Read Online Rage by Jackie Morse Kessler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jackie Morse Kessler
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Red Rider wasn't concerned with the human toll of war; that, ultimately, was Death's province.
Smiling coldly, her eyes bright with visions of destruction, Missy held tight to Ares and waited to be delivered to her former love.
***
The party was still in full swing, for which Missy was profoundly grateful. She had many things to say to Adam and his cohorts, and she meant to let her body do the talking.
The warhorse landed in Kevin's front lawn, amid a group of scattershot teens clumped like weeds. None of them reacted to either the steed or Missy; they all continued talking and laughing as they unobtrusively moved back, sloshing the liquid in their cups as they gave the horse a wide berth.
Cool,
Missy thought. She'd gone through the last two months at high school wanting to be invisible. Now, apparently, she had gotten her wish. An ugly smile warped her mouth into a parody of humor. Oh, the things she could do to Adam if he couldn't see her...
The horse snorted.
"You're right," she murmured, patting its neck. "Why imagine it when I can do it?" Not that she actually understood the steed, but what else could it have meant? She was War, after all. Time to make with the warring.
She slid off of Ares, taking a moment to get her balance. Riding in the sky had been a thrill, but it was good to be back on the ground. The grass of the front lawn was damp beneath her stockinged feet, but not unpleasantly so.
Next time,
she told herself,
wear shoes. And panties.
Knees bent, she bounced loosely until her legs were comfortable with her weight again. Then she stood tall, taking in the gossip of teens, the music thumping from behind the closed front door, the house itself. So very normal. So very ordinary. Gone was the anxiety she had felt when she'd approached earlier tonight. She let her dead face crash to the ground, and she stomped it into a thousand shards.
Let the leeches look upon her. She would salt them in righteous fury.
Missy smiled coldly as she summoned her Sword. It settled into her hand quietly, comfortably, ready to entice people to slaughter.
The people nearest Missy—two guys and three girls, all seniors—immediately recoiled as if slapped. One of the girls became noisily, violently sick right there in the front yard, and one of the guys peed himself, which was disguised by his drink slipping from his shaking hand and splashing his shirt and pants. The other teens outside, to a person suddenly uneasy, jeered at their classmates, loud in their derision and silently thankful they weren't the recipients of such attention.
Missy watched the spectacle for a few seconds, first amused, then quickly bored. She wasn't here for them. Already thinking of how she would greet Adam, she turned to Ares and commanded, "Behave."
The steed blinked its obsidian eyes.
"Don't kill anyone," Missy clarified. "Or eat anyone." After a moment's consideration, she added, "Or hurt anyone."
Ares blew through its nostrils once, loudly.
She patted its shoulder. "I promise to let you trample his carcass when I'm done. All right?"
The horse let out an equine sigh.
Missy decided that meant agreement. She hefted the Sword over her shoulder and padded her way to the front door. Around her, tempers shortened. Partygoers, already feeling tense, started to get angry—the booze was running low; the music sucked; nothing about tonight was going as planned. More than one person abruptly decided they had been there and done that, so they pitched their cups onto the grass and stormed away, complaining loudly about how lame the party was. Missy nudged past one guy—a football hero, based on his letter jacket—and he shoved another guy out of his space. That second guy accidentally jostled the girl next to him, spilling his drink down her shirt. She shrieked and slapped him, which got him to yelling about her lack of intelligence, her need for hygiene, and her questionable parentage.
And that was all without Missy doing anything other than
Smiling coldly, her eyes bright with visions of destruction, Missy held tight to Ares and waited to be delivered to her former love.
***
The party was still in full swing, for which Missy was profoundly grateful. She had many things to say to Adam and his cohorts, and she meant to let her body do the talking.
The warhorse landed in Kevin's front lawn, amid a group of scattershot teens clumped like weeds. None of them reacted to either the steed or Missy; they all continued talking and laughing as they unobtrusively moved back, sloshing the liquid in their cups as they gave the horse a wide berth.
Cool,
Missy thought. She'd gone through the last two months at high school wanting to be invisible. Now, apparently, she had gotten her wish. An ugly smile warped her mouth into a parody of humor. Oh, the things she could do to Adam if he couldn't see her...
The horse snorted.
"You're right," she murmured, patting its neck. "Why imagine it when I can do it?" Not that she actually understood the steed, but what else could it have meant? She was War, after all. Time to make with the warring.
She slid off of Ares, taking a moment to get her balance. Riding in the sky had been a thrill, but it was good to be back on the ground. The grass of the front lawn was damp beneath her stockinged feet, but not unpleasantly so.
Next time,
she told herself,
wear shoes. And panties.
Knees bent, she bounced loosely until her legs were comfortable with her weight again. Then she stood tall, taking in the gossip of teens, the music thumping from behind the closed front door, the house itself. So very normal. So very ordinary. Gone was the anxiety she had felt when she'd approached earlier tonight. She let her dead face crash to the ground, and she stomped it into a thousand shards.
Let the leeches look upon her. She would salt them in righteous fury.
Missy smiled coldly as she summoned her Sword. It settled into her hand quietly, comfortably, ready to entice people to slaughter.
The people nearest Missy—two guys and three girls, all seniors—immediately recoiled as if slapped. One of the girls became noisily, violently sick right there in the front yard, and one of the guys peed himself, which was disguised by his drink slipping from his shaking hand and splashing his shirt and pants. The other teens outside, to a person suddenly uneasy, jeered at their classmates, loud in their derision and silently thankful they weren't the recipients of such attention.
Missy watched the spectacle for a few seconds, first amused, then quickly bored. She wasn't here for them. Already thinking of how she would greet Adam, she turned to Ares and commanded, "Behave."
The steed blinked its obsidian eyes.
"Don't kill anyone," Missy clarified. "Or eat anyone." After a moment's consideration, she added, "Or hurt anyone."
Ares blew through its nostrils once, loudly.
She patted its shoulder. "I promise to let you trample his carcass when I'm done. All right?"
The horse let out an equine sigh.
Missy decided that meant agreement. She hefted the Sword over her shoulder and padded her way to the front door. Around her, tempers shortened. Partygoers, already feeling tense, started to get angry—the booze was running low; the music sucked; nothing about tonight was going as planned. More than one person abruptly decided they had been there and done that, so they pitched their cups onto the grass and stormed away, complaining loudly about how lame the party was. Missy nudged past one guy—a football hero, based on his letter jacket—and he shoved another guy out of his space. That second guy accidentally jostled the girl next to him, spilling his drink down her shirt. She shrieked and slapped him, which got him to yelling about her lack of intelligence, her need for hygiene, and her questionable parentage.
And that was all without Missy doing anything other than
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