My teeth snapped together as I listened to the horrible sounds of his bike growing closer. The hairs on my arms stood up. I’d never taken much interest in what my grandmother had said about it all—superstitious babbling—but when the Dullahan had moved to my city I felt fear crawl up the back of my neck. Something instinctual that whispered to me danger-danger-danger.

My tongue nervously slid over my lips and I eyed the other racers. Apparently, they’d been racing with him and they were fine. And I really wanted to race. My Greed burned in my fingers and I didn’t want to end up back at my place sucking on fae vapor if I didn’t have to. I could already taste the thrill of a dangerous race over shitty streets. Could already feel the win humming under my skin and was counting up the winnings.

I began to bargain with myself. Maybe I was foolishly being influenced by things grandma said to me as an impressionable child. Perhaps tonight I could squash out whatever unreasonable fear I had and stop feeling my heart lodge in my throat whenever I heard him on the streets.

My fear grew worse though, as I heard the growl of his engine come close and saw from my peripheral another tire pull up in line. He was on the opposite end of the line from me, with four people between us. My palms grew slick with sweat and my heart fluttered shallow and fast in my chest. My fingers started to shake so I gripped the bars of my bike hard to stop the tremble. Slowly, I turned my head—instinct encouraging me to not move too fast and attract his attention.

Everyone was staring wide-eyed at the Dullahan, the same as me. I saw the top of his head over the helmets of the other racers. He had inky black hair. He had a head—I’d wondered about that. He squeezed his throttle and his bike roared heinously, alerting Roman that he wasn’t fucking around and wanted to race.

I swallowed and returned my gaze forward. I hadn't seen more than the top of his head and was trembling like a kid thinking a monster was under her bed. A girl moved up beside Roman on the street, her large breasts barely contained by her push-up bra as she held her shirt in her hands. Her eyes briefly darted to the Dullahan but then snapped away fast. She smiled wide at the rest of us and held her arm up. We all prepped, gripping our bars and tasting the anticipation on the tips of our tongues.

She jerked the shirt down and we were off. I took off fast but felt panic curdle in my gut when the shocking sound of a horse shrieking in rage was loud enough to be easily heard over the revving bikes. The screams reverberated inside my head.

Dullahan's bike was a beast of its own.

I sucked in a breath and looked straight ahead, concentrating on the first turn and barely able to appreciate the thrill of this race. I weaved between potholes and large cracks in the street. I avoided bolts and other debris that might puncture a tire. I wasn't sure luck would help much with a blowout at a hundred and forty.