weakness and insisted. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on forcing the urges away. Stifle it. Swallow it down.
“No,” he growled and clenched his fists.
“I’m sorry?”
Shit. She’s coming over.He hid his hands behind his back. “You’re home early,” he noted casually.
Garage air brushed icily against sweat on his upper lip.
“Crime’s down and I’m not stupid, Tony. You can’t deflect with me. I have eyes.” She gestured to his vandalized bike. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Probably Sloan,” he mumbled half-heartedly.
“That’s not Sloan’s doing.”
