Page 24 of Vicious Hearts

Happiness? Gratitude? Relief?

Excitement.

“Una.”

I shiver, dragging myself back to reality and the robotic voice on the other end of the phone.

“No, that’s impossible—”

“Don’t you ever lie to me again, Una, or there will be consequences.”

I stammer. “B-but I didn’t! I swear to God, I stabbed him in the—”

“For Finn. There will be consequences forFinn.”

I go cold, shaking my head.

“Please…”

“Finish what you started.” Apostle’s voice is tinny through the scrambler. “You have work to do, little bird.”

5

CILLIAN

As mentioned,a dark, snarling savagery lurks beneath my skin, like a monster prowling the shadows. And most of the time, I keep him buried. But when he knows I’m going to let a little of that fury come out to play in one of my carefully controlled ways, he rises up, like a tiger pacing and snarling at the bars.

Looking for an opening.

Looking to break free andhunt.

Which is exactly what I’m currently doing.

From deep in the shadows next to the dilapidated garage, I watch the three men jostle each other, laughing as they stumble their way from the street to the front door of this place, not fifteen feet from where I’m blending into the night.

A jumpy, eager, exhilarated energy begins to hum through my veins. My finger strokes the handle of the switchblade in my pocket.

New York City likes to think it cleaned itself up in the late nineties. That all the grime and grit was washed away. But all they really did was paste over the filth with hipster bars and overpriced organic grocers. The darkness and the evil are still there, they’re just better hidden.

And fuck me, it’s made the hunt more exciting.

The three men shuffle closer, laughing and red-faced as they crack jokes. They’re drunk. And while part of me feels cheated that this tips the scales a bit more unfairly in my favor, I’m not—strictly speaking—on the hunt tonight as a means of escape, or to feed my monster.

I’m here tonight for fuckinganswers.

It’s been two weeks since the tiny girl with the delicate throat, the incorruptible defiance in her eyes, and the intoxicating fragility emanating from her skin left me for dead. Since then, I’ve kept a low profile, staying mostly out of the public eye.

Although I recently bought a new place for myself across the river in Brooklyn—finally, after almost a year Stateside—I’ve been staying back at the Kildare family home on the Upper East Side these past two weeks.

Only Castle and Hades know what happened that night at Club Venom. And I’m keeping it that way. No one needs to know about the girl with the knife. And that’snotmy pride talking, or my ego.

It’s because of what she said right before she left me to bleed out.

“The blood of the innocent washes away the sins of the wicked.”

I’ve heard those words before. From the devil himself.

From Seamus O’Conor.

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