He held me down, forcing our bodies together. My bare front pressed against his naked torso—and heat blazed from his skin into mine. Gasping, I instinctively pressed into his warmth. His hot arms banded across my icy back.
Holy crap, he was warm.
My chilled skin burned from his body heat. He was hotter than any human—or, at least, any human without a dangerous fever. I burrowed my frozen face into the side of his neck, only then realizing that my glasses were missing, lost in the turbulent water.
Somewhere outside our hiding spot, voices sounded louder than before.
“… smell blood …”
“… missing … do you see …”
“… who killed …”
“… keep searching!”
The words bounced off the walls, half lost in the water’s din. Vampires. More than one, and they were close. Would they find us hiding in this pipe? If they did, we had no escape. We were trapped.
Fear prickled over my skin and adrenaline sharpened my fuzzy brain. As my head cleared, my attention diverted from the voices to something far more immediate: Zylas’s warm hands running up and down my bare arms.
I was on top of Zylas.
No, not just on top. I was straddling him, my thighs pressed against his hips, my knees squeezing his sides. Our naked torsos were pressed tight together, skin against skin. My arms were tucked in close, hands gripping his bare shoulders as he rubbed more warmth into me.
With a mortified gasp, I shoved backward. Icy air hit my bare front, and as his gaze snapped from the pipe’s opening to me, I clamped my arms over my chest.
His mouth thinned in annoyance, then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back down.
“Zylas!” I hissed frantically, struggling to free myself. “Let me go!”
“You lost too much heat,” he growled. “Share mine, stubborn drādah.”
I gave one more desperate shove against his immovable arms, then slumped in defeat. The hottest blush in the history of blushes burned my cheeks as I rested my face against his shoulder.
Zylas stared at the pipe’s opening, his jaw tight—though whether with worry over the vampires’ proximity or annoyance with the stupid human, I didn’t know. As voices bounced through the cavernous channel, he tilted his head to catch the words with his sensitive hearing.
Something banged in the distance and Zylas gave the slightest start. I tensed in response, my blush reigniting and uncomfortable butterflies swirling through my gut. He stretched his neck, an ear tilted toward the sounds—and his hand slid up the length of my spine.
I shuddered from head to toe.
His eyes returned to me, fixing on my face. I peered up at him, frozen and unmoving, and he stared back, his expression a mystery in the near darkness.
Seizing my arms, he pushed me back against his thighs, his knees bent to keep his body—and mine—out of the water. As I blinked dumbly, he pulled his gear back into place and buckled the leather straps over his shoulder.
He found my shirt and wrung it out, then offered it to me. I snatched it from his hands, shook out the sleeves, and pulled it over my head. Gasping as the cold, damp fabric settled against my newly warmed skin, I suppressed another shiver.
“They have left this spot,” Zylas whispered. “We will go now.”
I nodded, distracted by the fact I was still straddling his waist.
“I will carry you,” he said. “You must hold on.”
“What—”
He nudged me off him. My knees splashed into the water and the cold burned. I’d forgotten how frigid it was. How hypothermic had I been before Zylas warmed me up? He’d probably saved my life with that alone.
Crouched in the flowing water, he caught my wrist and pulled me against his back. I gripped his shoulders, gulped hard, then wrapped my legs tightly around his waist. Scooting forward, he ducked low under the pipe’s curved ceiling and cautiously approached the opening.
I squinted in the dim light. Without my glasses, the main channel was unpleasantly blurry, but I could tell the water had risen. The frothing current splashed onto the concrete platform and violent streams poured from the connecting pipelines.
Zylas squeezed my thigh in warning and I tightened my legs around him, sliding one hand under his leather shoulder strap for a better grip.
He sprang out of the pipe and landed on the platform in a crouch. I clamped myself around him as he sped down the platform and cut through an icy torrent from another pipe. Water drenched my clothes all over again.
We came out the other side. The platform stretched on and Zylas broke into a smooth trot past small light bulbs hanging from rusted nails. Now that I wasn’t hypothermic, I knew why the sight had unnerved me. The lighting was a rudimentary addition to the channel’s original construction. I should’ve realized the lights meant people—or rather, vampires—had taken up residence down here.
Zylas zoomed past pipes and tunnels, large and small, each one disgorging runoff into the main channel. At a seemingly random point, he slowed, turned, and sprang into a tunnel as large as the one Zora had led us down earlier.
“How do you know which way to go?” I muttered.
“This one smells like blood.”
He sloshed through the thigh-deep water, fighting the current. His foot slipped and he lurched, grabbing the wall for balance. I gripped him more tightly. If I fell, I’d be swept right back into the main channel.
He waded upstream, the tunnel growing darker and darker as we left the lights behind. Ahead was an opening—another offshoot. Zylas hopped into it and ducked so neither of us hit our heads. Only the smallest trickle of water ran out and the walls were dry. More small bulbs hung from a long wire, casting a soft glow across the grimy walls.
Voices echoed down the tunnel.
Zylas prowled closer. The tunnel ran at a slight curve, hindering our view, and he drew to a stop. He sniffed at the air, then tapped my leg. Unclamping my limbs, I slid off his back. He started forward and I followed two steps behind.
Around the curve, I glimpsed moving shadows. People with dark clothing, thin builds, and no sign of gear or weapons. Vampires.
Gaze locked on the enemy, Zylas reached back and nudged my hip. I stopped. He took three more stalking steps, then coiled his body. His fingers curled, claws unsheathing.
“—can’t get a signal.” The vampire’s gravelly voice reached us. His silhouette held up a small object. “If we don’t report the—”
Zylas launched into a charge. The vampires didn’t see him until he was almost on top of them, and only then did crimson magic rush up his arms in glowing veins. Six-inch scarlet talons formed at the ends of his fingers.
I knew he wanted me to wait, but I bolted after him. As he slammed into the vampire trio, claws tearing and the creatures shouting, I homed in on the one who’d spoken. Zylas rammed his talons into the vampire’s heart, killing the fae spirit inside him, and the small object the man was holding spun through the air.
I ran forward, hands outstretched. The object bounced off my fingertips and flipped end over end. I snatched it out of the air.
Wow, I’d caught it? And without my glasses too.
The last vampire crumpled under Zylas’s claws, and he turned to me with a questioning look. I uncurled my fingers. A small flip phone rested on my palm.
The vampires’ other belongings were scattered around us—heaps of tattered fabric, garbage bags of who knew what, a disgusting amount of trash, and for some bizarre reason, a rusty shopping cart. Farther into the tunnel, a tarp formed a tent-like shelter, and sleeping bags were bundled in the corner. This section of tunnel was dry, suggesting a blockage somewhere along the line, and it stank.
Really stank.
Zylas’s magic faded from his arms and the darkness around us deepened—but not so much that I didn’t notice the metal rungs on the wall beside him. Shoving the phone in my wet pocket, I rushed toward the ladder and grabbed the bottom rung—so high above my head I could barely reach it.
Hands closing over my waist, Zylas lifted me. I scrambled onto the rungs and rushed upward. A grate waited at the top of the chute and a streetlamp’s orange glow leaked through it. I pushed on the metal, but it didn’t shift.
“I can’t …” I looked down. Zylas stood at the bottom, head tipped back as he watched me. “I can’t open it.”
“Weak drādah. Try harder.”
Bracing my forearm against the grate, I shoved with all my strength. The grate tilted up, then tipped over and hit the pavement with an ear-splitting clang.
I heaved myself out of the chute and collapsed beside it, panting with relief. An anonymous back alley surrounded me—towering buildings and concrete walls interrupted by blank metal doors and loading bays.
The infernus flared with light and heat. A streak of crimson power leaped from the chute, hit the silver pendant, and vanished inside it. My fingers closed around the warm disc, the center carved with the sigil of Zylas’s House.
“We did it,” I whispered, scarcely able to believe I was alive.
Chapter Thirteen
I stared glumly at the tall glass in front of me. In it, liquid the color and texture of mashed corn bubbled. I had no idea what was making it bubble like that. Cautiously, I touched the side of the glass. Wasn’t hot.
I didn’t want to know why it was bubbling.
Slumping in my chair, I tugged my blanket closer, the soft fabric wrapped around my shoulders and over my knees. My drenched clothes had gone straight into the garbage, and I wore a loose sweatshirt and black sweatpants, borrowed from Zora.
The Crow and Hammer pub was quiet—unsurprising for a weekday night. I was the only person sitting at a table, though half an hour ago, the rest of my “team” had been here too. All of them, even the bully Darren, had waited while a guild healer repaired the wound to my neck and performed the additional anti-vampire magic to stave off infection. With a final blood test, she’d confirmed I was safe. No contamination.
The team had cheered the good news. Maybe guilt, more than concern for my wellbeing, had fueled their celebration, but it had still been nice.
Footsteps pattered down the stairs from the guild’s upper level. Zora strode to my table, unclipping her baldric. She leaned her broadsword against the table and dropped into a chair.
“Drink your potion,” she ordered, nudging my glass closer to me.
“Sanjana didn’t say what it was,” I mumbled. A yellow bubble bulged from the lumpy surface, then popped with a tiny pff.
“It’s for the hypothermia. It’ll keep you from getting sick.” She gave a short laugh at my expression. “It looks worse than it tastes.”
Grimacing, I lifted the glass but couldn’t bring myself to drink it.
“Try closing your eyes.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a sip. Thick liquid hit my tongue and its rich flavor pinged across my taste buds.
“Popcorn?” I said disbelievingly, eyes opening.
“Told you it wasn’t that bad. Drink up!” She leaned back in her chair, her humor fading. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
I took a few uneager gulps of the liquid popcorn. “I need a proper vest like the rest of you have.”
“I thought you were wearing combat gear under your jacket.” Her face contorted with emotion before she rubbed her hands over her cheeks. “Robin, I’m so sorry. I should have confirmed you were prepared for the job. I just assumed … but I should have checked!”
Her final word came out harsh and fuming, but her anger was directed at herself, not me.
“Zora …” I cleared my throat, wondering if I was about to make a huge mistake. “It isn’t your fault. I don’t have any combat training, but I let you and the others think I did so I wouldn’t be left out.”
Brow furrowing, she studied me. “No combat training? How is that possible? Your demon …”
“I’m … gifted at controlling my demon,” I lied. “But me, on my own, I don’t have any training. I’ve been a contractor for less than a year”—correction: for six weeks—“and aside from defeating the escaped demon on Halloween, I haven’t done any combat jobs.”
She frowned, deep lines framing her lips.
“I’m sorry I misled you,” I mumbled, my gaze dropping to my half-empty glass of potion. I took another gulp.
“I see,” she said after a long pause. “The responsibility is still mine, but … thank you for telling me.” Another uncomfortable pause. “Now I’m even more shocked that you survived tonight.”
Suppressing a wince, I downed the rest of my potion and set the glass aside. Popcorn. So wrong. “I got lucky.”
“How did you find your way out?”
I silently panicked, casting around for a plausible explanation. “The vampires had lights set up. I followed the lights to an exit.”
“You said you killed four. Do you think there are others?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure where my conviction came from, but it was strong. “I think there are a lot more.”
“Hmm.” She gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. “If you’re right … We sweep the drains every couple of months for new nests. How could a large nest have formed in a few weeks?” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Too many vampires too quickly … and their behavior … I don’t get it.”
“Oh! I forgot.” I slid a hand into my sweatpants pocket and pulled out the flip phone. “I took this from a vampire. It got a bit damp, but I think it’s okay.”
She picked it off my palm. “Okay, now I’m freaked out.”
“Huh? Why?”
The display lit up as she flipped the phone open. “Vampires steal things they need—clothes, food if they haven’t transitioned to an all-blood diet yet, and other essentials—but a phone? I’ve only seen new vamps who haven’t broken away from society using phones.”
She pressed a few keys. I leaned over to see what she was doing, wishing I hadn’t lost my glasses. Maybe I should get one of those straps old ladies used to hang their eyeglasses around their necks.
Zora pulled up the phone’s call history. One number repeated over and over, with only a few others scattered throughout the list. We exchanged a look, then she selected the predominant number and pressed the call button. The speaker began to ring. One … two … three …
The line clicked.
“Report,” a male voice barked.
Zora snapped the phone shut, ending the call.
“Well,” she said slowly, “that’s ominous.”
I nodded. “I’m guessing vampires’ lack of organization means they don’t normally report to each other.”
“Nests appear to have a loose pecking order, but you’re correct. They don’t normally answer to anyone.” Her hand tightened around the phone. “I’ll take this home so Felix can start working on it immediately.”
My brow crinkled. Felix was the guild’s third officer, but the rest of her sentence wasn’t making much sense.
She noticed my confusion and laughed. “I guess no one’s mentioned that Felix is my husband.”
“He … oh.” Her husband. Huh.
“He’s our tech expert. He can find out more about that phone number.” She slid the phone into her pocket. “Whatever’s going on with the vamps, it’s got me worried. They don’t normally act like this, and I want to get to the bottom of it before anyone else is bitten.” She pushed back from the table. “Do you need a ride?”
“Yes, please.”
Zora led me behind the bar and through the empty kitchen to the back door. Outside, rain poured down in sheets—the water that had nearly drowned us in the storm drains.
As I settled into the passenger seat of her black coupe, exhaustion permeated my bones. I felt hollowed out and wrung dry, and hopeless frustration kindled deep in my gut. I’d nearly died tonight, and what had I accomplished? All I had were more questions.
Were the vampires from the storm drains connected to the ones at Claude’s townhouse? What was their interest in Uncle Jack?
How close to finding him were they? Where was Claude? Did he know vampires had searched his house, destroyed his belongings, and stolen his computer? Was he searching for Uncle Jack, or had he gone into hiding too?
As the wipers swept back and forth across the windshield, my mind whirred to the same beat. An image rose to the top of my churning thoughts: the letter my mother had written to Uncle Jack, every word in her loopy script emblazoned in my memory.
I know now that I was wrong about many things. I’m only just beginning to realize how wrong.
What had she been wrong about?
You know what’s coming for us, what will happen if they find us.
What had been coming for them? Who had she been afraid of?
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to protect my family.
In every memory I had of her, my mother was a woman of light, laughter, and confidence. I could scarcely imagine her as uncertain or fearful. She’d always known what to do, no matter what had happened or what trouble I’d gotten myself into.
Please help me, Jack.
My parents had died in a car accident, I reminded myself. A regular accident. Thousands of people died in collisions every year. It had been raining and dark. The road had been slippery.
Was it too much of a coincidence that they’d died a week after my mother had realized she and her family were being hunted?
The Athanas Grimoire was worth ten million dollars just for the demon names it could reveal, but was it only those names my mother had dedicated her life to concealing? What else did the grimoire’s ancient pages contain?
Zora dropped me off at my apartment building and promised to keep me posted on any leads the vampire’s cell phone might produce. I let myself in and trudged up the stairs to the third floor. Though I tried to be quiet, Amalia’s bedroom door opened as I was toeing off my wet shoes.
She leaned against the jamb, wearing a fuzzy housecoat. “How did it go?”
Slaying Monsters for the Feeble: The Guild Codex: Demonized / Two Page 11
