Me and You and a Ghost Named Boo (Southern Vampire Detective Book 2)

by Selene Charles

  I shrugged. “Humans, when I can.”

  In a move that shocked me, his finger was suddenly tracing my chest above the spot of my wildly beating heart, right where Sharp Elbows had left me permanently disfigured and scarred. Fire danced along my flesh, causing my skin to tingle and burn in a delicious friction of desire, anger, and desperate want.

  “I hear your heart again, Scar.”

  I frowned. “Again?”

  His blue-green eyes had been faraway and soft, but at my question, his mask slipped on, and my pulse practically flatlined. If he put up walls right then, I was going to scream.

  My nose twisting into a snarl, I reached for the door handle, ready to yank the thing off its hinges, when his strong, callused hand clamped around my wrist.

  “Stop running away from me,” he said with deadly earnest.

  “What? Me, running away? Oh, that’s fucking rich, Merc—”

  His full lips pinched before he said, “I’m here, aren’t I? What more... What can I—”

  My nails turned into claws as the hand he gripped curled tightly. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me other than I hurt. I was like a wounded animal bleeding out and dying and needing to get away before any more of me got mangled. I was a deadly predator, but in that scenario, I’d always been his prey.

  There was only one person in the universe really capable of destroying me.

  A sound like a sob and a wild laugh spilled out of my chest. “You should never have left in the first place.”

  “You were with him,” he hissed, voices of man and beast rumbling together.

  Steven squirmed between us, and I glared hot death at Merc to keep his voice down. Clamping my hand against the side of my brother’s face, I rocked him gently back to sleep.

  Apparently, Mercer and I were destined to have this chat in the parking lot of a strip mall after all.

  “Because you shoved me away, like always.”

  His jaw opened, and his tongue worked over his teeth, which had grown to sharp points. He was losing his grip on his animal, but I knew he would never hurt Steven. Once, I’d been sure he wouldn’t harm me either, but not anymore. I didn’t know anything anymore.

  His throat worked hard, as though he meant to say something, but when the words failed to come, I rolled my eyes, tossing up my hands in a gesture of disgust and surrender.

  “You know what, Merc? Whatever. Doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t matter, and that’s fine. It’s... Just... Yeah. Whatev—”

  “Yes. You do.”

  His words were so low and animalistic that I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. My nostrils flared, scenting the wolf in the air. The ghostly image of it burned through his eyes. I’d never been scared of his wolf, but my own beast rose in response.

  “What?” I asked with a hint of a rasp.

  “You’ve always mattered to me,” he said softly, slowly, his glowing eyes never straying from mine.

  He was lying. He had to be. He couldn’t have been looking at me like that for real, as if I was the sun, stars, and moon of his universe, as though I was all that mattered to him, all that he needed. It wasn’t possible. Mercer would never do that. Even at our closest, he’d always kept me at a distance. Even when he’d kissed me as if he wanted to devour my soul in the process, he immediately slammed up those walls. Even when I’d saved him from the hangman’s noose and I was the only thing standing between him and death, he still eventually pushed me away.

  He always let me know I wasn’t good enough for him, wasn’t wolf enough, just wasn’t... My brows dipped, and my lips parted slightly. All words were lost to me as I waited for that moment when he shut me out again, but all I saw in return was a broken man finally letting me get a good glimpse of his soul.

  I shivered and opened my mouth, about to say only God knows what when a bloodcurdling scream rent the silence, causing me to jump in my seat and Mercer to growl. As one, we looked up, and that’s when I saw the worst possible scenario I could imagine.

  My fangs pierced through my gums, and I hissed. A group of three humans were standing back to back beneath a lamppost at least a hundred yards ahead. Their eyes were wide, terror etching an indelible mark upon their faces.

  A man—blonde, brown eyes, average height and build—stood before the two women, his arms extended as if to ward off the circle of Veilers surrounding them. At a quick glance I’d say there were at least fifty, if not more, fangers already there and I could hear the scuffle of more coming.

  A large gaping wound was leaking massive quantities of blood with each bump of the man’s heart, like a call to dinner. The beautiful faces of the undead were twisting, reforming into something cruel, monstrous, and demonic.

  “Oh shit,” I said the moment I saw human cops come rushing out through the gates of the mall wearing riot gear.

  Their equipment was special: black, hammered steel spelled by high-level witches to be impervious to the bites of Veilers.

  Extended in their hands were pistols, and their eyes were dark and intense as they circled the band of humans, a living shield defying the Veilers to come at them and break the tenuous peace treaty between our species. In exchange for land and the right to govern ourselves as we wished, the only law we were forced to abide by was to absolutely not kill any humans.

  If the authorities found out we had, our lives were forfeit, no questions asked. The law was very black and white on that matter.

  The human male was leaking blood everywhere. He’d dropped to his knees, clinging to his neck, looking dazed and pale from the rapid and excessive blood loss. The front of his once-cream shirt was stained a brackish red.

  Most of the vampires hung back, clinging to one another, maybe for support or more likely as a last-ditch attempt to try to hold themselves back from the temptation of forbidden fruit. Their faces were twisted masks of primal, raw hunger and even a twinge of wariness.

  But one was standing in front of the others, wearing a stain of blood down the front of her ecru blouse. A gorgeous and antique-looking pendant rested against her breast. It drew my eye because the dark-red stone almost looked to be glowing. Blood leaked from the corners of her lips. A ladies’ hat lay by her feet, ribbons fluttering like shriveled black fingers in the stirring breeze. Her pretty blond hair was askew, her eyes burning demon red. Even to the untrained eye, it was obvious she’d drawn first blood.

  She was two seconds away from losing her shit and ending them all. This was clear from her stance, that animalistic, predatory pose that spoke volumes without saying a word. They were hers, and death would claim anyone who tried to horn in.

  I licked my fangs, which had dropped, and clenched my fingers on the wheel. Because of Mercer’s training all those years before, I could resist the call of food, but the female fanger wasn’t holding up nearly as well. She was shaking, muscles spasming violently. In seconds, I analyzed the situation and reacted as I’d been trained to do for the past two decades.

  Mercer tensed as if knowing my thoughts the moment I’d thought them.

  “Scarlett, don’t you fucking dare!” he barked.

  Too late.

  I already had one foot out the door. One of my own was about to be mowed down. Sides would be chosen, and the peaceful night would soon turn into a bloodbath if someone didn’t step up and stop it immediately.

  “Merc, watch Steven!” I snapped back then ran, practically flying on my feet as the officer in charge slid his finger onto his trigger.

  Flashbacks of me in that officer’s position filled my brain. Cops have a stance, a posture when they mean business—the thinning of the lips and mouth, the intense concentration, and the widening of the legs.

  That cop was deadly serious. With just one twitch, one minute jerk of movement, the vampire would become a crimson splatter of memory.

  Killing a vampire was hard unless one knew how.

  Human cops did.

  Two to one, that cop’s bullets were consecrated aspen tipped in silver—a stake, in oth
er words, a really, really fast-moving one. If I was right and he’d grabbed aspen bullets, she’d go down no matter where she got hit.

  I didn’t know much about my kind, but I did know something. The original vampire had been hanged and then quartered upon an aspen tree. His blood forever twisted the DNA of all future aspens, making them as deadly to us as snake venom to humans.

  We would die, and we’d suffer a slow, excruciating end until we did.

  Coming to a stop just outside the periphery of the twitchy cop, I held up my hands and cleared my throat. The sound of it rang out like a cannon in the eerie stillness of the cool night.

  Then all eyes turned toward me.

  Chapter 3

  Mercer

  Mercer didn’t stop to think about what he was doing. He drilled a hot stare into his youngest brother’s frightened eyes. Steven was a wolf of the clan McCarrick. It was time to start acting like one.

  “Stay in the truck, Steven. Lock the doors behind me. Don’t fucking follow me, you hear?”

  Steven shook his head, his small jaw quivering as he tugged at the hem of his faded shirt. “What’s... what’s gonna happen to Scar?”

  Mercer’s heart spasmed violently. Each second he stayed in the truck was a second where God only knew what might happen, and he’d be damned if he stayed put and watched her die.

  He’d already fucking done that once.

  Grabbing hold of his brother’s thin shoulders, he squeezed gently but forcefully. “Someday, you’re going to be a powerful shifter of the Clan McCarrick, do you understand?”

  Steven nodded, eyes wide and the whites large in his face, but the boy had a spine of steel.

  “Scar’s gonna be all right. I vow to the darkness that binds, I will allow nothing to harm her. But I cannot help her and watch you at the same time.”

  Understanding crossed his brother’s eyes, and pride bloomed in Mercer’s chest.

  Scar’s anxiety raced through his veins like a shot of speed. Ever since he’d given her of his blood back in his hunting cabin, he’d felt her emotions on a visceral level. She was alert, anxious, and in predator mode. The beast within him was clawing to get free, to fight... to kill. To be beside her, come what may.

  Hands shaking because of an excess of adrenaline, Mercer stepped down from the truck. “Roll up the windows. Lock the doors. And if you need me for any reason, howl.”

  Steven was already fast at work rolling up Scar’s window.

  Mercer ran, his heart beating through his chest. The scent of blood was dizzying, smacking his sensitive nostrils after the first few steps.

  The older vampires, more capable of control, were standing back, but wildness was gleaming in the eyes of many. The situation was just one spark away from a blaze.

  His gaze was fixed on Scar as he padded toward her predatorily. The sea of Fangers parted before him like the splitting of the Red Sea. No doubt, they sensed the caged animal just barely leashed. Mercer needed every ounce of self-control he possessed to not snap and snarl, but the mood was tense.

  A word.

  A wrong look.

  A sudden movement, and they’d all pounce.

  Scarlett was holding her hands before her in a posture of submission, but her back was stiff and straight. That was the equivalent of a wolf lowering its head but baring its fangs, a visible signal that she wouldn’t start things but would damn sure end them if needed.

  Dressed in a frilly, flowery top that showed off her long swan neck and creamy bare shoulders, along with a short blue-jean skirt, Scarlett stood out among the pretentious peacocks surrounding her.

  The tips of her long brown hair—which had grown down to her waist over the summer—waved like charmed snakes in the stiff fall breeze. She continued walking forward, which set his teeth on edge and caused his pulse to thump erratically as she put herself directly in the line of fire, standing before the vampiress coated in the human’s blood.

  The human was pale as a ghost and lying flat on the asphalt, eyes closed, looking dead to the world. Mercer could hear a bump of a heartbeat, but just barely. The man needed a hospital soon.

  It wasn’t Mercer’s job to question why in the hell a bunch of humans had decided to trespass on Veiler land or what they’d hoped the outcome would be. If he were a petty person, he would’ve said they were getting exactly what they deserved.

  However, he doubted Scarlett would share his views. She was still defiantly human in many ways, which was one of the things he’d always loved about her. Her inability to realize she no longer lived in that softer, gentler world was a part of her he would always fight to protect because her humanity was his. Without it, he would no doubt become the kind of monster Clarence was.

  “Okay, let’s just put the gun down,” she said softly but resolutely, using her cop voice.

  “Get out of the way, fanger,” the human cop snapped. “Don’t fucking think I won’t shoot you, too.”

  Her shoulders tensed. Scar never took kindly to being called a fanger. Despite Mercer’s fears and worries and rage at the thought of anything happening to her, his lips twitched at the fire inside her.

  She was still his Scar, still that vibrant, colorful firecracker, looking all sweet and soft until someone pissed her off and the beast came out.

  The injured male groaned, and a wet gurgling sound intruded on Mercer’s thoughts. Eyes narrowing, he flicked his eyes off Scar for just a moment, just a fraction of a second.

  That’s when he finally noticed a shadow pulling on the man’s arm. Another vampire was hidden in deep shadow, too weak to resist the call of so much blood.

  If that human died by a fanger’s hands, it wouldn’t matter who’d done it. Any Veiler arrested here tonight would be tried and hanged in a human court, and nobody would be able to do a damned thing to stop it.

  Mercer came up behind Scarlett, resting his hand on her lower back to let her know it was him. She tensed for half a second before melting into his touch.

  The cop eyed Mercer hard, looking for the telltale sign of a fanger, but he knew the cop didn’t have a clue what he was when his brows drew down in confusion.

  Leaning forward, Mercer whispered low and for Scar’s ears only. “Vamp feeding at my eleven.”

  A second later she hissed, the word sounding an awful lot like “shit.”

  “Look, I’m the sheriff of Silver Creek. We can handle this civilly,” she said, her voice betraying none of the anxiety he knew she was feeling. “Let the vamps go, and let’s get that human a medic, like now.”

  She said it loudly enough that Mercer knew she was trying like hell to get that silently feeding vamp to back off.

  Then, just when he thought the damned day couldn’t get any worse, all hell broke loose.

  The human women screamed. Whether they’d noticed the male being fed on or whether they had become the meal, Mercer had no idea, but those screams rang the dinner bell.

  Vampires pounced.

  Bullets whizzed.

  More cops appeared, taking out their batons and swinging wildly as they were taken down by the manic hands of far too many feral vampires, too deeply gone in their lust to realize the terrible line they’d just crossed.

  The sounds of feeding were everywhere.

  Mercer’s sole concern was Scar’s safety. Grabbing her hand, he jerked, trying to force her back to the truck. She nodded, clutching tightly to his forearm as the crush of bodies grew thicker.

  Vampires raced out from the strip mall, alerted by the heavy scent of blood everywhere.

  “Steven?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “Safe,” Mercer muttered, shoving aside a vampire who made to reach for him. He ripped his claws straight down its model-pretty face.

  The female screeched, covering her eyes with her hands. More vampires came. At the sounds of bodies being ripped apart and the thick stench of death coating Mercer’s lungs, he felt his body responding, shifting into that in-between form of man and beast. He felt his eyes glowing as the wolf took
over.

  At one point, he was forced to release Scarlett when several sets of hands snatched at her, yanking her from his grasp.

  Vampires could, and sometimes would, feed on one another, especially if they were bloated with the blood of something powerful, something like a shifter.

  Fur ripped from his arms and legs, shredding his clothes. The transformation was quick and excruciating, causing him to snarl, to rip at anything that dared get too close to him. With his heart in his throat, the beast caged inside him was wild and desperate to get to its mate. Mercer was relentless in his attack.

  The fangers finally noticed the full-blooded Alpha shifter in their midst and screamed in fear, rage, and fury.

  The parlay was over, and the safe zone became a killing ground.

  Fangers, high on blood and fueled by madness, threw themselves at him, clawing his shoulders and ribs. Banding their steel-strong arms around his waist, they bore down, squeezing tight.

  Mercer was mindless, twirling, snapping, biting, tearing out throats, ripping off hands, arms, faces, anything and everything.

  Then he saw Scarlett, transformed into her own monster. Her beautiful face was a mask of killing frenzy as she slashed and tore at the bodies around her, blood on her mouth, running down her slender ivory neck.

  Her blood-red eyes found his, and he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Run, her eyes said. He nodded and did as she bade. Then and only then did she run too.

  A fanger jumped Mercer from behind, knocking him to the ground and forcing the air out of his lungs on impact. Then the fanger’s hands were on his jaws and prying them open, almost to the point of breaking. Mercer thrashed around violently, trying to shake the damned thing off, but it wouldn’t budge. His mandible felt as though it was a heartbeat away from snapping.

  Just when he was sure he’d fucked up good, the body was suddenly gone, and Scarlett was there, her face coated in viscous blackness. He hobbled to his paws, whimpering beneath his breath as his fractured ribs rubbed against one another.

  “Get up, Merc. Now. Let’s go,” she said in the demon-roughened voice of a transformed vampire.