Broken Elites (The Vampire Legacy Book 3)

by Rita Stradling

  Me: I wish. Have to toe the line, I sent back. Have fun for me.

  I scrolled back up to the photo and glanced over the crowd. Pretty much everyone in the senior class was there. I was about to put it down when my gaze caught on a very familiar couple. Mitch stood by a massive dark wood bar while Amber plastered herself to his side. They were talking to someone out of view. Amber looked more like she was restraining than embracing Mitch.

  My stomach twisted, and I swiped the photo aside and deleted it.

  “Damn it,” I said, as soon as the photo was gone. I wanted to kick myself. That was the only picture I had of all of my friends. I could have cropped Amber’s abusive ass out of it or something.

  “Fucking Amber.” I flexed my fingers and shook them out. My neck ached from leaning over a thick textbook on AP Supernatural biochemistry. From what I read, I could guess that the reason vampires glowed white was that their skin didn’t insulate their heat, making their external temperature run uniformly at a much higher temperature than humans. There was nothing in there about not seeing a heat signature. I closed the book and pulled over my vampire history book.

  “Middy, middy midterms,” I mumbled.

  A shushing sound behind me sent a sudden wave of anxiety rolling through me. Something about that sound struck me as wrong, and I climbed to my feet and snuck toward my living room. One quick glance around told me that everything was just as messy as I’d left it an hour ago, but when I peered around the corner, my front door swung open, and two people rushed in.

  I jumped back with a yelp and grabbed my chest. “Bridget, Sam? Holy… you scared the shit out of me.”

  The two Alderwood students wore short dresses and high, shit-kicker boots, but their outfits were wildly different. Where Sam was wearing all black and her wooly tights had runs and holes at the knees, Bridget was wearing a silky skirt that glimmered in every shade of green, bringing out her multi-colored eyes and accentuating her flame-red braids.

  “Sorry, it took us so long to escape.” Bridget rushed forward, holding up what looked like a tight black shirt and a pair of long boots. “Hey, get dressed, January. We don’t have much time.” She shoved the shirt at me, and when I reluctantly took it, she grabbed my shoulders and pushed. “Hopefully it’ll fit you.”

  “Wait. What?” I asked.

  “Go.” Sam waved through the air, her brown eyes wide. “He’s already at the clubhouse.”

  “Who’s at where?” I was so utterly lost here.

  “Come on.” Bridget gave me a not so gentle shove toward my room. “Do you have any makeup?”

  “Hold up.” I planted my feet on the floor and pivoted toward the girls. “What is a clubhouse, and why is it important?”

  They both blinked at me, owlishly. “Justin Roberts is at the local demon clubhouse. They call themselves the Pitchforks. Your boyfriend walked in there and challenged any demon who would face him to a deathmatch.”

  I glanced around at the two, wondering if this was some sort of a joke, but both girls just stared at me impatiently.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Look, we need to go now. We were sent to help you, but we need to be back before the guards do second check.” Sam craned her neck to glance around my room while scraping her teeth over her lip. “Maybe this was a trick, Bree.”

  Bridget leaned in, her multi-colored eyes swirling. “Does Mikey Cleary’s sister Parker owe you a favor? Because that’s what he told us.”

  “Yeah, Parker owes me a favor… but Justin is home sick in bed, and I think there might be a shapeshifter impersonating him. This is probably a trap.”

  “A human shapeshifter?” Bridget asked, her brow wrinkling. “That’s rare.”

  “But possible, right? Justin was acting like a completely different person, and there was this look in his eyes, and then he showed up the next day, not having remembered any of it.”

  The two girls’ eyes met.

  “That’s… really common in our world,” Bridget said before gritting her teeth. “Rage blackouts. Almost every kind of Supernatural has them while they’re a teen, and sometimes adults have them too.”

  “Not witches,” Sam said as she picked at her fishnets, nervously, while practically quivering in place.

  “Justin isn’t Supernatural.”

  The two girls’ gazes met again, and I could see some understanding pass between them before Sam shook her head. “We don’t have time for this …” Sam rubbed her arms, “We have to go right now.”

  Bridget shrugged. “Look—are you turning down our help? Because if you are, we really need to get back to our rooms before second check.”

  I shook my head, then nodded, then shook my head again. “I’m trusting that you guys aren’t leading me into some sort of trap.”

  The tight black shirt Bridget handed me turned out to be an even tighter black dress. If it could even be designated as a dress. My entire back was laid bare, and it barely covered my butt. I had to go braless, but I refused to go commando. The black leather boots went over my knee, and the heels were so tall I wobbled as I crossed to the kitchen. Keeping the fridge door blocking me, I opened the false drawer.

  “We need to go,” Sam said, her breaths coming short and fast. She rubbed her arms and hopped in place.

  “I’m rushing, I promise.” I grabbed up a metal water bottle and rushed to open one of my blood packs and pour it in. I only took time to chuck my empty in the bottom and kick the drawer closed.

  We rushed through Gregory Hall, finding the hallways deserted, and when we passed the front desk, there was no one sitting in the booth.

  “This really doesn’t give me confidence about the security at this school.” I slowed down for just a second to glance over the booth to see that the television monitor of the entrance lobby showed an empty room.

  “Come on!” Sam said as she held open the door.

  I ran after her, at constant threat of rolling my ankles in the damn boots. “So, basically, at any time witches could come in and kill whoever they want?”

  “And yet, we don’t,” Sam let the door slam behind me and fell into a sprint.

  “Why?” I called after her as I ran down the path, feeling like I was trying to learn to run all over again.

  Sam slowed and looked back to meet my eyes. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the Sabs hold dozens of teen witches in Alderwood.”

  “You guys are leverage?” I asked. “Against your families?”

  Sam just shot me a pitying look.

  “Come on, guys,” Bridget looped back around me and pushed my shoulders. “Move.”

  We piled into a dark van that looked like it would be perfect for the set of a movie that featured kidnapping. The floor was littered with fast food bags, stinking like day-old French fries and sour ketchup. Bridget hopped into the back and motioned for me to get on the bench seat beside her before she slid the door closed.

  “Sorry about the mess. Just kick the bags aside. This is the Packs’ van, and most of the boys are absolute pigs.”

  “The girls too,” Sam hopped in the front seat, turned on the ignition, and was accelerating before I managed to get my seat belt on. She took the curve out of the Blackburn Academy parking lot like there was someone in hot pursuit.

  I grabbed onto the ‘oh, shit’ handle as the van rocked on its wheels. “I’d really like to survive this.”

  “No worries because I’m actually the only one between us three who’d die in a crash,” Sam said before she took the curb out of Blackburn at full speed and we caught air before slamming down on the road.

  “Here. You look about twelve. You need to look a lot older if we’re going to get into the clubhouse.” Bridget said as she came at me with a mascara wand.

  “Get that thing away from me. You’re going to gouge out my eye.” I leaned as far as I could into the other side of the van. “Anyway, I am eighteen, or I’m going to be eighteen in two months.”

  “Eighteen years
old in your world and in mine are probably very different ages,” she said as she continued to come at me with that damn wand.

  “I grew up on King Street with a single mother who was completely incapable of caring for herself. I’ve been eighteen for a long time.”

  Bridget shook her head. “Not even close. In our world, years are written in scars, the invisible kind. You’re just starting to grow up.”

  Sam took another turn, and my head collided with her headrest, making stars explode across my vision. “Well, I’ll have a missing eye if you keep coming at me with that mascara wand while your friend is at the wheel.”

  “Wouldn’t you just grow another one?” Bridget asked, but she closed the mascara tube and started riffling around in a bag before she pulled out a blush brush instead.

  Sam continued to take turns that made my stomach drop. We hit a busy intersection, and Sam touched her neck and whispered a word, and the lights turned green, making a red sedan screech on its brakes to stop in time.

  Traffic up ahead slowed behind a car that was trying to fit in a space about three feet too small for its length. Sam slammed on her brakes and smacked her hand against the wheel. “Shit! Shit!”

  Bridget reached forward and laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re going to make it for second check.”

  “What happens if you don’t?” I asked.

  Bridget looked at me from the side of her eyes, as if she was unsure whether or not to tell me. “People who are caught sneaking out are likely going to be picked for the next Harvest.”

  From the way she said “Harvest,” it sounded like an event. “They kill you?”

  “Nope,” Sam said, and then she laid on her horn. “Move!”

  Bridget pulled out a lipstick and pinched my chin. “Okay, now stay very still, and I’ll explain it to you. Every time the Supernaturals on the outside act up, Alderwood Reformatory thins the herd. It’s their threat against our families. They don’t ever hurt us or kill us, but the guards will leave specific doors open and unlocked, and then they all vanish. If you’re picked in a Harvest, you have to spend the entire night hunted by the biggest sadists at our school. It’s an open secret.”

  “And, I for one, would die in about ten seconds,” Sam went up on the curb, going around the ill-fated parallel parker. “If you need a message delivered, or a gadget fixed, I’m your girl.”

  “Why don’t you guys just run away?” I asked. They clearly could come and go whenever they wanted.

  “And go… where, exactly?” Bridget asked. “The Hawthorn Group owns us, and if we went on the run, every cop in every station from here to Ontario would get APBs out on us saying that we’re “armed and deadly.” Most of us have other supernatural threats against us too. Anyway, sneaking out isn’t easy… and the Harvests come without warning.” She waved a hand through the air. “We don’t have time to talk about it… and you might just find out firsthand.”

  Sam swerved into a crowded lot, and her headlights illuminated a chain link fence closing in a dilapidated building. A sign hung from the fence with the words, “Full Moon Demolitions.”

  A sound of raucous cheers boomed so loud, we could hear it from inside the closed car, and every time the sound swelled, the building shivered. Giant construction site lights pointed straight at us, illuminating every inch of the property.

  “That’s painful.” I leaned between the front seats, trying to get a better view as Sam swerved between rows of parked cars.

  “Those are UV ray spotlights. They turn those on to keep the vampires out.”

  I shaded my eyes. “Aren’t they afraid the Hawthorn Group will break this up? This place isn’t exactly the most hidden illicit building, is it?”

  “The Sabs don’t get involved if we’re killing each other off. We’re just doing their jobs for them.” Sam slammed into a parking spot and threw open the door.

  “No love lost for the sabbatianoí…” I muttered under my breath.

  Bridget paused for one second with her hand on the door handle. “We all have hundreds of invisible scars, January… loved ones killed, survived murder attempts, violations of our right to exist. The Sabs gave them to us. Don’t let anyone in there know you’re a Sab, okay?”

  “I’m not,” I said, “Not really.”

  “We have to go.” With one more glance back, Bridget threw open the door.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  We headed for the dilapidated house, finding that our high-heeled boots miraculously didn’t sink into the field of scraggly grass as I expected. Sam practically ran the distance, crossing great strides with her long legs.

  The spotlights were so blinding, I could barely see three feet ahead of me. Every time I looked up, my eyes ached. I didn’t want to get Bridget and Sam in serious, maybe even deadly trouble, but even with magically supportive grass, high-heeled boots were difficult to run in while the light was blinding me. The further they got away from me, the more vulnerable I felt. This would be the perfect place for an abduction, and how well did I know these girls, anyway?

  “Wait up,” I called, as I gripped my metal bottle of blood like a weapon.

  Sam and Bridget either didn’t hear me or didn’t care as they headed straight past the house and into the painfully illuminated field. The girls were only dark silhouettes in a sea of brightness. Even when I shaded my eyes, they watered as I jogged. At the edge of the property, just before the second fence, the two girls vanished.

  It had to be some sort of magical barrier, and they were now on the other side of it. I ran, feeling my ankle roll with every step.

  Ten strides forward, the field dropped out from under me. My stomach lurched, and the bottle of blood went flying out of my hand. I cried out as I stumbled down an embankment, twisted my ankle, and slammed down my weight on my leg. Pain exploded through my ankle, and I swore under my breath as I rolled to my hands and knees.

  There was a hiss from behind me, and I looked up to see Bridget and Sam standing beside a willowy man, all three of them washed out by the overhead illumination. The smell of rotten meat was thick in the air, burning my throat, and the UV spotlights buzzed feet away from us, making a hideous electronic sound. I was starting to get an acute headache that was so painful, it lessened the ache in my leg.

  “I guess there wasn’t a magical barrier,” I gritted out as I pushed up. “Some warning would have been nice—unless this was a trap?” I glared at the group.

  “It wasn’t a trap, I promise.” Sam grimaced. “Sorry, we should have stopped and told you that you had to jump down into the pit. We were going to call up, but we got distracted by this crypt demon.”

  “Yeah, you really, really should have told me… and now I need my water bottle. It flew out of my hand...” I glanced around, looking for my bottle of blood, but all I saw was bleached ground. I couldn’t see ten feet away. I tried to put weight on my ankle, only to have it sear with pain. “Damn it. I need you to help me find something… urgently.”

  “January… wait. Please. Get up very slowly,” Sam said, and her voice was a few octaves higher than it had been in the car. She stared up at the willowy man, who was blocking what looked like a cave down into the earth.

  Willowy was a massive understatement. The man was gaunt to the point of looking emaciated. There was no possible way that Mitch would have called Mr. Walters the Crypt Keeper after seeing this man. He had to be eight feet tall. Thin, peeling flesh covered the man’s bones, like old parchment. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the man didn’t have blood or any type of muscle structure within him. He looked between us three, baring teeth that looked particularly sharp.

  “For the price of one finger from each of you, I’ll protect you inside the club,” he said, as he quivered with excitement.

  “Hell no. You think we were born yesterday?” Bridget asked, and her eyes began to glow and swirl a luminescent green. “You’ll bite off our fingers and scurry away. Get out of our way, demon, before I set you on fire.”
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br />   “You know the rules… no killing outside the ring, on pain of disembowelment.” The crypt demon smiled wider, his whole body shaking now. His gaze fixed on me, and a spark of interest lit in his eyes. “I’m so hungry.” A long papery tongue flicked out of his mouth. “If you three don’t let me eat a finger each, then I will just challenge this clumsy human to a deathmatch. You know you can’t refuse. If you’re challenged, you have to go on pain of...”

  “Death,” Bridget supplied. “We have money, alright--”

  “Shit…” I cried out as heat seared up my ankle. “It’s too late.” Fire licked through my injured ankle as the telltale sensation of my bones and muscles knitting back together radiated through my skin. The thumping of two heartbeats grew in volume from either side of me. One was a human rhythm, but the other was much faster and louder, like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

  My fangs slid down from my jaw, cutting into my lip, and I tasted my own blood. The world blurred around me, and I tried to concentrate on the creature, but the whole world was turning white.

  “I need my bottle of blood, or I’ll attack someone,” I said, and my voice broke on the words. The thumping increased, and my gaze fixed on the quivering pulse in Sam’s neck.

  “Whoa, January… calm down,” Bridget said as she held out a hand toward both the crypt demon and me. We had them surrounded.

  Sam took a step back and toward the demon. An astringent smell of fear filled the air. Damn, I could smell her sweet and salty blood pulsing through her veins. I could feel the heat of the network of blood. “I called after you both, and you two ran from me. You left me...”

  “Hey… hey…” Bridget stepped in front of me, obviously assessing that I was the bigger threat, breaking my concentration on Sam’s neck. “We’re sorry we ran ahead. We’re just nervous about getting back on time… and we thought maybe you’d catch up to us if we ran ahead. It was a bad call.”

  “I need blood. Where is my blood? Damn it.”

  “We can find it for you,” Sam moved out from behind Bridget, and her blood hummed to me, whispering a sweet melody like a siren’s song. Oh, I could bite her just a little bit. I wouldn’t kill her. I’ve never killed anyone before. But, no, she was terrified. She didn’t want me to bite her, and I remembered what it felt like to have my blood stolen from me. That was wrong, all wrong. My mind was tangled up, and all I could really concentrate on was how much I needed Sam’s blood.