Page 1 of A Love So Deadly
Chapter
One
Elliot
Istare at the door. It’s not even a metaphorical door. It’s literal. And it was just slammed in my face.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, pulling the visitor sticker from my hoodie.
My eyes burn hot, and I blink fast, turning from the police chief’s door.
Tenebris City’s surface-shine of money and power rubs away easily to show the corruption and crime, the darkness within.
Like right now.
And I blame VMR Media.
The conglomerate’s building brings the word monolith to mind. The entire complex takes up a whole block midtown and it runs the main TV stations and streaming services, a browser, the main papers, and countless online zines and apps.
They control so much of the entertainment we consume, and the information that flows, that they can make or break careers. Make or break people. Make or break this city and country’sreality. The leadership we have. Even the trends and desires of the public are led by VMR.
They’re power absolute.
No wonder the door got slammed in my face.
Even the cops bow and turn a blind eye.
Corrupt, every last one of them—the police, the politicians, the whole construct of VMR.
But I know that down where the blood and bones of the conglomerate is, where all the secrets are held along with the ghosts, must live the truth.
Exposing that truth means one thing.
Justice. That’s all I want. A tiny piece of justice. Is that too much to ask?
In this place, apparently the answer’s yes.
I swallow over the lump in my throat, willing myself back into a cohesive form because the last thing I need to do is fall apart. That’s never helped anyone and the only help I’ve got to rely on is going to come from within. From me.
Now all I need is a plan of action. Right after I get out of this building.
I head out of precinct twelve, ignoring the gazes that follow me in the fluorescent lights. They probably can’t wait to see the back of the most annoying woman in Tenebris.
Either that or they take one look at my blond curls and dismiss me as a ditz, which is their mistake, not mine.
It almost makes me want to smile for the thorn that I’ve been, even if it’s gotten me nowhere. I still caused discomfort to their smug little lives.
I breathe in the air as I step out. The sun—what there was of it today—has sunk below the horizon and rain drizzles down, turning the city into a glistening lighted jewel.
It suits my mood perfectly. I don’t have an umbrella, but the rain isn’t an issue. I pull up my collar and my hoodie over my head and start the long walk uptown.
I hug myself tight, hoping I can somehow transform some warmth to that cold, knotted spot deep within me. But it almost seems impossible with buses that pass, advertising whatever latest thing VMR media has out. I really don’t bother reading past the recognizable VMR logo. Why would I? I hate that fucking place with a passion.
Before Kayla went missing, before she landed that cursed job at VMR, I didn’t like the company. Not the glossy and sanitized reach into almost every part of our lives, and certainly not the rumors about the powers who ran it. Of their part in the city’s dark, criminal underworld. Of wicked goings on like Satan worship, blood ceremonies, and other ritualistic happenings.
“Virgins at midnight,” I say, trying to lighten my mood. “Sacrificed at full moon.”
I can picture the anti VMR slogan in my head: ‘Have Sex. Save A Life.’ Of course it could be called ‘The Great Devirgining.’
