I twirled once. “If a vampire muddies this dress, I’m kicking ass.”
“I’ll help.” Her eyes shone. I’d never seen her so happy to fight before. She usually preferred flirting with locals at the club over the actual work of bait-nights. Maybe she’d just changed over the summer and I was being paranoid. I really hoped so.
“Where are your weapons?” She tilted her head curiously.
I held up my purse. “In here. And I’ve got a stake strapped to my thigh.”
“Ooh.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Sexy.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
At the bottom of the stairs outside our room were clusters of whispering Niners. They stared at us like we were movie stars.
“Creepy much?” Chloe muttered at them.
Lia was the only one brave enough to step out of the pack. “Is it true you guys go to town and lure vampires out of clubs?”
I nodded.
“That is so cool,” she breathed. “Can we do that?”
“You’re not allowed off campus at night until you’re sixteen,” I said as we shut the front door behind us. We hurried down the lane to the garages, passing students out for a walk or a jog on the track and others lying in the grass by the pond and catching up with each other. Night had just barely settled over the school, making the old buildings look somehow quaint and old-fashioned. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see the ghost of a Victorian gentleman or a pioneer woman churning butter on the porch of the headmistress’s house. Jenna, Spencer, and Jason were waiting by the old van we’d booked for the night. It was unassumingly gray, clunky, and hideous. And it beat walking to town, hands down.
“Get in,” Jenna said, sliding into the front seat before anyone else could. She loved driving almost as much as she loved shooting stuff.
“Shotgun!” Chloe yelled. She always got shotgun because she made mixes for the half-hour drive to town. I climbed in the back with Spencer and Jason.
“So where are we going?” Spencer asked as Jenna pulled out, scattering gravel. “The Blue Cat?”
“The Blue Cat shut down last month,” Jason told him, raising his voice over the loud music that filled the van.
“What about Conspiracy Theory?” Jenna asked. Everyone nodded. Conspiracy wasn’t a dance club like the Blue Cat had been, but it was a funky cafe in an old three-story house with live bands on the weekends. It’d be the most popular spot now—mostly because none of the other clubs let in minors as easily as Conspiracy Theory did.
I rolled my window down, enjoying the cool breeze that smelled like cedar and grass, flatly refusing to check my phone one more time. I had a life; I was busy taking out bloodthirsty vampires to make the neighborhood safe again. I didn’t have time to wait around for Quinn Drake to deign to honor me with a reply.
The forest and mountains gave way to fields and farms and then the tiny town of Violet Hill, tucked into the edge of the lake. It was mostly art galleries and old bookstores and organic cafes. There were probably more crystal shops in the village than in all of San Francisco. Every July there was an art festival and people drew on the streets with chalk. There were farmers’ markets and a pioneer museum. I loved it, even though Grandpa thought it was run by a bunch of, and I quote, “pot-smoking hippies.” He could overlook that though, since it was a convenient crossroads for several vampire tribes, both civilized and Hel-Blar.
There were other creatures too, according to Spencer, but I’d never seen any of them. He was convinced there were werewolves, but even his professors in the Paranormal Department wouldn’t give him a straight answer. I kept telling him that probably meant one of them was a werewolf. You never could tell at our school.
Jenna drove too fast, as always, so we made it to the main street in twenty minutes. Violet Lake looked like a dark blob of ink on the edge of the paper-white stones. We parked down the street from the coffeehouse and walked up through the abandoned factory district. All half a block of it. Violet Hill was nothing if not quaint.
“That’s the one,” Chloe said confidently, nodding to the old glass factory. Broken shards still glittered on the pavement, even though it had closed ten years ago. It was wide enough to maneuver in with some cover, so we wouldn’t draw the attention of any late-night pedestrians. They mostly went in the other direction toward the taxi stand or the bus stop.
The lawn outside the cafe was littered with smokers, the music from the jazz-rock band pouring out of the open door. We eased through the crowds and claimed the torn velvet couch in the very back where the light was dim and the floors were sticky with spilled drinks. Candles burned everywhere in jam jars, and twinkly lights were wrapped around the bar counter. The buzz of the espresso machine was a constant vibration under the music.
I took everyone’s drink orders since I was the bait. I was the one who had to prance around being all obvious and dumb. I giggled.
“Better,” Spencer approved. “You sound less like you ate an angry helium balloon.”
I made a face at him before making my way through the crowd toward the counter. I eyed the patrons unobtrusively. The three guys at the pool table were trying to look like predators, all suave and cool, but they were harmless. The girl in the back corner flirting with a guy in a leather coat was on my radar. She looked hungry and I didn’t know if it was for attention or blood. The two at the table under the window were underage and desperately trying not to look it. The waitstaff looked harried and didn’t have time to care who was drinking illegally and who wasn’t. Besides, it was Violet Hill, possibly the most liberal, free-thinking town on the planet. Drinking was no big deal. Fur coats and pesticides on the other hand …
The bar was actually a series of old wooden doors hinged together. The one at the end had belonged to a saloon at the turn of the century. There were two bartenders and a press of thirsty people waving money and shouting orders over the band. I fluttered my eyelashes and leaned on the bar, making sure my cleavage, such as it was, was visible. Part 1 of the plan required I be seen.
“A shot of Kahlua, please,” I ordered. I made sure my voice was a little too loud. I leaned farther over, catching the eye of two guys who were staring at me. The one on the left might possibly be vampiric. It was kind of hard to tell. I worked up an annoying giggle.
He raised his glass to me and eased out of the line, leaving a gap and a better view of the people on his other side.
I choked on the giggle.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I scowled at Quinn.
It was just my luck that he was lounging there with a pretty girl on each arm. No wonder he hadn’t answered my text message.
And worse, he would catch Part 2 of the plan, in which I was soon going to make an ass of myself, and he’d miss Part 3, in which I redeemed myself by kicking actual ass.
“Buffy.” He grinned, eyes flaring when he took in my short dress and daring neckline. I forced myself not to blush or fidget. I lifted my chin, daring him to make a single comment.
“Your name’s Buffy?” The girl on his left sneered.
The other girl pinched her. “Don’t be rude.” She smiled at me apologetically.
Quinn didn’t look away from me once during the whole exchange. I raised an eyebrow.
“Shouldn’t you be tucked away safely in your little bed?” he asked.
“Shouldn’t you be wearing a red velvet jacket and talking with a bad European accent?” I shot back.
“Are you really from Europe?” the first girl asked, misunderstanding. She ran her finger along his collar. “Do you live in a castle?”
I snorted and turned away, taking my shot glass off the sticky counter. Quinn’s hand closed lightly around my wrist.
“You’re not legal,” he said, nodding at the Kahlua.
“My ID says differently,” I assured him with a bland smile. I wasn’t about to tell him that the drink was just for show. I needed to appear drunk. Appear being the operative word, because a drunk hunter was a dead hunter.
He
leaned in, tucking my hair behind my ear and whispering so that only I could hear. His girlfriends frowned. Three guys and a girl near the band seemed suddenly interested in us.
“Where do you keep a stake in a dress like that?”
I angled my head to whisper back, half smiling. “Strapped to my thigh.”
He drew back sharply, blue eyes burning. I smirked and flounced away. I could feel him watching me the entire way back to my table. The others had gotten their Cokes already and they drank them slowly, looking relaxed. Only I knew each of them had stakes inside their jackets, Hypnos in their sleeves, and blades in the soles of their boots.
I tossed back my shot with a flourish. I could hardly convince a vampire I was drunk if he couldn’t smell alcohol on my breath.
Spencer frowned at me. “You know how you get when you drink,” he said loudly.
I shrugged, laughed. “I’m just having fun. You should try it sometime.” Under my breath I added, “The group by the stage, possibly two guys who went up to the second floor.” I reached for the whiskey sour he’d left on the table, surreptitiously spilling most of it on the table.
“How many shots have you had?” Jason demanded.
“Just the one. Don’t be such a spoilsport. God.” I stumbled, just a little. Jason opened my purse and took out the three shot glasses I’d slipped in there before leaving. He made a big production of tossing them on the table and looking disgusted. I just laughed and prayed Quinn was too far away, too distracted by the pretty girls throwing themselves at him, to notice me.
“You promised you wouldn’t drink,” Chloe said.
“You guys are lame,” I said, too loudly. A few heads turned our way. Chloe hid a gleam of satisfaction behind a fake worried scowl. I twirled away. “I’m going to dance if you’re all going to be such boring old ladies.”
This was the part I hated the most: dancing by myself like an idiot.
But it worked every time.
I twirled and shook my hips and giggled when I tripped into someone leaning against the amps. He caught me easily, smiling. His hands were cold, his eyes a pale hazel.
Vampire.
“I’m so sorry,” I simpered at him.
“That’s okay,” he replied, still holding onto my arm. He was good, I’d give him that. His expression was open and guileless. He successfully avoided the silky menace that was always such a dead giveaway. With his blond hair and white T-shirt he looked like a local college student, the athletic sort with lots of interesting arm muscles and strong shoulders. Just the type a drunk underage high school student would flirt with.
I hated flirting.
“Thanks for catching me,” I said, stepping closer. “My name’s Amber.”
“Of course it is.” I pretended not to understand what he meant by that. “It’s a very pretty name.”
Ha.
“Your friends appear to be ditching you,” he added. His own friends pressed closer. I turned my head to see Chloe and the others leaving.
I pouted. “They’re no fun.”
He was still holding on to my elbow. “We were just leaving too. They’re shutting the doors in half an hour but there’s a party down the street.” He drew his hand down my arm. “Want to come with us, Amber?”
Gotcha, you undead bastards.
I bit my lip, tilted my head. “I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Matthew.” He nodded to his friends. “That’s Nigel, Paul, Sam, and Belinda.”
There were a lot of teeth suddenly gleaming at me. The smiles were calculating. Amber, fictional though she might be, would have found them charming and fun. So I smiled back.
“Okay, I guess.” The music pulsed between us. “Is it far?”
“Not at all.” His hand moved to my lower back, pressing me forward and out the door. I had just enough time to glance at the bar. Quinn was gone.
Outside, the wind had cooled. Litter skittered along the curb. Matthew led us down the street, toward the dark alleys, away from the pubs and restaurants, just as we’d planned. I hesitated.
“Come on,” he said. “I thought you wanted to have some fun.”
Nigel laughed. “Yeah, Amber, don’t wimp out on us now.”
I shrugged and let them convince me. The others would be positioned around the old glass factory. Jenna would likely be on a rooftop somewhere. We turned a corner, effectively shielding us from the parts of town still inhabited to the stretch of abandoned warehouses. Our footsteps echoed. The streetlights were dim.
Amber was an idiot.
But Chloe was a bigger idiot.
Chloe knew the plan.
It was her bloody idea in the first place to corner the vampires on the other side of the glass factory where there was an abandoned parking lot full of weeds, a broken-down wall for cover, and nothing else.
Not, I repeat, not by the road where anyone might drive by. It was unlikely, true, but still possible.
And yet there she was, hollering like a lunatic and launching herself at us.
I didn’t know where the others were, beyond not here and not close enough to be of any immediate help. What had Spencer been thinking, to let her run off on her own?
She managed to knock Nigel off his feet, at least. She’d improved in the last week, but not enough to take on five vampires and survive, even with my help. I took advantage of the brief moment of surprise when the vampires whirled to see what crazy animal had pounced on their friend. I stepped back and liberated the stake from my thigh holster. Matthew glanced at me and licked his lips.
“Well, now, Amber,” he said as his fangs protruded from his gums. “Aren’t you suddenly more interesting.”
I didn’t waste my breath answering him. The other four circled Chloe, showing their own fangs.
If we lived through this, I was so going to kill her.
I only had the one stake. If I used it on Matthew, it left Chloe unprotected. And she was already on her knees, a hole ripped in her jeans, blood on her lip. She used her wrist harness to send a stake through Nigel’s heart. He crumbled into ash. Go, Chloe.
Of course, now the rest of them were really pissed.
And I couldn’t reach her.
Our teachers were always going on about how vampires would chase you if you ran away; the predator in them found it hard to resist the hunt.
I really hoped they were right about that.
As backup plans went, this one kind of sucked.
I turned and ran, pausing only to shoot Matthew the most taunting smirk I could manage. Because teasing an angry vampire is always such a good idea.
I ran fast.
Matthew, of course, was faster. Much, much faster. And so were his friends.
On the plus side, it left Chloe only one vampire to deal with, and he was fairly small.
On the minus side, it left me three.
I didn’t make it to the glass factory parking lot, but I was close enough that a good yell should alert the others, if there wasn’t a cold pale hand currently squeezing my trachea. I gagged on a breath, eyes burning. I clawed at the hand out of instinct, even though I knew it wouldn’t do me any good. When I started to see spots, my training kicked back in.
I had a perfectly good stake.
I shoved it through Matthew’s chest as hard as I could. My vision was gray and watery and lack of oxygen was becoming a serious issue. I didn’t quite get his heart; I was an inch or so shy on the left. But at least it hurt him enough that he released me with a yell. Blood welled around the stake, still sticking out of his rib cage, while I heaved air into my screaming lungs. I also turned to deliver a kick to his wound with the heel of my shoe. He didn’t turn to dust but he stumbled out of reach. And then Belinda had me by the hair, wrapping it around her wrist and yanking savagely.
I could all but hear Grandpa’s grumble of disapproval.
Why did a certain kind of girl always go for the hair?
My neck muscles stretched near to breaking, my head angled painfully to
the side, exposing my jugular. Saliva dripped on my arm and onto the ground. She was drooling. Gross.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Matthew said, approaching me. He plucked the stake out of his flesh as if it were a thorn off a rosebush. Red petals of blood scattered around him. Belinda held me steady for him, giving into the temptation of my blood by nipping me once. It was no worse than a bee sting but I recoiled, going cold down to my bones. She licked at the tiny puncture marks as if I was bleeding ice cream.
“Ew,” I tried to elbow her. “Get off me.”
I couldn’t see how Chloe was doing, couldn’t even hear her. I could only see Matthew’s sharp teeth and the way he twirled the bloody stake over his knuckles, like a street juggler. Even his polo shirt was suddenly menacing.
“Ever wonder how it feels to get one of these in the heart?” he asked pleasantly.
I tried to shrink back, even as Belinda forced me forward. I crushed her instep. She didn’t let me go but she did swear viciously, which I enjoyed.
Where the hell was everyone?
“It seems only fair,” Matthew continued. “A bit of karma, if you will.” He twirled the stake again. “Shall we see how long you scream?”
“Are you ever going to shut up?” I snapped, fear and irritation filling me in equal measures. “This isn’t your monologue, Hamlet. It’s the battle scene, in case you’ve forgotten.”
His eyes narrowed so fast they nearly sparked. They were the color of honey on fire. One of the others growled like an animal, low in his throat. It made all the hairs on my arms stand straight up.
I was going to die for making fun of Shakespeare.
My English Lit professor would be so proud.
And then Matthew was screaming.
The stake clattered at my feet but I couldn’t reach it. I used Belinda’s iron grip to secure a pivot that knocked Sam off both his feet as he came at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Matthew hit the ground, broken glass grinding under his weight. There was a blur of movement and then the shadow coalesced into a dark shirt, pale skin, and blue eyes like burning gasoline.
Quinn.
I had no idea where he’d come from and I didn’t have time to wonder about it. Belinda was clacking her teeth at me.
Drake Chronicles 03 - Out for Blood Page 10
