I’ll Be Slaying You

by Cynthia Eden

  Okay, he wasn’t coming at her with fists yet. A good sign. She’d told Simon to stay back because one look at him, and she knew Ian would have broken.

  The guy just hadn’t been the same since the fire. Not that she blamed him. No, not at all. “Yeah, Ian, it’s me.”

  He shifted his stance a bit, bringing the right side of his face more into the light. A strong, hard face. “Heard you killed a human, Dee.” He shook his head. “Bad move that.”

  “I didn’t do it, Ian.”

  “Humans are supposed to stick together. All those paranormal assholes out there want us gone. We have to fight ’em.”

  More ash drifted away.

  “I want to fight them tonight, Ian.” She had to keep Ian focused. So hard. The man already had one foot in the grave. Maybe that was how he did it because she sure as hell wasn’t sure how he found out all his information about the Other.

  Ian was psychic. She’d always known that. But since the fire, it was like he was some kind of open channel to the darkness in the city.

  He took a step forward, and the light drifted across him, across the ruined, twisted, and reddened flesh on the left side of his face.

  Dee kept her eyes on his. “Help me, Ian.”

  “The vampires are coming for you, Sandra Dee.” His voice had hollowed and taken on that empty tone that came with his visions. “Inching ever closer. Closer than you know…”

  Simon caught the scent in the air. Blood. Fresh blood. He jerked to a halt, his nostrils flaring. Dee stood about ten feet away from him, whispering to the bastard in the shadows.

  But the blood scent was coming from the left. Drifting from the mouth of that alley. Garbage and decay—and sweet human blood.

  He hesitated, his gaze on that yawning opening.

  “Help…” The faintest of whispers.

  Simon closed his eyes. An attack. Right there, so close.

  Close enough for the blood to tempt him.

  Dee had been right. This was the perfect place to hunt. But not for them.

  These hunting grounds belonged to the vampires.

  “Help…m—” A choked gurgle. A death cry.

  Shit.

  Simon ran for the alley’s entrance.

  Dee’s head snapped up at the thunder of footsteps. Simon. She spun around and saw him run into an alley. Where the hell was he going?

  Ian grabbed her hand, the hard flesh of his burnt fingers and palm scraping against her. “Coming from the inside, Sandra Dee. The thing you fear will take you tonight.”

  And just like that, the odd chill she’d felt in the car was back. “You telling me I’m going to die, Ian?”

  His muddy gaze drifted back to the burnt house. “Saw the fire, you know. Dreamed it.”

  Ian always had his dreams. Dreams that had sent him to the edge of sanity and beyond. “I know about your dreams.” Everyone knew, human and supernatural.

  “Told Brian it wasn’t safe. Told him to leave.”

  Brian. Ian’s twin. Addicted to crack and eaten away by cancer.

  “But then I felt the fire start, and I had to go to him. I knew—I knew he hadn’t left.”

  He’d walked into the flames for his brother. Faced death.

  And still Brian had been taken by the flames.

  But Ian hadn’t died. Not fully.

  “I saw Death that night.” He turned away, so that only the perfect side of his face remained. “I see him now. He’s with you. Standing so close.”

  This wasn’t the tip she’d wanted.

  His lips rose in a humorless curl. “Don’t worry, Sandra Dee. You won’t be alone. I’ll be right there with you. Every minute.”

  She rocked back. Shook her head. “I’m not dying tonight.”

  But that lop-sided smile didn’t fade. “We both are,” he whispered. “I dreamed about us last night. Sweet, beautiful dreams full of blood and screams.”

  A scream pierced the thick silence of the night, and Dee ran for the alley, Simon’s name on her lips.

  I’m not dying tonight.

  Simon grabbed the vamp and threw him against the wall. The scent of blood flooded his nostrils and the hunger he’d tried so hard to fight bubbled to the surface.

  Weak. Just need to feed once more.

  No! Dee was too close.

  He spared the screaming woman a glance. Blood trickled down her throat. “Get the hell out of here,” he snarled. If the woman had sense, she would already be running.

  He opened his mouth and bared his own fangs. “Get. Out.”

  But at the sight, the redhead just screamed louder.

  And another vampire jumped him.

  Dee ran fast, her heart slamming into her ribs. She caught sight of Simon, fighting with another man, both of them spinning and thrashing on the ground as—

  Simon’s attacker opened his mouth and sank his fangs into Simon’s shoulder.

  “No!” The scream burst from her.

  Simon threw the vampire off him, sending the guy hurtling a good ten feet into the air. What—how in hell had he done that?

  Some woman was screaming in a continuous howl, the sound piercing Dee’s ears as the chick huddled near a Dumpster.

  The vamp rose. “You think you can attack me? Chase, I’ll fucking cut your heart out, you don’t be—”

  Simon ran straight for him. Tackled the bastard. “You won’t do a damn thing to me!”

  And then he sank his teeth into the vampire’s throat.

  Sank his fangs into the vampire’s throat.

  Dee froze, every muscle in her body hardening. No, please, Christ, no, this couldn’t be happening.

  The screaming snapped off, the silence rough and jolting. Dee wrenched out her stake. Realized her palms were soaked with sweat when she nearly lost her weapon. “Simon?”

  He dropped the vampire and whirled toward her. Blood dripped from his mouth.

  She’d wondered if he were fully human. Thought perhaps he might be a hybrid. Or a demon. Maybe a shifter.

  In the end, she’d been leaning toward him being a charmer, like Pak.

  But she’d never thought he was a vampire.

  Not a vamp. Not him.

  He licked his lips. Licking the blood away.

  “You’re a fucking vampire.” What had Ian said? Shit, stupid, he’d said—He’s with you, Dee. Standing so close.

  Simon had been with her from the beginning, sneaking under her skin. Getting too close.

  The perfect setup.

  She’d trusted him. Vampire. No, no—

  “Easy.” Simon held up his hands. “I’m on your side, Dee.”

  No, he wasn’t. He knew the vamp he’d just attacked. “You’ve been setting me up.”

  “No. I swear, I’ve been trying to help you.”

  Cigarettes and old smoke burned her nose. Ian had come to join the party. “It’s time,” he called out and Dee didn’t glance his way. Fucking crazy Ian. He’d been insane since he and Brian shot up on that bad batch years ago and—

  “It’s time, bitch,” another voice growled and Dee’s gaze shot to her left. The woman—the one in the skin-tight dress and the spike heels, the woman with blood soaking her neck and a weird, trembling smile on her lips—that crazy chick lunged at her.

  And sank a knife into Dee’s chest.

  “No!”

  Dee’s knees gave way and she hit the ground, hard. The bloodstained bitch stared down at her, that stupid grin still on her face. “They said you wouldn’t fear me. What? Didn’t you think a human could kill, too?”

  Dee’s fingers fumbled with the hilt of the knife. Fire pulsed from her heart.

  Her heart…slowing, slowing…

  “Dee!” Simon shoved the bitch out of the way. He grabbed Dee’s shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. “Oh, shit, babe, hold on!”

  She blinked and tried to focus on his face. What big teeth you have. “Vam…pire…” A croak. She tried to jerk free from him. Weapon. She needed her weapon.

  Da
rk spots danced before her eyes.

  “I won’t hurt you! I won’t! I swear, I’d never—”

  Vampires lied.

  Everyone lied. Even the victims. No, the victims didn’t just lie. They stabbed you in the fucking heart.

  Laughter. The bitch’s laughter.

  Dee’s fingers curled around the hilt.

  “Dying! We’re dying tonight…” Ian’s stupid singsong voice. “Death’s here. Standing right here…”

  “Dee…”

  “Thanks for telling us where to find her.” The bitch was talking again and Dee blinked, sure she was speaking to Simon. He set me up? Why?

  She’d…trusted him.

  And been so damn blind.

  Ian laughed. Loud. Deep. Crazy. “Doesn’t matter what I said, nothing could have changed. Nothing ever changes. Death is coming…for you, too…”

  Ian had told the woman where to find her? I dreamed about us last night.

  Ice numbed her body, gentled the fire in her chest.

  “You’ll be all right.” Simon. His fingers were still on her flesh, but she could barely feel them now. No, she couldn’t feel much, but she could still see—him. Fangs out and gleaming. Eyes—pitch black. A vampire’s eyes.

  She wrenched the knife out of her chest. The fire roared to life again and her heart—

  Dying.

  “Dee, babe, no—”

  She fumbled. The knife slipped from her fingers. “Bastard,” she whispered. “Why…didn’t I…see y-you?” She’d been too weak with him, from the beginning. Needed him, wanted him—

  Cared.

  So dumb. She should have known better.

  “You won’t die. I won’t let you!” His bared fangs came toward her throat.

  “No,” a breath, because that was all she had.

  “We die tonight!” Ian yelled. “Tonight! Brian, are you waiting for me?”

  “We’re getting the hell out of here,” Simon growled and then he grabbed her, jerking her up against his chest.

  Vampire. Dee tried to shove against him. Failed. Her hands just weren’t working right now.

  “You’re not going any damn place, bastard.”

  Dee’s head fell back against Simon’s shoulder as he turned to face the mouth of the alley. The exit that was blocked by easily half a dozen vampires.

  Trap.

  The human had been the willing bait. Lure. Should have known.

  Stupid fucking rookie mistake. But she’d been so busy watching Simon, that she hadn’t seen the threat screaming in the shadows.

  Simon.

  She tried to speak, but choked on her own blood.

  One of the vampires grabbed Ian. “Thanks for the tip, asshole.” The vamp yanked Ian’s neck to the side and sank his teeth deep.

  We die tonight.

  Ian’s gaze pinned her. “Ready?” His lips moved in a near soundless whisper.

  No.

  “Give us the bitch!” A vamp spat at Simon. “Hurry, before she—”

  “You won’t touch her. You. Won’t. Touch. Her!”

  Huh. Sounded like he cared. Lying bastard.

  The drumming of her heart didn’t echo in her ears anymore.

  No more.

  Her neck began to sag. No, I’m still here! I can still think, still—

  So very dark.

  But she could hear the snarls. The vamps were readying to attack.

  And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do.

  This is the way it ends.

  Hello, Death.

  Ian, you bastard, I’d better not see your sorry ass in the afterlife.

  Chapter 8

  Simon kicked open the main door at Night Watch. His arms curled tightly around Dee’s limp body and blood dripped on the floor around him.

  Her blood and his.

  He’d had to bite and claw his way through that gang of vampires. He’d taken as many of them down as he could, then he’d run like hell.

  Staying and fighting hadn’t been an option. Not with Dee bleeding out all around him.

  The shifter must have caught the blood in the air because Jude Donovan came charging down the long corridor, barreling past the guards who had their weapons up, but who stared with wide, shocked eyes at Dee’s prone body.

  Donovan shoved one of the guards out of his way. “What the fuck—”

  Simon’s hold tightened around Dee. She was so damn still.

  Donovan’s hands reached for her. Simon clenched his jaw and let the tiger shifter take her away. No choice. The vamps would be coming for him. He had to leave her someplace safe.

  It didn’t get much safer than a hunters’ den.

  Her lashes cast dark shadows on her cheeks. Such pale cheeks.

  “Pak!” Donovan bellowed.

  One of the guards ran behind the shifter, grabbed a phone, and immediately called for an ambulance.

  “Won’t do any good,” Simon said, voice grim. “Doctors can’t help her now.”

  Donovan looked up, his teeth lengthening, his nostrils flaring. “What did you do?”

  Ah, now there was the problem. He reached out and trailed his fingers down Dee’s cheeks. “Not a damn thing.” Her flesh was warm. No longer chilled as she’d been in that alley.

  Life, not death.

  Why was it so hard for people to understand?

  Footsteps thudded down the hallway. More hunters, coming to the aid of their fallen friend.

  His thumb brushed over her lips. Those soft lips were stained red with her blood.

  Simon dropped his hand. “Tell Dee…tell her I didn’t do a damn thing.”

  Pak rounded the corner. Maybe he’d heard the shifter’s bellow or maybe one of the guards had buzzed him. Pak staggered to a stop at the sight of a limp Dee in Donovan’s arms.

  Don’t leave her. Stay. The command came from inside, from the soul he’d all but forgotten in the last few years.

  Stay. A temptation that almost broke him. She’d wake up. Confused. Angry.

  She’d need him. She’d need—

  No. The vamps could track him. They couldn’t track her.

  This time, it wouldn’t be about what he needed. Simon met Pak’s dark eyes. “You’ll know how to take care of her.”

  Pak flinched as understanding hit. “No…Dee?”

  His head inclined in the briefest of nods. Then, one last look. Couldn’t help it. He had to see her once more.

  Dee.

  Donovan had dropped to his knees and spread Dee out on the floor before him. His hands were at her chest, jerking open her shirt and pressing against the wound.

  It wasn’t bleeding, not any longer.

  Simon swallowed. The game hadn’t gone according to plan. Not at all.

  Fuck.

  “Good-bye, Dee.” Simon turned away and went back to the darkness.

  The darkness always waited for him.

  And now, for her.

  Dee opened her eyes and sucked in a sharp, hard breath. A fierce pounding filled her ears. Hard, too loud. A dozen scents assaulted her nose. Perfume, too strong. Cigars. Mint. A wild, animal scent and—

  Voices buzzed in her ears. Dozens of them. The buzzing grew, louder and louder, turning into a mad roar—

  “Dee! Dammit, Dee, look at me!”

  She blinked at the thundering voice and her gaze flew to meet Pak’s glittering stare. Pak? How had he found her? She’d been in that alley, bleeding all over the place—

  Blood.

  Simon.

  Vampire.

  “Easy, Dee.” Hands were on her shoulders. Holding her in place. Holding her down? She glanced to the right. Saw Jude, his face white, his jaw clenched. There was something in his eyes as he looked at her, something—

  Pity?

  “I-I-” She sounded like a freaking frog. A really loud frog. “I was…dying.” Her hand fumbled, reached for her chest.

  Her shirt had been cut away and she touched skin. Smooth, unmarred flesh right over her heart.

  No, no, tha
t wasn’t possible.

  “Breathe, hunter. You’ll still need to breathe,” Pak told her softly.

  Well, of course she needed to breathe. Everyone did. She took another hard breath and swallowed and realized that she was thirsty.

  Very, very thirsty.

  Her teeth began to ache.

  “Are you in control?” Pak asked.

  Dee could only stare blankly at him. Why am I alive? Did the knife miss my heart? Maybe the wound hadn’t been as deep as she’d thought, but there had been so much blood.

  Blood.

  The drumming in her ears pounded faster, louder. Her hand rose higher, brushing over the edge of her bra, and her fingers circled her throat. So dry. It hurt to swallow.

  “Drink this.” Pak shoved a black mug into her left hand.

  Pak had never led her wrong. Dee lifted the mug, and the liquid, sweet and rich and oh, God, good, slid over her tongue and down her parched throat.

  More.

  Greedy, desperate, she drained the mug in three swallows. “More!” The taste lingered on her tongue. Pak had been holding out on her. He’d never given her anything like this before and—

  “Maybe we should give her the whole bag.” Jude’s voice. Deep and booming, except maybe he’d been whispering.

  Her gaze slanted to him, and she found him holding up one of those bags, kinda like the IV drips you’d see in a hospital, only—this one was filled with red fluid. No, with blood.

  Give her the whole bag.

  Dee licked her lips and the mug dropped from her hand, shattering onto the floor.

  She vomited then because she knew what they’d just given her. What she’d eagerly taken.

  “Fuck! Get towels in here!” Shouted to someone, somewhere, then, “Everything is okay, Dee.” Pak, still trying to be reassuring.

  No, everything was not okay. Her head fell back even as her tongue skated over her teeth, caught the too-sharp edge of her canines—

  No, Christ, no! “Pak?”

  Jude moved toward her, holding that damn vampire takeout, and Dee shuddered. Her hands came up. Her short nails were turning into claws. “What did he do to me?”

  Simon.

  The vampire who’d held her in her last moments. The lover she’d stupidly trusted. “What did he do?” But she knew. Oh, dammit, she knew.