death wish

She’d been in the street outside of Magnus’ house. Young and pretty, tanned in that way everybody had seemed to get here in the summer. No pasty white skin exposed by cheap vest tops, skin rapidly crisping to that scorched red while they took the opportunity no school gave to gather in their little gangs down in the playground on the estate. There’d been no pack around her, no giggles to urge her on as she’d approached him. Just a coquettish tilt of her head and an offer Linc knew he should’ve turned down in an instant.

It was the start of a bad joke. A bunch of college kids and a vampire whose control’s Vaseline slippery are partying in the woods … guess what happens next.

Linc looked down at the bottle dangling from his fingers, swallowing hard as though that would pull a miracle and turn the beer into blood. His contribution to the party wasn’t gonna satisfy the part of him that had started to sit up and listen as soon as the music had started to pump in the woods and the handful of girls who’d melted out of the dark when the one who’d invited him had pulled off of the road and into the half overgrown make shift lot had started dancing to it. A kick in pulses that he was sure he could hear under the throb of the beat. A whoosh, whoosh, whoosh that had his mouth watering.

Biting down on it left his gums aching, muscles in his jaw flexing as he looked up from his spot at the edge of the firepit. A bit of old farm or industrial equipment of some sort left out here to rust after whatever had been in the woods was long gone. A prop to sit against with his knees drawn up slightly, arms draped over them as he studied the people milling around him. Celebrating in small groups, even the girl – Lyra, she’d said it was Lyra, like the girl out of those books he’d read as a kid – disappearing off into that darkness to flit around like a hummingbird, leaving that trail of her pulse in the air.

A shiver of it, not unlike the one Cassie had given off when she’d stormed up to him outside the club. He’d held back then but … he thought of the blonde, her bolshiness arriving like a steam train, continuing in a way that was almost impressive as he’d snuck her into Emerald City, expecting Hector to stop him at any moment and drag him into the office by the scruff of the neck like some wayward kitten while Cassie was gonna be lucky if she got shown the door.

He hung his head, trying to breathe through it, the beer lifted and drunk from almost convulsively. At the call of the voice he twisted his hand, knuckling the foam from his mouth as the form came around the fire. Not back lit anymore Linc could see those flames painting Lawrence’s pale hair. Another of Hector’s people, but from the other side of the staircase that separated Emerald City from the Ruby Slipper, never should the metaphorical yellow brick road between them be crossed.

Lifting his chin, Linc acknowledged the older vampire. A flash of wariness there in his eyes perhaps, flickering between the figures moving beyond the fire, the red cup Lawrence held, the guy’s face. ”Hey. Booze, music, spooky arse woods filled with things that could kill ‘em, the perfect party combo,” Linc murmured. A little cynical but not that far off base. The kids at Whitmore spent most weekends at the club, completely unaware of what was going on under their noses. Linc’s shoulders rose and fell, a little tightening around his mouth the only sign of his smile. ”Free now. Bought some stuff from the Club.” That he’d paid with out of his wages, bills fumbled out of his wallet for those bottles.

Maybe wisely he’d stuck to what he’d bought. Sealed until he’d twisted the cup off. Not tampered with, leaving him spitting out the liquid that’d started burning his gut as Lawrence was now doing. Linc shifted uneasily, a baby vampire’s concern that the big bad hunters he’d heard all about in warning were gonna start melting out of the trees to pick off whoever choked on the stuff. ”Someone spiked the booze already? Who’d you get that off of?” Nerves tight in his throat. He was stronger than he’d been before, he could at least hold his own against a bunch of tipsy college girls but he wasn’t impervious the way Magnus seemed to be with a glib tongue and a frigging genuine medieval sword to lop heads off and save the helpless brat in distress.

Tagged: LAWRENCE MURPHY * Word Count: 799

Wesley would’ve sold his right arm for this. Fodder for a week, maybe more, in the cluster of teenagers who obviously thought they knew something about this town but not enough. Gullible, welcoming, they wouldn’t have seen the trouble coming from the suave arsehole until too late. Linc doubted any of them would’ve been turned, those few that Wesley bothered that much with were rare, the ‘treat’ saved for his more loyal little toadies, but you didn’t have to follow through on your promises if you just planned on draining them and tossing them into the river like sacks of rubbish anyway.

It was hard looking at them as anything but victims when that was all you’d seen looking back in the mirror when you’d been saved that sort of fate – and when just hearing the whoosh of blood through someone’s veins or being within a dozen feet of a papercut made you so hungry that everything ached.

The alcohol was meant to take that edge off when he’d pulled it free of its cardboard collar but he might as well have been drinking water for all the good it had been doing. Linc glanced at his own bottle, suddenly glad for its piss weakness while Lawrence practically puffed smoke from his doctored cup. His fingers closed tighter around it, his legs shifting, one knee knocking against the rest of the bottles, still snared in their packaging. ”He wasn’t toting a stake around too was he? You know, waitin’ to see who started bellowin’ smoke like a chimney.” Blue eyes flitted around the border of the clearing. If there was anybody about to burst out and hose down the supernaturals in this little gathering, that would’ve been the time to do it, as Lawrence spewed up what he’d drunk.

Now the vervain would go up in smoke, not doing a damn thing to out them when it was just thin trails of smoke in the air. The plastic likely more noxious than the vervain now. Linc eased forward, craning further over his knees as Lawrence flagged some girl – not Lyra – down, asking about the alcohol. He raised sandy brows, offering the girl a half smile as she started to pull back, Lawrence’s attempt at compulsion failing. God he hoped it was from the mouthful of vervain and not from anything else. ”Not you specifically I guess, maybe just anybody here who’d probably try somethin’.” The whole batch, except for the bottle Lawrence was swigging from now and those left at his side.

As he offered the bottle to him Linc shook his head, half lifting his own bottle into view. Beer not liquor, although the latter wasn’t gonna get him any drunker for its greater potency. He traced his tongue over his lower lip, wicking away that yeasty tang of the drink. ”Got one, thanks.” And a raging dose of suspicion too. In an instant he was freezing again, a fist tightening around his throat that then did a number on his heart. ”Cassie came back to the club? How did she get in the door? The bouncer wouldn’t let her in before.” But he had, bringing her in through the rear door with him, practically marking out the easier path into Emerald City for her. Shit.

Groaning under his breath, Linc pressed the bottle against his forehead for a moment. He knew what happened with some of the vampires. Most of the members stuck to the rules, not even brining in their little pets for fear of winding things up between them, but there were always some who were gonna try and stomp over that rule. ”Did you get her out of there? She doesn’t know what she’s getting’ herself into.” The added ‘did you tell Hector’ wouldn’t squeeze itself out. He’d tried to warn Cassie about what Hector would do when he’d snuck her in, it’d only be twice as worse if he found her in there on her own with nobody else there to take the blame.

Tagged: LAWRENCE MURPHY * Word Count: 670

He should’ve known this was gonna be more than it had seemed. Once upon a time he’d been the one luring people in. A drink or five, that boyish grin and coy looks until they were like sheep following him to the after party. Each step up to Wesley’s apartment or down to the basement leaving him feeling sicker. There was no stumble home with the threat of a hangover hanging over you, the banging headache would come in the dark if it came at all and most would be dead or well on their way to it by the time the sun came eye searing bright over the horizon.

Linc scanned the area around them, that sixth sense not ringing hard enough to have him pushing to his feet and getting out of here. He should’ve been able to trust it by now, even if he only trusted one – two – people in this entire town and one of them was slightly shaky depending on the day and how much he was hating on the lack of choice he had in this.

Gratitude teetering in balance with the mad. The alcohol he’d started in on doing nothing to help sway it one way of another.

He snorted, faint humour slipping away like the smoke from the fire as he shook his head. ”You’re losin’ your touch, Lawrence. Hannya’d be disappointed.” Her hands would’ve been in every set of pockets here, slipped in seductive slow, fingers curling, seeking, biting if she wasn’t a hundred percent keen on what she’d found. Lawrence had to bring Magnus up into hit all though, a splash of ice water on all of this that had the muscles in his jaw clenching. Linc glanced down at the bottle in his hand, half out of guilt. ”Plenty of those around,” he muttered before he lifted that bottle. No burn of vervain, not even of the booze so much, just that convulsive working of his throat.

Now he’d brought it up it appeared as though the idea was tickling between Lawrence’s shoulder blades. The older vampire wasn’t as big and as bad as he appeared to be in the club’s pecking order then.

Still, there were things he knew that could stick a metaphorical stake right through the pit of his stomach. If he’d been human the beer would’ve rushed up the back of his throat, warm and yeasty, ripe for a teenager’s copious sickness after an overindulgence. That soft heart Wesley had played on damning him again. Linc made a dubious noise as he knuckled damp lips and shot a look up at Lawrence. ”No idea but you didn’t get her out immediately?” The ‘what the fuck’s wrong with you?’ stuck in his throat. Lips pinched together he shook his head, straightening up. ”That’s not unscathed. What if you hadn’t come along?” What if Hannya had gotten her hands on her? Or Hector. Or any of the things that claimed membership to Emerald City. Few things old and assholish enough to want to conduct business there weren’t exactly known for their restraint.

Planting an elbow on his knee, Linc scrubbed his hand over his face. It was meant to be a one off, the warning hissed from his own lips to stop her from walking into the hornet’s nest again. It was meant to keep her safe, not encourage her. He let out a tired snort, waving it off with the bottle as he looked up. ”I’ll pay for it, she’s not coming back in. If she does and you see her, get her out.” Before Hannya and Hector threw hissy fits of supernatural proportions.

A long breath slipped out as Linc lifted the bottle and gulped from it on a single breath. No worrying about your air running out anymore. He could’ve gone years without oxygen. They apparently just dried out like mummies. ”Hector’s not finding out about her.” His brows drew together though, eyes fixing on Lawrence as he reached for another of those beer bottles. ”I thought you and him were joined at the hip … different to how you are with Hannya of course.” Unless there was something he hadn’t seen in the two of them. It had been Magnus’ connections that had gotten him through the door. The youngest of them all, the one most recently hired, suitable for all those nasty little jobs everybody else wanted to palm off.

Tagged: LAWRENCE MURPHY * Word Count: 738

At least Wesley had been the only real nightmare in London. He didn’t like upstarts trying to work their way the throne he’d shoved at the peak of his little empire and had been ruthless in stamping out anybody who tried – his parents included. Hector didn’t have quite the same hold over the Ruby Slipper – although Magnus might’ve tried to convince he did. The vampire had his realm above stairs so to speak, Hannya below and the demon was … Lincoln gulped, a faint shiver rolling through him. The word relentless came to mind. It was like watching a tiger set eyes on prey, muscle shifting under that deceptively pretty skin as they stalked in. Some got hypnotised by it and ended up giving her exactly what she wanted, Lawrence included.

Linc watched Lawrence’s eyes skitter away from his on that sigh. Oh he knew how deep the demon’s claws were into the vampire who’d been even younger than him when he’d been turned. Sandy brows rose faintly as he snorted. ”It’d be a hell of a lot more R-rated. She might only have eyes for you though, yeah?” Hannya liked to play, to tease, but she really seemed to appreciate it when she really got her claws into someone. There’d been some bloke around one night, someone who seemed to know the girl Hannya was in at least – he’d heard enough in Emerald City to know that was how it worked. You didn’t get turned into a demon, you got infested by one.

A gulp of his beer didn’t do anything to wash the horror of that idea away. Magnus could be cloying, his attempt to save that scruffy, damned kid coming with a dose of smothering care. The saint doing what he could, trying for father of the year.

Maybe if Cassie had one of them she wouldn’t have been so dead set on getting into the club. It was dangerous, he’d tried to warn her about it but it was like she was deaf to anything that sounded like a no. Lawrence’s blunt retort hit like a sucker punch, driving the beer back up Linc’s throat. Fuck. The hand he’d knuckled his lips with covered his eyes and squeezed before it was shoved back through his hair. ”Then you walk her out. Don’t serve her. It’s not hard.” Cassie didn’t listen though. She hadn’t in the store room when he’d made it clear they couldn’t … tracing fingers under his eyes as the veins had crawled, touching featherlight to his fangs. She was dangerous – to herself as much as anybody else.

Woah. There was no woah about it. Linc grumbled under his breath, thumping the bottom of the bottle lightly against his knee. He stared up humourlessly at Lawrence. ”That’s exactly what you do. It’s your job isn’t it? Make sure they’re old enough to be in there and get served?” He’d had to get handsy with Cassie to get her out though, hand on one slender bicep as he’d tried to get temptation at a safe distance before he did something to her. Lawrence was dipping back into his pocket for his flask but his fingers shook on the bottle with remembered hunger and other things.

He gripped harder, nodding even though he knew that Lawrence’s best probably wasn’t enough with Cassie. She was a brick wall. Maybe it was something to be proud of, having the backbone to do that but in a place like the Ruby Slipper – or worse, Emerald City – that was just a red flag to the very big, very bad bulls. Linc drained his bottle, reached for another like it was gonna do anything to burn the hunger out of him. The laugh was full of genuine amusement as Lawrence tried telling him that he was just keeping Hector and Hannya on his good side. ”Bangin’ her just to keep her on your good side seems like a hell of a price,” he drawled. Literally.

Sniffing in a ragged breath, Linc began to shove his way to his feet, taking the beers with him. He hitched them towards Lawrence in offer again. ”She made you stop all that? It’s soundin’ worse all the time, mate. Why not find a new job, get outta Hannya’s hands?” Maybe he should’ve suggested swapping places, even if it meant practically getting into bed with the devil. Lawrence was the sort of good son Magnus would’ve loved, instead of the one he had to lecture for screwing up in a situation that was beyond screwed up with or without his intervention.

Tagged: LAWRENCE MURPHY * Word Count: 765