Afterlight - Elle Jasper [55]
Anger pushed me. “You’re supposed to be guarding me, right? A vampire capable of killing me, staying in my house while I sleep. I have a right to know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I looked at him, but before I could say a word, his face grew alarmingly still. “Drop it, Riley.”
I did, for the time being. After several stoplights, we pulled into Walgreens and parked. Releasing my seat belt, I hopped out, and Eli did the same. I didn’t say a word as I entered the store and turned down the aisle lined with hair color, grabbed a box of L’Oréal black, and checked out. Eli looked only vaguely puzzled; I’d asked him to stay out of my head, but I couldn’t decide whether that was something he could voluntarily do, so he may have known my plan. If I had the power to scope people’s thoughts, I’m not positive I could turn it off. So much temptation. So little time.
On to our next destination. I pulled into the drive of a single-story Savannah brick home just off Largo—quite deceiving on the outside, since the interior was decorated in a unique decay look. I yanked the emergency brake, put the Jeep into first, and looked at my passenger’s questioning gaze. I was still pissed so was short on formalities. “Mullet Morrison’s house. I went to high school with him. He’s cool,” I said. “And one badass tailor. He designs and sells one-of-a-kind Goth and urban wear online and makes a freaking killing at it. Calls it Gnaw Bone Brand. Come on.”
At the door, Mullet welcomed me as he always did: enthusiastically. Despite his name, he wore a totally shaved head, a goatee, baggy shorts, a ripped camouflage shirt, and combat boots—his usual attire. He was a prince.
“Whoa, man—my favorite hot inked chick,” Mullet said, and glanced at Eli briefly. “Wassup, cuz?” he asked me, and bumped my fist. “Welcome to the kingdom of Gnaw Bone.” He regarded Eli. “What can I do you for?”
“We’re looking for some decent stuff,” I said, and inclined my head at Eli. “For him.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Mullet said. “No offense, dude, but you could use a little darkness. Black? Ripped? Junkie?”
“Yeah, on all three accounts,” I answered. I gave Eli a short glance; then we followed Mullet inside. “Oh my God, Mullet—how many more times can you watch Jackass?” I said, glancing at his monstrous flat screen on the wall.
Mullet laughed. “Never enough Jackass, I always say.” He glanced at Eli. “This way, dude.” He looked at me. “Been to the Panic Room lately?”
“Nah, not in a while. Busy at work. Thinkin’ about going, though,” I replied, and he gave me a nod.
“Sweet,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
We didn’t spend much time at Mullet’s—didn’t have to. Mullet had an entire showroom full of clothes on racks, and boots that he bought wholesale. There was so much to choose from that we had no problem picking out appropriate gear for Eli. He was silent through most of it, and I’m positive he thought I’d lost my mind. Two pairs of postapocalyptic urban pants, a black pair of junkie-fit jeans with side laces, two long-sleeved decayed shirts, a gray ripped shirt, and a pair of buckled black combat boots later, we left. I’d also picked out a two-inch leather finger band with a sterling-silver skull in the center. Wicked cool.
I called Mellow Mushroom on the way and ordered a sausage, pepperoni, and mushroom with extra cheese, stopped off at Liquor Warehouse and grabbed a six-pack of Yuengling Lager, then picked up the pizza. Finally, we made it back to Inksomnia. Upstairs, we dumped everything onto the kitchen table, and I turned to Eli. “Ready for a makeover?”
He shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
As I gathered a few things from the bathroom—comb, scissors, towels—I noticed more than ever how cramped I felt in the same apartment with Eligius Dupré. I tried to ignore it, tried to ignore him as he watched me with such scrutiny. Quickly, I changed into a pair of low-rise cutoffs and an old black cotton cami, scrolled through the iPod home unit and chose Chevelle, pulled a stool from the bar into the kitchen, and inclined my head