Kiss Me Deadly: Tales of a Paranormal Romance

disappear on me. Not yet, anyway.

I’d insisted on being the one to hold the book, just to be on the safe side. I tucked it inside my messenger bag and kept a tight hold on it as we walked along St. Martin’s Lane, heading for the bus stops beyond Trafalgar Square. Before I arrived in London, I had only ever seen those four huge lions in movies; the statues are even more impressive in the “flesh.” I wonder if it’s true that they are called John, Paul, George, and Ringo, or if that is just one of Theo’s little jokes.

The bus ride—my first ever on a double-decker—should have been more exciting, but I felt nothing but a heavy sense of melancholy. I rested my cheek against the window as I looked out at the familiar-yet-strange city streets from the top deck of the red monstrosity, and wished I was back home in Boston. I was glad when we reached our destination after the short journey, and I steered my new companion into the comforting warmth of the first coffee shop we saw.

The rain began to fall as I closed the door behind us.

I am nursing a mug of hot chocolate, and Adam is absentmindedly stirring packets of sugar into his black coffee. I wonder how much sugar will be enough for him and begin to make bets with myself on whether he will go back to grab more of the brown paper packets. He takes a sip and doesn’t even flinch.

“So tell me,” I say, sticking my finger into my drink and popping a scoop of cream into my mouth. “Tell me about your girlfriend.”

Adam smiles wistfully and puts down his cup. “Hasna? She’s the most ... was the most beautiful girl you’ll ever see. I loved her the minute I saw her. She started in Year Twelve after her family moved to the area. I was assigned as her ‘buddy,’ and I had to show her around. We had so much in common: both of us from Moroccan families; both struggling with learning Arabic to make our fathers happy, but really just wanting to fit in with our friends.”

He goes quiet for a moment, and I don’t say a word. I want to ask if “Year Twelve” is the same as junior or senior year in high school, but it’s like there’s a magic spell on our table. We’re tucked against the window with a view of a line of black cabs like giant beetles crouching outside the station.

“Meeting her was the best thing that ever happened to me,” Adam says. He’s not smiling any more.

This is all very moving, I want to say, but what about the book? Why were you stealing an ancient text from a bookstore, and why were you willing to risk getting your throat torn out by me to keep it? And how the hell do you do that cool disappearing trick?

I don’t ask any of these things. Instead, I push away my mug of delicious but empty calories and put my hand over his. “How did she die?”

He swallows and tears well up in his eyes again. For a moment, I consider taking the book and running. Just leaving this kid and his tragic life behind—he is nothing to me. What do I care about a so-called magical book and a dead girlfriend? My shoulders slump and I stay put.

Who am I trying to fool? I’m still me; still Marie.

“Tell me,” I say, giving his cold hand a squeeze. I wonder if he notices that my hands are even colder than his. I haven’t taken blood in too long and already knew it was going to be a problem on this trip. Theo gave me a list of “safe donors” before I left, including the contact details of the head honcho vampire in London. Like he actually thought I’d use any of those lifelines? Forget it, Theo. No way you’re making me more of a monster. If I can’t feed from blood banks or from my Maker, I won’t feed at all. The longest I’d gone was six days, and I still remember how weak I’d been when Theo finally found me, curled up and whimpering with hunger and misery outside Subterranean.

I swallow and drag my mind away from those memories, not wanting to remember how Theo had force-fed me. Instead, I listen to Adam as he tells me about his lost love and why he needs Arabic magic to free her soul.

“She was murdered not far from here,” he begins. “We were at the theater; I’d saved up for weeks. Hasna wanted to wait at the stage door after the performance, try to get her program autographed. We ... took a wrong turn, somehow. I don’t know what happened, but we went out of a fire exit and ended up all turned around. I took us down an alley that I thought must come out behind the theater but...” He shakes his head, unable to continue.

Giving him a moment to collect himself, I listen to the busy sounds of the coffee shop. There’s music playing, not the usual musak like in my local Starbucks back home but something funkier, something I haven’t heard before. The murmur of voices reaches me from the surrounding tables along with the familiar hiss of milk being steamed at the counter, just across the aisle. It’s late, but people are still walking in and placing orders. I pull my china mug closer toward me, wondering how much longer the café will stay open.

Adam fixes me with those disturbing hazel-gold eyes. They are more hazel again, as though being out among the masses forces him to blend in and look like the human being that I initially took him for. He still smells 100 percent human to me, but now I know different. I want to know what he is, how he can do what he does. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve seen some weird crap in my life.

He says, “It was over before I knew what was really happening. I can move fast when I have to, and there’s the whole teleportation thing ... but even with all that, I couldn’t save her. I would’ve done anything to save her life—even if it meant revealing my powers.”

My internal bullshit detector beeps. “Wait,” I say. “You mean she didn’t know?”

He looks embarrassed and squirms in his seat. “We hadn’t even been together a year. I was going to tell her.”

I can’t stop the snort that escapes me. Sure, I think, knowing I’m being uncharitable. A guy insisting that he was going to “tell his girl the truth.” I want to shake this kid and tell him I know a thing or two about that line.

He is angry now, and I think I prefer that to the broken young man who was sitting here only moments ago. “I was going to tell her. You don’t know anything about me, Moth.” He makes my name sound like a curse. “I loved her. Hasna was my whole life.”

“Keep it down, Romeo,” I say, my gaze darting around the café. Adam is almost shouting, and we’re drawing attention. “I’m sorry, okay? Just tell me what happened so we can put it right.”

“We can’t ‘put it right,’” he replies, but at least he isn’t yelling at me. “She’s dead, I already told you that. She was murdered. It wasn’t until after that I found out it wasn’t quite the random act of violence that I thought it was. We were an unlucky statistic according to the police.” His lips twist with disgust. “Useless bastards.”

I wonder how fair it is to blame the police for not being able to deal with a supernatural crime but keep my mouth shut and wait for Adam to continue.

He tells me about the murder; about the knife in the dark and the bearded man who spoke Arabic while he sliced Hasna up like she was nothing more than meat at his dinner table. The man had been tracking Adam for a long time, attracted by his unique biology and magical heritage. And yet it was Hasna who turned out to be the victim—the human companion of a half-human boy, sacrificed in order to summon a dark spirit. Adam tells me that he couldn’t move—not even to teleport—and how he had to watch his girlfriend die.

“But what are you?” I finally ask. I can’t resist butting in anymore, and he is taking too long. “You look human.”

“So do you,” he counters.

I shrug. “You even smell human.”

“I’m half-human. That might explain what you’re sensing.”

I nod slowly. “So, you’re also half...?”

“Djinn. On my mother’s side.”

“Gin?” I can’t stop the sudden image of a dark green bottle of alcohol superimposed over Adam’s face. “ What? ”

A slight smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Djinn, Genie ... you know.”

Oh. I lean forward, interested despite myself. “Like in Aladdin? ”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, just like that.”

I still can’t shake the Aladdin-connection and realize with a jolt of misplaced humor that I wasn’t so far off