Blood of the Devil

Chapter 32 - Slay or Be Slayed

"OK," Mickey announced, wincing as everyone turned their hate-filled stares to him, "OK." He made a show of lowering the pistols, pointing them at the floor in front of his toes. "How about you remove these zip ties," he was talking to the biker, "and then we figure out what the heck is going on here?"

The man nodded briskly and marched out, seemingly uncomfortable in the emotion charged room. He returned a moment later with scissors. His eyes darted between Mickey with the two guns and Letha bleeding on the floor. He chose to approach the former. Pointing the weapons in opposite directions, Mickey made room for the blade between his writs and sighed in relief when the rough plastic was removed. 

Making eye contact, he watched the older man as he offered him the guns. "Is there somewhere you can put these? Preferably not within reach..."

The man snatched the pistols from him, flicking the safety switch on, and then shoved the scissors at him. Apparently he wasn't going to go closer to Letha than necessary. 

Kneeling in front of her, Mickey shook his head slightly. "Yet again you've gotten us into trouble," he murmured under his breath, trying to his the smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help but enjoy himself - Letha was... refreshing. 

She glowered at him. "None of this would have happened if somebody hadn't stopped the car."

"Or if somebody," he retaliated, gesturing for her to swivel around, "didn't go around helping vampires get their meals."

Something snapped between them, and it wasn't the zip ties. Mickey's fingertips rested on the plastic, the side of his dark pinky pressed flush against her pale wrist. It was such a contrast; just like them, he mused. Her pulse spiked suddenly, hammering against his skin.

"Why didn't you believe me?" She muttered so quietly that Mickey wondered whether he was meant to hear it. She spoke over herself quickly. "How did you know that I personally didn't kill the guy?"

For the first time, Mickey didn't speak right away. He knew what he wanted to say, that he knew she couldn't, but he also knew her response: they'd met less than a week ago. 

"Do you know," he began, positioning the scissor blades either side of the restraints, "that I've never heard you question the existence of a God? You freely admit that, even though you hate him, you believe in him. Curious, isn't it, that you can know something so surely on faith alone?"

He felt her pulse spike once as she cut the plastic, rubbing his fingers gently against the marks before she could pull her hands away. 

"I have faith in you, Letha Antitheus," he murmured gently. 

As if she'd been stung, the girl jerked away, scrambling towards the wall on her hands and knees. When she rolled back onto her back, her eyes were wide and her chest was heaving. He watched the emotion swarm in her eyes, unable to tear his gaze away until they settled on cold fury. 

"More fool you," she hissed. 

Running a hand through his hair Mickey let out a sigh and turned away from her without response: it wasn't worth the argument. Instead, he looked to Min. "I think there are a few things we need to discuss." 

She nodded from across the room where she was patting the other woman's back. The girl was still hunched over in the corner, head held between her hands as if she was trying to squeeze the images out of her mind. 

Mickey decided to get some answers. "So why are you following Arch... the vampire."

Glancing at her friend once more, she moved to the middle of the room and indicated the angry biker. "This is Bradley. He's a vampire slayer."