by Tanith Frost
If we have to risk this group talking to the living, I guess we couldn’t have picked a better night for it. Assuming no one asks where they got those fabulous false fangs, of course. I doubt any of the old ones have heard of the Halloween stores that spring up like dandelions in St. John’s every September.
I smile at that. I bet this group would be a blast at a Halloween party. Or they could put on a hell of a haunted house if they wanted to, given Edwin’s performance skills.
“What’s on your mind?” Daniel asks. I hadn’t noticed him dropping back to walk with me, leaving Trent to lead.
“Just appreciating the company.” I nod toward the old ones. “They’re okay.”
“They are.” A crease forms between his thick eyebrows. “I hope they stay okay.”
“What do you mean?”
He kicks a stone out of his path. “They don’t belong in this world. They know it. They’re nervous.”
I frown back at him. “Edwin’s not nervous.”
“You sure?”
I look ahead to the vampires following Trent. Daniel is right. There’s a wariness about them that I’d been assuming had everything to do with last night’s events and the hunters, but maybe that’s not it. They’re in unfamiliar surroundings, not only in place, but in time. Hannabelle winces as cars whiz past, and Lucille’s steps slow as we pass a fake vampire and witch in their twenties, sitting on a porch, taking selfies next to a pumpkin, laughing.
Out of habit I reach into my pocket for my flip phone, though I know it’s gone. I wouldn’t feel any less like an outsider here and now even if I did have it. Those two women must be about my age, but their lives are nothing like mine. While I’m not exactly sorry to be missing out on dick pics and social media drama, it does remind me of how different I am now.
In some ways, I’m more like this group of ancient, out-of-touch creatures than I am my former peers.
“We just need to get to the safe house, right?” I remind Daniel. “We’re almost there. They’re doing just fine.”
The group pauses at the edge of the circle of blinding fluorescent light that surrounds a decrepit gas station set well back from the road. There’s one car at the pumps, a brown station wagon with a cracked windshield. No sign of the driver.
“You want to take this?” Daniel asks me. “Or I can go.”
“I’ve got it. You want a map?”
He nods. “The fewer people who hear where we’re headed, the better.” He reaches out and plucks a yellow birch leaf from my hair, then offers it back to me. “Unless you want to dress up as a dryad tonight.”
“I’m good, thanks. I’m going to need some cash, though. I suspect my cards are burned to a crisp by now.”
He hands me a credit card from his wallet—one that doesn’t have my name on it, but it’s not his, either—and I turn to go.
“Wait, dear.” Genevieve opens her suitcase and pulls out her cobalt blue scarf, which she wraps around my neck. “I know you can handle the cold, but a human would dress more warmly. No need to raise questions.”
For the briefest moment she looks like a concerned mother, and it’s all I can do not to wrap my arms around her, close my eyes, and take comfort from it. But I don’t, and the moment passes.
“Go on, then,” she says.
I leave them in the shadows and step into the glare, trying not to squint too much. I wish I had my sunglasses. It’s not just the irritating lights I’m worried about, but the way my eyes threaten to give me away if people look too closely. They’re too pale. Too weird, especially when my pupils constrict in bright light.
T.G.I.H., I guess. Thank God it’s Halloween.
A bell tinkles as I enter the building, and the guy behind the counter turns to look at me. He’s just finishing up payment with an older woman in a pale grey trenchcoat—maybe sixty, pretty in spite of a few scars around her mouth, but hard around the eyes. They both look me over, and I give the guy a wave as I head for a rack of maps beside the beer cooler.
I grab a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses while I’m at it, then select six more pairs for the others. I’ll pay Daniel back if we survive this.
A faint scent of smoke reaches me as I approach the counter and remember that I should be breathing. The guy, a middle-aged fellow with a pot belly and coke-bottle glasses, looks my purchases over. “Whadja needa map for?”
“Sorry?” I ask, half because of his accent and half because it’s a weird question.
“You’re here arready, aren’t ya?”
I can’t tell if he’s joking.
“I… yeah. We’re from out of town,” I tell him. “Could you just ring that through?”
The woman is standing by the door now, watching me. I watch her back, though I don’t turn toward her to do so.
There’s something odd about her, but I can’t place it. Both of the powers within me suddenly feel like they’re turned up to eleven, and I close my eyes for a moment as familiar waves of dizziness wash over me. It’s because of her, but I don’t know what it is.
“Where’d ye get those contacts?” the guy asks.
KAHN-tects.
I open my eyes, but don’t look right at him. I’m still focused on the woman. “Online.”
He rings the map, then the sunglasses. Those, he doesn’t ask about. Small mercies.
The bell over the door tinkles again as the other customer leaves, and I’m finally able to drown the golden light inside me under my darkness again. Something leaves with her. A hint of electricity in the air, maybe, but so faint I can’t place it.
“Who was that?” I ask as I watch her return to her car. She’s got a bit of a limp, and leans heavily on the car as she pulls her door open.
“Lives up the hill. Don’t hear much out of her.” He gives me my total and I pay, tapping the card so I won’t have to forge a signature for whatever the hell fake identity Daniel has going on here.
I glance at the card. William Fogel.
Mine is Katy Ericsson. Bet they’d make a cute couple.
The guy bags my stuff. “Take care, now.”
“Thanks.”
I push the glass door open with my shoulder and make my way out.
The station wagon is still outside, slowly accelerating away from the pump as I step into the parking lot. Her slow departure doesn’t strike me as strange until she hits the gas hard and spins the wheel, aiming straight for me.
I dive away, though not quite quickly enough. The car’s fender slams into my ankle, throwing me off course as I tuck into a roll. My shoulder hits the pavement hard and I somersault sideways, springing up and letting my momentum carry me as I push off from the pavement and run.
Not toward my travelling companions, but away from them.
Pain shoots up my leg, bright and searing, and I stumble as my ankle threatens to collapse beneath me. I will my void power to sustain me and carry me past what my physical body should be able to manage, gritting my teeth harder every time my foot slams against the pavement.
The car doesn’t follow, but screeches off into the night, heading toward the highway. I slow, then fade into the shadows at the side of the road. It’s instinctive. When I was alive, I’d have sought help as soon as there was trouble. Now I’m more like an animal, seeking a safe place to lick my wounds.
Fortunately, this isn’t quite the big city. Trees are plentiful even here along a larger road, and I limp deeper into the darkness. The pain in my ankle is worse now that I’ve slowed down, but it’s supporting me. That’s all I need.
Cold calm washes over me as I push through thick bushes. I’m not thinking now. Just moving, hiding away. Getting away from any humans who might have seen what happened and feel like coming after me.
My leg buckles, and I fall.
I’ve been hurt many times since my death, but I haven’t felt humiliated by it like this in a long time. I may never have perfected my skills during training, but by the time Daniel was done with me I knew how to dodge, how to fall, how to an
ticipate the unexpected, and how to avoid a situation where I only had one route of escape from a surprise attack.
I did get soft during my year with the werewolves. I trained, but the threats were controlled, and after a time they became predictable. This woman—this human—bested me. Maybe not quite as she’d hoped, but enough to hurt my pride as much as my body.
Fucking crazy bitch.
I sit up and unlace my boot to examine the injury. It’s dark enough that even I can’t see perfectly, but as I prod my ankle with my fingertips, it’s all clear enough. I can’t tell whether anything is broken, but the tissues are swelling. That in itself is bad. My living body would have thrown a hissy fit and puffed up at the slightest sprain, but things have to be pretty bad for a reaction like this now. Still, I can move everything. Even if there’s a small fracture in there, it will heal quickly. I have that going for me. I lace my boot back up, pulling it as tight as I can.
The bushes to my left rustle, and I freeze.
Daniel crouches beside me. “How bad is it?”
“It’s just my ankle. I can probably walk.”
His lips tighten to a thin line, and I think for a second that he’s mad at me for what just happened.
Then he leans in and kisses me, bracing himself against the tree at my back with one hand, cupping my face in the other. It’s not the lustful kiss I’ve become accustomed to from him, not tempting or teasing. It’s desperate, relieved. He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, and for a moment he’s completely open to me. Not his power, but his self, more than I’ve ever felt it.
Did I think he lacked emotions? I had no idea how good he was at hiding them. He washes over me in a wave that could drown me if I let it: fear, affection, rage, confusion. I feel his struggle to control it all, to close the box he’s left open, and I pull back.
I close off my perceptions, letting him pull himself together.
I thought I wanted to see him like that, but I’m afraid. I don’t know why. He just confirmed that I’m important to him, that he wants to murder whoever tried to hurt me. Isn’t that what I want?
“Daniel.” Trent’s voice reaches us from just beyond the bushes. “Is she all right?”
“Of course she is.” His forehead is still pressed to mine. Even in the darkness, his hazel eyes have a faint glow to them. I can’t look away.
Of course she is. As though it would be unthinkable for anything to make me otherwise.
He places a silent kiss just above the bridge of my nose before anyone can see, then sits back on his heels. The others crowd around, and I do a quick head count.
We haven’t lost anyone. Edwin and Lucille are clearly shaken. Hannabelle looks like she’s seen a ghost.
“I’m fine, guys,” I tell them.
No one speaks.
“What?”
“What did she look like?” Trent asks. His already gravelly voice has taken on a darker tone.
“Sixty-ish, I’d guess. Pretty. A bit pale, brown hair with grey streaks. Cheekbones you could slice tomatoes on. Walked with a limp. Looked like a bit of a hardass.”
Even in the dim light, Daniel looks a little green. “This is why the Blood Defenders are back,” he says quietly. “Count yourself among the lucky survivors, Aviva. You just walked away from an encounter with Helena Slade.”
Chapter Fourteen
I wish Daniel didn’t look so serious, or that I believed he might be joking.
“I… I thought she was dead,” I stammer.
“We all did,” he says. “It seems we were wrong. I only caught a glimpse of her as she drove away, but I don’t think my eyes deceived me.”
I rest my head in my hands. Helena Slade, the greatest vampire hunter of her time, was in that little store with me. I should probably be glad she didn’t try to stake me then and there.
Daniel stands, brushes the dirt off his pants, and offers me a hand. I pull myself up carefully and rest a little weight on my injured ankle. The pain flares in a sharp bolt that shoots up my leg. I grab Daniel’s arm before I can fall again.
“It’s really fine,” I tell everyone. “Just needs time to heal. I’ll manage until we get where we’re going.”
Daniel turns his back to me and crouches. “Come on, then.”
This is a far cry from how I’d intended to get on him just a few nights ago. I’d make a joke of it if the others weren’t here. Instead I hop up and settle my thighs against his sides, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and chest. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t answer, but squeezes my leg as he leads the old ones back toward the road. We pause in a sheltered spot where the light is better, and Lucille pulls the map out of her pocket. “Keep going this way,” she says.
“I don’t suppose you grabbed anything else?” I ask, and glance back at the rustle of plastic.
Genevieve holds up the bag of sunglasses. “The gas station attendant saw what happened. He ran out, then dashed back in to make a phone call. We grabbed your things while he was distracted.”
“The police will probably be here soon,” Trent says. “We need to move.”
We cross the road and follow it, but stick to the shadows when we can.
I feel helpless. It sucks. Still, I don’t hate that Daniel kind of rescued me. I’m not going to swoon or anything, but it’s cool. He’s got my back. He cares.
God, I’m a fucking idiot.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials as he walks, then slows when someone answers. “Viktor, why are you—”
He stops completely. I lower my head so it’s almost resting on his shoulder, and I hear every word.
“Daniel, where are you?” Viktor's voice is tinny, but I can’t miss its panicked edge.
“Almost to the safe house. I tried calling earlier, but—”
“Never mind. Listen.”
Daniel stops. “What’s going on?” His voice chills me. “Why are you answering Miranda’s phone?”
Silence for a moment, and then Viktor speaks again. “They attacked the Inferno.”
I grip harder onto Daniel. It’s all I can do not to grab the phone from him.
“What do you mean?” Daniel asks. He sounds calm, but I know better. The angrier Daniel is, the calmer he seems on the surface. To a point, at least.
“The Blood Defenders. A massive attack after we’d opened for the evening. They came in with stakes and silver-laced weapons. They terrified the stock, of course, and attempted to burn the building from within. It was a suicide mission, as far as I can tell.”
“I don’t see how it could be otherwise,” Daniel says, and I silently agree. The Inferno is the underground club where we feed, and there aren’t exactly a lot of escape routes. Even on a quiet night, walking in there uninvited would be like stepping into a nest of vipers.
If vipers weighed over a hundred pounds and had collectively spent hundreds of years kicking human asses.
“Where’s Miranda?” Daniel asks, and Trent narrows his eyes.
“She was injured, but is still with us.” Viktor pauses. “We suspect they were targeting her specifically.”
I can’t tell whether he sounds pleased or insulted by this.
“I need to speak to her,” Daniel says.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. She’s not in any condition to receive calls. You’ll take orders from me until she’s recovered.”
Fuck.
Daniel stiffens. “Then what’s next?”
“One moment.” Viktor's voice becomes muffled, as though he’s put his hand over the receiver. “Continue to the safe house and wait for further instructions.”
“We saw Helena Slade,” Daniel says. “She’s not dead. She’s in Holyrood, or she was a few minutes ago.”
The silence at the other end of the connection feels heavy. “Did she see any of you?”
“She tried to run one of us over.”
“One moment.”
Daniel flexes his fingers, cracking joints as he waits. I’d smack him f
or it if I wasn’t so interested in hearing the rest of the conversation. I don’t want to remind him I’m up here in case he kicks me off to get some privacy.
“This isn’t the end, then,” Viktor says when he comes back on the line. “If you’re correct and Slade lives, she won’t stop until she’s dead or we’re all finished.” The faint sound of fingers drumming on a hard surface comes through the connection. “Our immediate focus is on stock management and recovery.”
“If my crew is ready, we—”
Viktor doesn’t let Daniel finish. “Several are out of town, taking time off just as you have been, and we lost several of our personal guards in the attack. We’re in the process of calling the hunters back, but it may take a few nights to regroup.”
I can almost hear the gears turning in Daniel’s head, and have no doubt he’s already planning how the Blood Defenders will pay for this. “That gives me time to stay here, then, and—”
“Leave Aviva with the others. I want you to return to town immediately.” Viktor’s voice leaves no room for argument.
Daniel draws the necessary breath slowly before he speaks again. “It won’t be safe for them here. Not after we’ve been spotted.”
I can almost hear the smirk in Viktor's voice. “You said your trainee was capable. I’m sure she can handle her charges once they’re locked safely away again, and she can certainly deal with any attacks by a weakened force of hunters.” His voice drops to a more serious tone. “They’re not your concern. Maelstrom needs strength now, and nothing else. I’ll send a car to meet you near the power station.”
He hangs up before Daniel can argue.
Daniel stares down at the phone for a few seconds before he closes it and slips it into his pocket.
“What?” Lucille asks.
“We know why the Blood Defenders were quiet for so long,” he says. “They weren’t gone. They weren’t even without a leader. They were building their strength. Preparing for war.” He meets each of their anxious gazes in turn. “They attacked the Inferno.”
“Well, that was stupid of them.” Genevieve twists the hem of her jacket between her fingers. “Why on Earth would they do that?”
