Tooth: An Alpha Like No Other (A Song of Starlight Book 1) Read online

  His words are blotted out by the overwhelming light of the Other. I feel it calling to me, the light beckoning. I see—or think I see—the sheet of white form hands. They reach out from the center of the Other and claw at me, trying to pull me in. And what if I did . . . I could succumb to the power. I’d never have to be scared again. I’d never have to be anxious or concerned. I’d be all-powerful. I’d be a god. I think of all the times I hid, terrified, in the closet as Mom and Dad raged around the house, faces bursting with whisky and lips trembling. I hear Isaac’s grunts as Dad smacks him with the belt. I think of that girl, small and afraid, and I say to her: You never have to be scared again. The hand reaches. I’m about to dart toward it when Tooth says: “Think of Casey.”

  Casey. Sweet Casey. What would she do if I stopped being Auntie Lila? How would she survive? A pang of guilt moves through my formless being and I turn away from the light.

  “Let’s go back,” I say. “Take me back, Tooth.”

  His arms cover me.

  We fly.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tooth

  All-father, you never told me about this! You never warned me of this!

  Lila and I sink into our bodies.

  We sit up, gasping in breaths. We are covered in sweat. I feel the Other inside of me and the starlight inside of her come apart. We fall away from each other like two drowning people suddenly dropped ashore.

  Now I know, I think, awed by the woman next to me. Now I know what her power is. I can save her. We can control it. Perhaps we could even harness it . . .

  Touching her is not a danger. Being with her is not a danger. She will not explode. She is stronger than that, far stronger than I ever gave her credit for. More than that, my exhaustion is lesser, my pain abated, my agony receding. I am not fully healed, but our romp through the stars has done much good. I think of Lila floating through space. Was she snatching at the starlight and giving it to me without even realizing it?

  Slowly, she turns to me, her expression twisted in confusion. “What was that?”

  “That was proof.” I lean across so we’re close together.

  “Proof of . . . what?”

  “Proof we can touch without tearing a hole in the universe.”

  “Was that ever a possibility?” Her mouth falls open.

  “I didn’t know. But I feel better, Lila. Not fully healed, but better. I think it was you. I think holding you, soaring with you . . . it did something to me. And I’m . . .” I realize I’m leaning toward her and she’s leaning toward me, our lips parted, ready to take each other in. My whole life has been building up to this moment, I think.

  “And you’re what?” she says.

  Our faces are so close her breath tickles my lips.

  “And I’m curious to see what more than an embrace could do,” I say, my old, steady heart breaking its timeless routine and beating madly in my chest.

  All my life, all these long, lonely years, all the wandering and fighting and waiting, has led here, to Lila, to her touch, to a flight through the stars and now, at last, to the first kiss of my life.

  “More than an embrace?” Lila says, a wicked smile on her lips. “And what would that be?”

  I swallow. Lila reads my face. She places her hand on my cheek. “It’s okay. You’ve never kissed the Woman of Starlight before. I’ve never kissed a demi-god before. So we’re even.”

  “No,” I say, voice grave. “We are not even. You are worlds above even me, Lila. You are a goddess. You are a goddess born of starlight and thrown into this world.”

  “Maybe. She bites her lip. “Maybe not. But I know one thing after our little excursion to the heavens. I’m definitely different. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to deny that again. But if I’m different, it’s only you who’s allowed me to see that. Without you, there would’ve been no flight.”

  “It’s a union of the energy between us,” I explain. “The Other inside of me, the starlight inside of you—”

  She places her finger on my lips. “I know. I feel it, too.”

  I take her finger from my lips and lean into her. She wraps her arms around my neck and leans into me. I close my eyes and then—

  Starlight buzzes between us, tingles over our lips as we kiss. We feel the Other trying to pull us out of our bodies, but we fight it. I feel Lila knock it aside. The kiss is slow at first. The pleasure surges through me. Her lips are soft and when I open my mouth to drink in the pleasure of her, our tongues clash; light rebounds.

  Then she begins to moan, soft and low, and all my nerves slip away like flimsy armor. I sink into her, bringing my hands up to her fire-red hair and massaging my fingers into her scalp. Her moans . . . her moans! To hear the Woman of Starlight moan is like hearing the song of a thousand nightingales. It heats me up almost to boiling point. She moves her hands down my back and I think: If I were capable of dying, I could die right now as a happy man. I move my hands down her neck, to her torso. Blood running like lava in my veins, passion exploding, lifetimes of waiting finally bursting free in this one perfect kiss.

  Lila leans back, breaking off for a moment. Her face is flushed and her chest is like a bellows, squeezing and releasing in big movements. “This is like no kiss I’ve ever had in my life,” she says in a wondering voice. “I feel all my insides and my nerves and—and everything, Tooth, spilling out as we kiss. Does that make sense?”

  “To me, it does.”

  She grins and throws herself into my lap. I catch her and once again we lose ourselves in the all-consuming kiss.

  Her moans get louder. I feel her lust rise into the air like a perfume. I breathe in the scent of her and something animal inside of me comes alive. My teeth buzz with small electric charges and I grip her body tighter.

  “We have to be quiet,” Lila whispers. “If we’re going to . . . I mean, do you want to?”

  My nod is so eager I almost head-butt her.

  She smiles.

  “Then we have to be quiet. We don’t want Casey coming out here and—”

  Her words are interrupted by a screech: the screech of a little girl caught in the clutches of terror. “Auntie Lila! Auntie Lila! Ahhhhh! Help me! Help me!”

  The scream comes from outside the cabin, a few hundred yards to the east. I tilt my head. Listen. Then I reach out with my Other-eyes and search for her.

  “It’s Casey,” I say. “She’s out there and—” Abraham. Abraham and his cronies. Goddammit. “She’s being chased.”

  Lila lurches to her feet. “We have to go!” she cries, making for the door. She wipes her mouth. “We have to go, now! God, how did she get out? When?”

  “I should’ve felt her. But I was . . .”

  “Distracted. I know. So was I. But that doesn’t matter now.”

  I climb to my feet. The atmosphere of lust dissipates, leaving the room cold and dark.

  I grab Lila’s arm as she jogs for the door.

  “No.” My voice is my own again. Hard, implacable. The voice of the man I’ve been for most of my life, the voice of the God Who Walks. “I can’t let you leave. You might get hurt. You have to stay here. Barricade the door any way you can. And wait for me. I’ll go after her.”

  “I’m not leaving her—”

  “All arguing will achieve is keeping me here longer.”

  She stares back at me defiantly. I hold her gaze. After a moment, she looks at the ground. “Hurry. I can’t lose her. It’d kill me.”

  I nod.

  “I’ll get her back. I promise.”

  I run for the door before I can think about whether or not I just lied.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tooth

  The taste of the kiss still on my lips, I think: What in the all-father’s name am I doing? Why am I going after the girl? I should be with Lila, keeping her safe. What if one of the Horde attacks whilst I’m trying to save Casey?

  It’s absurd, but these questions make me feel guilty. I never imagined I’d leave the Woman of Sta
rlight to rescue a child, and yet here I am, doing it for a second time.

  I jog through the forest, under the deep shadows of trees, toward the shimmer in the Other. Casey continually screeches into the night: “Help me! Help me! Help me!” The closer I get, the louder her voice becomes, until it is like a siren. I hear the Horde, too, chomping and gnashing and snarling and coughing. Abraham’s voice booms through the forest: “Run-run as fast as you can! You’ll never outrun the vampire-man!”

  Minutes ago, I soared higher and freer than I have in my entire life. My ribcage was pried open and my heart was touched. Lust exploded within me and I felt content. Now, my blood runs ice-cold in my veins.

  Abraham, the Man in Black. My friend. The traitor. I dodge around the trunk of a large tree and sprint into a clearing, so close to them now I can smell Casey’s fear, smell the slather and sweat of the Horde. My body aches, but it is nowhere near as bad as the bone-deep ache that held me before the flight, before Lila’s starlight hands tended me.

  Abraham.

  Hatred, years-long hatred, thumps into me with each step I take.

  I cross the clearing and fly out between two trees. And there, running as fast as her little legs will allow, is Casey. Tears stream down her cheeks. She stops when she sees me.

  “Mr. Tooth?” Her voice is choked with tears. “Is it really you?”

  “It’s me. Come here. Quickly. I have to get you out of here—”

  “Not so fast, old friend.”

  Abraham emerges from the darkness.

  He wears a long, billowing black coat which flutters in the wind behind him. Beneath it, he wears a black shirt, black suit jacket, and black tie. His pants are black and his shoes, despite running through the mud, have somehow retained their black sheen. Black eyeliner rings his eyes and black paint marks his fingernails, which are long and curved. He smiles, and I see that his teeth—like mine but shorter, thicker, more brutal—are painted black.

  “You really take the whole Man in Black thing seriously, don’t you, Abraham?”

  I hold my arms out and Casey leaps at me, burying her face in my belly. She weeps, her whole body shuddering. “Sorry . . . wanted to play . . . Mr. Tooth . . . monsters.”

  “Hush.” I stroke the back of her head. “You’re safe now.”

  Abraham chuckles and gestures with his hands. More vampires emerge from the darkness, Abraham’s Agents of Darkness, a fancy name for a bunch of run-of-the-mill vamps who dress all in black. Five in total, I count. Two men and three women. The men look like overaged dads at a heavy metal concert and the women look like groupies. From behind Abraham two beady yellow eyes peer from the darkness. Abraham grins. “It’s been an ever-so-long time since I laid eyes upon my good friend,” he addresses his cronies. Then he turns to me. “Hasn’t it, Tooth?”

  “Maybe for you.” I watch the Horde. Mine and Lila’s romp through the universe has helped my injuries, but there’s a dull ache in my bones and I feel Other-tinged pain press around me, lesser, quieter, but still there. The kiss needed to be longer, I think. But just imagine what would be possible with a long kiss, more than a kiss! I push the reflection from my mind and growl at Abraham: “It’s only been one hundred and fifty years, child. Is that really a long time for you?”

  “I’ll cut you where you stand!” one of the heavy-metal dads sneers. “I’ll drink your blood! How dare you talk so to the King of the Night!”

  “King of the Night? Is that what he told you he was? He’s a child. All you vamps are children. Your entire species is not even as old as the humans you presume to feed upon.”

  “We are eternal!” one of the women cries. “We shall live forever!”

  “Save me the propaganda,” I grunt.

  I look over Abraham’s shoulder at the twin eyes of—what? Werewolf? Is it a werewolf? It could be a shifter. Perhaps a warlock’s hybrid creation. I lay myself against the fabric of the Other. There are more creatures out there, lurking in the darkness, perhaps fifty more. If I can get back to the cabin, I can secure it. It’ll take a chunk out of me, maybe cause me to pass out again, but it’ll be worth it to keep them safe. And then what? What happens when the ward cools off and you’re laid up, unconscious? What if the food runs out? What if using the Other again so soon cripples you for years?

  I swallow, hoping Abraham doesn’t see the fear in my face. I wouldn’t care if it was just me. They can’t kill me. Maim me, torture me, burn me, feed from me, but never kill me. But Casey is vulnerable and trembling in my arms and Lila is alone in the darkness, waiting. I have responsibilities now.

  Abraham sighs. “Let me tell you this, Tooth. You cannot win this. The town is surrounded. And even if it weren’t, we’re in the middle of nowhere. A random town in a random place which nobody cares about. A few cars have tried to wander down this nowhere road. What do you think happened to them?” He clicks his fingers. “Yes, well done, a point to the gentleman with the skinny teeth! They took an unexpected detour. Nobody is coming. I heard about your little magical display. I know about you. It’s tired you out. So, let me make you a proposition—”

  “No.”

  Abraham squints at me with black-ringed eyes. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter. My answer is no. But let me give you something to think about.” I look the man I once trusted in the eyes. “I have killed entire armies. I have lived for longer than every vampire combined. I have slaughtered legions of Horde. Do you really think you can win this? You ran once, Abraham. Do you remember the battle we fought? Do you remember when you set the cannons and started a riot just to draw my attention elsewhere? Do you remember how you ran?”

  “Liar!” his vampires scream.

  “I didn’t run,” Abraham says. “Everybody knows that you ran.”

  I grunt out a laugh. “You can lie to the vampires. You can lie to the witches and wizards and warlocks and shifters and fairies and you can lie to the dirt for all I care. But you can’t lie to me.”

  “Enough!” Abraham snaps. “If you won’t deal, we fight! I’ve waited a long time for this. Horde, to me!”

  The eyes emerge from the darkness. Not a wolf or a bear or a hybrid. A wingless phoenix.

  Its misshapen arms, skinny and twisted and mangled, are as broad as five men. It has to shuffle awkwardly to get between the trees. Its head is that of a bird and its talons churn up the mud. Its feathers are red, but not on fire, not yet. Its beak is thick and long and sword-sharp. I have only ever seen a wingless phoenix once before, on the coast of Australia, and even then I never fought it. It loped on mangled limbs into a nearby cave system and disappeared. But I know of them. They can live for hundreds of years, but once they blaze, they die. It’s only myth that they rise from the ashes. Very little in this world rises from the ashes.

  Behind the wingless phoenix, witches and wizards of all varieties—all the twisted schools of magic—step forward.

  “Give me the girl, Tooth,” Abraham says. He spits when I don’t respond. “Give me the girl!” he screeches.

  “Casey,” I say, maneuvering her so that she’s standing behind me.

  “Yes, Mr. Tooth?”

  “Run!”

  I shove her softly in the back. She stumbles forward, stops, and stares at me. I wheel on her. “Run! Now!”

  She sprints into the forest. I watch her go for a moment. Then I face Abraham and the Horde.

  “We’ll get her.” Abraham yawns. He twirls his fingers. The wingless phoenix lopes forward. “Let us begin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lila

  I don’t barricade the door.

  There isn’t much in here I could use as a barricade. But that’s just an excuse. The main reason is that the idea of Casey returning to a barred door terrifies me. What if she comes back, the door is closed, and she gets hurt—or worse—because of me? Instead I go to the door and press my ear against it, listen to the sounds of the night. Hoots and howls. Cackles and gargles. Slurps and coughs. Raised vo
ices and Casey’s scream. Every nerve in my body twitches, wills me to run into the forest.

  But I don’t. Perhaps it’s cowardice. But I don’t think that’s it. It’s more that I trust Tooth and I know that I’d be less than useless out there. I saw the way he fought at the school. What would I have done against even one of those fire creatures—

  I’m thrown back as the door caves inward. I land halfway across the room in a bundle. My head is dazed and my vision is hazy. I roll over and look at the door, squinting into the darkness. The doorway is empty, a rectangular maw yawning into the night. Then long, thin hands grip the edges of the frame and a man, or a beast that used to be a man, pulls itself through. Its skin is grey and pallid, its flesh rotting away in big folds, but I recognize it. I recognize it by the cracked horn-rimmed glasses which cling to its nose and the bald head, less shiny but still as dome-like.

  The zombified Mr. Peppers stumbles into the room. Its arm is twisted from where it crashed into the door. It tilts its head at me, a deer caught unawares, and then it throws itself across the room. It has no sense of self-preservation. Its body smashes into the tiles. It lurches upright and throws itself again. In fits and starts it comes at me.

  I jump to my feet, ignoring the pain in my chest, and sprint to the other end of the room.

  “Mr. Peppers,” I mumble. “Mr. Peppers. Stop.”

  Are you an idiot? He can’t think, he can’t hear, he can’t reason. He isn’t even he. He is it. And it is going to kill you unless you do something.

  It stumbles a few paces and then throws itself again. Its mouth hangs open and it moans: “Graaahhhhhhhhhh, graaahhhhhhhhhh.” It bounces off the tiles and stands up immediately. Mr. Peppers, the man who denied my loan in another life, looks like a semi-aware fish, flopping here and there with only a semblance of direction. But it throws itself with power, all of its weight flying through the air with shocking speed. I watch as it closes the gap with another wild throw. It’s only a few feet from me now. One more throw . . . You die. Casey is left without you. Tooth loses hope and the world ends.