by Chloe Neill
He made a clucking sound. “Let’s say this one is a freebie.”
Something about the cockiness of his tone, the jocularity, spurred my anger.
And God, anger was so much better than fear.
“For Adrien Reed?”
His eyes tightened, just for a moment. Long enough to know I was on the right track—if the most dangerous one.
I might have been conflicted about the fight, but he wasn’t. Blade at the ready, he moved toward me, began with a swipe of the knife that would have sliced my abdomen if I hadn’t jumped back quickly enough.
While he reset, I remembered the dagger I’d stashed—as always—in my boot, and pivoted to keep him in front of me. He slashed out again, nimble and fast.
As the city blurred past the windows, I took the offensive, feinting to the right before dropping, slicing the dagger along his leg. I made contact, scraped metal against skin. Blood seeped through denim and plopped in heavy droplets onto the metal floor, scenting the air with the tang of fresh blood. If not the type I had any interest in.
The vampire roared, eyes silvering and fangs descending, and swiped at me again, and I rolled forward, switching our positions. I jumped onto the seats, turned back. His eyes were wild, angry.
I smiled at him, but there was nothing happy in the look. It was the smile of a predator preparing for battle, and it gratified me more than a little to see his eyes narrow, reassess.
The first time he’d attacked me as a human, after dark, and when my guard was down. The second time he’d had a gun and a Trans Am.
“Yeah, it’s not nearly as much fun when the prey fights back, is it?” I tilted my head at him. “Does Reed still pay you if you lose?”
He growled, ran forward. And this time, in the full blush of blood fury, he was faster.
How much of him was in me? How much of his skill, his mind, had I absorbed when he ripped into my body?
I jumped again, catapulting over him when he struck out. But he grabbed the hem of my T-shirt, pulled me down on top of him. We hit the floor with a thud, and he snaked an arm around my waist, drawing me against his body. My dagger skittered away.
“Not so funny now, is it, Caroline?” His voice was as close as a lover’s.
His glamour began to seep and sink into the air around us, heavy and cold as fog. His glamour wasn’t like Ethan’s. It didn’t support, build up, elaborate on love. It would tear down, seep in, and infect.
I froze as panic slicked cold sweat over my skin, made my blood pound in my ears. I went back to that dark night, the wet grass, the same arm around me, teeth ripping, pain as hot and sharp as lightning.
He wanted me afraid. He wanted me cowering so he could finish his assignment and clear the black mark of his earlier failure.
“Celina paid me well and good,” he said. “But Reed might pay me double. Depends on what I do, and how crazy it’ll make that boyfriend of yours.”
A small part of me—the shadow that carried the memories of the attack—wanted to let go, to ignore what was happening, to recede into a dark and safe part of my psyche. Into a cupboard of denial. That part of me was moved by fear and magic, which were powerful enemies. It was the same part his glamour called.
But that part of me hadn’t held a sword, found a family, stood for her House. The rest of me was stronger, more experienced, and less afraid. I’d lost battles, and I’d won battles, and I knew the point wasn’t the victory, but pulling yourself together and crawling your way back. That was life.
I might not have been immune to glamour any longer, but I certainly wasn’t going to give in to it like this. Not to him. I pushed down the part of me that wanted to hide, locked it away where even the liquid spill of his magic couldn’t reach it.
“Two things, asshole. First, anything Adrien Reed could do to you would pale—utterly pale—in comparison to the personal hell Ethan Sullivan will rain down on you if you so much as break one of my fingernails. And second, I don’t need him or anyone else to fight my battles.”
I slammed back an elbow that nailed his jaw with a satisfying crunch. The glamour fell away as he bellowed and raised hands to the blood streaming from his face. I took advantage, trying to slide away on the floor of the train, now slippery with sweat and blood, but he grabbed my ankle. I swore, kicked back as he crawled forward with bloodied teeth, and hoped he’d chewed off a piece of his own tongue.
He pulled me backward, sharp fingernails digging against my leathers. I turned onto my back, and he grinned victoriously, crawled over me.
“FYI, that was a ploy,” I said with a smile, then buried my knee in his crotch—or tried to. He deflected with his knee, backhanded me hard enough to put stars behind my eyes. Quick karma for too much ego, I thought, hearing Catcher’s training in my head.
“I don’t miss,” the Rogue said, but that wasn’t going to be relevant. The train lurched, began to slow as it neared the next station.
“Considering I’m alive, you’re about a year wrong.”
When he grabbed the edge of a seat to keep from falling over as the train slowed, I took my chance, stuck pointed fingers in the crux of his elbow. He yelped, released his arm, floundered backward in the jarring train.
I climbed to my feet, head still ringing from his slap, and kicked him in the ribs, then slipped across the car to grab my dagger.
The train came to a stop, and the doors opened. We both looked up as a small girl in a polka-dotted shirt jumped inside, her black hair wound prettily into knots on each side of her head.
“Hurry up, Mama!” she yelled, glancing back through the doors at her mother, whose eyes had grown wide at the sight in the train—the bloody vampire on one side of the car, me on the other, the dagger in my hand, staring at him like an executioner ready to mete out punishment he’d long been owed.
The world stilled.
The Rogue waited for me, the child waited for her mother, and her mother stared at us with terror that locked her in place.
The child’s eyes shifted to me, dropped to the dagger, then the bloody vampire.
I could have moved. I could have run forward, pierced his black heart. But in front of a child? Should I be the one to give her nightmares?
Unfortunately, that brief hesitation was just what he needed.
He jumped forward, his gaze on the child. Her mother realized what was happening, reached out to grab her daughter, but the vampire moved quicker. He snatched up the child, yanked her to his chest with an arm around her waist, held his knife to her throat. Her mother screamed, but before she could move, the train doors closed and the car lurched forward.
“Put her down,” I demanded, the little girl screaming in the vampire’s arms, her mother screaming on the platform, the passengers who’d come through the other door staring at both of us in confusion and horror.
“Make me,” he said with a grin. “I’m going to walk out of here with her, and no one is going to stop me.”
The train rumbled as it rushed toward the next station. I could feel the humans, fearing for the child, moving closer behind me. I held out a hand to stop them but kept my eyes on the Rogue.
“So you’re a coward. All that trouble to get me alone, to take me out and finish your work, and you’re going to walk away with a human shield? How do you think your boss is going to react to that? You think he’ll be impressed?”
“Fuck you,” he said, but he was smart enough to look alarmed. He’d know as well as I did, if not more, how violent Reed was, how manipulative, and how protective of his public reputation. Cyrius Lore was proof enough of that.
The girl was squirming in his arms, kicking against him, tears streaming down her face. My chest ached to reach out, touch and comfort. But her safety was entirely up to the Rogue, and I had to keep my focus on him—convince him to let her go, and move along.
Even if that meant I lost my cha
nce at him.
“Actually,” I said, “this probably helps us. I’m sure someone has called the cops, and I’d bet some of those humans behind me have phones, are recording or photographing this little interaction.” Precisely because they were recording it, I didn’t dare say Reed’s name aloud. No one would believe he was involved without hard evidence, which I didn’t have. And I wasn’t going to set myself up for another arrest.
“Long story short,” I continued, “your boss will see that you’ve failed, and we’ll have that much more evidence to build the case against him, to put him away for a very long time. All that, of course, will happen after he takes care of you.”
The vampire stared at me, a bead of sweat trickling down his nose. Rational thought could do that to a psychopath.
The train began to slow again, and he jerked his gaze to the doors, looking for a way out.
“Hand her to me, and you walk away,” I said.
“I’m not an idiot,” he said. “I hand her to you, and you kill me.”
“Not in front of witnesses.”
We pulled into the station, jerked to a stop. The door opened, and he hesitated, and then tossed the child at me like an unwanted rag doll.
I jumped, hit my knees, arms outstretched . . . and caught her. She wailed with terror, kicked out with pointy little knees and elbows, caught the cheek that sung with pain from his slap.
But she was safe.
People rushed into the train to travel, off the train to get away from the vampire. I climbed to my feet, the child still in my arms, and squeezed through them to the platform.
The vampire was gone.
• • •
I waited with half a dozen human witnesses at the platform for the CPD’s inevitable arrival.
In the meantime, we learned Hailey Elizabeth Stanton was three and a half years old. She’d stopped crying, at least in part because the humans made funny faces to make her smile, and bribed her with bottles of water and pieces of candy when that failed. She wouldn’t let me go, so she stayed at my hip, tiny fingers digging into my neck. While we waited she told me about her favorite “Poesy Pony Princess,” which I presumed was a toy and not actually a royal horse. In these halcyon supernatural days, it was hard to be sure. Anyway, Hailey’s pony was named Princess Margaret Hollywood Peony Stanton, and I was informed several times she did not go by “Maggie.”
So of course I kept calling her that, and Hailey kept giggling.
Finally, CPD officers escorted the girl’s frantic mother onto the train platform. I stood up, passed the child back to her.
“Mommy!” she said while her mother hugged her and checked her for injuries.
“Did you get him?” I asked one of the uniforms. The humans had relayed to the 911 dispatcher that the vampire had gotten away after using the child as a shield.
“No,” he said. “Do you know who he is?”
“Kind of,” I said, and gave them the story.
• • •
Correction: I gave them part of the story. I told them about Caleb Franklin, identified this vampire as the one who’d killed him.
I skipped the speculation about Reed and the fact that the Rogue was the vampire who’d first attacked me. Only a few knew the reason I’d become a vampire. Since most became vampires by choice—because they wanted immortality, to join a particular House, to escape a particular illness—the truth of my making was too personal to share, and theoretically could have put Ethan at risk. He’d technically changed me without my consent, even if he’d done it to save my life.
A CPD detective talked me through the details for twenty minutes, then stuck me in the back of a police cruiser for twenty more. When the door finally opened, it was my grandfather who met me, Jeff behind him.
Concern was etched in the lines of my grandfather’s aging face, but his blue eyes were as bright as ever. “You’re all right?”
I nodded. “I’m fine,” I said, and took the hand he offered to help me out of the car.
His gaze focused on the blood on my hands, dots of it on my shirt.
“It’s not mine. It was the Rogue’s. You heard what happened?”
Jeff nodded. “We were at Cadogan. Ethan locked down the House, and Luc and Malik made him stay put, just in case. Then we waited for news. Photos and videos starting hitting the Web. You did a great job with him, Merit. With the kid.”
Ethan would have been relieved to see the footage, and still livid that I’d left in the first place. That I’d done exactly what I’d told him not to do: I’d let my emotions take control, and I’d put myself in a situation that could have gone very, very badly.
“I couldn’t agree more,” my grandfather said, but his gaze was still wary, and I could feel my panic bubbling up. The fact that I’d held back from the rest of the officers.
“Merit?” he asked.
“He was the vampire who attacked me.”
The words spilled out, faster than I’d meant them to.
I’d seen protectiveness in Ethan’s eyes. The anger that showed in my grandfather’s was pretty similar.
“From the Quad?”
I nodded. “I didn’t recognize him the night Caleb was killed; I didn’t see his face. It wasn’t until we were on the train that I saw—” Bile rose, and I had to stop, close my eyes, wait for the nausea to pass.
“Here,” Jeff said after a moment, offering me a cold bottle of water.
I nodded my silent thanks, pressed the bottle against the back of my neck. “Kind of hits you funny.”
“It does,” my grandfather said. “And it’s completely understandable.”
“You were fucking incredible.”
Surprised by the curse and the tone, my grandfather and I both looked at Jeff.
His gaze was fierce.
“I mean it,” he said. “You found out who he was, and you didn’t back down. Hell, you fought him, and you were a total warrior.”
“I was scared shitless.”
He smiled. “That’s because you have a brain in your head. You know how it goes, Merit. Fear doesn’t stop a warrior. It pushes you further.”
I reached out, squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Jeff.”
“It’s the absolute truth.”
I nodded, made myself tell them the rest of it. “He basically confirmed Reed’s pulling his strings. He wants to kill me, make Ethan crazy. Two birds, one stone. I didn’t tell the cops—I don’t want to make that situation worse. Too many people already think we have it in for Reed.”
My grandfather nodded. “It was smart to be cautious. And you’ve told me. That’s fine for now. You’ll have to tell Ethan.”
I just nodded.
“Mallory said it looked like the vampire was watching the House,” Jeff said.
“Casing it, is my best bet. I don’t think he planned to make a run at me tonight—probably because there were so many other people there. You guys and Scott and Morgan. He would have watched and waited.”
And he still would watch and wait. Because nothing had been decided tonight. This had been the first round of a battle that had to continue. I’d see him again. He’d make another attempt.
“Am I done here?” I asked, glancing back at the uniforms. “I’d like to get back to the House.” Away from here, from trains and cops and onlookers.
“You are,” my grandfather said. “Would you like a ride?”
Normally, I’d have jumped at the offer, but I needed time to think. Time to process. A few minutes of solitude before I walked into Cadogan House, because God knew I wouldn’t get it then. I’d have to talk. I’d have to report. I’d have to tell.
“Actually, I think I’d like to grab a cab if you don’t mind.”
My grandfather squeezed my arm. “There’s nothing wrong with taking a few minutes to settle. You’ve earned it.”
&
nbsp; “Do you think that’s safe?” Jeff asked.
“He’s long gone,” I said. “Too many cops around. And he won’t try the House tonight. Not after this. He’ll know we’re watching.”
“I don’t disagree,” my grandfather said.
“Let me get you a cab,” Jeff said. “Least we can do is make sure you get in it safely.” He walked to the curb, signaled for a cab, waited until one pulled up.
“You’ll let me know when you get home?” my grandfather asked, and put up a hand to stop any grumbling. “I know you’re a grown woman and can take care of yourself, but I’d appreciate it if you’d do me the favor tonight.”
“I will,” I promised, and gave him a hug, them climbed into the cab and pulled out my phone. I sent Ethan a simple message. I’M ON MY WAY.
I kept it short and simple, but I had little doubt he’d have plenty of things to say.
• • •
I had the cab drop me off at the corner. Even after the twenty minute ride, I was still procrastinating walking back in the front door.
I’d been a grad student. I could recognize procrastination a mile away.
Why stand outside the House? Why delay going back to the man who loved me? Because I felt so suddenly vulnerable. Stripped emotionally bare because the vampire who’d attacked me was back again. I felt like I was standing naked in a spotlight, blinded to the onlookers, knowing they were there.
And that wasn’t all. I felt that I’d failed because I’d let him go. Yes, that had been to save the life of a child, but it still ate at me. He was still out there. And he wouldn’t go away.
I could defend myself, sure. Would defend myself when we inevitably met again. But until then, there was waiting. There was feeling exposed.
That sent me back toward the House, toward the fence and the gate.
Tonight’s guards were two human women I’d seen standing sentry before. One was tall and leggy, with pale skin and a crop of pale blond hair. The other was shorter and curvier, with a strong body and dark skin, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun.
