I’m about to lunge straight at his chest with my handmade stakes when he flickers and the next thing I know, my throat is being squeezed by what feels like vise grips and I’m dangling in the air. His grip is so powerful that my arms go numb and I involuntarily drop my stakes.
Son of a bitch.
I try to breathe, but nothing enters my nose or mouth. If I don’t do something fast, he’ll keep squeezing until my head falls off, and if there’s one thing that’ll kill me for good, it’s losing my head.
In one swift motion, I shoot my wings out on either side of my face and with my wing claws, pierce his eyes. He drops me and roars as tears of blood leak down his powder-white face.
I land with a loud thump, a blast of wind blowing away from me. Now blind, the vampire spins in circles, trying to listen for my footsteps. Behind him, his pack hesitates. It’s like they want to protect him, but they know better than to undermine their leader.
I don’t give them enough time to make a decision. Extracting my wrist blades with a loud snap, I use my wings to propel myself straight at the vampire. He tries to swat his claws at me, but I’m too fast, and he misses.
Infuriated, he growls loudly, but his voice cuts the second I tear my stakes into his neck. With a scissoring motion, I pull them out sideways, severing his head in an instant.
Cold blood spits out onto my face as his head falls onto the stone path with a loud thud. It rolls toward the rest of his pathetic followers, and right before hitting their feet, explodes into a ball of dust, along with his headless body.
Smiling, I twirl my long bloody stakes in my hands. “Why are you all just standing there? Let’s party.”
The first vampire to hiss at me is the first to receive a stake through her heart. She clutches at the wood sticking out of her chest and slants her brows before bursting into fine dust.
The vampire on the opposite side of the group—a young hipster with shaggy hair, baggy pants, and small canine teeth—looks mortified. He stumbles on his own feet and starts running down the path in the opposite direction.
If there’s one thing I can’t allow, it’s for word to get out that I massacred a family of vampires… again.
“Not today,” I say, throwing my second stake right past the vampires’ faces and straight into the hipster’s back. The force of the impact sends him whirling into the air with flailing arms. Right before he crashes into the ground, he dissipates into oblivion.
In front of me, three vampires remain—two males and one female. Only moments ago, the three of them had ferocious scowls aimed at me. But now, they shoot each other uncertain looks, seeming to have lost all confidence in their ability to fight me.
If they think I’m letting them get away, they’re dumber than they look.
“Should’ve left the feeble alone,” I mutter.
Before they can even attempt to run the other way, I move toward them at lightning speed, my arms sticking straight out on either side of me. My wrist blades decapitate the two males, and dust falls to the ground like ash from a burning barn.
Retracting my blades, I blink hard and slap the dusty air in front of me.
By the time the dust settles, the female vampire is already half a mile down the stone path.
She may be fast, but so am I.
With two arms sticking straight above my head like a superhero, I kick the ground and tear through the air, my wings launching me at a speed far greater than hers.
She shrieks when I grip my claws into her back, flap my wings, and elevate her into the air with me. Kicking her legs, she struggles to get back down, but it’s no use. If she thinks can escape me, she’s delusional. I wrap my legs around her waist and squeeze tight, holding her captive. She tries to squirm, but if she tries too hard, she’ll only end up breaking her own bones.
I pull my claws out of her back and stab them deep into her neck. Silky blood slips down my fingers as she gurgles black blood. I dig my fingers even deeper, and push upward as if removing the cork of a champagne bottle.
Her head pops and spins down toward the San Halos river, bursting into a thousand pieces. Her body does the same, her ashes sprinkling down on the water like fish food.
I flap my wings to stay in midair and gaze down at the frightened feeble. She sways back and forth with her arms locked around her legs and her face dug into her knees.
There’s no doubt in my mind that she saw the entire thing.
Fuck.
What am I supposed to do about her?
That makes another loose end, and not cleaning up loose ends got me into all this trouble in the first place. Inch by inch, I lower myself to the ground, tuck my wings, and hide my demon self. I walk toward her and she pulls away the moment I kneel.
“Hey,” I say.
With eyes still sealed, she shakes her head vigorously as if trying to erase what she saw. Either that, or she’s terrified I’ll do the same thing I did to them.
When she doesn’t look up at me, I grab hold of her arms and she flinches.
“Listen to me,” I order.
Reluctantly, she cracks her bright eyes open.
The moment we make eye contact, she freezes, and I realize I can tie up loose ends without taking or threatening to take a life.
Smiling, I brush her hair behind her ear and project my Lure onto her.
“Who… who are you?” she stammers.
My fingers make their way across her jaw, her lips, and her neck.
A man attacked you, I say with my mind. I saved you. Nothing more.
“What… What happened? I saw—”
You were drugged at a bar, I project. You suffered hallucinations.
She bites her bottom lip and glances toward the piles of ashes, so I squeeze her chin and force her to look at me.
“I scared the man off,” I say aloud. “You have nothing to worry about anymore, okay?”
She nods, hanging on to my every word.
With her chin still in my grasp, I move in and press my lips against hers. Her entire body relaxes and she breathes out into my mouth.
Part of me knows I should be getting rid of her, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I may be a bitch, but I’m not a total monster. She’s the victim in this. If I kill her now, what would have been the point in saving her in the first place?
I pull away, and she gapes straight ahead as if hypnotized.
Without another word, I get up and walk back toward where I parked my bike.
Chapter 21
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“I didn’t do anything,” Drax says, raising his hands to either side of his face.
This is what he says every time he does do something. So, what is it this time? It must be pretty bad if he’s back here in my apartment. Only hours ago, Drax stormed out. The few times he’s done that, it took a few weeks before he resurfaced.
I throw my key on the kitchen counter and head into the living room.
“What did you do this—” I start.
“You’re a thief,” comes Rachel’s voice.
She stands in the middle of my living room frowning. Next to her is little Riskus. He puffs his chest, crosses his bony arms, and matches his master’s expression. If he were wearing shoes—or more importantly, if he wasn’t standing barefoot on my floor with those monster feet of his—he’d likely tap his foot to emphasize how upset he is.
“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” I snap.
Her eyes narrow, almost disappearing into her face.
“You stole my book,” she says.
I fling my hand out at Drax. “Why’d you let her in?”
“I didn’t,” he says.
“I’ve been practicing my portals to track you down,” Rachel says.
Is this kid for real? “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours!”
“I practiced a lot.”
She refuses to look away, so I place a hand on my hip and shift my weight onto one leg to project the same level of attitude. “Wha
t do you want?”
She gives me a stupid look that says, What the hell do you think I want? A cookie?
“My grandma’s book!”
I smirk. “How much you got?”
“How much—what the hell are you talking about?” she says.
“Here’s the thing,” I say. “That thing could set me up for life… if you catch my drift.”
Her face darkens three shades of red. “It’s not yours to sell!”
I can sense Drax’s disappointment from here, but I ignore it.
“Maybe not ethically,” I say, “but I’m the one who has it now. So if I want to sell it, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Her features twist so disproportionality it looks like she’s about to cry. God. I hope she doesn’t. I hate being around people who cry.
With pouty lips, she pulls a wand out from under her jacket and points it at me.
I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, so you’re going to use magic on me, are you?”
“If I have to.”
Riskus pumps a fist in the air and gives me a look so menacing I imagine he’s preparing to maul my feet.
“Alex,” Drax says, “just give her the damn book.”
“No!” I shout. “I already told you. I need cash to pay Jamieson back.”
“Sell your new bike,” Drax says.
I ball a fist, prepared to knock his teeth down his throat. No fucking way am I selling my new bike. Besides, I don’t even know how I got it. With my luck, I’ll end up trying to sell it to the person I stole it from.
“Not gonna happen,” I say. I realize I’m being unfair to this girl, but when I feel cornered, I have a habit of lashing back. “And stop trying to push me into taking that goddamn job. I’m not doing it. It’s suicidal. And that vampire bitch is impossible to get to. Short of being able to walk through walls—”
And then I realize something. I may not be able to walk through walls, but I now know something who does.
“Rachel, sweetheart,” I say.
Drax releases a loud grunt. “For fuck’s sake, Alex, she’s a minor.”
“Oh, would you relax? Sicko. I’m not trying to seduce her. I’m being nice.”
Is the idea of me being nice that unrealistic?
Rachel wrinkles her nose. “Ew. Seduce me? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Rachel, honey,” I say, taking a step toward her.
She jabs her wand in the air as if to say, One step closer and I’ll turn you into a frog!
“There’s so much you don’t know,” I continue. “For one, I’m not human.” My horns come out and my wings expand so far their leathery skin hits Drax in the face.
Rachel’s jaw drops.
“Did you honestly think you were the only special person out there?” I ask.
“I-I-I,” she sputters.
“I’m a demon,” I say, not wanting to go into the specifications of my kind. “And there are plenty more out there. Some far less attractive than me, of course…” When no one laughs, I continue. “There are vampires, too.”
Slack-jawed, she says, “Vampires?”
Slowly, she turns to Drax as if expecting some huge transformation. Being that she’s an amateur witch, she sees Drax the same way feebles do—as an average, scrawny guy. As her powers develop, so will her ability to see fae in their true forms.
“There’s so much you don’t know,” I say, “which is why I don’t feel comfortable giving you back such a powerful book.”
The shocked look on her face hardens into her earlier scowl.
“Let’s make a deal,” I say.
She doesn’t look impressed, but it’s obvious she’s willing to hear me out. “What kind of deal?”
“You help me by using a bit of your magic, and in return, not only will I give you back your stupid book, but Drax here will arrange for you to get an apprenticeship with one of San Halos’s teaching witches.”
Her eyes go huge and a silly grin widens her face. “Really?”
Drax gives me the stink-eye. “And why would I do that?”
“Because you’re a good demon,” I say, taking advantage of his soft side. “And this little witch needs a mentor if she hopes to survive in this world.”
“So find her one,” he says.
It isn’t like Drax to deny someone help—especially someone as young and innocent as Rachel. It’s obvious this has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. He’s still upset by how I handled the book and talisman situation.
Despite my track record, he’s always pushing me to be a better person. So when I become an uber bitch, or self-involved, it upsets him.
Rolling my eyes, I let out a sigh. “I’ll give her the talisman, too.”
“Talisman!” Rachel shouts. “What? How—”
“Shut up, kid,” I say, staring Drax down.
Then, Riskus hops up and down. “Talisman! Talisman!” His squeaky voice hurts my ears, making me want to kick him into the air.
It takes a few seconds, but Drax gives in at last and nods, though it’s obvious he wants more.
What the fuck more could he want?
“What do you want, Drax? An allowance?”
He shrugs his green scaly shoulders and smirks.
Finally, I throw my arms up. “All right, I’ll take the job and give you a cut of my damn payout.”
Chapter 22
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“I think my mom would kill me if she knew I was here,” Rachel says.
We walk straight through Clock Dragon’s rough neighborhood, careful not to run into someone looking for trouble.
“Where does she think you are?” I ask.
“In bed.”
Only then do I realize it’s past midnight.
Right,” I say, matter-of-factly. “Then we’d better do this quick before morning comes.”
While this neighborhood is no place for a girl her age, she’s safe by my side. Besides, if she’s going to create a portal to get me to Veerka, she needs background information, and she’ll likely need a few unconventional ingredients.
The moment we reach Clock Dragon’s weed-ridden front lawn, a dog barks at us from across the street. He doesn’t shut up, inviting other dogs across the neighborhood to join in.
I lead Rachel up Clock Dragon’s concrete steps and smirk back at her. “Some dogs don’t like my smell.” I glance around to ensure no one’s watching, then press my body against the door and turn the handle. “It’s locked.”
Rachel doesn’t seem too bothered by this. If anything, it seems to excite her. “Perfect! I’ve been practicing a door unlocking spell…”
From her inner coat pocket, she pulls out her wand and aims it at the locked handle. “Lucia palus.”
A soft click echoes from the other side.
“Not bad, kid, not bad.”
Turning the handle, I step inside. While I’m certain Clock Dragon is out doing some important vampire business, I can’t be too cautious. We sneak in as the scent of mildew, three-day-old macaroni, and rotting cheese intoxicates our lungs.
I’m willing to bet this family’s been living off cheap pasta for a long time. Maybe that’s why Clock Dragon’s involved with Lucius… To earn extra cash.
The lights are off, making our exploration taxing. As we move deeper into the home, a blue light flickers from down a hallway.
A television?
“Come on,” I whisper, “the girlfriend’s probably—”
A woman’s scream pierces the silence, bouncing off every wall. Out from the darkness comes a fast-moving figure charging at us. In her grasp there appears to be a large kitchen knife, its point aimed right at my face.
From her perspective, she may be moving fast enough to take out her attacker.
From my heightened perspective, however, she’s nothing more than a frightened feeble moving at the speed of a sloth. The moment her knife comes stabbing in a downward motion, I slip sideways without any effort and catch
her wrist. With a rough shake, I make her drop it on the floor.
At the same time, the living room lights turn on, and Rachel stands behind me with her fingers over the light switch. “Found it.”
The woman whose wrist I’m holding is the same one I saw the other day—Clock Dragon’s girlfriend or wife.
“Mommy?” comes a child’s voice.
A boy’s head pops out through the crack of a half-open door and I jerk my head at Rachel to say, Take care of the kid.
“Hey, kiddo!” Rachel says, her voice heightening in pitch. “I’m so sorry if we scared you. We’re friends of your mom’s. Let’s go back to your room and I’ll show you some cool tricks, okay?”
Good thing I brought the witch.
The mother squirms and tries to punch me in the face with her other fist, but I catch it midair and squeeze until her knuckles crack.
“Tell your kid everything’s fine,” I say through clenched teeth.
“H-h-honey, it’s okay.” The mom says, a thick Latin accent rolling off her tongue. She forces a smile—an obvious twitch of the lip. “Go to your room, sweetheart, okay?”
The kid doesn’t disappear just yet. Instead, he moves his head from side to side as Rachel approaches, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. He’s either unsure about Rachel and me, or he doesn’t understand why his mom’s being so nice to him. I’ve been around a long time and have met my share of women like her. They’re miserable with their lives, can’t regulate their emotions, and take their shit out on their kids.
This woman is also pretty young. If I were to guess, I’d say anywhere between nineteen and twenty-five, which means her son probably wasn’t part of her plan.
“Go!” she finally shouts, and the boy runs back into his room.
“He isn’t immortal,” I say.
She gives me a venomous look.
“What I mean is, he could die. Any day. He could get hit by a car… He could get leukemia.”
Her sunken, hateful eyes turn on me.
“And here you are treating him like shit,” I continue.
Mortal Blow: An Urban Fantasy Series (Succubus Hitwoman Book 1) Page 12
