DONNIE ZITO STOOD over me, an ugly look on his ugly face.
He clutched a small, mean revolver in his hand like a captured rattlesnake. A thick droplet of blood—my blood—hung under the snub-nosed barrel from where he’d pistol-whipped me. It swayed like a pendulum, threatening to break and fall as the pistol swung between me and Daniel.
“Somebody better tell me what the fuck is going on, and they better start telling me right fucking now,” Donnie said.
The only answer he got was Brad Curson’s moan of pain.
Donnie shook the gun, slinging the droplet free. My eyes lost it as it tumbled through space. He scowled. “Do I look like someone who is fucking around right now? You, chickie”—he pointed the gun at me—“answer the fucking question.”
I looked at him. The dark, ugly thing curled inside me again, and I realized something with the cold, hard clarity of universal truth. Something so fundamental that it shifted reality around me and, I knew, would alter my every interaction great and small for the rest of my life.
I realized that Donnie Zito could kill me, but he would never be able to hurt me again.
The thought made magick hum from the center of my chest and run tingling down to the Mark incised in my palm.
I got to my feet.
“I made a wish, Donnie. I made a wish and turned your friend Tyler inside out.”
He stepped back. “My friend Tyler?” Beefy eyebrows pulled together. His eyes darted inside their pockets of flesh, moving around the room. They came back to me narrowed and lit with suspicion. “Wait a fuggin minute. Is this Tyler Woods’s room?”
I nodded. A sinister grin pulled at the corners of my lips. I felt a little buzzy, a little disconnected. I felt invulnerable.
“I ain’t seen Tyler since…” He looked me up and down. Sweat rolled from his hairline, zigzagging down his jowls. “Wait a minute…” His eyes narrowed. “Does that mean you’re…”
I nodded.
He thrust the gun at me again. “You need to explain how the hell I got here. I was at a club in LA. How the fuck did I get in Tyler’s bedroom?” Fear stink wafted off him. I could smell it, metallic and sour, mixed with the salt of his sweat. It made my head swim. I breathed it in deeply, and magick flared inside me, brushing against the inside of my rib cage, sweeping upward and clearing my head.
“I told you, Donnie. I made a wish.” I raised my hand, my right hand, and held it out to him. It pulsed, the symbol cut there glowing with malevolent red energy. I took a step toward him and smiled. “I’m magick.”
“You’re a crazy bitch, is what you are.”
“I am what you made me, Donnie.”
The dark, ugly thing spoke in my mind. My hand fell to the Knife of Abraham, still tucked through my belt. Slowly pulling it out, I took a step toward him. The iron blade was dark, but the point still gleamed wicked sharp. I smiled. “I am the angel of vengeance come to collect what’s owed.”
I felt Daniel move behind me. I didn’t turn, my eyes pinned on Donnie Zito.
Daniel’s voice spoke. “Charlie, are you sure this is a good idea?”
I ignored him and took another step. Donnie Zito moved back.
“Careful, Donnie.” I pointed the knife at him. The magick inside me spilled out of my Mark, trickling and sparking off the iron blade. “You’re going to step in Tyler if you don’t watch out.” I giggled, and it cut through the room, sending chills up my own spine. Donnie flinched.
He jerked and looked down, his booted foot squelching in the soaked carpet. He shouted and danced to get out of it. I turned, keeping him in my sight. The gun in his hand swung toward me, his face dark with anger and fear.
“Bitch, I’m gonna gut-shoot you if you don’t get me out of here.”
“You can’t hurt me, Donnie.”
His lip curled into a snarl, pulling up as though he’d been fish-hooked. “I hurt you before. I hurt you real good.” His voice dropped into a mean, intimate tone. “I still think about it when I whack off.”
Rage crept slowly up my spine, inching along, crawling its way into my brain.
His smile was an ugly, twisted thing. “Oh yeah. I still think about our time together. I always wanted us to have another date.”
“It wasn’t a date, you bastard.” The words hurt leaving my mouth.
“Call it what you want, cupcake. I don’t care. It was good times.”
I said nothing. The fuse burned.
Daniel moved. I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Donnie Zito swung the gun around toward him. “Ah, ah, ah … settle down, boy.” Daniel stopped moving, stood glaring. Donnie kept the gun pointed at Daniel but looked at me. “Yes indeed, you were a good piece of ass. Tell you what—you drop that knife or I’m gonna shoot this asshole in the face.”
Magick sparked like electricity along the metal around my neck, crackling under my chin. It felt as if someone shoved me forward as Ashtoreth’s gift kicked in. My mind jolted, and I was inside Donnie Zito’s mind, seeing what he desired most of all.
My brain swirled around a dark image of me pinned to the bed, a gun held to my head by a naked, grunting Donnie Zito while Daniel lay bleeding on the floor.
Everything swirled again, and I blinked, back in my own body. I looked up. Donnie Zito smiled at me. He raised the pistol in his hand and pointed it at Daniel. I felt his desire spike as his finger squeezed the trigger.
I lunged, slashing with the Aqedah. The blade flashed in my hand, crimson magick trailing in a shower of sparks. It struck deep, slicing through the meat and bone of Donnie Zito’s arm as if it were made of cheese. The gun bucked as it fired, jerking his arm, the blade embedded in it, my hand clenched tight on the handle. Hot blood sprayed in a fine mist across my face, and someone screamed.