The Dead Wolves: An Ashwood Novel (Cursed and Damned Book 1)

by Lee Dignam

  “You must be out of your fucking mind coming here, Neo,” Mister Red said.

  “I have questions for you,” Neo said.

  “Questions? What could you possibly have to ask me?”

  “Not here. In private.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to do that. The last thing I want to do is associate myself with the target of a blood hunt.”

  Blood hunt. Mister Red’s words exploded like a grenade that left Cyanide’s ears ringing, and his voice echoing in the front of her mind. All she could do was look at Neo, whose lips were still moving, and wait for the momentary shellshock to pass. Mister Red’s words had been too confident to have been lies, and she didn’t think he had a reason to lie about something like that either.

  The worst part wasn’t that he had said the words—it was the effect they had had on the other vampires watching. Some had stepped away, horrified to have heard it. Others, though, were rolling their shoulders and flexing their fingers.

  Cyanide’s head craned around in slow motion. Mister Red was speaking, though she couldn’t hear what he was saying. There was only the ringing in her ear, and the constant echo of the words like the beating of a monstrous heart: blood hunt, blood hunt, blood hunt. The way out was clear and open. She could have pulled her arm out of his grip and fled down the stairs, or thrown herself over the banister and into the crowd of dancing mortals.

  Instead, with a hard shove, putting all of her strength into her shoulder, she pushed Mister Red across the stairs and over the banister before he had time to react.

  “Run!” Neo said.

  Cyanide didn’t stick around to watch Mister Red strike the crowd below. She kicked off the stiletto shoes she had been wearing and took to the stairs, pushing Neo as she went, summoning her superhuman speed to allow her to move so fast she became little more than a blur even to the vampire onlookers. When they made it to ground level, Cyanide threw herself at an emergency exit, almost taking it off its hinges as she went.

  Neo followed, keeping pace with her as she sprinted across the asphalt. Behind them, Mister Red, Asimov, and what looked like a horde of vampires hungry to claim on Neo’s blood hunt exploded onto the street.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Cyanide kept her head down and pushed her supernaturally empowered legs as fast as they could go. “This way,” she yelled, pulling Neo into the long mile of nightclubs and pubs she had crossed on her way to Heaven.

  “My car isn’t down there,” Neo said.

  “They’ll catch your car, but they won’t catch us.”

  The street crowds began to swell the deeper they pushed into the district. They shoved their way through a bachelorette party, a group of rowdy kids looking for a fight, and a pair of tired beat cops. Cyanide slowed to a running pace fit for a human and evaporated into the crowd, bringing Neo in behind her.

  Asimov and his goons weren’t far behind. She could hear them entering the press of people, but Cyanide still had the advantage, and she used it, putting as many people between her and Asimov as possible until, finally, Neo pulled her across the street and towards an alley dark enough to go unnoticed.

  She pulled the black wig from her head, shaking her green hair out and letting it tumble over her shoulders. She backed away from the edge of the alley, now—Neo by her side. Asimov was out there somewhere, skulking through the crowd, hunting for her. But he didn’t have her scent, didn’t know what she looked like without the wig on, and this alley was almost as dark as the naked night itself.

  She could see Asimov, his bald head gleaming beneath the streetlights. She was about to make a break for the other side of the alley when Neo grabbed her by the shoulders, pinned her against a wall, and pressed his lips against hers. The darkness here would strip away Neo’s red hair color just as easily as it would Cyanide’s shocking jade, so the two of them looked like no more than a pair of drunken fools about to jump each other in the dead of night.

  But Cyanide’s thoughts weren’t there. They weren’t with Asimov, his goons, or Mister Red. Not with Daniel, or with Kaitlyn, or even with Angel who had made such an impression on her. No. Her thoughts were with Neo and the taste of his lips on hers. She wasn’t sure whether it was the buzz from the blood cocktail or the fact that her own veins still ran hot with stolen blood; whatever it was had caused her to lose herself in a moment of bliss like none she had ever experienced.

  Her hands wrapped themselves around his neck as she pushed deeper into the kiss, teasing his lips with her tongue and grabbing shallow handfuls of his hair. His lips weren’t enough, his mouth, his tongue, it wasn’t enough. Countless nights had gone by where they had shared a bed, neither of them making a move toward the other for an equally countless number of reasons.

  And now he was kissing her, even if it was only to blend in—to lose the trail.

  But words uttered minutes ago by Mister Red came bubbling up like acid reflux to ruin the mood—blood hunt, he had said. It took every ounce of willpower and self-control she had to plant her palms on Neo’s chest and push him back, but she managed. And as he stared at her, eyes for the first time wide and full of feeling, she slapped him across the face with as much might as she could muster.

  Neo didn’t stagger, but his head turned from the force of the blow. When he brought his eyes back to bear on her, she hit him again, this time with the other hand, and this time with enough force to cause him to reach for the wall for balance.

  “A blood hunt!” she yelled, not caring who could hear her—not caring that Asimov may still be within earshot. “A fucking blood hunt, Neo?”

  Neo said nothing. He simply stared at her, but there wasn’t surprise or anger in his eyes at just having been hit, no emotion, no desire to retaliate. Whatever feeling he had expressed an instant ago was gone; it had retreated back into him like the turtle that senses danger, or the ostrich that digs its head into the sand.

  “What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?” she asked, the anger in her voice coming through clearly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry. That’s great. You’ve got a blood hunt on your head, one you decided not to tell me about, but it’s alright because you’re sorry.”

  “I wanted to tell you.”

  “So, what stopped you? I’ve been here literally the entire time.”

  “It’s more complicated than you think.”

  “How? I think a blood hunt is pretty fucking simple—vampires want to find you and kill you. Am I missing something?”

  “You’re missing everything.”

  “Then why don’t you help me understand?”

  Someone went running past the alley and Neo’s head snapped to the side, anxious and ready to bolt, but it wasn’t Asimov or his goons—just a drunk guy without a shirt, running from the cops.

  “How long have you known, Neo?” Cyanide asked, bringing the conversation back into focus.

  Neo gave her his eyes again, eyes that had been as cold as his lips. “Not long.”

  “How long?”

  “Since yesterday.”

  “Before or after we rescued the girls?”

  “Before.”

  “Jesus.” Cyanide ran her hands through her hair, took a step away from him, and turned around. “And I slept in your bed. I was in your bed, right there next to you, and you didn’t tell me.” She snapped around again, her hair a flash of muted green in the dark. “Why?”

  Neo stared at her in silence, his face stoic and unreadable, like marble. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Worry!” she said, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “What the hell did you think I’d do if you told me?”

  “I needed you to focus on what you were doing. You’re no good to anyone if you’re worrying about me.”

  “I’m no good to anyone? It’s not like I would have shut down, Neo!”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I don’t care what you meant! You have a blood hunt on your head. Vampires are com
ing for you, half the fucking city will be coming for you after tonight, and I had to find out from Mister Red. Do you have any idea how much that sucks?”

  Again, Neo didn’t respond, choosing instead to remain silent—or failing to come up with anything worth saying. Cyanide could never figure out which it was with him. Was he just careful with his words, or did he have trouble manifesting his feelings? Whichever it was, it made her undead blood boil.

  “Whatever,” she said, and she started on her march toward the opposite side of the alley.

  “Wait…” he said.

  She stopped, but didn’t turn around. “What?” she asked.

  “You shouldn’t go,”

  “And why not?”

  “Because it’s not safe out there. Not tonight.”

  Cyanide turned her head. “You’re asking me not to leave you alone? Give me one good reason why I should stay with you.”

  Neo didn’t immediately answer, and Cyanide was about to start moving again, but then he spoke. “I should have told you,” he said. “I don’t… think… the way you do. I don’t act the way you act.”

  “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Daniel was there when the blood hunt was called.”

  Cyanide turned, now. Slowly. “What?” she asked, her brows pinching together.

  “He saw it happen. He knows who called it, who was there, who drank from the chalice.”

  It took a while for the question to come, but it came at last. “Did he drink?”

  “You know he had to.”

  She shook her head from side to side. “I don’t believe this. You both knew about this and neither of you told me. Is it because I’m young, is that it?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it? Because I don’t believe the ‘you didn’t want to worry me’ line.”

  “I told you before, it’s more complicated than that.”

  “Then unless you figure out a way to un-complicate it, I’m leaving.”

  “I can’t. Cyanide, I can’t. Not without Daniel.”

  “We’re part of the Dead Wolves, not Daniel. He hired us to find his missing girl. Since when do you need Daniel to do anything?”

  Neo said nothing, but she knew there was more to say. Mountains more. The secrets hidden behind his lips begged to be released. The truth will out, as they say. But Neo was a fortress of apathy, whose actions weren’t guided by emotional urges or needs, but by simple, cold, logic. If he didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t. That was just the kind of man he was.

  She knew then, as he closed up like a vault, that she wouldn’t get the answers she needed from him.

  “I’m going to leave,” she said, “And this time, you won’t stop me.”

  “It’s dangerous,” Neo said.

  “Yeah, maybe for you. I’m not the one with the blood hunt on my head.”

  Cyanide started to walk for fear her legs would betray her and keep her rooted to the spot. She hadn’t wanted to be so cruel, so spiteful, but he had given her little choice. Had she chosen to stay even for another minute, she may not have been able to gather the courage to leave, but she was moving now, and when she got to the end of the alley, she took a left turn without looking back.

  A light drizzle had begun to fall, and the crows were cawing from their perches upon electrical cables and the tops of street lights. They had watched it all, had been the only witnesses to what had happened in that alley. But she would find no comfort in them, no solace, only indifference—that same brand of coldness Neo wore like a shield to protect his own emotions.

  The drizzle had turned to rain as the minutes ticked on. Cyanide found shelter in a nook, her warm skin now susceptible to the cold—even if it wouldn’t kill her or make her sick. She plucked her phone from her purse, wiped the excess flecks of water from the screen, and dialed the number of the only person she knew she could trust to pick her up without asking any questions. The only person who kept herself far enough away from Daniel and Neo that she wouldn’t know the ins and outs of what was going on.

  Pixi.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Daniel stalked around the corner, keeping his back close to the wall, and scanned the crowd for signs of vampires. He was there when Neo and Cyanide came bursting out of Heaven, and had given chase with the rest of the horde that had been following them, but they looked scattered now. They must have been given the slip.

  In the crowd, he spotted the bald man who could only have been Asimov. He was on his own when Daniel spotted him, but was soon joined by three other men—neither of whom he recognized. Friends? Minions? The latter was more likely. They talked, exchanged disgruntled looks, and then one of the unidentified vampires nodded before moving away from Asimov with the other two guys by his side, leaving Asimov alone.

  Daniel watched him as he headed back toward Heaven. When he was far enough out of the way, Daniel moved into the crowd and checked every back alley and street until he saw Neo coming out of one, without any regard for stealth or keeping himself hidden from sight. Daniel rushed at him and pushed him back into the alley.

  “Are you crazy?” he asked, “Someone could have seen you.”

  “They’re gone,” Neo said, “We’re safe.”

  “Where’s Cyanide?”

  “She’s gone, too.”

  “Gone? What do you mean?”

  “I mean she took off. I couldn’t stop her.”

  He took a second to process what Neo had just said. “Why did she leave?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Daniel pressed Neo against the wall. “Look, I don’t have time to play twenty questions. Where did she go?”

  Neo didn’t struggle, and his eyes seemed distant, glazed over, as if he were staring at a point somewhere in the distance. Maybe the moon. “I don’t know,” he said.

  “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully, okay? Snap the hell out of it.”

  A light wind passed between them, and Neo’s eyes suddenly shifted to find Daniel’s. “I don’t know where she went,” he said, his voice still low but sharp, now, attentive. “We had a fight, she was mad I hadn’t told her about the blood hunt.”

  “She knows?”

  “Red told her and half of the club.”

  Daniel released Neo and ran a hand through his own hair. “That’s great. Exactly what we need. What were you thinking going in there?”

  “I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  “And in doing so you’ve not only put a target on your back, but you’ve put it on hers, too.”

  “We knew that would happen sometime.”

  “Yes, but I was hoping that wouldn’t happen tonight, of all nights. It’s too soon, and she isn’t ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Ready for everything. I think her mind is starting to break free. It’s only a matter of time now before her memories come back, and when they do, she’s going to be pissed, to say the least.”

  Neo understood, now, what Daniel was trying to say. Realization appeared in his eyes. “We have to find her,” he said.

  “Yeah, we do. Her memories coming back is one thing, but if they come back and she’s found by Asimov, Red, or any of those other assholes, we’ll have more than just a blood hunt to deal with.”

  Neo scanned the alley from left to right. “She went that way,” he said, “But she could be anywhere by now.”

  Daniel pulled his phone from his pocket, dismissed the various missed-call notifications, and dialed Cyanide’s number, but got no response. He tried again, this time searching through his phone book until he found the contact he was looking for. He put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring out, then go to voicemail. “Fuck,” he said. “Cyanide isn’t answering, and neither is Pixi.”

  “Do you think she’s gone to Pixi?”

  “You’ve pissed her off; who else would she have gone to?”

  “So then she’s safe.”

  “Maybe, but I w
on’t feel comfortable until I know she’s safe.”

  Neo placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Look, it’s been a long night for all of us. Two long nights. Maybe you should go home and get some rest. I’ll go back to her place and wait. She’s bound to show up eventually.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Jessica needs you.”

  Daniel gave Neo his eyes, but said nothing.

  “I saw her name on your phone’s screen when you pulled it out. She’s been calling, hasn’t she?”

  “Yeah, she has,” Daniel said, shaking his head.

  “Maybe something’s up. You should call her.”

  “I should also help find Cyanide.”

  “You can’t do everything at once. Jessica is young. She doesn’t understand what’s happening, and she needs your guidance. Cyanide can take care of herself, and if she’s with Pixi, we know she’ll be alright.”

  Daniel looked at his phone, then up at Neo again. “And if she isn’t?”

  “Then we’ll deal with it. But you don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of finding her, not like this. Let me do that.”

  He clenched his jaw, hesitating, but then agreed. “Alright, fine. But I want you to call me the instant she turns up.”

  Neo nodded and released Daniel’s shoulder. “Do you need a ride?”

  “No,” Daniel said, “I’ll call one of my people. You should probably head back into Crow’s Heights.”

  “I know. Go, I’ll look for her.”

  Daniel stepped away from Neo, nodding, and then turned and headed into the drunk district, where the nighttime crowd was starting to thin. He called one of his drivers for a ride and stepped into the sleek, black sedan a couple of minutes later when it arrived on the street corner. As the car rolled seamlessly through the Ashwood streets, Daniel picked up his phone and tried calling Cyanide again.

  Still nothing.