Page 92 of Envious Of Fire

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“I’m not playing around. I’m problem-solving.” He wiggles the leash. “He’s a pet, right? And what does one do with a pet?” He gives them a second to guess, then winks. “Wewalkit.”

The bodybuilder scoffs. “No fucking way.”

“Cut through the party,” continues Drake, “onward to the tunnels, left and right and left again, give or take some lefts and rights, then straight out of the Devil’s Mouth like a thrown-up TV dinner.” He clicks the leash again. “So how about it?”

“No,” is the reply, even still.

Kyle frowns in thought, shakes his head, then turns to the guy. “Honestly, I think it might not be that bad of an idea. If we go running out of here right now, they’ll catch us in a few seconds. Even if we calmlywalkout of here, they might suspect something’s going on, you-know-who will find out, and then it’s over. But if we’ve got you on a leash, we’re just part of the party.”

The next instant, Drake rushes for the cage, lifts it in the air, and drops it straight over the bodybuilder again. He’s so fast, it causes both the young man and Kyle to flinch back, the action finished before they realized it even began.

Two seconds later, they learn why: the tall shape of Lazarusappears around the corner and stops. “No one notices what?”

Drake responds with surprising haste. “That this hunky pet hasn’t had a protein shake in weeks. Isn’t he overdue? Salazo does like his muscle boys nice and pumped up.”

“What’s that in your hand?”

Drake peers down, pretending to have forgotten. “Oh. We’re gonna walk the pet. Get some exercise. Think Salazo will mind?”

Lazarus’s cold, needle eyes flit from face to face, Kyle, to Drake, to the pet, to Kyle again.

Then something frightening happens: Lazarus smiles. “I’ve neglected you for the past few hours, Kyle. I see you are fitting in well with my brother. Have you become acquainted with any of the others? Asked your questions? You said you had many.”

Kyle swallows any instinct to be defiant. He suddenly has a mission. That gives him reason enough to fib. “Everyone seems preoccupied right now. I’ll have to ask my questions later.”

“Mm, I see. Whenever my brother returns with blood, it’s often a while before anyone is capable of decent conversation.” Lazarus’s smile persists. It really is a terrible sight. “I think few have caught any sleep at all today, the blood keeping them up. Here in the Devil’s Mouth, we are timeless, living in an eternal night for our sun-forsaken souls.” He approaches his brother, pats him on his pink-and-blond head of hair. With his height, it looks like a father ruffing up the head of his toddler. “Everyone loved the blood. Sweet taste. Subtle. Youthful. Even I got a vial or two for myself, quite the treat.” His smile persists. Is it there because of the blood? Is it there for his brother? Kyle still wishes it would go away. “But we’ll need more, little brother.”

“I figured as much,” mutters Drake with a note of sadness.

“Much more.”

Drake lets out a light sigh. “So we hunt again tonight.”

“We do,” confirms Lazarus. “This time, I’ll be with you.”

Drake twists his head around to Kyle, smirking, eyes halfrolled. “He means he wants to babysit me.”

“We’ll get the work done faster together,” explains Lazarus through his smile. “I will ease the workload.”

“Because we will bring back a number of humans,” Drake then clarifies to Kyle, working as a sort of translator, “who shall all be sipped from directly, then returned before sunrise, with hopefully no casualties this time—keyword ‘hopefully’.”

“The sun is nearly set. It’s time.”

Drake lifts an eyebrow at his brother. “Already?”

“The day mercifully flew by. Be ready to depart. You won’t need your nursing supplies or needles. Just teeth. And perhaps your sedatives. Not the blue ones, they make the skin and blood taste sour.” Lazarus turns his gaze upon Kyle. Eye contact with a vampire is so like a literal weapon being pointed at the face, wielded with intent. “I wonder if you’d like to join us again?”

“I’ll pass,” says Kyle too quickly, awkwardly adds, “Thank you,” then wonders why the hell he’s thanking him.

Lazarus’s thin lips twist into a smirk, which is oddly more pleasant than the smile. “Are you saying you already wish to depart back to your … life?”

There is a faint belittling tone in that last word, particularly in the way he hesitates with saying it, like what Kyle leads isn’t worth calling a life at all.

Not too long ago, Kyle might’ve agreed.

But Kyle didn’t come here to prove himself to Lazarus. He came here for answers. He came here for security and peace of mind. He wonders if he’ll be returning home with neither.

“You did ask for just one night of my life,” Kyle points out.