E.J. Willow

Ruptured Covenant

“Bottoms up, ladies. Drink ‘em fast!”

River tossed her tequila shot back, sticking out her tongue as she heaved at the taste. Micah and Danielle slammed their glasses down on the bar and she copied them, dropping her untouched lime wedge inside.

Micah watched her do it. “You know you’re supposed to suck on that, right?”

“And erode my teeth even more than I already have?” Micah rolled his eyes but River didn’t see him, too busy running her tongue over her front teeth, which were slightly translucent at the bottoms. “You can have crowns at thirty if you want. I’m keeping my teeth ‘til I’m a hundred.”

“I don’t think a bit of citrus is gonna hurt you, Riv.”

As if to prove his point, Micah fished her lime out of her glass and popped it into his mouth, grinning at her with the green rind covering his teeth.

“Say what you like,” River responded, trying not to grin at the twitch under his right eye. “I’ll still never risk it.”

“You’re such a scaredy cat,” Micah might have said, though the lime muffled his words to the point that they were barely legible. He spat what remained of the lime wedge at River and she barely blocked it, sending it careening onto the dancefloor. She couldn’t see where it went, and could only hope that no one would slip on it. “You need another drink.”

Before River could argue that she was already feeling pretty buzzed, her head like a cotton-candy cloud above her shoulders, Micah waved for the girl behind the bar and started ordering more drinks. Left alone, River looked at Danielle, her lips forming a tight, awkward smile that she couldn’t convince them to drop. Of the three of them, Danielle was making the most effort to dance, rocking her hips and shuffling her feet from side to side. Her hands, wrapped in one pink and one green fishnet glove, were thrown above her head, and her wispy blond hair was threaded with feathers and string.

“So,” she said, wiggling her arms in River’s direction as if to entice her to dance. A few faerie boys were watching her from across the room, the green and gold strobe lights illuminating flecks of glitter suspended in the air between them. The leaves in their hair turned pink around the edges when she tossed her hair, rustling as though caught in a sweet summer breeze. River tried not to look their way, but it was difficult; every time she did, she made eye contact with one of them and they would all laugh. None of their leaves turned pink for her. “Are you excited to start your internship?”

The crumpled paper corner of River’s offer of employment peeked out at her from her open bag, its bold ‘Congratulations’ more enthused by her imminent employment than she was.

“So excited,” she replied, shoving the letter deeper into her bag. But the truth was, the thought of accepting the offer filled her with such dread she could almost feel it, chasmous under her breast bone like the yawning void. She didn’t know why she felt that way. It wasn’t that the

offer wasn’t good enough. Winston and Stein was the law-firm equivalent of a rockstar. Twenty years ago, ere the magical creatures had revealed themselves to the previously unsuspecting rest of the world, Harvey Winston and Arabella Stein had coined the first legal terms for their integration into society. Ere five years of Human and Sahari Rights education, River was going to be Winston and Stein’s latest Junior Clerk, the youngest employee in company history. Or she would be, if she could just bring herself to accept the offer.

“But there’s so many things I have to do before I can start. There’s still, like, five more exams to sit before I can actually practise law.”

“But you just graduated,” Danielle said, grabbing River’s hand and holding her arm above her head until River took the hint to twirl. River was an awkward dancer, her feet too unsure of themselves, but Danielle didn’t seem to mind. She let go of River’s hand and started twirling around her like a maypole. “Shouldn’t that be it?”

“Unfortunately not,” River laughed, already growing dizzy from whipping her head back and forth to keep track of Danielle’s spins. She started to explain the next steps that she would have to take before the internship started in December, unable to stop herself even as Danielle’s eyes started to gloss over with boredom. The faerie boys were still watching, their pointed faces and wicked smiles like a stone in River’s throat. She looked to the bar for Micah, growing desperate for another drink, but they had somehow strayed so far onto the dance floor that she couldn’t pick him out of the crowd.

“Beep beep, bitches!” A round elbow jabbed sorely into River’s waist as Micah wedged himself back into the conversation, appearing as if from nowhere carrying more drinks than the three of them could possibly put away. He shoved a pair of tiki-glasses into River’s hands, their bamboo straws piercing fat, flaming marshmallows. “To River Singh,” he said, brandishing his own ostentatious drinks as he started the toast. “Intern today, Supreme Court Justice tomorrow!”

“We’re not even American,” River said, but Micah didn’t hear her over the sound of Danielle’s cheers. A few drunken clubbers joined in as well, jumping at any excuse to make some noise, and River’s cheeks grew warm even as she thanked them for the toast.

Taking a sip of her drink, she promptly gagged, staring down at the tiki glass in horror. “Micah. Is this just vodka?”

“Nooo. It’s a double vodka and malibu. With a marshmallow.”

“You’re insane.”

“No, I’m celebrating. As should you be. Now,” he took hold of River’s straw and poked her in the mouth with it, “drink your drink. If you can still walk at the end of the night, how can I ever call myself your best friend again?”

The acrid stench of smoke and ash climbed high in the sky, joining the clouds stained red by the firelight below. Still glowing embers dried on the hot breeze, mounting the small hill to be extinguished where he stood. Wearing a black great coat, buttoned to the throat, with his orange hair glowing ever redder in the light of the fire, he looked indistinguishable from the carnage below. The village had burned beautifully, and the twitch of his lips at the sight of its smouldering remains could almost be called a smile.

It was an expression that promptly fell, however, as the distant sound of panting grew ever closer. From the burning village approached a woman, her greying hair slicking with sweat and her skin blackened by soot. She had been a great beauty when he had first hired her, but the tears had not been kind.

“You’ve made quite a mess over such a little trinket,” she said as she reached the top of the hill. Breathing hard, she turned to face the devastation below.

“I did what had to be done,” he said, linking arms and allowing her to tuck herself against his side. She was plump and warm, the flesh of her upper arm so within his grasp. “Did you find what we were looking for?”

“Of course.” Struggling in his hold, she reached into her satchel, removing from it a dust covered object and handing it to him. “Its previous owner was still clinging to it when I found him. I had to break some of his fingers to prise it out of his—”

“Stop,” he said with a flinch. “You know I don’t care for gore.” He took hold of the filthy oil lamp and brushed off some of the dust with his gloved hands, careful not to touch the metal with his skin. Vic grumbled a little when he moved away from her, holding the lamp up to light and inspecting the brassy metal peeking dully through the dirt.

“Burns a village to the ground,” she mused, voice adopting the acerbic edge that had attracted him to her in the first place, “but scared of a few broken bones.”

“I’m not afraid,” he snapped, composure momentarily lapsing. The lamp seemed to thrum in his hands, responding to the use of his power. “And I didn’t burn anything to the ground. The fire did.”

“Don’t be pedantic,” Vic snapped, but when he looked at her she was smiling.

“Watch your step,” River said to Micah as they were escorted out of the club. He stumbled a little on the first step, falling against the smooth red arm of the incubus bouncer that was throwing them out.

“I’m sorry if I annoyed you,” he said, clinging to the bouncer’s arm and mooning up at him with wide, watery eyes. “Do you hate me now?”

“Not at all,” the bouncer said, in good humour. River supposed that he must get this a lot. He carefully prised Micah’s arm away from his own but kept hold of him the rest of the way down the stairs. River was grateful for his assistance; Micah was a whole head taller than her, and twice as broad, his climber’s body thicker than his open shirt and tight trousers made it appear. “We just think you’ve had enough tonight. Feel free to come back any time.”

Micah grasped his tattooed arm. “You’re a kind man.”

“Come on,” River told him, casting an apologetic glance at the bouncer as she hoisted Micah down the last of the stairs.

“And River!” Micah cried, abandoning the bouncer in favour of throwing the rest of his weight over her shoulders. “I’m sorry that I ruined your night.”

River couldn’t recall a moment of her night that hadn’t been clouded by the pressure to respond to Winston and Stein. But that wasn’t really Micah’s fault, and he was in no position to help her work through any of that now.

“You didn’t. I had a good time.”

“You promise?”

“Why would I lie to you?”

Micah considered for a moment. “To spare my fragile human feelings?”

“You’re right. I had a terrible night.”

Micah wailed. “Don’t say that!”

“I’m joking. Obviously I had a good time.” River jostled him just enough to make him sway without knocking him over completely, but she needn’t have bothered. Micah’s attention had readjusted again, this time to his phone.

“Who are you texting?” River asked. Looking over his shoulder, she could see that the number wasn’t saved to his phone.

“Oh, just the bouncer from the club.”

River gawked. “How did he get your number?”

Micah glanced at her flippantly. “Oh, I tucked it into his back pocket when he caught me on the stairs.”

“I don’t even need a law degree to tell you how wrong that is.” Micah wiggled the phone in River’s face, flashing a series of increasingly personal texts describing situations that River did not want to imagine her best friend becoming entangled in. “He’s not complaining.”

“Don’t show them to me!” River swatted at the phone until Micah put it away, though she could still hear it buzzing in his back pocket. “So, anyway.”

Micah readjusted himself in River’s arms, pressing more of his weight onto her shoulders. His breath was hot and fruity where it blew across her face. “Where are we going next?”

“Next?” River squawked. Micah could barely walk and Danielle was half-asleep, so quiet that River only knew she was still there because of the occasional, gentle hiccup. If there were any clubs still letting people in, neither of them would get past the door.

“I think it’s time to go home now,” River told him, bracing herself for a negative reaction. “Oven pizza and bed for you.”

“What? No.”

“Yes, Micah.”

“I want to go clubbing.”

River gestured at the street. “Do you see any clubs around here?” It was past midnight, the only movement in the streets being the packs of foxes darting from bin to bin, hunting for trash. The closest thing to a strobe light in their vicinity was a flickering street lamp, sporadically illuminating a road of shuttered shops and deserted pavements. The early-morning moonlight kissed the distant hills, and a thin, grainy layer of ice clung to every untouched plane. It was a frigid time of year, the brackish air biting at River’s fingers and bringing colour to her cheeks.

“It’s time to go home,” River said, trying to tug Micah in the direction of the house. But he and Danielle wouldn’t budge. “What are you waiting for?”

Danielle held up a finger. “I think I hear music.”

Micah perked up instantly, head whipping in the direction of the sounds River had hoped he wouldn’t hear. “Me too. We should go to it.”

“Micah—”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Riv? This is supposed to be your night! Why let it end?”

“Because I’m tired,” River said, but neither of them seemed to agree. Danielle reached for Micah, relieving River of his weight, and steered him towards the club, forcing River to follow along if only to keep them out of trouble.

The streets started to fill up again the closer they came to COVEN, a gothic discotheque built inside an abandoned church. Long queues branched out from either side of the yet-unopened doors, the ghostly voices of clubbers reaching out to them from the shadows. Its towering stained-glass windows were illuminated from the inside with pulsing red lights, and through cracks in the glass poured billowing plumes of smoke. Figures seemed to dance in the dark of shaded corners and River could feel, when she walked past, the phantom sensation of eyes on her back.

“I don’t think this is our kind of place,” River said.

“What are you talking about? This is the coolest.” Danielle ignored the tense atmosphere that River had built around herself, stumbling in the direction of the door. Her wide eyes were angled up towards the cathedral’s dilapidated spire. Rain-aged statues seemed to stare back down at them, stone arms open in welcome, and neither of River’s friends seemed to notice the deep gauges scratched into their crumbling throats and arms.

“Come on, guys,” she tried again. “I really think we should—”

“Hey, River!”

River froze. She looked at Micah, who seemed to have sobered instantly, eyes wide, on high alert. Danielle searched for the source of the voice and seemed to find it alongside the club, in a dark alleyway that glowed in the light of a makeshift fire-pit. Around it stood a pair of smokers, their still frames casting no shadows on the hallowed nightclub walls.

“River,” Micah whispered. Despite his efforts to be quiet, River saw the yellow eyes of the figures in the dark slide over to him. “You don’t know these guys, do you?”

“That is you,” called the voice again, and there was a spark as he tossed the rest of his cigarette into the fire pit. River half-expected a plume of smoke, shaped like a skull, to rise ominously from the flames, but all that climbed into the sky was a faint fizzle of crimson sparks. He walked towards them, features taking shape as the darkness of the alley slipped away from his shoulders like a cape. His hair was dark, his eyes acidic yellow, and behind his thin lips were a set of four vicious-looking fangs. “I’ve had too much to drink. I should have smelled you coming a mile away.”

“Keita,” River said, stepping towards him even as Micah’s ever-widening eyes willed her to back away. Keita wrapped an arm around River’s shoulders and pulled her close, spinning her to face Micah’s venomous gaze directly. She shrank away from it, closer to the icy flesh of the vampire, his skin rigid as stone against her own. “I thought you might be inside already.”

“Nah, we’re opening late tonight.” For the first time since she had met him, River saw Keita through Micah’s eyes. He had the fashion sense of a Lost Boy, all dark mesh and leather, ear-piercings and eyeliner. His skin was specked with splattered blood, unwarmed by the heat of the flame, and his arm around her shoulders was heavy with the weight of death. “I was wondering when you’d finally bring some friends around here, though. I was beginning to think you didn’t have any.”

River elbowed him playfully and regretted it when Micah’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.

“You must be Micah,” Keita said, pointing a black fingernail in his direction, “and Malia. Right?”

“Danielle,” Danielle corrected, thrusting out her hand and grabbing hold of Keita’s extended finger to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Keita replied, smiling darkly with his fangs and looking every bit the hungry beast that Micah feared him to be. “I’ve been asking River to bring some friends along for months now.”

“Months,” Micah echoed. His eyes were flicking obviously between River’s eyes and Keita’s hand on her shoulder, sharp nails against her skin. He seemed to be drawing his own conclusions – ones that River knew would take days to explain away. To River, he said, “You’ve been coming to a vampire nightclub for months.”

“She’s never actually come inside,” Keita replied, oblivious to the tense line of Micah’s shoulders, the thin white line of his smile. He nodded at the wooden doors, bolted shut with iron bars. Something on the other side was rattling them, desperate to break through. “Not really River’s scene.”

“I’m not sure I know what River’s scene is, anymore,” Micah ground out through his smile, and River tried not to wince. She hated when Micah got mad. “Funny to think that she’s been coming here for so long, and yet she’s never mentioned you.”

“Really?” Keita threw River a questioning glance, his smile falling so subtly as to be imperceptible to anyone else.

“Strange,” he agreed, the hold he had on River’s shoulder tightening ever so slightly. “Did I slip your mind?”

“Keita—”

“Not that I care,” he continued, flashing his fangs. “We can learn all about each other inside.”

Micah made a face that fell short of apologetic. “That would be great,” he said, “but we were just about to head home.”

“What?” Keita looked at his phone screen, checking the time. “It’s barely 1 o’clock. You’re worn out already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Keita chuffed. “I guess they don’t make students like they used to.”

“I guess not.” Looking to River, eyes pointedly wide, Micah nodded in the direction of a bus stop up ahead. At this time of night, it would be a long wait for the next service bus, but Micah didn’t seem to care. “Shall we go home?”

They probably should.

“I probably should,” she said to Keita, leaning far enough out of his hold to meet his eyes. Someone had to make sure Micah ate before bed, and she had reached the part of the night where she could feel herself sobering up. She wanted to be in bed before the headache reached its peak. “I have work in the morning.”

“Work, you say.” Keita sucked air through his teeth. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to be tired at work.”

He was mocking her. “I shouldn’t even have stayed out this late—”

“Of course not. This was deeply irresponsible of you, River. I mean – what would your mother say?”

She would tell me to go home, River thought, and Keita smiled because he knew that that had sealed her fate.

“You guys go ahead,” she said to Micah, Keita’s hand gently squeezing the back of her neck. “I think I’m gonna stay a little longer.” Micah tightened his lips.

“Is that okay with you?”

“Of course,” he replied, though it was obvious it wasn’t. He spoke not to River but to the hand around her neck, Keita’s metal rings as cold as his skin against her flesh. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Micah–”

“Have a good night, yeah?”

He was already backing away, Danielle going with him, and River deflated. “Yeah,” she said to his back as he quickened his pace to catch the bus just pulling up to the stop. He flinched away from the droves of leather-clad clubbers that poured out of the bus as he got on, and he didn’t look back at River as he and Danielle took a seat and the bus rocked off into the night.

“Am I wrong,” Keita finally said, ere the tail-lights of the bus disappeared around the corner, “or did I sense some underlying tension between you and your boyfriend there?”

“He’s not my boyfriend and you know it,” River corrected, wondering (not for the first time) when the boys in her life would start to act her age. Turning to Keita, she severed his hold on her throat, looking directly at him for the first time all night. “And there’s no tension. He’s not mad at me, he’s scared of you.”

“Me? What did I do?”

River gestured vaguely. He was dressed for the club, his dark shirt left open over a pale chest, his collection of necklaces hanging artfully at the centre of the open space. He couldn’t have looked more like a vampire if he were wearing a high-collared cape.

“You think if I was wearing a bow-tie and a sweater vest, that would make a lick of difference once he saw the teeth?”

River knew that it wouldn’t.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I can never get you to stay out this late.”

River sighed, unfolding her letter and handing it over to Keita. He snatched it up and scanned it quickly, smile growing.

“This is yours?”

“It’s got my name on it.”

He whistled.

“We’re celebrating the new job. Or, that’s what they were celebrating. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I haven’t accepted it yet.” He turned the paper over in his hands and thumbed the gilded inscription, translating the Latin aloud. “Study to show thyself as one approved, a workman that need not be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth. This is the promise of the law.” He smacked his lips like there was a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Is that from the bible?”

River nodded.

“Gross.”

“Nobody forced you to read it.”

“Nobody stopped me, either.” Keita returned the letter to River carefully, as though it were something more precious than a sheet of paper printed, most probably, by an intern on the very program she had been invited to join.

“So how come you haven’t accepted it yet?”

River shrugged. There really wasn’t any particular reason, she just couldn’t get past the feeling of a heavy stone dropping to the pit of her stomach every time she thought about her first day.

“It can’t be as bad as all that,” he said, scanning her face with a stifled smile, like he felt bad for finding her suffering amusing but not bad enough not to laugh. River felt herself pout and he laughed, nodding to the fire pit. “Do you want to come sit?”

The alley looked even more ominous without Micah at her side, the jagged brick walls catching the flickering light of the fire. Shadows loomed high above their heads in twisting shapes that seemed to swoop violently down towards them.

“Come on,” he said.

And River followed him into the dark.