Iced
Page 132

 Karen Marie Moning

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Ten minutes later Lor says, What is this crap? Who let her load the iPod?
Nobody else brought one, I say. I chose awesome music.
Where the hell is Hendrix on this thing? Lor takes it out of the sound dock and scrolls through it, looking pissed. By whose definition is this music?
Jo says, Did you get any Muse? I love Muse.
If Id known you all had such crappy taste in songs, I would have brought more earplugs, I say. Dissing my taste. Like Hendrix is even listenable. And Muse is something you do.
Well, Disturbed, Jo says, is something you are.
And Godsmacked is something you get, Dancer says. But hopefully not tonight.
Dont you have any Mtley Cre or Van Halen? Lor says. Maybe Girls, Girls, Girls?
How about some Flogging Molly, Christian says. Dani, my darling, how could you not like the Devils Dance Floor? And what about Zombie?
I got Dragula and Living Dead Girl, I say defensively.
Bloody hell, Living Dead Girl is one of my favorites! Christian says, and grabs the iPod from Lor and starts scrolling to it.
I snatch it and hold it behind my back. Dont mess with my lineup. Nobody else thought to bring an iPod. That means Im in charge.
Ryodan takes the iPod from me so fast its there one sec, gone the next.
Hey, give it back!
He scrolls through the playlist. Whats the deal with all the Linkin Park, for fucks sake.
Dudes, we need noise. Quit taking the iPod off the dock. Dancer snatches the iPod from Ryodan and puts it back on the dock. And Mega has a crush on Chester.
I do not!
Do too, Mega.
Hes like, old!
How old? Christian says.
Like at least thirty or something!
Lor laughs. Fucking ancient, aint it, kid?
Dude, I agree. I like Lor.
You got any Adele? Jo says hopefully.
Not a single song, I say happily. Got some Nicki Minaj, though.
Somebody kill me now, Ryodan says and closes his eyes.
Four hours later Im getting a headache.
Six hours later I am a headache, my butt hurts, and Im low on candy bars.
Eight hours later Im sick of Nicki Minaj.
Nine hours later Id give darn near anything for five fecking minutes of silence.
Me, Christian, and Dancer been passing around a bottle of aspirin and its empty. I got earplugs in my pack but wecant use them because we might miss something and screw up.
Across the drive, way down at the other end of the abbey, the sidhe-seers are wrapped in blankets. Dozing. Because, like, the music down there isnt rattling the bone plates in their skull! Im so jealous I could spit. Dejected, I eat another fecking candy bar. I hate candy bars.
You said you were sure this would work, Jo says testily.
Im beat. I havent slept in days. I rub my eyes and say irritably, We may have to stick with it for a while.
Like, how long? Christian says, and his voice is weirdly guttural. I look at him. Hes staring down past the abbey at the sidhe-seers and the look on his face is pure, sex-starved Unseelie prince. Kaleidoscopic tattoos rush under his skin. His jeans are wow. Okay. Dont look there.
I realize nine hours is probably the longest hes gone without sex in months. Dont you be looking at my friends like that, I say. Theyre off-limits to Unseelie princes, dude!
He looks at me and I have to shift my gaze away fast. Hes throwing off power like a volcano about to blow. I feel the wetness of blood on my cheeks from a bare glimpse at his eyes.
How long? he says hoarsely.
Well, it only ever iced one of the clubs in Chesters. That must mean most music doesnt make whatever sound its after. If you need to leave and find somebody to you know, go. But try not to kill anybody, okay?
He gives me a look. Im not even looking at him and I can feel it.
How is that even possible? Weve been listening to some of the weirdest shit Ive ever heard, Lor says pissily. How can this thing not want to kill it? It should have been here hours ago! My head hurts. I dont get headaches.
Im not going anywhere until youre safe, Christian says to me, real quiet.
Isnt that quaint. The chivalrous Unseelie prince with the dick of death, Ryodan mocks.
Ill take that as a compliment, Christian says.
Im getting fecking sick of everybody picking on my music! I say.
Fine, then Ill just change it, Lor says.
You touch my iPod, Ill break every one of your fingers!
Knock yourself out trying, honey. He scrolls to a new song.
I stick my fingers in my ears. Gah, I hate Hendrix!
Then why do you have it on here?
I dont know! I just thought Purple Haze was a cool title, then I listened to it and aint had time to delete it. Who writes such stupid lyrics? Scuse me while I kiss this guy?