Dark Kiss. Michelle Rowen
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Was he some milk-carton missing kid? Did he need professional help to deal with his mental issues? And who was the garbage-eating boy in the alley Bishop had needed a beam of light in order to find? I couldn’t just walk away and forget all about this without having any of my questions answered. Even if he didn’t want me around, I had to find out what was going on.
Ignoring the sharp needles of cold rain, I returned to the small alley and peered around the corner. The boys were close enough for me to hear them.
The other kid finally noticed Bishop and abandoned his secondhand meal, dropping the remains of the burger to the dirty, wet ground. “Who are you?”
Bishop didn’t speak right away. He cleared his throat first. “You don’t know me?”
“No, should I?”
“My name’s Bishop,” he said evenly. “I’m here to help you.”
The other boy eyed Bishop warily. “How are you going to help me?”
“Do you remember who you are? Do you remember anything at all?”
The boy ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, now damp from the rain, his expression tight and uncertain. “I woke up three days ago in a park north of here with no idea how I got there.”
“I know how.”
Relief flooded the kid’s expression. “Yeah? And you can help me?”
Another moment of hesitation. “That’s my job. Come closer.”
Bishop’s voice sounded stronger now, no babbling or disjointed thoughts like before. His shoulders were broad and he stood straight and tall, his back to me, the rain soaking through his T-shirt, darkening it.
The boy moved away from the Dumpster to stand in front of Bishop. They were the same height and build.
“Show me your back,” Bishop instructed.
“My back?”
“Please, it’ll only take a moment. I can’t make any more mistakes, even if I’m absolutely sure who you are.”
The blond kid looked bewildered as he turned and pulled up his shirt. It was fully dark now, and the only light came from a single security lamp on a post against the gray brick wall, but I could still see enough. On either side of his spine was a detailed tattoo of wings, so large that it extended down past the waistband of his pants. I squinted a little and noted that the wings were outlined and shaded in black.
It was trendy for some kids to get a wing tattoo—especially the guys on McCarthy’s football team, the Ravens. But they usually got it on their arms.
My rational mind wanted me to believe it was just a big version of the Ravens tattoo. However, these wings weren’t feathery like a bird’s. They were more webbed and … batlike.
Another shiver raced through me and my teeth began to chatter. My hair was now drenched from the icy-cold rain.
“I’ve seen enough,” Bishop said.
The boy lowered his shirt. Just like Bishop, he wasn’t wearing a coat despite the chill in the air and the falling rain.
“So now what?” the boy asked.
“Now you need to be brave.”
The boy’s attention shifted to the gold-bladed knife Bishop pulled from a sheath on his back that I hadn’t noticed before. “What are you going to do with that?”
“What I was sent here to do,” Bishop said. “My mission.” He plunged the knife into the boy’s chest.
chapter 4
A scream tore from my throat. “No! What are you doing?”
Bishop sent a fierce glare over his shoulder at me. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”
I ran toward the boy and grabbed hold of his arm as he staggered backward. A flash of lightning forked across the sky followed by a crack of thunder, and the rain came down even harder.
“You … You’re a—” The boy clutched at me, his eyes widening with pain and shock. I looked with horror at the blood soaking through his dirty white shirt as the boy’s grip on me grew painfully tight. “A gray.”
“What?”
But then he slipped out of my grasp, dropped to his knees and, with a last hiss of breath, fell face forward onto the pavement.
“Oh, my God! You killed him!” I could barely breathe. My entire body began to tremble. I’d never seen anyone murdered before. Not in real life.
Bishop grabbed me and slammed me up against the brick wall. I shrieked as he pressed the sharp golden knife against my throat.
“A gray,” he growled, and there was nothing remotely confused in his fierce expression anymore. He looked like he wanted to slit my throat right here and now. “I wasn’t sure before … but you are one of them.”
“Let go of me!” I wanted to struggle, but I couldn’t move much for fear that the knife would cut me. His body pressed against mine, effortlessly pinning me. His short hair was now slicked to his forehead from the rain and his eyes glowed—literally glowed—with blue light. Before, I’d found his eyes beautiful, but now they were absolutely terrifying.
And suddenly, I remembered seeing those eyes before—in my dream, the one I’d had when I passed out at Crave. The dream where he’d let me fall into the horrible darkness.
Something slid behind his gaze, past the fierceness. It looked like bitter disappointment. “How many souls have you devoured since you were turned?”
Tears burned my eyes and I tried to press back against the wall so I wouldn’t have to be so close to him. The knife at my neck made it difficult to speak or breathe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You’ve been kissed. Your soul is lost. You’re one of them now.”
Kissed.
The bitter taste of bile rose in my throat as I remembered the cold sensation when Stephen had kissed me. At the time it had felt like riding a roller coaster in the winter. Exhilarating and thrilling. It hadn’t been a normal kiss. I’d known it then, but I’d tried to pretend it never happened at all. Even though it had.
I should warn you, it’s a very dangerous kiss, Stephen had told me. It will change your life forever.
Bishop looked pained and the knife eased off a fraction. “I don’t understand why you helped me—why you could help me. They told me grays would be completely controlled by their insatiable hunger. But when you touched me—”
Oh, I’d touch him, all right.
I drove my knee up between his legs as hard as I could. He gasped and let go of me. I didn’t think twice before running away. I ran as far and as fast as I could through the maze of alleys and backstreets we’d taken to get there, before looking over my shoulder. My vision was blurred by tears and rain, but I could see that he wasn’t chasing me.
Bishop was insane. A killer. And I’d led him directly to his victim.
I stopped the first police cruiser I saw and ran to the driver’s side. “There’s been a murder!”
I quickly took the cop back to the alley, but by the time we got there it was empty. Completely empty. The cop looked at me skeptically as I craned my neck, looking for any sign of what had happened here. I knew it was the right alley. The half-eaten hamburger was still lying on the ground in a puddle.
“It happened only a few minutes ago. Please, you have to believe me!”
My insistence seemed to get through to him and he started to take me seriously. He asked me questions about what I’d seen and where I’d been tonight. He told