6 hours ago
These things always went so differently. It was a large part of the appeal he found in predating this way, sussing out the cracks, the needs, the desires – all of them placed in a two-faced coin barely worth the metal it was crafted from. These people wanted to be used, and Zeke was all too happy to oblige.
She was slow, succumbing to her high while she grasped for meaning. He knew exactly who she was, of course – not just Tatyana, the vicious little thief who protected her precious pills with her life – but Tatyana Gorodetsky, Makari’s little angel until Vasiliev’s right hand man had the misfortune of dying in a car crash. And of course after that, the casino that purported to be heaven’s very gate simply did not have room for two little angels.
Her desperation was sweet, streaked with darker promises of vengeance if he twisted her just right. Zeke might not look it, Romani-blooded as he was, but his connections far surpassed the beleaguered undercity people he protected. Just as there was interest in a puppet like Cruz Vega, Zeke was certain something equally alluring might be cultivated from Tatyana. He grinned at her, wondering in her addled state if she saw the joyful expression of the coin, or the grinning terror of it. Zeke, he saw no difference.
His finger scooped under her chin, propping her up. “Deal,” he promised. It was a demon’s purr. No terms offered, but devils always wanted souls didn’t they? He let it sink in, meeting her eye for eye before she sank that final distance into stupor. Then he let her go.
She was slow, succumbing to her high while she grasped for meaning. He knew exactly who she was, of course – not just Tatyana, the vicious little thief who protected her precious pills with her life – but Tatyana Gorodetsky, Makari’s little angel until Vasiliev’s right hand man had the misfortune of dying in a car crash. And of course after that, the casino that purported to be heaven’s very gate simply did not have room for two little angels.
Her desperation was sweet, streaked with darker promises of vengeance if he twisted her just right. Zeke might not look it, Romani-blooded as he was, but his connections far surpassed the beleaguered undercity people he protected. Just as there was interest in a puppet like Cruz Vega, Zeke was certain something equally alluring might be cultivated from Tatyana. He grinned at her, wondering in her addled state if she saw the joyful expression of the coin, or the grinning terror of it. Zeke, he saw no difference.
His finger scooped under her chin, propping her up. “Deal,” he promised. It was a demon’s purr. No terms offered, but devils always wanted souls didn’t they? He let it sink in, meeting her eye for eye before she sank that final distance into stupor. Then he let her go.
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