by E. S. Moore
I kept my eyes on the headlights behind me, certain I was overreacting. No one had followed me out of The Bloody Stake that I had seen. Just because a vehicle was behind me didn’t mean it was after me. I wasn’t the only person who ever drove these roads.
Still, I wasn’t about to let my guard down. I couldn’t discern the make of the truck or the driver in my mirrors. The lights were too bright and the night too dark. The driver wasn’t on my ass exactly, but he stayed close enough that it bothered me.
I turned down a side street I knew led to a residential district that was on the decline. The street wasn’t the worst I had driven, but it was starting to crumble around the edges. Scraggly bushes were creeping into the road and if someone didn’t come along and clear them away, they would soon overtake it.
The truck turned down the street behind me and my paranoia leaped to new heights.
I sped up now that there was no traffic to worry about. The truck sped up behind me, its engine coughing with the increased speed.
There was no question about it now. The truck was following me.
Houses passed on either side as we zoomed down the road. Most of them were utterly dark. Shades were drawn, lights were off, but a few had glows around upstairs windows, just barely visible in the all-too-dark night. No one wanted to be a target, telling the prowlers that someone was home, but life did have to go on. Sometimes people couldn’t help but leave a light on now and again.
The road curved ahead and I tore around it far faster than I should have. I started to tip but managed to drop my boot fast enough to rebalance myself and finish the turn. A move like that might have torn the leg right off of anyone else. As a vampire, it was almost too easy.
The truck skidded behind me as I took another turn and sped up on a straight stretch. There were no lights ahead hinting at any sort of civilization. The tightly locked houses soon became empty shells where the inhabitants had either moved to a safer location or had died. It wasn’t a good idea to live this close to a place like The Bloody Stake. It was just asking for trouble.
I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw the truck slip off the road for an instant before popping back on. The driver swerved a few times before reorienting himself on me and speeding up.
I smiled, the thrill of the chase tingling throughout my body. I leaned into the wind as I shot forward, looking for a good place for a confrontation.
It took only a moment to find it.
Empty houses sat on either side of the street, just around a curve. My pursuer had been losing ground fast, even though he had to have had the gas pedal pressed to the floor. I had only a few moments before he would be on me, however, so I acted fast.
I turned hard and went a short distance through a yellowed yard, coming to a halt at the side of a house that stood just off the road. I leaped off my Honda, yanked my gun free, and waited. The guy driving the truck wouldn’t be able to see me until it was too late.
A second ticked by. I could hear the truck rumbling closer. I tensed.
As soon as my pursuer came into view, I fired. His tire blew, and I could hear his curse over the tortured sound of metal as the rubber flew free. He slammed on the brakes, still in the process of trying to make that last turn, and the truck spun sideways.
For a second, it looked like he might make it, but just as he was about to coast to a stop, the back tire slid off the road and the truck tipped over. It turned over twice before slamming to a stop at the base of a tree in the yard across the street.
I rose from my crouch and drew my sword. Just because his truck was a mess didn’t mean the driver was down for the count. I headed toward the wreck, gun trained on the bottom of the truck, eyes scanning every which way.
Something moved in a window across the street. It could have been just the flutter of a ratty curtain in the breeze through a broken window. Or it could have been something else, someone watching.
I didn’t have time to worry about it. There was a grunt from within the truck and I stopped to wait for the driver to get out. Glass shattered as he kicked out the windshield. I couldn’t see him from where I stood, but I could hear him slithering out. I was glad he survived. I wanted answers.
“Bloody fucking hell,” he said as he emerged. “Fucking bitch broke my goddamn arm.”
I stood there, aiming toward the sound of his voice. I wasn’t going to say a damn thing until I saw him. I didn’t know if this was just some Pureblood out chasing down chicks for kicks, or if he was something more.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out. My pursuer rose and walked around the truck, staggering slightly. He cradled his arm against his chest, hissing in a sharp breath with every step. I could smell the blood from where I stood. The bone had probably popped through the skin.
“You owe me some serious shit for this,” he said, coming closer.
“I don’t owe you a thing, asshole.” I trained my gun on the middle of his face. He kept his head down as if his neck was hurting. “Why were you following me?”
The man took another step closer and raised his head, eyes falling on me where I stood. He had piercings all over his face and his spiked hair was purple. A knot of scar tissue glared out from his forehead, telling me all I needed to know about him.
He stopped walking and sneered at me as his gaze traveled to my gun. He spit a wad of blood and snot onto the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his good hand.
“What does Adrian want?” I snarled the words, barely keeping myself from pulling the trigger. This guy had followed me before. He and his friend had dropped a goddamn werewolf on top of me in the middle of the road, scratching my bike all to hell. He still owed me for that.
“Fuck you,” he said. His eyes darted from side to side as if he planned on running for it. Like a good boy, he stayed put.
“Why were you following me?” I really wanted to shoot him, but answers came first. I could shoot him later. “I don’t like being followed.”
He laughed. “Stupid bitch thinks she’s all important.” He glanced toward the truck. “She wrecks my goddamn ride and thinks I owe her an explanation.” His grin turned sinister. “Maybe I was just looking for a fuck.”
I had to restrain myself from shooting him right then and there. I knew I probably should have. Nothing good could come out of one of Adrian’s wolves chasing after me.
Adrian Davis was a defector from the Luna Cult. He had sided with a vampire Count in order to secure his own power base. He wanted me to join him, become his mate or some shit. I had no intention of ever working with that asshole.
Purple Hair started hacking, blood splattering his lips. It dropped him to his knees and his head lowered. “Fuck,” he cursed, spitting out more blood.
“You might need to get that looked at,” I said, taking far too much satisfaction in his misery.
He started to rise again but suddenly shifted his weight at the last moment and went into a roll. I fired and my bullet took him in the broken arm. He screamed in pain, but the silver didn’t slow him down. He was shifting before he hit his feet.
His face contorted, bones snapping and re-forming as his body remade itself. The piercings around his nose popped out, tearing gashes in his face. The ones in his ears and lips merely moved with the change, giving his wolfish grin a strange metallic look.
He screamed in agony as his broken arm shifted, the muscles tensing around the break. A jet of blood shot out of the wound, falling a few feet away from me. It distracted me enough that I didn’t get another good shot at him.
He bound around the side of his truck just as I realigned my aim. My bullet ricocheted off the tail end, bouncing harmlessly into the night.
“Damn it,” I said. I walked slowly sideways, keeping my aim where I last saw the wolf. He couldn’t be far. The only place he could run was out in the open.
As soon as I stepped around the back of the truck, he leaped out at me. I was too far back for him to come anywhere close. I squeezed off two shots, both hi
tting, and he dropped to the ground. Before I could fire a final bullet into his brain, he was on his feet and charging.
I drew my sword and swung in a fluid movement that was all reflex. The silver blade took him in his good arm, nearly severing it at the elbow. He howled in pain and fell to the ground in a heap. Bloody froth fell from his lips and he rolled over onto his back to face me.
I stayed well back. Even an injured werewolf was dangerous. I considered shooting him in the head and finishing him off but stopped myself. I still needed answers.
I took a moment to glance around. I wasn’t totally positive Purple Hair was the only one in the truck. He might have had a friend. I also was worried about that flutter in the window. Who knew who might be watching?
“Why did Adrian send you?” I asked, my gaze returning to the wolf. There wasn’t much I could do about the house now. If someone was in there, they would be best served just to stay inside.
The wolf snarled at me and struggled to sit up.
I shot him in the leg.
He cried out and fell back, limp. He was bleeding all over, and I was pretty sure the crash had caused some serious internal injuries. Shifting as he had probably made them worse.
“I’d shift back if I were you,” I said, poking him in the groin with the tip of my sword. “You aren’t dead yet, and if you answer my questions, you won’t have to be.”
He shifted back, screaming all the while. The bullets lodged in his body ground against the bones, tearing bigger holes in his muscles. The pain had to be almost unbearable.
“Fuck you,” he said the moment he could speak again. Blood dribbled from his lips.
I took a step toward him. He was nude now, his clothes having fallen off him when he shifted the first time. There was no place for him to hide a weapon, at least no place he could get to quickly with a broken arm and a nearly severed one. If he tried to shift again, I could easily kill him before he completed the change.
“I could get you help,” I said. “You don’t have to die. Just tell me what I want to know.”
He tried to sneer again, but it turned into a grimace of pain. He was sweating profusely and was shaking. The slightest breath had to be pure agony.
“Why would Adrian send you after me? He had to know you stood no chance.”
He groaned and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, showing only whites.
“No, you don’t,” I said, kicking him in the broken arm.
He screamed, eyes flashing open. They turned a wolf yellow for an instant before turning back into his normal browns.
“I asked you a question.”
“I don’t have to fucking answer a thing.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Something was whistling and I wasn’t so sure it was his nose. He might have punctured a lung.
“I could leave you here to die,” I said. “I’m pretty sure your injuries are bad enough even a werewolf would struggle to recover.” I made a point to look around at what I hoped to be empty houses. “Or I could finish you off now. It matters little to me.”
“Then do it,” he spat. He screamed as he tried to shift positions on the ground. He moved his broken arm as if to clutch at the nearly severed one and screamed again. “Fuck.”
“I could take you to someone for help,” I said. I wasn’t so sure it would matter. He was losing a ton of blood. If he had been a Pureblood, he would have been dead by now. “All you have to do is tell me why Adrian sent you. He had to know it would end like this.”
The wolf started panting, his chest rising and falling in quick, hitching breaths. He licked at his lips and blood all but poured from his mouth. He wasn’t going to live much longer.
And he knew it too. He forced a grin and started laughing. It had to have hurt like hell to laugh like that, but he kept on doing it. Blood bubbles rose and burst from his lips. His wounds were pumping at an alarming rate. Blood stained the ground, and despite the fact he was a werewolf and taking his blood would drive me insane, it awoke the hunger within me.
I stepped back quickly, my fangs bursting free. Blood ran down my chin and my breathing started coming fast. I fought it as hard as I could. If I so much as tasted his blood, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop. I had waited far too long to feed. I needed blood and I needed it soon.
“Kill me,” the wolf gasped between breaths. His laughing slowed and turned into something that sounded more like a death rattle. “Please. Kill me.”
I looked down at the man, wanting nothing more than to give him his dying wish, yet I was afraid to get any closer. My hunger needed sated. A bullet would kill him, but it wouldn’t feel as good.
“Kill me!” he shouted. He followed it up with a scream that had to have been heard miles away. His eyes were blazing and he was shuddering uncontrollably. The blood coming from his arm was slowing.
I wasn’t totally sure he would die on his own. He might suffer there, linger near death, but eventually recover.
I couldn’t have that.
I raised the gun, intent on putting an end to him and getting the hell out of there before my control broke.
Flashing blue and red lights stopped me. I dropped my aim and spun around as a police cruiser pulled up. I hadn’t even heard the car approaching. My eyes flashed to the window where I had seen movement and I wondered if whoever was inside had called the cops on us.
The cop got out, eyes wide, scanning the wreckage. My coat hid my sword, though if he looked hard enough, he would see my gun.
“Is everyone all right?” he asked. He looked from me, to the overturned truck, and then finally to the bleeding wolf on the ground. His eyes widened and he started to turn away.
I broke. Everything went blood red and I leaped at him, dropping my sword and gun. The officer managed to get an arm up in time so that I didn’t immediately sink my fangs into his neck, but it did him little good.
I slammed him up against the cruiser, only wanting one thing. It was the only thing that mattered. The smell of blood was overpowering, my need overriding every last ounce of control I had. The cop screamed, but his pleas went unanswered.
I bared my fangs at him and he fell abruptly silent. His eyes widened just as I buried my face in his neck and started feeding.
Some part of me knew what I was doing was wrong, that this man was innocent. But I also knew he was most likely safe to feed upon without testing him against silver. The Pureblood police regularly underwent silver tests to make sure they weren’t infected. An infected cop was relieved of duty and promptly forgotten about.
The officer fought beneath me, pushed at me with hands far too weak. He reached for his gun, but I intercepted him out of pure reflex, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind him. I felt it snap as I twisted too far. He screamed and kicked feebly at my legs.
His fighting weakened and my brain kicked back on. I wanted to keep feeding, wanted to drain him of every last drop. If I were to kill him, I would be able to go without feeding longer. There was something about that last pull that sucked the essence straight out of a victim. If I stopped now, I would have to feed again all too soon.
But as much as I wanted to keep going, I forced myself to stop. I jerked away from him and staggered back a few steps, appalled at what I had just done. The cop slumped down the front of his cruiser, blood dribbling from the wounds in his neck. He stared at me with mostly glazed eyes.
I didn’t know what to do. He would die if I left him there. I glanced at the wolf, but he had stopped struggling. I wasn’t sure if he was dead or unconscious, and it really didn’t matter. I had bigger problems to worry about.
I opened the cruiser door and tore open the glove compartment. There were napkins there and I grabbed every one I could find. I slapped them against the wound in the cop’s neck, and raised his hand and pressed it against the napkins.
“Hold these tight,” I said, slapping him lightly on the face. He gave me a dazed look but held on to the napkins. His broken arm hung limply at his side.
Once I was s
ure he wasn’t going to pass out on me, I reached into the car and grabbed his radio. “Officer down.” I gave our location and let the mic drop to the floor as the person on the other end started asking rapid-fire questions.
I stepped back, wishing there was more I could do. If I took the cop to a hospital, I was sure they wouldn’t let me leave. They would want to know what happened, and when they found out, they would try to detain me.
I couldn’t hurt anyone else. Not tonight.
I hurried to my Honda, hating myself with every step. I should have done more. I shouldn’t have attacked him. I never should have let myself get so far gone.
I grabbed my sword and gun on the way and started the motorcycle. It rumbled to life, sounding too loud in the suddenly quiet night. I pulled back onto the road, giving the cop one last apologetic look.
Then I left him there. To live or die? I didn’t know.
I wasn’t so sure it mattered.
4
“Holy crap,” Ethan said, eyes following me as I walked through the side door and across the kitchen.
I hardly paid him a glance. I tore off my coat and tossed it on the dining room table, along with my shoulder holster and belt. I was in no mood to talk to anyone, and though he usually took the hint, Ethan was following me.
“What?” I said, turning on him. I could still feel the dried blood on my face and wanted nothing more than to get it off. It was a mark of my guilt.
“What happened?” he asked, paling.
“Nothing.” I sounded far more sullen than I wanted. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on something?”
He raised the coffee mug in his hand to eye level. “I needed fuel.”
“Oh.” I started to turn back toward the stairs.
“Kat.” The concern in Ethan’s voice stopped me. “What happened tonight? You look ... bad.”
I sighed. I really didn’t want to get into what happened right then, maybe not ever. It was bad enough I was going to relive those moments with the cop for the rest of my life, especially if he died. Did I really need to talk about it so soon?
